The crossing was crowded. Seto winced when someone walked into his shoulder and jostled his arm that was holding onto a bag of groceries, and he hissed in annoyance. Whipping his head around to glare at the stranger. He saw the man bob his head in apology and continue chatting with the woman on his arm.
Damn that guy.
Growing steadily more irritated, Seto tapped his foot and gripped the bag of groceries so tightly, his knuckles burned. The light was taking forever to turn green and people were piling onto the corner of the street, eager to cross. The noise was deafening. Cars rushed by and the people talking loudly on their phones around him was starting to give Seto a headache.
He just wanted to get home, unscathed, take a shower, and pass out.
He'd glimpsed his work calendar before he left—
"PAPA!"
Someone's dog ran into his leg so hard, his shin stung. To top it off, he could feel the tiny paws trampling on his new shoes, leaving deep scratches.
Hissing, Seto stepped back and froze in shock when he saw a small child with wild, spiky, three-colored hair, clinging to his leg for dear life, gazing up at him with a pair of glittering, round eyes. The people around them surged forward as the light changed, and the crowd began to cross.
Fuck. He was missing the light.
The child let out a nervous cry and tightened his tiny arms around Seto's leg so hard, his limb was going numb.
Furious, Seto tried to shake the kid off, but he only clung on harder.
"Please! I just need you to hold my hand so I can get to my Papa on the other side!" the child begged, looking like he was trying to hold back tears while he held his chubby hand upwards shakily.
"You can't cross the street without needing to hold someone's hand?" Seto asked roughly, and he earned a sharp look from a woman who swept past them with her own child in tow.
"I-I can…I really can! But I need help-p…just this one t-time!"" The kid blubbered, and Seto let his breath out slowly and reminded himself to be kind. He was being unfair to this kid because he'd had a rough day at work. And the walk sign had been on for some time. They would miss it if they didn't cross now.
"Okay, here," Seto nodded, and lowered his hand, wincing when the child's sweaty hand wrapped around his index finger and gave him a tight squeeze.
The light blinked and flashed, so Seto gave the kid a tug, relieved to see that there were no tears, and he was half-running alongside him just fine, even managing to keep up with his long strides. Seto risked a glance down and saw that the child's rounded eyes were fixed determinedly on the other side, so Seto allowed himself to relax when they stepped over the yellow safety lines.
"There, we've crossed," Seto said gruffly, wondering when the kid would let go.
The child nodded anxiously and lowered his hand, his eyes darting through the sea of legs, looking like he was about to cry again.
Oh dammit. This kid was lost.
"Which one is your dad?" Seto asked kindly, managing a smile, and the kid kept his distance, looking determined but still on the brink of tears.
"He wears dark pants like you. And suits like you," the child replied unhelpfully and Seto palmed his face. Yes. Describe all of Japan's men at rush hour right near a large corporate business building. Did he also have black hair and brown eyes?!
"Do you have a phone? Do you know his number? What about your personal gps?" Seto asked instantly, scanning the child and noticing he wasn't wearing a backpack or a nametag, or even a school uniform. Great.
The kid wasn't listening. He was still scanning the crowd on his tiptoes and drifted into an oncoming sea of legs that were forming at the crossing and disappearing.
"…Shit!" Seto growled, chasing after the child and elbowing himself through a crowd of people who were all standing still with their noses in their phones.
The child with spiky hair was nowhere to be seen. He'd disappeared instantly.
There was a policeman standing against the sidewalk railing, so Seto made a beeline for him, noting that the man's eyes went over his head, observing the crowd behind him.
"Hey. Have you seen a kid with spiky hair?" Seto asked roughly, just as he spotted the spiky-haired kid trot into the grocery store over the policeman's shoulder. "Never mind."
"What?" The policeman blinked and looked confused. "Sorry, can you repeat that? I didn't hear you…. Sir?!"
Seto rolled his eyes and wondered if he was being a stalker by following the kid around.
