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"Mama! Mama!" A childlike voice rang throughout the living room Chiaki was currently residing in, her attention now averted from the video game displayed on the flatscreen TV to the despondent little boy waddling towards her. Chiaki paused the game just after the victory signal flashed repeatedly on the screen, and patted the empty cushion of sofa next to hers.
The tuft of his pink hair that was crookedly bent on the center of his head bounced lightly as he accepted his mother's offer of seating. His ahoge was in the exact same shape of his father, albeit for the rosy coloring that was of the exact same tint as his mother's, which Chiaki would lovingly note every time he stepped into the door from school.
Hajime trailed behind from his son, his countenance in a pensive state from mulling over an internal matter, which she could clearly espy from the cogitative expression he wore when she kissed his cheek as a greeting.
Hisao, once seated next to his mother, then tugged on his mother's sleeve, a t-shirt with a graphic depiction of her favorite retro game: Gala Omega. It was a shirt her son always loved to comment on with some interesting gameplay facts before he could even greet his mother each day, an acquired talent that both his mother and father shared.
The Ultimate Game Database, she'd jokingly tease to him and Hajime each time he'd do so, but her son didn't seem to notice her choice of clothing today. His mind was preoccupied with more disturbing matters he'd received from school earlier that day, and both parents could espy from their son's watery eyes that he was devastated by the news.
Chiaki exchanged questioning glances with Hajime, who only shrugged cluelessly to her wordless inquiry. He had attempted many times to uncover the reasoning as to why Hisao kept avoiding his searching gaze during their brief drive home, but his son inherited his mother's adamant stubbornness and refused to answer anything from his father.
But Hajime was nonetheless relieved that he was now home. Chiaki was more skilled at convincing her son to open up about his emotional problems. It was one of the few talents he had lost once he had recovered from his monotone identity of Izuru, but he guessed that even if he possessed the talent, he couldn't be as soothing and empathetic as Chiaki was. It was more of a personality quality she had rather than a talent.
"Would you like to play a round of Mario Kart together?" She asked Hisao, who was snugly nestled on his mother's soft shoulder. It was a fun introduction to having him confess what was ailing him today, and one she would be comfortably contented to distract him with. Once Hajime sat at the sofa cushion beside him, Hisao's frown deepened and he burrowed himself further into his mother's side until he was practically pressed against her. Hajime's worried expression didn't fade from his reaction, but Chiaki only ignored both boys while she stood up and inserted the Mario Kart disk.
Hajime attempted to catch Chiaki's eye again, mouthing his question of why his son seemed so frightened when just yesterday he was joyously cracking eggs on top of his father's head, using the nonsensical excuse that his sharpened ahoge could shatter them. And that was only the tip of the iceberg on all the illogical acts his son executed upon him, most of them even being supported by Chiaki for the sole purpose of how silly it was.
"Are you scared of Daddy?" Hajime murmured to Hisao, worry etched across his face. Hisao hesitated briefly before giving a curt nod, fearfully eying Hajime with evident trepidation before pleadingly glancing at his mother. Chiaki remained unfazed as she switched her view from the Mario Kart's wacky introduction screen to both of the boys' agitated faces.
"Hisao. . ." she began uncertainly, and both of their faces brightened at her attempt of veering the conversation into the difficult topic they were oh-so-lightly treading on, ". . .if you'd like, you can be Player One today."
His response was immediate, effectively cheering him up momentarily as he bounced around the room and declared that they would have no choice but to play all 32 races today, because he had been absolutely aching to play all of them in one go the VERY FIRST TIME he saw that option, but they kept trying to rush him into bed despite. . .
Hajime wasn't at all comforted by the fact that Chiaki was effectively keeping everyone from discussing the matter at hand. It would be much easier to not continue wading around the elephant taking up most of the space in the room and work this problem out together. Only then would he be able to fully relax and wouldn't have to fret about feeling the suffocating pressure of his son's fear weighing down his shoulders.
Please talk to him, he mouthed silently to his wife, who only sent him a glimpse of her exasperated expression that made him feel as if he were being too impatient. He watched as Chiaki calmly pressed a random button on her game controller, activating it and making her out to be the second player on the screen.
"Now let's play all the races before it's bedtime!" Hisao yelled excitedly, verdant orbs gleaming with eager anticipation, before Chiaki abruptly cut him off from his incoming tirade.
"Well, we'll have to wait for daddy to turn his on so we can all play together," Chiaki interjected, which snapped the aforementioned man out of his reverie and he pushed one of the protruding buttons.
Hisao, on the other hand, lost his expectant excitement for playing and he shook his head before placing the controller on the cushion sofa he previously sat on, situated between both of his parents.
This was Hisao's form of throwing a tantrum. Not wanting to play a game simply because his father was participating in it? A preposterous notion they hadn't dealt with yet up until now. He pouted, chubby cheeks puffing out as he replied, "I don't want to play with someone like Daddy."
