A/N: Yet another one! Already! I'm on a roll, baby!
Standard disclaimer: Not mine. Nope. Nein. Niet. Iie. I wish they were though. Only the plot, Ryo, and Sweet Sal's are mine.
Now on with the chapter—
"Moooooooooooom! Wake up!" cried the persistent lump that was currently using her stomach as a trampoline. She let out a little "ooof" every time he landed, his knees digging deeper into the soft flesh.
"Alright! I'm up, now will you please stop jumping on me? You're hurting Mommy," she said breathlessly, succeeding in getting him to move from her stomach to the mattress.
"Sorry, Mommy," he said, but then his smile returned in a second. "Can we have pancakes and then go to the park? You said we could, remember?" His big violet eyes pleaded with her, his little hands clasped together hopefully under his chin.
Izayoi rolled over and propped herself up on an elbow. "Oooh, I think having pancakes for breakfast sounds really good. Plain or Blueberry?" she asked, already knowing his answer.
Miroku made a face. "Blueberry pancakes are icky, Mommy. I want plain, with lots and lots of syrup on top!" he said, gesturing wildly with his hands to show exactly how much syrup he wanted.
"Blueberry pancakes are not icky. If they were icky, would I eat them?" She threw over her shoulder as she got out of the bed and made her way to the closet to grab her robe.
He just shrugged before smartly replying, "Maybe. You like lots of stuff I think is icky." Izayoi began to make her way down the hallway to the kitchen, her son following faithfully behind.
"Well, that's true," she confessed. It wasn't her fault her son was a picky eater and didn't eat some of the things she considered an everyday part of her menu. What little kid likes sushi or curry, anyway?
"See? They're icky," he stated pointedly, a smug smile on his face.
"I can't win with you, can I?" she groaned, putting a hand to her head. Miroku was surprisingly good at talking her in circles for being only 4 years old. And boy, was he proud of it, too.
"Nope," he smirked.
While she went to the cabinet and took out the flour and other dry ingredients, he opened the fridge and got out the milk, eggs, and butter. Neither of them liked pancakes from a box, so on Sunday mornings, mother and son took the time to make them from scratch. While she mixed the batter, Miroku grabbed two plates and two sets of silverware and then set the table. It wasn't perfect, but he tried. Pretty soon, they both had plates piled high with their choice of flavored pancakes, Miroku's smothered in maple syrup and Izayoi's lightly buttered with a little vanilla ice cream on top.
Again, her son ended up a sticky mess and needed a bath before they could even think about going out to the park. She plopped him in the tub in her bathroom, scrubbing the syrup off his face and then retreating back to her room, leaving the door open so she could hear if he called. The closet yielded many choices on what to wear, almost too many. Should she wear something really casual, like jeans and a tee shirt? Or maybe something a little nicer, like slacks and a light sweater? Maybe a light summer dress instead? Certainly nothing too fancy—she didn't want to look like she was trying too hard. She held up several outfits in front on a mirror, trying to figure out what she wanted to wear. Each one got rejected and tossed over her shoulder onto the bed. It was starting to seem like she had nothing to wear. Oh goodness, she was starting to feel like a teenager on her first date. Suddenly she was looking at an empty clothes rack where her seemingly limitless closet used to be. She turned unbelieving eyes to the mountain of clothes on her bed; piled so high it was swaying precariously towards the edge.
"Mommy, you should wear those jeans with the pretty design on the side and the white shirt with the black design on the back," came Miroku's little voice from the bathroom door. She turned to find him standing there sopping wet, draped in one of her huge body towels. It looked like everything but his head and unruly hair had been swallowed by the terry cloth.
"You think so?" she asked, digging the suggested items out from the bottom of the pile and holding them up for scrutinizing.
"Yeah, you look really pretty in it," he reiterated, nodding sagely and holding the towel closer. She smiled at him before shooing him out of the room.
"Thank you, honey. Now, go, scurry to your room and get dressed in some play clothes," she called as she closed the door on his skipping figure. How he managed not to trip on the dragging towel in his excitement, she'd never know. Alone in her room, Iyazoi suddenly got a small case of the nerves. What if she was reading too much into this whole thing? What if Toji was only being nice yesterday for the sake of being nice? What if it didn't mean anything to him? She didn't really have a lot to go on. So she went with her first instinct, which was to stall. She didn't want to show up at the park first thing in the morning and stay there all day, waiting for him to show up like some eager puppy. So she went about hanging up all the clothes she had scattered around the room, even taking the time to organize them by color and style. Only when her room was spotless and she had a rather impatient child practically clawing her door down did she turn to the outfit she had laid out.
