And at long last the story is complete (technically. There's an epilogue that will come hopefully soon). Thank you kindly Mr. P.T. Piranha for being my beta and putting up with me. Hope y'all enjoy it.

The sun was brutal, it practically roasted anyone who'd left the comfort of their air-conditioned homes. Today's weather wasn't even kind enough to muster even one refreshing breeze, and Shiro and Asugi were starting to regret their decision to go to the park.

The two of them could barely scrape together the coins in their pockets to buy an ice cream to share, and the pool wasn't in walking distance. All they could do was lay sprawled out on the grass with shallow breathing and eyes shut gently in an attempt to block out the sun.

After his weekend at his uncle's house, Shiro had spent a great deal of time thinking about the relationship between him and his father, and about himself. The two of them weren't arguing anymore, but they certainly weren't as close as they were a year ago.

Now they just existed together. They said good morning to each other and they said goodnight to each other, but there was nothing in between that. And Shiro could see when his father would fix his mouth to say something to him, but he didn't want to hear anything just yet. He wasn't ready yet.

Not until he figured out a few things about himself.

"What kind of person am I?" he asked suddenly.

Asugi didn't say anything for a moment, processing Shiro's question in much needed silence. His brow furrowed, and his lips curled into a frown. "What are you even talking about?" asked Asugi.

"Exactly what I said," Shiro pressed on. "What kind of person am I?"

"I mean, you're cool. I wouldn't hang out with you if you weren't." Asugi hummed in thought for a moment. "You suck at video games though."

Shiro's eyebrows quirked in annoyance. "That's not what I meant. I wanna know if I'm a good kid or not."

Slowly, Asugi sat up. "Why?"

"We went around fighting people and being rude to teachers," Shiro said, finally opening his eyes. "That was so mean of us… but even though we did that, my uncle and my dad still think I'm a good kid. I don't understand it."

"We are good kids," said Asugi. "We just raise hell cause that's what kids do. Or, at least that's what my dad says."

"That's not true. I… I know why I did all that stuff, and it wasn't just 'cause I could," said Shiro. His heart was starting to feel heavy, and queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach wasn't doing anything for his current mood.

"…It's 'cause of your mom, right?"

Shiro's eyes widened, his breath is caught in his chest. Was is all just so obvious? Was the way his family fell apart so transparent to the world? He remembered once when a teacher scolded him for teasing another student. What would his parents say?

His mother was dead and his father didn't care.

That was what he said.

He never stopped to consider how his mother would feel until Uncle Takumi brought it up, and he never would have if Takumi hadn't said anything. Because those who brought up his mother knew nothing about him or his family.

They were the same people who teased him about his mother, and didn't do much to the children that hurt him, so why would their opinions on how his mother felt about his behavior matter?

With a slow exhale, Shiro breathed, "Yeah."

"What happened to her?" Asugi asked. "I just know that she died and you don't like talking about her, so I never asked."

"My dad told me it was an accident, and she got hit on the head with a rock," said Shiro. It had been a little more complicated than that. She and a few coworkers went into an abandoned cave when they received word that a few college kids set foot inside. Some of the stalactites in the cave, as well as a few from the walls, began to fall.

Scarlet was one of the few that that suffered fatal injuries. Some of the students that went inside were retrieved with non-lethal injuries. The story was huge – covered by all the local news channels. Shiro couldn't understand it when it first happened, but now that he was older, he kind of resented the ones who made his mother go inside of that cave in the first place.

As of late, Shiro constantly thought of how he handled situations in the past, and he was beginning to wonder if his resentment towards those people whose faces he didn't know was justified.

"I'm real sorry about your mom," said Asugi, voice quiet. "I didn't know it was that bad… I mean, it'd still be bad if it happened another way but, y'know, it just–"

"Sucks?" Shiro finished.

"Yeah," Asugi nodded. "Y'know, I remember in the first grade when you'd always talk about her – said you wanted to do that whole rock thing just like her. What happened to that?"

Shiro moved to sit up, brown eyes staring directly into curious green ones. "I dunno… I just feel like, with all the stupid stuff I did, I don't really think I should keep it anymore."

