Short warning, there's a minor time skip between this chapter and the last one.

I do not own anything.

Only Camilla knew when Shiro was born Ryoma trembled before a new trial he wasn't sure he'd be able to conquer, at least not without a great amount of trial and error. The wavy-haired beauty was the only person who knew their son possessed the great challenge Hoshido's Peerless Samurai had ever faced. Though a part of her had taken a joy in seeing the normally calm warrior so flustered another part of her knew she had to put her lover's worries to ease.

"You did a remarkable job raising Hinoka, Takumi, and Sakura. You'll be a wonderful father to Shiro." She'd said softly tugging him down into her arms. As soon as their heads hit the pillow Ryoma knew that was the end of the matter, Camilla had a funny way of always ending the discussion in her favor no matter what he did. For all he knew not even continuing the argument in the morning would be a safe move. When it came to Shiro Ryoma had found more times than not Camilla had proven to be right.

So that's mother's intuition, but what about a father's intuition? He'd wondered shutting his eyes for the night.

It seemed like only a few days ago Ryoma was holding his son in his arms as a baby, and now he was watching him vigorously practicing his swordsmanship as a young adult. It felt like looking through a kaleidoscope. When Shiro first picked up a sword he'd been badgered day and night to produce another 'Peerless Samurai' as his father had done. Truthfully he'd taken the statements with something of a forced smile. While yes there was a part of him that did want Shiro to follow in his footsteps as a samurai, another part of him knew he had to let his son chart his own path in life. He'd come close to making that mistake with Takumi and to an extent Corrin, he couldn't afford to do so with his first born son.

Ryoma could still remember the first day he'd seen his son pick up a sword, as well as when he first laid eyes on Raijinto. His silvery blue eyes had grown wide and his tiny hands had reached out to hold the treasured weapon getting a cute laugh out of both his parents. Within the week he'd remembered seeing artist and painters drawing up future versions of his son wielding the royal blade, leading the troops into battle. If Ryoma had been wiser he'd have destroyed those paintings, or at least kept them out of Shiro's sight as he grew up.

"Ha! Hah! Hi-ya!"

Even when wielding a sword the long-haired man could easily see Camilla's influence on his son, it was all over his fighting style. Against the magically animated practice dummy Shiro was a living hurricane of speed and strength, keeping the pressure on his opponent with the intent of overwhelming him. The constant sound of wood cracking against itself filled the quiet dojo; to Ryoma the intensity and pace of the cracks told him all he needed to know about Shiro's fighting ability. While a part of him swelled with pride, another part shook its head at what he deciphered.

Shiro had knocked the dummy's sword out of its hands and immediately went on the offensive, his eyes glimmering with the fire of victory. That moment was the mistake that cost him the match. Reacting rather quickly the wooden dummy struck out its leg directly hitting Shiro in the gut, knocking the air out of him. A second kick followed that one then the dummy was pushing itself upwards on its hands. Shiro's wooden sword flew from his hands ending up directly in the dummy's wooden palms. Taking a stance it looked at Shiro silently asking if he wanted to continue. The first born son of the king and queen sneered at the dummy then went at it arms wide in a wild charge. With only three feet of distance between them the dummy surged forth swinging the bokken in a vertical arc towards Shiro's head, in response the lilac-haired youth threw up his left arm, blocking the blow. With a fierce twist of the body he drove his right fist directly into the practice dummy's stomach; Ryoma was quite sure he could hear wood being splintered and broken. Grabbing the sword from the dummy's hands Shiro decapitated the wooden dummy with a ferocious horizontal swing. The dummy's glowing blue eyes faded out symbolizing the magic that animated it was now dead and gone.

As the wooden doll fell to the ground with a series of clanks Shiro took a moment to catch his breath. Once he had he seemed to realize exactly what it was he'd just destroyed. "Ah crap! Not again! Dad's gonna kill me if he finds out I destroyed another Mokujin!"

"It will be coming out of your next allowance, I can tell you that much." It was at that moment Ryoma felt it was time to make his presence known. Best to do it know than later, at least then they could get the business of another damaged dummy out of the way. "I must say, when disarmed you have an interesting method of continuing to battle. I'd say it resembles your mother and Aunt Charlotte."

"Well, once Seigbert and I had a wrestling match, I won of course so yeah, when disarmed always fall back on ole' muscle." The fourteen year-old laughed in plain view of his father. The more aware he became of his father's continued stare the less happy the laughter became until it eventually died out completely. Hanging his head he said, "I'm sorry for the damages, I'll carve up a new-"

"Don't worry about it Shiro."