Both Chiaki and Hajime struggled to understand what he meant by his resolute declaration.
"And why not?"
"Because Nozomi," Hajime recalled that was his best friend since his very first day at daycare, "told me that her mommy doesn't want her to play with me anymore because she said that my daddy was a very bad person," Hisao quickly muttered, words warbled and slightly mispronounced from his inexperienced tongue. Chiaki maintained her unperturbed expression whilst Hajime's pallor paled to an almost sickly white color.
They both knew they would have to talk about Hajime's involvement with the Tragedy sooner or later, but they were still extremely unprepared as to how they would approach it. Or, at least, Hajime was. He couldn't imagine informing his son that the very hands he used to tuck him into bed at night were the same ones that he used to kill thousands of innocent people who were defenseless against his inhumane strength and intelligence. They had hinted at it a few times, having found the courage to tell him that the sweet lady next door refused to talk to Daddy because of his past, but never fully explained it.
Before either of them could begin explaining, they watched as their son crumbled underneath their gazes and tears sprang up from his eyes almost immediately, "A-And she's saying that even Sonia-san and Komaeda-san and Saionji-neesan and Peko-san and even Tsumiki-san, who cried last time I patted her head, she said that all of my aunts and uncles were very, very bad people!"
The fact that Hisao wasn't elaborating on what type of evils he knew they had committed meant that little Nozomi had been spared the gruesome details and only gave him a general explanation. All he knew was that they were inevitably evil in his mind, which only made Hajime feel mildly better.
Evil, in his son's mind, ranged from forgetting to water the plants outside to lying when he told both his parents that he brushed his teeth. But he knew he couldn't just brush away the gory and in-depth explanations once the time was right, he couldn't have Hisao walking around thinking his family was not what used to be one of the most sought out criminal organizations in the world.
"Daddy was a very, very bad person," he found himself saying, surprising both Chiaki and his son from the simple reiteration. "Daddy, and all your aunts and uncles, they hurt many people."
He turned away from his Hisao's stricken look of utter confusion, and it was only then that he could find himself continuing. "Everyone in your family was hated by the entire world. We hurt lots of innocent people for no reason at all except to make others feel hurt." He found the simplistic and child-friendly explanation a bit more easier to say than if he were to actually say what had happened.
How millions were slaughtered and how the world collapsed from all the corruption and despair that once tainted the air. How the sky had been painted the darkest of red from all the pollution, how the streets used to be some muddied brown because of all the spilt blood that seeped through its cracks. How children his age were found crying next to the unmoving corpses of their loved ones, how they were quickly disposed of as well from his command.
The entire world used to be one dilapidated mess, but it was slowly recovering.
Hisao had backed away by now, tightly clutching the front of his mother's shirt as he struggled to keep himself from crying again. His entire family, which consisted of what used to be the entirety of Hope Peak's 77th class, had done atrocious things? They were all the nicest people in the world, at least to him.
Sonia and Gundam let him roam freely around their expansive mansion, and didn't seem to mind whenever he would accidentally shatter one of their intricate vases. Saionji would teach him one of her complicated dance sequences while Koizumi pretended to host photo shoots with him being her little model. Komaeda and Tsumiki would babysit him at their home from time to time and always seemed to stumble over each other's apologies while he would laugh and call them both silly. Kuzuryu would let him ride shotgun in one of his fancy-looking cars with Peko supervising him not to go over the speed limit like a chastising mother, Souda would give him the coolest little gadgets for him to toy with when he was bored, and Ibuki would sing along with him his favorite cartoon sing-alongs if he convinced her they were edgy enough. Owari and Nekomaru lightly sparred with him from time to time, the Imposter shared some samples with him that Hanamuru had created, and Ryouta would even show him his latest anime sketches if he gave him a heartfelt hug.
"Mama, is that true?" He whispered, and Hajime felt his heart slowly break over the sight.
"Hisao," Hajime whispered as he gently tugged him away from his mother and planted him in his lap, "I want you to understand something. Your family had done many bad things in the past because they were tricked by someone and fell too easily into her trap. We thought being bad people was a good thing. And nothing we say can justify what we had done over our past years, but we are not bad people anymore." Hisao had halted his weak struggling against his father's firm grasp, falling perfectly still.
"We are trying to fix the mistakes we had done and we are all trying to make the world a good place again. We want people to know that we're not the bad guys anymore. We have been helping as much as we can to everyone," Hajime softly stated, brushing the lock of rosy hair that fell over Hisao's forehead. He made a mental reminder to himself to call everyone tomorrow and have them come over for a leisurely video game night. The last time they had done it was last month, and Hajime felt that maybe his son needed some comfort from the rest of his family.
Hisao had quieted down to a silence that was almost eerie if he were any other child. But Hajime knew he was only intently listening to his father's words, processing what he was trying to convey so desperately.
"We all love you very much," Chiaki chimed in, rubbing her thumb against the child's cheek in a circular motion. "And we have all been trying to make this world a better place for you, too."