"Mom! What's taking you so long? Aren't you dressed yet? Come on, Mommy! I want to go to the park!" Miroku serenaded her with questions the whole time she was changing, not giving her a pause to answer, even when he broke for breath. Finally she opened the door, sighing as she saw her son dressed in his favorite ripped jeans, an inside-out shirt and mismatched socks, one shoe on but untied and the other in his hand.
"Miroku, honey, your shirt's inside out and your socks don't match. Stand still a minute so I can fix your shirt," she said as he stamped his foot. Izayoi yanked the shirt over his head and flipped it right side out in one quick move before pulling it back down over his arms. She let him keep the unmatched socks, and tying his shoes for him after he shoved the second one on. "Now you just need a brush and a hair twister for this mop of yours," she said as her fingers got snagged in the knotty, damp mess.
"No, no, no! I don't want you to brush my hair! I wanna go now!" he yelled, pulling away and turning to run down the hall. But he didn't make it far, as she caught the back of his shirt before he could take off.
"Yes, I am going to brush your hair. And yes, we are going to put it back in a ponytail. You're the one who wanted to keep it long, mister, so you have to deal with it. Now, go get me the brush and twister from the bathroom, okay?" she looked on with amusement as he dragged his feet the whole way to the main bathroom, glancing at her over his shoulder every few steps to give her big, round, puppy eyes. With a sullen pout, he returned with the requested items and turned around so she could reach his hair. Pulling the brush through his locks efficiently but painlessly, she quickly tied off the little tail at the back of his neck.
"There, now we are ready to go. Do you want me to bring a couple snacks and juice boxes for you?" he nodded, and she snatched a worn backpack off the couch and tossed in two juices and a couple of single-serving snack bags, and a bottle of water for herself. Slipping on a pair of low-heeled boots and a lightweight jacket, she convinced her son to shrug on his as well before they headed out the door.
They arrived at the park twenty minutes later, having taken their time walking. Miroku had found a big white flower in somebody's garden and plucked it before she could warn him not to. He innocently held it up to her, saying it would look nice in her hair. Izayoi couldn't help but smile at her son and tuck in behind her ear, weaving the stem into the sloppy bun. Sometimes she wondered where her son picked up all his irresistibly cute antics, but didn't really ponder it for too long. She held out her hand for him, and they walked the rest of the way to the park with a new bounce in their strides, smiling and giggling the whole time.
Izayoi paused as they came upon the gates, feeling her nerves come alive again for a moment before she suppressed them angrily. There was no need for them; this was just a play date for her son and his friend. And his friend's gorgeous father just happened to come along, too. It was nothing to get so excited about.
"Mommy, what's the matter?" her son asked, as he went to keep going forward and his mother stayed rooted to the spot.
She shook herself out of it quickly enough to smile reassuringly at him and answer, "Nothing, sweetie. Let's go in and see if Sesshomaru and his father are here yet,"
After looking around for a bit and finding no trace of the two silver-haired males, Miroku said, "I don't see them. Can I go play for a little while?"
"Go ahead, I'll be over here," she said, waving at the bench behind her that was close to the sandbox. As he ran off to the swing set, she settled onto the bench and opened the book that was still in her bag from yesterday. All was peaceful. It was for a few short moments, anyway.
"I see them! They're here! Sesshomaru and his daddy are here! Mommy, look!" Izayoi watched wide-eyed as he jumped off the seat at the very height of the forward swing and launched himself towards her at a run. He pointed frantically in the vague the direction of the gates, and tugged on her arm with his other hand. She managed to quiet him down for a few moments, watching them round the corner and walk towards the bench where they were currently sitting.
Sesshomaru was sitting up on his father's broad shoulders, looking down as Toji looked up. They were both smiling and laughing. Then Toji suddenly spun around and around in one place holding onto the boy's legs, his son's arms flying out wide and his head tipping back in delight. They looked so happy.
Izayoi savored the sight for a few more minutes, wishing Miroku's father had been like that, had taken him out and done things with him, had loved him as much as Toji obviously loved little Sesshomaru. Then she looked down at her son, her heart breaking at the sight of tears gathering in the corners of the violet eyes she adored so much. She wanted to hold him, to hug him close and never let him go, to heal that ache she knew he felt from that empty spot in his heart that called for a father. But before she could stop him, he turned and ran, heading for the jungle gym on the other end of the park.
"Miroku! Come back, Miroku!" She cried, getting up and jogging after him as fast as her boots would allow, leaving her bag behind on the bench and flying past a startled looking Toji and Sesshomaru on her way.
A/N: I typed and I typed and I typed. You'd think Muse would give me an ending to the chapter…but noooooo. For now, it remains somewhat of a cliffhanger. But at this rate, the next chapter will be up within the next few days, so it won't be a long wait. Remember, reviews are welcome!