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    Summary

    The first time it happened, Shoto was around five years old. His father was in his office, scribbling away in journals and drinking something that smelled sour, when Shoto hugged on his leg. Blue eyes looked down in concern, at the tear-filled heterochromatic eyes. Shoto had cried after waking up from a bad dream, and wanted to sit with him for a while. Shoto noticed his fathers body relax, as he snuggled in his lap.

    “D-daddy.. What’s that?” Shoto asked, rubbing his right eye, looking up at his father. Enji peered down realizing Shoto was talking about the tent that was poking him in the side. Enji took a sip of the sour beverage in his cup, shifting his hips as Shoto kept moving around.

    “Why don’t I take you to bed, and explain, huh?” Enji said, wrapping the little boy against his chest, cradling his tiny, little frame. He looks so much like his mother, so much like, Touya. Bringing his son to his room, he could feel his heart beating, and for a moment, he wondered if Shoto could feel it beating through his chest, against his small body. Enji laid the boy down, and gave him a big smile.

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