Where was its adult?!
He rushed in through the sliding doors and saw the kid disappear around the corner of an aisle, so he followed quickly, seeing the kid turn and run towards the snack aisle, clearly having spotted his parent.
Well. Problem solved apparently.
The kid had lost the parent somewhere here.
Time to head home.
Turning on his heel, Seto marched out the door and bit back a sigh.
He just wanted to end the day.
The light was red once more, and people around him were piling up.
It was like this every day. Crowd with the crowds just to get home.
It was character building. A hot bath awaited him at home.
He would endure this—
"C-Can you hold my hand s-so I can cross the street?"
Seto heard a kid's voice floating from somewhere behind him, and he saw the spiky-haired kid clinging to businesswoman's leg. She looked disgusted and flattened her skirt with her palm, jerking her head up to scan the crowd, "whose kid is this?!"
"I'm sorry! I'm being a big troublemaker! Just this once!" The child begged, his eyes widening with despair as his voice rose with panic.
Seto grimaced and approached them, wondering how he should start apologizing when the kid spotted him, recognized him, and zoomed to stick on his leg like a tiny magnet.
"Papa." The kid said robotically, and Seto grimaced, patting the kid on the shoulder.
The woman sniffed, adjusted her bag on her shoulder and walked past them without making eye contact, trailing a cold aura behind her, followed by other dark glares from the adults passing them by, some briefly glancing up from their phones to look at the child on the ground, and then slowly raising their eyes to make disapproving eye contact with Seto. Their icy stares were like daggers, and even though this kid wasn't his, Seto felt every shard stab him through the chest.
Jesus. Could people be more judgmental about this?! It wasn't his fault this kid was lost!
"Can you tell me your papa's phone number? Or we'll talk to that kind policeman over there," Seto said warmly, lifting his head up to find the officer at the sidewalk, but he had disappeared too.
Dammit!
People were sidestepping them in droves, hurrying to cross the street before the light turned red, hissing and tsk-ing at them in annoyance, and Seto decided he'd had enough.
He set his briefcase down and then swept the child up in his arms, balancing him carefully on his side before kneeling to grab his briefcase again as the crossing light flashed. The child obediently locked his arms around his neck, almost like he was used to being carried like this, and Seto ran across the street along with the stragglers who were also jogging, trying to make it to the other side before the light changed again.
"Okay. Where is he? Can you see him?" Seto asked, panting slightly as the kid shook his head vehemently and clung his neck tighter in a death grip. How old was this kid?
He hazarded a guess at 5. An infant who could walk.
Wasn't there a name for those?
Toddlers. Or was that incorrect?
Because this one was old enough to talk….
"M-Maybe he's at home…" the child lamented, looking down so much, Seto could feel the weight of his tiny body sagging forward, and to his horror, he saw tears trailing down the child's chubby cheeks.
Oh shit. Oh shit shit shit shit….
"Okay! Then we'll go home!" Seto said, a little too loudly and a little too brightly, edging further along the sidewalk, trying to stay out of people's way as they marched past in a steady rhythm.
"I know the way home!" The child replied confidently, and suddenly the tears vanished. "I have a key!" And he dug his hand into his pocket to produce a keychain where a single key hung from it with a bright, plastic cap.
Awesome. A low-tech key that went to a regular lock.
Not any recognizable digital key fob to any of the nearby apartment buildings.
"So you have a key to go home, do you have a phone? Can you remember your phone number?" Seto asked, feeling a headache coming on, and the child shook his head furiously.
"No phone. I can't have one yet. My Papa's phone number is extension 530! But I don't know what else." The child rehearsed, kicking his legs and pointing down the street. "I can walk by myself all the way home. Put me down…stranger!"
Fuck, alright, Seto panicked and set the kid down on his feet, his anxiety rising.
This was not good….
This kid was too small to be on his own….
"Can I at least walk you home?" Seto asked nervously, and the kid sniffed, nodding.
