Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was cold outside and none of the children had on their scarfs or hats. Mahiru was growing frustrated trying to garner their attention and finally resorted to rolling up a magazine and shouting through it, “Oi, listen up! If you don’t put these on now, none of you are getting any ice cream tonight!”

The desired effect was that they were lining up to be handed what they needed to be wearing, though Hyde was struggling to put on his scarf. It didn’t help it was the longest one out of all of them and he was getting tangled up in it rather than having any success at bundling up. With an exasperated sigh, Mahiru undid the mess that Hyde had gotten himself into and asked him to stay still as he looped it around the little boy's neck, tightening it so it stayed in placed, and then patted him on top of his spiky head with a smile. “Go have fun,” Mahiru encouraged, beginning to turn away.

“Thanks, mom!” called back Hyde as he ran off, only realizing what he said a heartbeat later and pausing mid-stride. From where he was, Mahiru could see the tips of his ears color as the little boy insisted, “I didn’t say that, you can’t prove it!”

Chuckling, Mahiru shrugged and said, “Heard what?” He didn’t bring it up again, but Hyde was noticeably flustered throughout the rest of his time playing outside. He only returned to his usual behavior when Mahiru started quoting Shakespeare at him, asking questions. Hyde could never resist a good debate when it came to interpretation.

It was a quiet evening for a change. Most of the children were out of the house, and the few that were around were busy with their own activities. There was one lone child that tugged on Mahiru’s shirt, pointing to the kitchen as he asked, “Can we bake a cake for Nii-san?”

That wasn’t an bad idea. It would be a nice surprise for the snack-loving Kuro, at any rate, but he couldn’t resisting poking fun, wondering, “Did you eat your brother’s snacks again, Wor-kun?” The screwed up face as World appeared to think of a good excuse was enough of an answer and Mahiru laughed, leading him into the kitchen as he agreed, “Let’s make a cake together, then. That sounds fun.”

Lighting up, World went about the place with the ease of someone who was well acquainted with where everything was, being the good assistant that Mahiru had come to expect. When it came to food. The mixing bowls were placed on the counter alongside the spoons and other things they would need. Next came the ingredients as Mahiru listed them off for World to procure for them.

Once everything was ready to go, Mahiru added the flour, salt and baking powder into one bowl, instructing World to crack the eggs into the other bowl while he watched. His assistant had certainly gotten the hang of cracking them by now and needed little to no aid. Though those first few attempts, back when they had first started cooking together, had been a test of patience.

When it came time to mix everything together and the batter became to stiffen, World began to have a harder time turning the spoon, so Mahiru walked up behind him and added his hands into the fray to better help with the stirring. One on the bowl, and one alongside World’s, pressing down on the spoon to ensure the batter didn’t fly out.

Happily, World told him, “You’re really good at this, mom!” And that was when some of the batter did go flying out, because Mahiru had forgotten to momentarily hold down on the spoon and World’s enthusiastic mixing had renewed.

They did manage to make a single-layered cake out of what was left of the batter, but it was a close thing. Mahiru didn’t point out the incident that led to it, and World didn’t seem to realize what he had said. It was probably for the best.

The dining table was a mess of books, and among them was a shock of purple hair. A young woman slowly began to raise her head and level Mahiru with a squinted-eyed stare as she asked, “Hey, you’re almost an adult. Do we really need this much math to graduate?” She gestured to the oodles of scrap paper that had scratched out answers and formulas on them. Mahiru shifted his weight forward to take a look at what was troubling Okami and what she had accomplished thus far, hands on his hips as he let at a faint, “Hmm.”

It didn’t seem that difficult, what she was working on, but he had to admit, “This really is a lot of homework.” Also adding in, “Are you sure this is all due tomorrow?” She gave him a blank look in response, so he elaborated, “This looks more like assigned work for the week. Did you double-check the due dates you wrote down?”

In disbelief, she dug through the mess until she reached the notebook she had written the dates down in and leafed through them to the correct page. She glanced back, mouth slightly parted in shock. “You’re right, mom.”

Mahiru decided not to comment; she was already searching through the assignments until she found the correct one due tomorrow and started puzzling over it. He didn’t want to interrupt her for something that wasn’t that big of a deal.

Still, he was starting to wonder.

Hugh was getting ready for his part-time job, adjusting his uniform just so. Mahiru snapped a picture for memento’s sake and showed it to him. “You look great,” complimented Mahiru, “stop fussing over the necktie.”