With the way he treated his father, his classmates, and even his father's friend (Orochi, he remembered her name instead of calling her his mother's replacement), Shiro didn't think he even deserved to follow in his mother's footsteps.

The box with his rock collection, as well as his wyvern plushie Crimson, sat underneath his bed, collecting a rather thin layer of dust. Every unique rock he came across on the way to school was ignored, as much as he didn't want to ignore them.

As much as Shiro felt that he didn't deserve to keep it anymore, he couldn't find it in himself to part with it. Precious memories from his mother were still in there, and he felt it'd also be disrespectful to part with it.

So for a while longer, the box continued to collect dust.

During the first few weeks of school, everyone had slowly begun to realize that Shirasagi Elementary School's Devilish Duo wasn't quite so devilish after all.

The only fight that occurred during that time was over pudding during lunch period, and neither Shiro nor Asugi had anything to do with it, much to the surprise of their peers. There were no more meetings between the two at recess to plan the next big prank, and there was no more aggression during gym class.

Their teachers considered it a blessing. Many of the students thought of it as the calm before the storm. They waited for one of them to finally explode, and pick on their next victim. A few students even went the extra mile to try and provoke Shiro into fighting again.

And maybe Asugi would jump in just because.

But no matter how hard they tried, it was as though Shiro was in his own world. He could barely focus on their biting words, lost in thoughts of his broken family and what kind of person he was. It didn't take long before everyone stopped paying attention to him. Attempting to get Shiro to lash out proved to be more challenging than anything, and their teachers would not tolerate bullying, even if Shiro was infamous around the entire school.

Shiro was sure that if he wasn't so tired all the time, he would have fought back, even though his father explained a long time ago that he couldn't hurt people because they made him angry. However, there was just no fight left in him. He spent his nights up until gods know how late, playing his handheld video game to keep himself from thinking about how badly he'd hurt others.

During the day, he could barely keep his eyes open. When his father came to wake him, it felt as if his eyes had only closed for a second. The cold spray of shower water always jolted him awake before it turned warm, but his eyes always seemed to feel heavy when he was well into the school day.

On one day in particular, his head hit the desk, and he slept for about five minutes until he could hear his teacher's shrill voice yank him out of his slumber.

"Shiro! Mitama!" she cried. "Since you two are so keen on sleeping in my class, the two of you can go stand outside right now!"

A couple of his classmates chuckled while others collectively went "Ohhhh, you got in trouble!"

And as Shiro trudged behind his classmate out into the hallway with his hands in his pockets and his lips curled into a frown, his teacher went on to cry, "And don't come back in here until I tell you that you can come back, is that understood?"

The door shut right as she finished speaking, and neither child had the desire to open the door and reply "Yes, ma'am," so the two stood side by side in silence for a while. The two were never in a class together until this year, but this wasn't Shiro's first time meeting her.

She lived right across the street from Asugi's house, and although they've shared a few conversations, the two never really spent much time together. Shiro could feel his eyebrow twitch in irritation when she let out the most obnoxious yawn.

"Do you have to be that loud?" he asked.

"No," she began, "but it's the only way I can express my anger about being woken up." Then, she let out another yawn.

Come to think of it, Mitama was always sleeping, and as a result, she was always told to go stand outside in the hall. It was a wonder why she got mad at all. Wasn't she used to it? Even so, Shiro's first instinct wasn't to question her, but to agree with her. He had some steam to blow off as well.

"Yeah, her weird voice was super annoying," Shiro grumbled, folding his arms across his chest.

"It is," she agreed. "I'm surprised though. I didn't think you'd get in trouble for sleeping in class."

Of course she didn't. "You thought I'd get in trouble for fighting," he said flatly.

"Mhmm. My dad says that when kids get rowdy and fight, it's a sign of bad home training and parenting."

"Well, your dad can go shove it," Shiro huffed, not missing a beat.

Mitama didn't seem very offended by his words. Instead, she shrugged. "My dad just likes to talk. Just because he says that doesn't mean it's true. But, I can tell him you said that, if you want me to."

Shiro's brow furrowed. "Uh, no. You don't have to do that."

"That's okay," Mitama started. "Asugi's dad has said it to him a bunch of times from across the street, so I don't think he's missing out on anything."