"Fine. And you can hold my hand when we cross the street again," the kid replied cheekily, and Seto bit his tongue so hard, he tasted blood.
Okay. Fine.
The child trotted forward and Seto shook his head to himself, following him and staring down at the wild crop of spiky hair. This kid's parents looked like they took their time styling him…or her, given how much he looked like a tiny rockstar.
Whatever. Once he got the kid home, he'd have a word with this kid's parents about leaving their kid in the middle of the giant crossing at rush hour. This kid seemed to know exactly where to go, turning left with confidence, and then right again when they passed a bank.
They were approaching another crossing, this one smaller and less crowded. The child looked up at Seto and reached his hand up automatically, so Seto lowered his hand and had to bend forward slightly to accommodate.
The light blinked, and he was towed across the street by a sweaty hand clamped around his index finger. It made his stomach churn.
The stares he was getting didn't help either. A couple of women standing in front of a food stand gawked and turned to whisper to each other, undoubtedly gossiping about him.
Yeah, he knew it looked bad. It looked like he was single parenting this kid and was walking him around outside after a late day at work when it was supposed to be dinner time.
Thankfully, the kid led him down a narrower street, and the noises from the city got quieter and quieter. Streetlamps above their heads flickered on, and Seto frowned, hoping this kid knew where he was going. It was getting dark.
They passed a tiny park, a small gym, a temple entrance, and an elementary school.
"Your school?" Seto asked hopefully, and the kid nodded, looking gravely at the sidewalk in front of him, his tiny brow wrinkled with a frown.
The child led him past several, tall apartment buildings, and Seto's anxiety began to rise. How far away was this kid's home?! They were reaching the city's outskirts at this rate….
Finally, the kid made a turn and walked up a set of stone steps flanked with small lights and neatly trimmed bamboo. Seto barely made note of the building name when they passed it and was led up five flights of stairs until his thighs burned. The kid was almost running up the steps, his eyes wide, and his cheeks pink, looking desperate and afraid.
"Papa…has to be home!" The kid insisted, and Seto could only nod in reply.
God, he was so tired, he didn't have energy for this…!
The child's small footsteps pattered down the hallway, and he shoved his key into a door that was decorated with a lion sticker, crying out so loudly, his voice echoed shrilly down the hall.
"Papa?! …Where are you?! ...PAPA?!"
Seto eyed the open apartment door and ground his teeth. Fuck….
Did he just walk this kid home to an empty apartment?!
Approaching the door cautiously, Seto peeked inside and saw a lone light on in the middle of a toy-strewn living room, and the kid was standing helplessly in the middle of the mess, crying silent tears.
Great. Fucking awesome.
"Where's your mom?" Seto asked, immediately regretting it when he saw the kid shake his head and plop himself down on the rug and begin to cry outwardly.
"I…d-don't have…a mama! She…LEFT!" the child wailed, pressing his chubby hands to his face while tears leaked from the cracks of his fingers.
"Alright! I'm sorry for asking!" Seto cried, stepping into the narrow genkan and slipping off his shoes, cringing when he saw the kid still had his shoes on and was probably tracking dirt everywhere.
"Take off your shoes. Come on, please stop crying," Seto said nervously, holding his breath and seeing the kid take a deep breath, compose himself, and stand up to obediently take his shoes off at the bevel.
His small arms reached down to point them outwards, and Seto blinked, amazed when the kid produced a pair of slippers with the tag still on them from the closet in the hallway.
"For you," the kid said quietly, bending down to set the slippers by Seto's feet. "Please come in."
Disturbed by how well-mannered this child was, Seto shoved his feet into the slippers and stepped into the apartment, surveying the clutter around him. It was a simple 2LDK, with toys scattered all around the low table in front of the TV, and the child was moving around with precision, picking up his toys and setting them into the huge boxes along the wall by a small desk.
"Um…" Seto itched in his own skin at the piles of dishes in the sink, and at the takeout trays stacked on the kitchen counter. "…Are you hungry? When does your…Papa…usually come home from work?"