“It’s despicable,” argued Hugh, frustrated and half-tempted to throw it aside from the way he was clutching it in his hand. “Who on Earth wears bow ties in this day in age?”

Mahiru set his phone on the nearest surface and took the necktie from him, stepping closer to redo the bow that should have been there. “You never know,” Mahiru said, “you might have liked them if you grew up in the Victorian Era. You strike me as the type.”

Offended, Hugh straightened his new bow and insisted, “I could never. These things are a dreadful abomination. What sort of person do you take me for?”

Considering that for a moment, Mahiru tapped his chin and then snapped his fingers, grinning as he said, “I think you look posh. That’s the word, right?”

With reddened cheeks, Hugh dropped his gaze to the floor and scoffed. “Yes, it is, but … what needless flattery. Well, I should be going, mother. I’m going to be late if I don’t hurry.”

Hugh was already out the door before Mahiru could correct him.

Cleaning the house was a relaxing way to pass the time while the kids were preoccupied with their own things. It was a nice, measured duty that required little thought, ingrained in him from years of maintaining his own living space for fear it would never get done otherwise. He could break in the new headphones that Sakuya had gifted him with as well, turning up his music while he hummed under his breath for the rest of the household’s entertainment.

He had gotten lost in his own mind when he felt a tap to his shoulder, which caused him to let out a shriek and jump a foot in the air at the unexpectedness. Clutching at his heart, he took his headphones off and turned to give the person in question his full attention. Mahiru nearly gave another shriek at coming face to face with a smiley-faced paper bag, Jeje leaning down to whisper, “Mom, I lost something.”

Instead of fixing what was wrong in that sentence, Mahiru simply asked, “What did you lose?”

Jeje made an aborted motion to his chest, where a wind-up toy’s key was usually hanging, and then mumbled, “Forget it.”

“No, no, stop right there.” Mahiru reached out and patted his arm in reassurance. “If it’s important to you, it’s important to me, too. Let’s look for it together.”

They did eventually find the missing key, hidden behind the couch, but Mahiru never did discover why everyone was calling mom lately.

Rocking Tsubaki to sleep in his arms, Mahiru was glad there was at least one sane child in the house that didn’t take him for a mom of any sort. He was supposed to be their babysitter, not their mother, and he would have to ask Kuro what he thought about it. Not that he didn’t like the idea of being a part of the family, but it would probably make it awkward for the younger kids if he let the charade continue. It was bad enough that Lily called him that all the time now, when he could get away with it at least, and his best friend just thought it was funny until Kuro was brought up.

With a bubbly laugh, Tsubaki clutched at the sleeve of Mahiru’s shirt, swinging it back and forth and making sounds that gave of the impression of, “Ma, ma.” That could have been Mahiru hearing things, he was determined to believe, and he concentrated on the front door as he waited for Kuro to come home. His steadfast determination paid off as the door creaked open and Kuro came in loaded down with grocery bags, an enthused Hyde commenting on how great it was that he beat a certain angel to the last box of cereal. From the bruise on his cheek, it looked like he hadn’t escaped unscathed and Kuro was scolding him before shooing him off to the kitchen with the grocery bags.

“How was everything?” Kuro asked, already holding out his arms to take Tsubaki. The child didn’t seem willing, pouting and burying his face into Mahiru’s shirt as he stopped laughing. “Huh, that’s new.”

“It was fine, but Kuro … there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask.”

Worried, Kuro asked, “Are you sure everything was fine then?”

After shifting Tsubaki to a more comfortable position, using his hip to keep the child supported, he flat-out questioned, “Where is all this mother stuff coming from?”

Kuro gave an intelligent, “Huh?” His head tilted to the side, baffled. “What?”

“All of the kids!” Mahiru began. “They’ve all been calling me mom! Every single one of them.”

“Er …” For some strange reason, Kuro was beginning to look guilty, as if caught red-handed with his hand in the cookie jar. “That … could be my fault.”

Gaping, Mahiru asked, “How?!”

“Do you want a list?” Sheepishly, Kuro rubbed at the back of his neck. “It just … slips out sometimes. As a joke.”

“A joke,” deadpanned Mahiru. “You joke about me … being a mom?” He had mixed feelings about that, but more importantly: “You’re confusing the kids! Stop that!”

Placing his hands over his ears, Kuro whined, “Can’t deal,” and started to follow after Hyde into the kitchen.

“Not so fast, mister, we’re going to have a talk,” corrected Mahiru, Tsubaki delightedly clapping his hands with the return of the, “Ma, ma,” sounds.