"I…wait, huh?"

Walking over he examined the severed dummy's head with keen eyes. "You certainly have speed and power, now put an axe or a sword in your hands and something tells me you'd me a force to be reckoned with just like your mother." Turning to face him with stern eyes he saw his son immediately tense up. "In your moment of possible victory your allowed overconfidence to cloud your judgement and you rushed in too fast. Because of that the Mokujin was not only able to disarm you but still your weapon as well. Though continuing to fight and even winning was admirable your style of unarmed combat was dangerous and left up too many holes in your defenses. Had this been a real match with a real opponent I would be tending to your wounds as we speak."

"Yeah, and then Mom would be fussing over me getting injured." Shiro mumbled.

"Quite so, and more than likely she would have dismembered your opponent possibly before doing so." Ryoma added getting a laugh out of his son. "You aren't hurt too badly are?"

"Nope, it'll take more than a few kicks to keep the future king of Hoshido down for the count." The young prince responded with a proud laugh. "It'd be shamefully if all it took was some stupid dummy scoring a few lucky shots on me and I'm doubled over in pain." Looking back at the dummy's inanimate body Shiro felt an uprush of shame color his cheeks red. "I…I'm sorry about you having to see all that. I lose my weapon and the next thing you know I'm charging at the enemy like a lunatic not even sure if it's going to cost me an arm to win." He's probably pissed at me for losing my sword period. I mean what kind of samurai lets the enemy get his own katana and use it against him?

"While yes, it was foolish beyond measure, it's also something I can admire…because I know I would have done the exact same thing. And I have done so before Shiro." He wondered just how off guard Shiro's reaction would be, it turned out it took his son a full minute to comprehend what he'd just said. His mouth went agape as he tried to picture his father charging an enemy barehanded while they were still armed. Not for the first time he found joy in the fact there was still much about him his son had yet to learn. Ryoma was sure if Camilla were here she'd have started going on about all the other crazy things he'd done but never told Shiro. "You'll need to study up on your martial arts skills, unarmed brawling may be fine for the streets, but you're a prince of Hoshido thus you'll be held to a higher standard." Even if it was meant to be seen as a scolding both males still round up laughing over it. If fatherhood had done him any good it'd helped him loosen up. Then again, Camilla might have had a hand in that one too. "I think that's enough practice for one afternoon, I can tell you've been at this for a while so why not take a break?"

"A-A…break? Sure, why not." It wasn't like he was seconds away from collapsing in a pool of his own sweat, but this was one of those rare moments he got to spend with his father. He'd be damned if he was going to waste it. "How'd you know I was out here training?"

"Call it a hunch, I used to come here to train when I was just about your age. This dojo is quite secluded from the rest of the castle and those who know of it know enough when they hear someone training not to bother them." The king confirmed pouring them each a cup of water. "You and I are more alike than you think sometimes Shiro."

"Heh," The lilac-haired teen laughed looking at the descending sun. "Mom always likes to say that. To be honest, just about everyone says that, but I wouldn't know since you're not always…" Though Shiro didn't know how to read emotions the way his parents did he could always detect those subtle mood changes, no matter how small they were. The fact that he could do so even with his father must have meant he was getting better. "Sorry."

"No, you're right Shiro, I…lately I haven't been with you as much as I should have. Instead of raising you I've spent more time being a king." Ryoma sighed.

"But you need to be a king, that's your job." The youth fired back. "Sure I miss those times you were able to be with me and Mom, but…I know…you've got a lot of responsibilities so…I'm…okay with that."

Looking over Ryoma couldn't help but smile a little at the brave face his son was attempting to put on. Reaching over he lightly ruffled Shiro's lilac colored hair. "I haven't forgotten I still have a caring wife and two children I need to father, Ionia, deserves to have a father just as much as you did. Granted, between you and your mother I don't think I'll be able to do much to spoil her as much."

"Hey come on, I don't spoil her that much." Shiro decried knowing he was blushing in plain view of his father.

"She's your first born little sister, and I seemingly remember you spending long nights cradling her in your arms and making faces to get her to laugh. I can only imagine when she's your age."

"Hm, yeah okay, maybe I do spoil her, but not as much as you do."