Leave it to Asugi's hotheaded father to make hurling insults at neighbors a morning ritual.

Another silence enveloped them before Mitama gave a small sigh. "I think we're missing out on a math lesson."

"I suck at math, so I don't really care," said Shiro.

"I'm okay at math, but I like our writing lessons better." There was a smile on Mitama's face for once, and Shiro remembered that writing lessons were the only thing she bothered to stay awake for. "My favorite thing was learning about poems. I write them all the time now."

"Poems about what?" he asked.

"About my dreams and stuff like that," she answered simply. "I can come up with a poem about you too."

He waited for her to think on it before she snapped her fingers with a triumphant smirk. "Shiro – bold and loud. Always so energetic. Why does he look sad?"

"…Are you asking?"

"No, I was telling you my poem," Mitama answered. "But if you wanted to answer, you can. Asugi tells me nothing."

That was because Asugi himself didn't know anything until right before summer vacation ended. "I can't really answer you.

"Don't answer, it's fine. I hope you feel better soon. A sad Shiro is weird." A pause. "Oh, I think I messed up somewhere."

A sad Shiro was weird indeed, but he just couldn't help it. There wasn't much that made him smile genuinely anymore.

Nine times out of ten, a test given back by a teacher while turned on its blank side meant that a student failed horribly. Only in rare cases was it turned over to trick a student into thinking they failed when they went above and beyond by somehow managing to score 103 points.

Shiro knew that this wasn't a rare case, but turned over his math test anyway to take a look at his grade. "50" was written at the top of his paper in red ink, along with his teacher's sloppy cursive. It was a good thing she told him, "Make sure your father signs this test, that way I know he's seen it," as she passed by his desk. Otherwise, he would have just thrown it in the trash.

He gave a small sigh before hitting his head lightly on his desk. Shiro really didn't want to bring this test home, but if he didn't, it would have certainly been brought up during parent teacher meetings in October, and he'd rather not get into an argument with his father.

"Sheesh, what a low grade," Asugi's voice cut through the low chatter of their classmates. "Turn it over. Don't you care if people see?"

"Everyone knows I suck at math, so what's the point?" Shiro grumbled, head still on the desk. "'Sides, you don't care if people see your bad grades, why should I?"

He hummed in thought. "You got a point there."

"What'd you even get anyway?" Shiro asked. Asugi flashed his test paper for his best friend to see, and when Shiro turned his head to see the 85 that sat on the top of the paper, he groaned. "Well we all can't be geniuses like you."

Asugi gave a snort. "Math is, like, the only thing I'm good at. I bombed the history test we got last week."

Shiro lifted his head from the desk to shoot Asugi an inquiring look. "Your dad doesn't get mad at you for failing?"

"Eh, yeah but he only finds out a while later."

"So how do you get him to sign your tests?" Shiro asked.

Green eyes glazed over the classroom before looking back to Shiro. "I don't. My mom does it. Well, when she can anyway." Sometimes his mother would go out on business trips, and Asugi would hold out on getting it signed until she returned. "It's a lot easier than dealing with my dad."

"Oh," Shiro started, "I guess she's nicer about it than your dad?"

"I mean, I guess she is. She just looks sad when I come back with a bad grade," he said. "I feel bad when she looks like that so it makes me wanna do better."

Briefly, Shiro wondered if his mother would look sad if he brought home a failing grade. It didn't seem like the kind of thing his mother would do. He could definitely see her giving him a noogie and telling him to hit the books.

"Can we pretend to have the same mom?" Shiro asked. "That way, she can sign my stuff too?"

"Yeah? And have you pretend to be my little brother? No thanks," Asugi laughed.

Shiro rolled his eyes. "No one even wants to be your brother, you clown," he joked.

As the two of them bantered back and forth, the low grade on Shiro's math test was temporarily forgotten until he went back home.

"A fifty, Shiro?" Ryoma asked, eyes hardening at the test paper before him before he glanced over at his son. Shiro couldn't even meet his gaze, as his was cast off to the side. As serious as this situation was, there was a small comfort that Ryoma found in all of this – that Shiro actually handed him the failed test in the first place.

