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“It’s supposed to thunderstorm later.”
“It is?”
“Yeah,” says Chuuya, setting his coffee on the dining table. Concern laces his words as he voices, “I’m worried about Sonoko. This will be her first major storm since I found her.” Things unspoken are seen in the tightening of gloved fingers against porcelain.
“Don’t worry, I’ll watch over her,” Dazai assures.
That was the conversation Dazai had with Chuuya that morning, and now, he could see why the redhead was worried. It’s July, and therefore storm season, leaving thick dark clouds rolling in the distance; the occasional lightning bolt streaking through them with minute thunder following. It looks ugly, and he’s thankful Sonoko is paying more attention to her coloring book than the window.
Dazai himself is a little uneasy about the storm; memories of his time in the shipping container permanently etched in his mind. He can hear the phantom sounds of bullet-like raindrops pelting against the metal, the rumble of thunder exploding in the container and vibrating his body. Even though he’s out of that hellhole and in far safer conditions, his mind and body can’t seem to forget the torment it went through. His mind especially can’t forget the fear that would overtake him, making him curl into a ball and cover his ears to try and block out the deafening noise.
As he’s contemplating on whether or not he should take Sonoko home, the storm arrives and loudly unleashes its fury. Heavy rain repeatedly pounds against the Agency’s windows in sheets, wind whipping past as lightning ignites the sky and thunder shakes the building overhead.
Predictably, Sonoko freaks out.
A particularly close clap of thunder has her jumping, the yellow crayon in her hand streaking through a picture of a cartoon penguin. Her eyes go impossibly wide, tears threatening to spill over as her little body trembles. Quickly, she drops the crayon and signs, “papa!”
Dazai is instantly out of his chair, rushing over to the desk she’s at and scooping her into his arms. One hand goes to her hair, soothingly carding through the soft black curls Chuuya has painstakingly taken care of as his other arm holds her. He begins rocking his body, cooing comfort into her hair. “Shhh… You’re okay, sweetheart, you’re okay. The storm can’t hurt you…”
Dazai should have known better than to open his mouth since rolling thunder causes the lights to briefly flicker before going out, plunging the office into all-encompassing darkness. The agency members collectively groan in irritation as Sonoko tucks herself further into the crook of Dazai’s neck, her hands tightly gripping his vest. She’s violently shaking, her body and mind unable to suppress whatever horrid and vivid memories she’s been thrown into reliving.
“I’ll go look for the backup candles,” Kunikida announces calmly. He stands up, entering the Agency’s storage room to dig through their emergency storm-season box.
Dazai keeps his attention on his daughter as he kisses the crown of Sonoko’s head, subtly breathing in the strawberry scent of her shampoo to calm himself down. “Hold on, baby,” he whispers, “we’ll get some light soon.” Ever since her first night at the apartment, he and Chuuya quickly found out Sonoko was scared of the dark. Once, she had come into their bedroom in the middle of the night, climbing onto the bed and cuddling between them. They had been surprised to see Sonoko—not expecting her to want to sleep with them—but they had no qualms about wrapping her up in the blankets and drifting back to sleep. In the morning, once they found out her reasoning, a bunny nightlight and glow-in-the-dark stickers were put into her room.
Thankfully, Kunikida doesn’t take long—coming back to the main office with a box of LED candles. Wordlessly, he hands one to Dazai before distributing the rest to the others.
Dazai gratefully takes the candle and turns it on, a soft yellow light instantly illuminating the darkness. At the shred of light, Sonoko hesitantly peaks open her eyes, her gaze locking onto the candle and watching the artificial flame flicker. Dazai himself is captivated by the small flame, the hypnotizing effect seemingly burning away some of the worries coating his bones.
“You like it?” he whispers, eyes trained on her as she continues to watch the light. She absentmindedly nods, her forehead gently nudging Dazai’s chin from where she’s still tucked into him. “I’m glad. Now, how about we go somewhere else, hmm?”
Sonoko doesn’t reply as Dazai goes to where he always does during a storm: the President’s office. As always, no one questions him, instead too busy setting up the rest of the LED candles around the office.