"Late," the child replied, still packing his toys away without a care in the world. "Yes. I am hungry. I was getting food with Papa when I got lost. I will wait here at home for him. He told me to clean up, so I'm cleaning."
Okay… Seto thought anxiously as his own stomach growled, so he checked his watch, hating that it was past 8.
Wow.
Didn't kids have bedtimes? Usually at…8 or 9?!
Sighing, he set the grocery bag that he'd been holding down on the dining chair and moved to steadily clean the mess in the sink.
So this was what single parenting looked like.
The horror.
Seto picked up the sponge and spied a pair of dishwashing gloves, so he slipped them on before continuing.
He never wanted this to happen. Women were trouble. Kids were trouble.
Hell, the directors at the company were pressuring him to get married, and this was exactly what a bad fallout looked like. A messy apartment covered with toys.
And one lone kid.
Pure suffering.
He heard a clink behind him, and he whipped his head around, surprised to see the kid gathering pairs of dirty chopsticks from the table and bringing them over to the sink.
"Hey, what do I look like, your dishwasher?" Seto said before he could stop himself, and the kid shrugged.
"Dishwasher is broken," the child replied plainly, going back to the living room. "I'm helping."
Seto grimaced and washed the chopsticks with a rigorous rub, his stomach growling furiously. Goddammit. He wanted to go home and take a bath, not play slave to this kid who was missing a parent. There wasn't a landline phone in this place either. Was it safe to leave him alone here? But the kid said he was hungry….
Growling to himself, Seto set the dishes on the rack and wiped the counter clean, seeing rice already steaming in the cooker and the timer indicated it had been done for an hour.
"Did your Papa make this rice?" Seto called over his shoulder, peeking inside the fridge. He was slightly relieved to see that everything was neat, but barren. The top shelves were practically empty, sporting only a box of miso paste, some ham, and a carton of eggs. The lower shelves were filled with juice boxes, fruit, and a boxed lunch that had been bought this afternoon with a sticker from the local deli, supposedly for the kid tomorrow.
"No, I made it," the child replied, sitting in front of the TV and gazing at it longingly. "I always make the rice and wait for Papa to come home and eat it with me."
Seto blinked and felt the floor tilting underneath him.
Okay.
The toddler could make rice. Cool trick.
"You want to watch TV?" Seto asked encouragingly, wondering if this was a good idea at all, and to his rising incredulity, the kid shook his head.
"No TV until tomorrow. TV days are Fridays and Saturdays."
Oh, sure, whatever! Seto broke out into a cold sweat and forced a smile on his face, turning back to set a pot on the stove and grabbing an onion from his grocery bag. This was for himself, but clearly there had been a change of plan.
"What's your favorite food?" Seto asked quietly, setting all the vegetables into the sink and washing them with steady motions, wondering if he had been sucked into an alternate universe and was trapped here forever.
The kid was behaving normally and no longer crying…which was good?
But this kid's parent was still nowhere to be found.
"I like…spaghetti with ham, chicken katsu, and sweet omelets," the child held up his chubby fingers, listing them off. "…And ice cream, and popsicles, and grilled meat."
"Great. One of those I can make right now," Seto said through gritted teeth, realizing that was why there was only eggs and ham on the top shelf.
Wait.
"Hey, how often do you eat spaghetti with ham?" Seto asked suspiciously, seeing the kid blink at him and shrug again.
"Whenever Papa makes it for me," the child replied, and Seto nodded, deciding he would not make spaghetti with ham after all.
"Eating like that isn't healthy," Seto said mindlessly, slapping the cabbage onto the chopping board with force and hunting for a knife. He found one vegetable knife in a medium size and realized this was the only knife in the entire kitchen.
Scary. But this was none of his business. He would make himself dinner, feed the kid at the same time, and then get out as soon as that was done.
