Ame Origin

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 Katsuki
15 years ago

We didn't end up getting the house I wanted. Instead, Headset and I got a smaller one cause she liked being closer to Shoto and her friends. I may have to deal with their annoying asses more often, but whatever, it's got a big yard for my kids so I guess it wasn't too much of a compromise.

The walls are also thinner which means whenever my one-year-old starts making a fuss at two am, I hear him loud and clear.

My wife snaps up at the sound. She's still half asleep, probably guided by her instincts. When Yuki was a baby and cried, she ran out the room faster than I could even wake up. Since then, I've learned to be quick on my feet, so I beat her this time.

"Stay here, I'll get him," I grumble. Her eyes squint groggily at the darkness, hair tangled every which way over her face, barely registering my presence.

"Okay," She mutters, rubbing her eyes as she sinks back into the mattress. "Thank you."

Stepping into the hall, the window's blue light guides me along with the sounds of Ame crying his heart out in the next room. Once I make my way in, he's sitting in his crib, curled in the corner, his lower lip trembling as tears stream down his face and his body shakes with sobs.

"Calm down, dad's got you."

When I reach into the crib to pick him up, he squints, whimpering, hiding his face from me the best he can. Never known a baby to be shameful before. Ame's always been real shy, but the second I give him a hug, he usually relaxes. Tonight's different.

"Hey there, whatcha cryin for?" Resting him on my arm, I support his back with the other, that tiny heartbeat thudding against my palm as his chest puffs in and out. "You hungry?"

My theory's disproved as he deftly rejects the bottle. Ame just turns his face away, trying to hide in the crook of my shoulder.

"You're so picky," I tease, rocking his little body back and forth, hoping the stimulus distracts him. "You have a nightmare? What's up? You gotta give me a hint here, little man."

"Dad?"

Course, I forgot I have another one of these things. My daughter's three, almost four, but she talks better than most kids her age, full of energy at all times too. It's safe to say, she's probably wondering why her brother's clenching my shirt in his fists and making all kinds of noise so early in the morning.

"Yuki," I sigh, the little person in ugly red riot pajamas trotting to my side. Her hair is messier than her mom's, tufts of blonde sticking out like she's been electrocuted. I pat it down as she looks up at Ame. "Go back to bed."

Unlike her brother, she's not exactly the shyest thing in the world and pretty much ignores everything I tell her to do. She doesn't break her pattern tonight, blinking curiously at the toddler in my arms.

"Why's Ame crying?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," I kiss the baby on his face, whatever's got him upset making my heart wrench. Poor little guy probably had a fright cause a bird knocked into his window; that's happened before.

Yuki reaches up, trying to hold his dangling feet since that's all she can reach.

"Go back to bed Yuki, you got preschool in the morning," I say, ruffling her hair again.

"But I wanna help!" She protests, pouting, her fists raised with a few stubborn hops.

"Then help me by going to sleep before you wake your mom."

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