Already expecting him, Fukuzawa doesn’t say anything when Dazai enters his office. All he does is do a quick glance-over—taking in Sonoko’s still-shaking form—before looking away and promptly ignoring them. There are already a few LED candles on his desk, their soft lights bright enough for the man to continue to look over his paperwork. For Dazai, the lights are just enough for him to maneuver around the office to the couch set against one of the walls.
Taking the blanket draped over the couch, Dazai protectively wraps it around them, hoping the familiarity of it will help soothe Sonoko. He places the candle next to them, allowing Dazai to cuddle Sonoko closer to himself. “There we are, all nice and cozy,” he says, smiling down at her. She responds with a wobbly smile, tears still falling and soaking into his vest. “Aw, baby. You’re okay. We’re okay.”
There’s not much Dazai can do as the invisible memories and accompanying fear run their course in Sonoko. He feels a little helpless, unable to do a basic thing such as providing his daughter the comfort she needs when she’s scared. To him, it’s as though he’s failed her—and if he’s failed here, what if he’s failed elsewhere? (It’s common, worrying, and debilitating—that thought. He never seems to get rid of it.)
Looking at Sonoko, Dazai decides that if he can’t do anything, he’ll just have to take a page out of Chuuya’s book.
Softly, Dazai starts humming a tune into Sonoko’s hair. It begins quietly—pausing in intervals as he finds the rhythm—before steadily growing louder. His voice doesn’t get any louder than a whisper, only wanting the two of them to hear it.
The tune Dazai hums is the same one Chuuya hums for him when he’s scared, and unsurprisingly, the redhead’s past thoughtfulness in the act affects his present daughter. Ever so slowly, Sonoko’s body stops trembling, her tears subsiding into the occasional sniffle and her breath evening out with the periodic hiccup. Eventually, she slumps into Dazai’s chest, exhaustion taking over.
(The tune also happens to taper Dazai’s fears even though it’s not sung by Chuuya. Dazai will have to thank the redhead for inadvertently teaching it to him later. Preferably when he calls Chuuya, knowing that the man is worried sick in his executive’s office—unable to come and comfort his boyfriend and daughter.)
Sonoko’s watery eyes, red cheeks, and runny nose cause Dazai’s heart to squeeze painfully. He takes his handkerchief out of his pocket, gently wiping away the snot and tear tracks on her face. There’s something about the look in her eyes—like she’s still scared, still preoccupied with the storm—that makes him unconsciously blurt out, “you wanna know a secret?” Dazai freezes instantly, unable to take back the slip-up when she eagerly nods, attention grabbed with curiosity peaked. A little reluctantly, Dazai reveals, “I’m scared of thunderstorms, too.”
Sonoko’s eyes grow wide. “Really?” she signs, movement jerky from the blanket’s constraints.
“Really,” he readily answers, smiling. Leaning in conspiratorially, Dazai whispers, “and you wanna know something else? There’s a special spell put on this room, making it a safe space for whoever enters. Nothing, and I mean nothing, can harm you here.” Dazai punctuates his statement with wriggling fingers at Sonoko’s sides, tickling her. The first smile since the storm started expands across her face, the candlelight sharing its glow to illuminate the joy.
Dazai’s own enjoyment enters the fray in near-silent giggles. The smile he sports feels like it’s splitting his face apart, cheeks hurting from never smiling this long or this extensively.
Once he stops his tickle attack, a relieved sigh comes from Sonoko. Her gray eyes are directed at him, the edges glittering in happiness. The tickle attack must have taken her mind off the storm as she fully relaxes in his hold once more, completely melting into his chest.
Relieved that her mind is occupied by something else, Dazai kisses her forehead tenderly. His hand starts to rub circles on her back as he holds her, content to stay like this.
As they sit there, a sudden memory comes to the forefront of Dazai’s mind. He doesn’t know what triggered it, but now that he’s thinking of it, he’s certainly going to share it with her—he even hopes she’ll ask Chuuya about it since he knows the man would laugh at the memory of the incident. “You wanna hear the story about how your dad and I dyed Grandpa Hirotsu’s hair pink?”
At her excited nod, Dazai launches into the story, giving fanciful exaggerations and amusing descriptions to humor her. Sonoko’s silent laughter and infectious glee are enough to keep Dazai’s fears at bay as the storm rages on outside, staying nothing more than background noise.
And if Sonoko asks for pictures of Hirotsu’s dyed hair, who is he to deny his adorable daughter?