Before Shiro came home, the school's counselor had called, saying that he was told that Shiro hadn't been completing any of his homework and asked if everything was alright. Although things between them could have been better, Ryoma assured the counselor that he would have everything under control.

Hopefully.

Ryoma thought he would have to ask Shiro to pull out all the assignments he missed, or that another argument would break out between the two of them when he confronted him about it. Instead, as soon as Shiro came home, he pulled the test right out of his bag and asked Ryoma to sign it.

Shiro may have been rambunctious and foolhardy, but Ryoma also knew his son to be honest (sometimes brutally so). It was one of his best attributes.

A sigh escaped him, and Ryoma ran his free hand through his mess of a mane. "I got a phone call from school too. About you not doing your homework."

Now it was Shiro's turn to sigh, but this one was out of exasperation. "Of course you got a phone call home – because no one trusts me enough to tell the truth."

"You know, Shiro, you were the one who told me that you could do homework just fine on your own, and that you did homework with Asugi." When he was met with silence, Ryoma pressed on, "Shiro, if there's anything bothering you, I want you to talk to me about it. Please."

A heavy silence filled the air, but Shiro was so positive that his heart was beating so loudly that his father could hear it too. So many things had been bothering him. You bother me. Mom bothers me. This whole thing bothers me.

But nothing bothered Shiro more than his embarrassment. How his actions always seemed to return to him, no matter how much he tried to forget. The silence between Shiro and his father, the primroses that seemed to be replaced as soon as they showed signs of wilting – he tried so hard to block everything out, but nothing was working.

His fists balled up at his sides, and his lips trembled. The tears in his eyes welled up so high that everything became a blur. They rolled down his cheeks as he opened his mouth to speak, but instead of words, Shiro began to cry.

In an instant, Ryoma fell to his knees, paper discarded carelessly on the floor as he took his son into his arms. Each heave of his shoulders made Ryoma's embrace tighten ever so slightly, and each sniffle seemed to break his heart further.

One hand moved to rest on top of Shiro's head, while the other rubbed soothing circles into his back. "It's okay, Shiro. Dad's here," he spoke, unsure if Shiro could hear him over his own crying. The last time Ryoma remembered hugging Shiro like this was when he was six years old, a year after his mother died.

It was right after a big fight broke out between them, and it was the night that Ryoma promised to be the best father he could. Once Shiro had settled down, Ryoma let out somewhat of a plaintive sigh. "I'm so sorry, Shiro. I promised you that I'd be the best father I possibly could, but all I've done was made you feel like you couldn't trust me. I want to make things right. Tell me what you want me to do. What makes you happy?"

Shiro gently pulled away from his father's hug, and wiped away his tears with the sleeve of his shirt. "N-No…" he sniffled. "I'm not mad at you. I mean, I was but… it's not your fault. I was just being dumb."

"Don't say that," Ryoma started. "You're allowed to feel angry. You're allowed to be upset."

"But I didn't have to–" Shiro cut himself off, and took a deep breath in, then out. "I was really mean to you and a lot of people at school. And I kinda liked being that way because I thought everyone else was being mean to me. I thought you hated me and mom, so if I hated you, then we'd be even."

There was a slight pang in Ryoma's chest as he listened to Shiro's words. "Son, I could never hate you. Sometimes, I get frustrated, and I admit, I don't deal with it properly, but I would never hate you, or your mother."

"I know," he breathed. "Uncle Takumi talked to me about it, so I… thought about it. I thought you didn't love Mom and me 'cause of Orochi, like you were gonna replace us. I know that's not true. I should have just gave her a chance and let you explain…"

"So, I've just been thinking about that. And all the mean stuff I did because I thought you didn't care. I thought about it so much that I never did any of my homework, and I never studied like I was supposed to. I just played video games and sat in my room all day…" Shiro paused. "Oh, and I guess I haven't been doing my homework because I'm not good at math either…"

A laugh escaped Ryoma's lips, and he ruffled Shiro's hair. It was something that Shiro couldn't remember his father doing for the longest time, and the gesture made him feel warm. "Okay then. I think I'll just have to help out with math homework then. Sound good?"

"Yeah," Shiro nodded, managing to smile weakly.