He'd bought himself enough groceries to make several quick one-pot meals for the rest of the week, but it seemed he would have to improvise now….
There were two earthenware pots gathering dust on the top shelf of the cabinets. He could use those.
Seto snatched them up and hastily washed them in the sink, his neck and shoulders aching.
This was teaching him that he was not cut out for parenting, or a relationship. Maybe this was fate, being cruel, telling him that his life would be shitty if he did marry and have a kid.
"What's Papa eating right now?" The child asked curiously, getting up from in front of the TV to sit at the dining table. "Do you think he's eating? Are you Papa's friend? Like Mazaki-san? She comes over to help get me ready for school if Papa goes to work early. Do you know her?"
Seto bit the inside of his lip and said nothing, picking up frozen noodles from the grocery bag which had thawed already, so he set them into the pot of boiling water. His own stomach was curling with hunger, and after the hellish day he'd had at work, he wasn't in the mood to entertain this kid's questions.
"You and my papa work and do shopping at the same place," the child said again, unprompted, and this caught Seto's attention.
"How do you know that?" Seto asked suspiciously, tossing sliced green onions into the pot and seeing it bubble merrily along with the chicken. He quickly threw in chopped mushrooms, a handful of spinach and a dash of seasoning, growing weak at the knees when a wonderful, savory scent surrounded him, and his head spun with hunger.
"You wear the same clothes," the kid said adamantly, drumming his fingers on the table before jumping up and saying, "I'll help! I'll clean the table more!" And Seto could only watch as the kid grabbed a bunch of wipes from the counter and climbed the chairs to wipe every spot in front of every empty chair at the table. His heart wrenched strangely, and he had to look away, turning his attention back to the stove, his anxiety creeping higher when he checked his watch.
8:45.
He was at the crossing after work at 7:30 as usual.
More than an hour had passed. Damn.
Where was this kid's parent?!
"Smells good!" The kid said encouragingly, his spiky hair wavering as he nodded happily and plopped himself in front of the dining table which had miraculously been cleared. "I cleaned! Now I'll wash my hands!"
"…Good…job," Seto said weakly, feeling like screaming at the top of his lungs, and the child dashed away again to wash his hands, returning with lightning speed to sit back down at his spot at the table.
Feeling conflicted, Seto turned back around to tend to the bubbling pot.
His own childhood had been this empty, and no one was ever around to praise him after he cleaned something. How fucking nice for this kid.
He hastily took the pot off the flame, seeing it nearly bubble over, and he glanced around frantically for a potholder.
"Do you have mittens?" Seto asked, and the kid stared blankly at him, not understanding. "Oven gloves? For baking? …Gloves for touching hot things?" he added, and the kid lit up, climbing out of the chair to grab a stack of padded coasters from the clutter on the counter and placing them dutifully in front of each seating.
Oh.
…Cute, but wrong.
"Do you have mittens for holding hot things?" Seto tried again, and the kid shook his head and shrugged.
"Towel?" The kid offered, and he ran off down the hall, presumably to the bathroom.
Seto pinched his brow and felt a headache coming on. Oh goddd…..
The child returned with two folded hand towels, and Seto accepted them tiredly. Fine. This would do.
"Go sit down. This is hot," Seto said automatically, and the kid dashed back to his seat, sitting very still and eyeing him with those large, round eyes, which were a beautiful violet color. Now that Seto could see him properly in the light, the kid was very cute. But...he was an annoying snot ball that was probably still pooping his pants. He didn't even understand the word 'mittens'!
Seto grabbed the pot by the handles, using the towel as a barrier and carefully made his way around the counter to set it in the middle of the dining table on the puffy coasters.
"I'll get utensils now!" the child said loudly, climbing out of the chair once more and disappearing into the kitchen. There was a loud clink, a drawer sliding open and shut, and the child reappeared with his fist full of clean chopsticks and spoons.
