Hizashi was right.
Their little Singer has a voice that is beautiful. But then, there is hardly anything, if at all, ugly in his daughter Sansa Stark. He listens. Her voice is strong and sweet, a cadence that is strong in one-off of her native languages. From the slight cut in her voice, yet the overall smoothness, he guessing it is her Common Tongue. Valerian, both the High and Bastard, are lyrical and shorter vowels, that only occasionally flow into longer sounds. Her Old Tongue is rough and coarse, even with Sansa's sweet voice.
"It's beautiful. What language is it?" He asks, carefully, as he preps her supercharged broth. His hands dance as he adds as much nutritional value as he can to it.
Doctor's orders. Chiyo-sensei had consulted the best nutritionist in the business to help Sansa get to a healthy muscle and lipid level. And get used to more solid foods again. He followed their orders as Gospel.
With the occasional cheat to little treats.
He wasn't a Saint, and as his love had said so simply, she needed something good.
Sansa blinks. Look up from her screen. At a quick glance he can see she's reading a scientific article on the internal structure of a flowering tree-
His little Singer was so smart, he internally coos.
"Common… Tongue," Sansa wrinkles her nose in her dislike of what is probably a clumsy translation.
He nods in acceptance. He was getting better at differentiating them.
"Your native language?"
"In Westeros. It was… well, the most common."
"How many did you know, I know it is roughly four?"
"Three fluently, now with Japanese. Two more illy. Common, Old Tongue, and High and Bastard Valerian."
"What was the song you were singing?"
"... A song of the Riverlands in Common. My Mother's native realm. It is of a Child who falls in love with a water nymph."
"A child?"
"No. That is what they were called, they were a species of humanoid beings of short structure. They were the original dominant species of Westeros before the arrival of the First Men and Andals. They were destroyed in the first wave of the Others, or the White Walkers. Or nearly. My brother Bran met Leaf…"
Hizashi stared.
"You mean… You mean like fairies?!"
She blinked.
"Ah, the tiny beings of magic and promises?" A half smile, "Yes. Comparable."
He blinks.
"Huh."
"I met a giant."
Hizashi blinks again.
"His name was Won Won, the last of his clan. He was sweet. He liked to gift me 'pebbles'. Roughly boulders the size of our sofa."
Hizashi nods. Tries to not picture fairytales and magic and shakes his head in sheer delight. He knows he's beaming.
"Well, your song is beautiful, Sansa. Breakfast is ready."
"Thank you, To-san!"
He can't resist. He places a kiss on her forehead when he places her food on the table.