It there was one thing both men could agree on, it was the newest addition to their family had quickly become a center piece, just as Camilla herself had been. Odds were that's where the queen of Hoshido was at the moment, tending to her two year-old daughter with faint idea where her oldest and husband were. In half an hour or so odds were she'd come looking for them, and no doubt find them as the Wyvern rider had a good idea how the minds of her husband and son worked.

"Shiro, could I see your hands for a moment?" Though confused he did so allowing Ryoma to see the deep imprints and strain marks on the inside of his palms. The brown-haired king's face morphed into a straight-laced frown as he examined the boy's hands for every detail. "You've been going at this all week haven't you?"

"How can you tell?"

"Because stubbornness runs strong in this family, once we set our minds on something we keep it at until the deed is done."

"Oh good, sounds like I inherited the Hoshidan family spirit then huh?" He half joked.

"That you did Shiro, and perhaps whatever stubborn streak runs in the Nohrian royal family. Once your mother set her mind on something she didn't let it go either," Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Shiro tense up. Smiling he continued, "Even if she tried to play it off as nothing." Now with bright red cheeks Shiro quickly withdrew his hands and looked away hiding his face from his laughing father. The samurai was beginning to understand just why his wife took so much fun in toying with him. "You don't have to force yourself to wield a blade Shiro." He finally stated causing his son to face him again.

Inside his head Ryoma's words echoed throwing Shiro's emotions into a whirlwind of confusion and doubt. He looked between his father and the sunset which now cast the entire dojo in various shades of red and orange. "Th…Dad, we both know that's not an option for me. What kind of king of Hoshido can't wield a katana? I'd be setting a bad image compared to you and Grandfather."

"Let me rephrase that, you don't have to wield a katana as your primary weapon."

"A shame there isn't a naginata-type royal weapon to be passed down huh?"

"If there were the case you'd have to compete with Hisame for it."

"Hmph, not a problem. I've got more wins on him than losses."

"Does winning matter that much to you?"

Like a flash of lightning Shiro felt his father's stern gaze fall upon him, chaining him to the spot and the conversation at head. Cursing he mustered up all the will he had and forced the words out. "W-Well, sort of. I mean, when you win that's it, end of story. The winners are the ones who write history, they're the ones who get to make the rules, they're the ones who get to go back home to their families and…" Reading his father's unchanging face Shiro fought back the urge to face palm. "I'm wrong aren't I?"

Breathing out a heavy sigh the king straightened himself up in preparation for the coming lecture. "Shiro, I won't deny there is a grain of truth to your words. While yes everything you listed is true, let me ask you, must you win every fight you engage in?" A long silence passed before Ryoma received a response. With a firm shake of his head the older samurai knew his son had at least had a better grasp of the world than he let on. "If you attempt to fight every battle available then I can tell you you'll tire very quickly and victory will be nothing more than a dream. Speaking of which, what would you call winning? When your enemy has surrendered and is at your mercy…or when you've killed them down to the last man?"

At the second choice Shiro felt a sharp jolt run through him as he pictured a battlefield littered with the bodies of the dead. Suddenly his mouth felt dry and the red glow of sunset seemed a whole lot less beautiful. "I'd prefer the first choice, I want to win, but not if it means committing wholesale slaughter of my enemies, especially if they've given up by that point."

"That is good, then you realize the value of human life regardless of rather or not it opposes you. If you chose the second then it means Camilla and I would have failed not just as rulers, but as parents."

Swallowing the lump in his throat Shiro just to ask his next question carefully, knowing one wrong move could end the delicate moment and put him and his father on the outs for a while. "Dad, not to be rude or disrespectful, but is this about…er, Mom's…side of the…"

"Partially yes it is, and partially no." he answered with a calm voice hoping to alleviate some of his son's fears. "Shiro, I've noticed this for a long time, you have a strong desire to win. Normally that wouldn't be a problem as you've previously stated, winning can mean the difference between life and death, but you have to recognize what it is you're fighting for as well as how far you're willing to go for it. Winning can be done with more than just a sword in hand, it can be done with words and diplomacy, without bloodshed. As I'm sure you've learned despite what stories are told of your mother's homeland Hoshido was once no better, a scattered collection of tribes and clans fighting each other to the death for domination. Back then they prioritized winning to the point they'd sacrificed their own young to gain a leg up on their enemies. When our family line took power by uniting all the clans they made a vow never to return to that mindset because of how much carnage it wrought. Similarly your Uncle Xander works to this day to change Nohr's mindset of conquest and battle."