Too tired to say thanks, Seto let the child put a set of chopsticks in front of him. Beaming, the child climbed back into the chair and watched him use the towel to lift the lid on the pot. Seto nodded stiffly to himself, pleased to see his creation gleaming nicely under the warm lights.
"WOWOWW YUMMY!" The child cried, squirming in his chair with excitement, clapping his hands together politely in a thankful gesture. "I'm eating now! Thank you—wait…I forgot to get us bowls!"
The kid clambered out of the chair again and Seto blinked, too tired to even stand.
Kids had an endless battery inside them.
All this kid had to do was wait until adulthood hit.
He couldn't even remember being this cheerful himself as a kid.
The child had set up a stepping stool against the counters and was climbing it with ease, giving Seto anxiety the higher he got, but the kid managed to reach the lower cabinets to grab two bowls, balance them in his arms and slowly inch back down.
God.
This was too much.
The bowl was handed to him, and Seto dipped the spoon into the broth, giving the kid a sizable portion, feeling him practically drooling at his elbow.
"What did you eat for lunch today?" Seto asked automatically, even though he didn't care.
"Boxed. From the deli," the child replied. "Mushroom and rice option."
"Unhealthy…" Seto muttered, placing the steaming bowl in front of the kid with a thunk. "Here."
The kid dipped his head down and ate silently, the spoon clinking pleasantly against the edge as he lifted it to his mouth clumsily. Seto's initial estimate of the kid's age went down the more he watched the poorly coordinated eating.
Maybe the kid was younger than 5. Was that possible?!
"Hey, how old are you?" He asked, and his stomach curled with hunger the moment he spoke, so he lowered his head and filled his own bowl, desperately for sustenance.
The child held up four fingers and kept his head lowered, slurping his noodles noisily.
"How old are you mishter?" The kid asked, the edge of his spiky blond bangs dipping dangerously low in his bowl.
"Old. And you're getting soup in your hair," Seto snapped, grimacing and reaching forward to flick the hair away. "Who does your hair?"
"I do," the boy replied proudly with his cheeks puffed with food. "Papa helps, but I can do lots of things by myself."
Seto said nothing and chewed his food furiously. Yeah. Lots of things. Like getting himself lost in one of the largest crossings in the city and not being able to remember a phone number.
They continued to eat in comfortable silence, and Seto watched the kid round off his soup and place the bowl down with a satisfied sigh.
"Thank you! It was so good! What's it called?" The child asked innocently, and Seto set his chopsticks down across the top of his bowl neatly.
"Your dad doesn't make this type of stuff for you? It's just a plain one-pot meal," Seto said gruffly. "Oyakodon."
"Is that your name?" The boy asked curiously, looking at him with wide eyes. "Mr. Oyako?"
Seto opened his mouth to respond, but his voice had died, and there was a laugh clawing its way up his chest.
"That's not my name," Seto felt the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. "What's your name?"
The kid took a breath and was about to reply when there was a loud click at the door, and he scrambled out of the chair, nearly tripping on his own feet as he raced to answer it.
"Wait! Don't just answer the door—" Seto cried, freezing in his chair when he remembered where he was and what he was doing.
He was in a stranger's house.
With the stranger's kid.
Eating dinner.
From another perspective, he looked like a child-snatcher.
Oh fuck.
The door swung open and to Seto's rising horror, a crowd of policemen were standing in the hallway, all with grim looks on their faces.
"PAPA! You missed dinner!" The child beamed and threw his arms around a man who was kneeling in the middle of the policemen, and Seto couldn't move.
His life was over now.
The kid would turn around to point at him, say that he got whisked away at the crossing, and the police would drag him down to the station for interrogation.
"I missed…dinner…!" Yami said in a choked whisper, patting his child on the back as his neck was crushed in a tight hug. "I was so worried! Where'd you go?! You came home right away?! You wanted to come home that badly?!"
"I just got l-lost and couldn't find you," the boy blubbered, gazing up at his father with loving eyes. "Mr. Oyako is eating dinner with me. He held my hand all the way across both times!"