The smile on Ryoma's face vanished, and a look of earnestness took its place. "Shiro, listen to me. No one could ever replace your mother. And you… you're too precious to me to imagine my life without."

Brown eyes widened in surprise. "Do you mean that?"

"I do," Ryoma spoke, "and I'm sorry I made you question that, even for a second."

Shiro moved to wrap his father in a big hug, and Ryoma returned it. "I love you, Dad."

"And I love you," he smiled. "Oh, before I forget, Orochi wanted to know how you were doing. I remember her saying that she had a present for you."

Shiro scrambled to break away from his father before shaking his head no. "Tell her she doesn't need to give me a present! But… I wanna see her so I can say that I'm sorry. And if she's going to be my new mom… I'll be okay with it."

"Woah, woah! Don't you think 'new mom' is pushing it?" Ryoma said, panicked. "Orochi is… a friend. So please, don't mention 'new mom' around her, alright?"

"Oh, okay! I won't mention it!" Shiro laughed. His smile faltered for a moment. "Hey Dad, so we're cool now, right?"

"Of course."

"Do you think Mom knows that we are? 'Cause I'm sure she didn't like seeing us fight… I don't like it when we fight."

Ryoma looked to the primroses on the side table in the hall. It was almost funny how a child's belief in his mother's words caused flowers to be a staple of their home. The flowers practically revolved around their life. Or was it them that revolved around the flowers? "I'm positive she knows. She can see everything, after all."

A feeling of relief swept through Shiro. He had apologized to the primroses in his bedroom a million times over, unsure if his mother could actually forgive him for what he'd done. With his father's reassurance, there felt as if there had been a weight lifted off Shiro's shoulders.

"Dad? Do you think uh… this weekend, like on Saturday, we can go in the back yard and look for rocks?" he asked tentatively. "You know, like we used to?"

A grin broke out on Ryoma's face. "What's this? My boy still wants to be a 'geolographist'? To 'ecibate' rocks?" he teased.

Shiro could feel his cheeks grow warm. "Ugh, Dad! Cut that out! I was a little kid back then – I know how to say those words properly now!"

"Back then?" he asked. "Shiro, you're still a little kid."

"Nuh-uh! I'm big and strong!" he cried before flexing his muscles. "Look at these guns! There as big as Captain Arthur's!"

"Oh yeah? Are they as strong as Captain Arthur's? Because I doubt it," Ryoma shot back.

Shiro rolled up his sleeves, taking a rather aggressive stance. "Watch me, old man! I'm gonna beat you up!"

"'Old man'?" Ryoma muttered in disbelief before Shiro pounced on him with a shout. "Oh! Someone doesn't play fair – attacking Dad when he's not paying attention!"

"Well then pay attention next time!"

The house was filled with shrill laughter when Ryoma picked Shiro up over his head and spun him around, and their little wrestling match (which Ryoma never let Shiro forget that he won) ended almost five minutes later before Shiro was told to do his homework.

This time, Ryoma sat at the table to help Shiro whenever he needed it.

Things just seemed to fall into place, as if there had never been a point in time where the two of them were angry with each other. They ate chicken for dinner (and Shiro made sure to tell his father he preferred barbeque chicken) and caught up on all the episodes of Captain Arthur and Percy, Boy Wonder that they missed out on together.

And after washing up and getting ready for bed, Shiro reached out to grab his father's hand. "Dad, stay here with me."

Ryoma's brow furrowed. "Shiro, I absolutely cannot fit in that bed. Especially with you."

"Then I can sleep on your stomach! Just like I did when was littler!" he beamed.

"Shiro…"

"Pleeeeeaaaase?"he begged, and the next thing Ryoma knew, he was squished into a child's bed with his son draped over him haphazardly. Boy, he couldn't wait for the terrible neck pains he'd receive in the morning. However, Ryoma was willing to endure it if it made Shiro happy.

His eyes found the primroses at Shiro's bedside. Underneath the moonlight, yellow eyes stared right back at him. He smiled.

We're alright now. Shiro and I are going to be just fine.

AN: So, I just wanted to say that this fic was inspired by a piece of art done by captain-eurobeat on Tumblr. I'd link here if I could but this site doesn't allow that sooo you should check that blog out.