Shiro remembered when he was young how he'd been versed in all parts of Hoshido's history, including the darker parts that weren't taught in public schools. It was one of the reasons why whenever someone called him out on his Nohrian blood he had to bite back the urge to respond his Hoshidan blood was no less violent. "About what you said earlier, if I'd chose the second choice then it would have meant you and Mom failed at being parents…"

"Contrary to whatever you think Shiro, your mother and I value you as more than our successor." Once again reaching over to place his hand on top his son's head Ryoma was reminded of just how much time had passed since his father's death over twenty years earlier. Father, Mother, am I doing well with Shiro? If you can hear me please watch over him as you did the five of us during those turbulent years, or at least give me the strength to guide him onto the right path. "You becoming a good man means more to us than you becoming a good ruler."

Those words were like a well-placed hammer blow to Shiro. The fourteen year-old stared speechlessly at his father mouth agape and eyes as wide as the moon. It was exceedingly rare to see the prince of Hoshido with such an expression on his face. His fingers were had been curling and uncurling now lay completely spread out on his knees. Within his wide blue eyes were a mix of shock and possible even relief.

Looking down Shiro tried not to let his emotions show knowing his father would be able to read through them in a heartbeat. "I…I want to win so much because…it means I'm strong. If…if I'm not strong then…I always thought the weak have no right leading. If I'm not strong enough to fight on equal footing with you then I've got no right leading Hoshido. That's…why I chose to focus on spear fighting than kenjutsu because…I thought that was the only way I'd ever be able to go toe-to-toe with you."

"I see, what about now?"

"Huh?"

"You've been practicing the spear for some time, do you still see it as only a means of defeating me in battle one day?"

"E-Eh, w-well no, not anymore. To be honest, I feel right at home whenever I'm fighting with a naginata. I kind of prefer it to a katana, but I can still kick plenty of ass with a sword." He grinned.

"Then you've found your weapon of choice. Just because the katana isn't your preferred weapon doesn't mean that path is closed to you. I've seen you with a blade just as I've seen you with a spear, I'm sure you can handle both with great skill. As your father I'll be there to insure you manage to do so." He finished his cup then poured himself another. "Who knows, perhaps when she becomes of age you'll be the one teaching Ionia how to wield a sword."

"Maybe," Shiro chuckled looking back to the crimson-soaked horizon. "Do you think…one day I'll be worthy to wield Raijinto?"

Ryoma let his son wait a while before giving him an answer, one he knew would have a large impact on Shiro. "If you remain on the path you're on…then yes, I believe one day you will be worthy enough to wield Raijinto."

"I…kind of thought the path I was on was the wrong one." The younger male admitted.

"Then allow me to correct that for you right here Shiro. To wield Raijinto requires more than just physical strength, it requires strength of heart and mind, a conviction strong enough it will make even the gods take notice of you." Ryoma affirmed in his commanding voice engraving every word into his son's head. For a second the intensity slackened as old memories resurfaced. "At one point…I was in your position Shiro, doubtful of if I was ready to lead, if I'd ever be ready wield Raijinto, more so in leading Hoshido."

"Did it start…after Grandfather died?"

"Yes, at least right around that time period. Everyone was looking at me to succeed to my father, and I can tell you there were some nights the fear kept me awake up until the morning. Even to this day I can tell you the thought of failing you all and Hoshido keeps me awake fearful of what the future may bring."

"How'd you deal with it? From the sounds of things I would have broken under the pressure." Hell, I probably will break if I'm ever under that kind of pressure.

"I had your grandmother and my siblings by my side. Now I have them plus your mother." Ryoma answered with a quiet smile as he gazed out at the sunset. He'd lost count of how many he'd seen and how many he'd thought would be his last. "Remember when I said it takes strength of heart and mind to wield Raijinto? You need to have the courage to stand up and face the future with both eyes forward. Those that lack the will to do so will never advance nor will anyone ever feel safe following them into the unknown."

Shiro thought of his father's words and immediately spat out the first thing that came to mind. "Like being scared of lightning?"

"Heh, yes, something like that." He chuckled. "If you tremble at every flash of lightning how you can expect to wield Raijin's white fire in your hands."

"You sound like those boogeyman stories of unworthy wielders getting struck down by lightning the second they try to pick up Raijinto." Shiro commented feeling a sweat drop coming on.