Yami blinked and stood up slowly, glancing in through the door to see a handsome businessman frozen in a strange position at his dinner table, looking like he was about to stand up, but couldn't fully yet. A pair of chopsticks were hanging loosely from his fingertips, and his other hand was on the back of the chair, gripping it tightly with white knuckles.
Their eyes met and Yami swayed on the spot, feeling a jolt of lighting tear through his body when he found himself gazing into the prettiest, dark blue eyes he'd ever seen. Oh. Hell.
Who was this?!
Seto blinked rapidly, his stomach dropping to his feet with dread while his heart clenched. The boy and his father were the spitting image of each other, both sporting tri-colored spiky hair, and deep-set eyes, but the boy's father looked like a beautiful painting. Blond bangs framed a pair of sharp cheekbones, and his chin dipped down handsomely into his collar where an adam's apple sat prominently over the knot of his tie.
Oh. Fuck. He was really pretty….
One of the policemen stepped inside and glanced around with a tired nod, bowing. "It seems there is no problem."
Yami stood shakily and turned to bow at the policemen, seeing them all bow back stiffly.
"Sorry for the trouble," he breathed, unable to hear himself speak through the thundering of his heart as he felt his kid bow as well.
"Sorry for worrying you," the child pleaded, hugging his leg tightly. "Thank you misters policeman."
The men marched down the hall in a single file line, and Yami watched them go, feeling the kid leave his side and race back to the dining table to sit.
There was a stranger in his dining room.
This stranger had…taken his child?
No, he had led him back home?!
Just as that thought left him, his shoulder was bumped roughly as the man brushed past him without another glance, and hurried down the hall, looking eager to leave.
"W-Wait! Let me…pay you back for the food!" Yami cried wildly, racing after the man and seeing the crop of light brown hair disappear around the corner down the stairwell.
Oh.
He did not want to stay.
That was…fine?
Swallowing the thick lump in his throat, Yami turned around and hurried back to his apartment, aching with relief as his kid leapt off the dining chair and ran to give him a hug.
"Hey, did that guy do anything strange to you?" Yami asked, scanning his kid from head to toe, searching for an untucked shirt or a bruise on his knees. "Shotaro? Look at me. Did he say anything weird?"
"No? He held my hand both ways, and made a yummy dinner," the child replied, grinning happily. "Come taste it?"
Speechless, Yami let his child drag him inside, help him unlace his shoes, stand beside him at the sink while he washed his hands, and then sit back down at the dining table, pointing at the pot in the middle of the table and at the various dishes of rice, eggs, and fried onions on the side.
"Here!" The kid pushed an empty bowl in front of him and a clean set of chopsticks. "Tastes good!"
Still stunned, Yami surveyed the sparkling food on his dining table, feeling conflicted. The grumble in his stomach made him reach for the rice and eggs in his bowl, and he hastily took a bite, his eyes watering at the simple, but wonderful flavors. What a comforting meal! It was plain chicken, eggs, and rice with a side of onions but…wow, this was a lot more than he could usually manage himself.
"Taste good, right? Mr. Oyako left in a hurry. Said he would be late for work tomorrow," the kid said, and Yami nodded absently, chewing and swallowing his food gratefully.
He needed to find and thank whoever this mysterious Mr. Oyako was, because he was a great cook, and…incredibly handsome.
Author's note:
NEW STORY NEW STORY! WOOOOO!
its a heartwarming, wholesome family-friendly vibe which i feel like we ALL need more of right now! its also an aged up kaiba x yami! please let me know what you think!
oh and l thought it would be too weird if Yami's kid was…YUGI in this universe… so please excuse all of my "this kid", "the child said", "his kid" nouns, while I figure out what his kid's name should be :sobs:
Edit: Someone suggested shotaro.
it will be Shotaro. LOL
Love ya, leave a comment/love/reviewww! tysm my lovelies!
-ugli