If Shiro meant for his question to be comedic it flew right over Ryoma's head, or perhaps he just ignored it all together. "As my father told me, I'm telling you, those stories are in fact true. Do you fear that fate befalling you Shiro?"

With a wince the young prince responded, "Actually yeah, I do. I really don't want to go down as a Hoshidan prince how got roasted because he wasn't worthy of the family sword."

"Shiro, listen to me carefully," Ryoma began moving his body so they were completely face to face. "Contrary to what people tell you and what you hear, fear is a good thing. It's a part of what makes us humans. Because we can experience fear we can dig deep to find the light that is known as courage. On the battlefield and in times of crisis those who wield Raijinto must become the light known as hope to guide the kingdom through the darkness. To do that takes a special kind of strength and conviction only a few possess, I was able to find it when I needed it, and I know you possess it as well. When the time comes Raijinto will pass from my hands to yours."

"How Dad? How…how do you know that day will come?" The lilac-haired heir questioned with half-pleading eyes.

"Because you're my son, and I have faith that inner strength will have passed on not just from me, but from your mother as well Shiro." The king of Hoshido firmly stated placing both hands on his trembling son's shoulders. Now their eyes were deadlocked, thunderous conviction in one pair and starry-eyed awe in the other. Bit by bit he saw the doubt and fear evaporate, replaced by a familiar shine he knew all too well. "When you fight, what is it you fight for?"

"…For you and Mom. For my family and my friends. When I think of someone hurting everyone I care about…Ionia, Kiragi, Hisame Seigbert, Forrest, Selkie, Caeldori, Kana, and…Rhajat. I think about all of them and push myself up saying if not for my sake, then for theirs." The first born son of the king and queen responded with fire in his voice.

"Then as I said, you have the makings of a king in you. A true king fights not for himself or for glory, but to ensure the safety of his people. A man fights to protect that which he holds precious. When a samurai makes a vow to protect something, he protects it to the end. Remember those things Shiro."

"I…will Father, you have my word."

Ryoma could have sworn he felt tears welling up at the edges of his eyes seeing the determination within his eldest son's eyes. He would have commented on it had someone else not beaten him to the punch.

"Papa! Nii-san!" A female voice squeaked.

"Eh?"

"Huh?"

Looking down both men were rather surprised to see a toddler with deep brown hair looking at both of them with wide silvery-blue eyes. Going towards Shiro she raised her hands up silently asking to be lifted, naturally the teenager responded to his sister's request in kind.

Sitting back Ryoma watched with a carefree smile as his eldest spun his two-year old daughter around his arms softly whispering to her. His smile persisted as he felt the warm arms of his wife encircle him followed by her head softly falling upon his shoulder. "Out of curiosity how much of that did you hear?"

"Hear what? Why have I have no idea what you're talking about my dear husband." Camilla laughed watching their children play.

There were few people Ryoma ever felt safe letting his guard down around, those people could actually have been counted on one hand. Amongst those handful Camilla probably stood at the top of the list. Leaning back into her arms he allowed a single tear to fall not caring if their children saw it. "Do you think I've done a good job so far?"

Softly nuzzling his neck Camilla looked to the two children laughing together, her heart fluttering with each breath. "I see a boy who I know one day will become a fine king and a girl who will grow up to be a compassionate yet loving and gentle princess. All thanks to a beautiful mother and a devoted father."

With the image of his children playing together and his wife protectively cradling him Ryoma allowed another tear to fall from his eyes. Happiness, it was an emotion he rarely felt truly reach his heart and at times he believed it would always elude him, but in moments like this he knew that wasn't true.

He'd endured so much more than he ever dreamed he was capable of handling, but in the end he'd not only endured but prospered. At times like this he felt it was okay to enjoy the rewards, his wife and children had made everything he'd been through worth it, and they always would.

First of all Happy Father's Day everyone. As you can clearly guess the theme of this one was father and son, featuring our favorite lobster lord and his son. Naturally I decided to make this one a little more personal since as some people note, Ryoma and Shiro's canon supports can leave a…bad taste in the mouths of those who watch them. Part of this might be because in their supports Ryoma comes off less as Shiro's father and more his teacher, to correct that I decided to have him be a little more personal with Shiro, also a whole lot more encouraging rather than straight shooting him down. He's had a few years to lighten up plus Camilla so I figured he'd be a little more lax in interacting with his son.

Once again, Happy Father's' Day everyone! Until next time!