MiRACLE (KnB Fanfic)

2.

Somehow, that's a relief.

Throwing down his pen with a sigh, he pulls a grin on his features and in a determined way, he closes his fingers into a fist and smiles.

He can't help but feel so excited by it all. By this aspect of a new, free, life. Starting over again with premature limbs, untrained muscles, inflexible joints.

Standing up from his desk, he pulls the most of his hair away from him, holds it as a ponytail within his fist, and brings a blade through the thick indigo locks.

His father runs in screaming bloody murder, but he's never felt this liberated in his life.

-

Aisaka Jousuke has never felt this much regret in his life.

Human in his own right, he has had his fair share of major fuck-ups in life. Letting his nine-year-old son live unsupervised was one. Not approaching him until he's physically suicidal is another. Allowing him to go to his room at seven o'clock was apparently one, too.

Now he seats his little Hiroto on a bathroom stool.

Armed with a pair of scissors, he tries his utmost best to fix this crime of a haircut his son has impulsively brought upon himself. Why the heck is there a blade in his room? Ah, right, because your genius ass left him alone for ten months.

Sometimes, Jousuke wonders if this kid is worth the headache. But when Hiroto giggles at every little mistake his clumsy hands make, the smile on his face so wide and adorable-- Jousuke knows that he's worth anything, always.

Running his fingers through the unique indigo locks, Jousuke dumps a bucketfull of water over his head, careful not to get Hiroto's clothes wet, and drapes a dry towel over the boy's shoulders.

"There, I'm done," he sighs defeatedly, "much lighter now?"

"Yeap!" Hiroto bounces right up, stepping over the stool to give his father a bright, obnoxiously proud grin. "Thanks, dad!"

His hair is short. So short, it's barely around his ears now, curled at the edges but framing his pale face tenderly.

Maybe , Jousuke thinks, this is a mark of a great change .

For both him and Hiroto.

-

"Are you really sure you're fine alone? I can--"

"I'm fine, dad, just go to work already."

Jousuke does not trust his son to take care of himself. He's guilty enough knowing he has to leave Hiroto alone at home, after everything that's happened.

Hiroto sits on the couch, his little feet bandaged for all the scrapes he'd suffered. Swinging his legs over the edge, he kicks out playfully and grins assuringly.

His son tells him one more time that he's fine .

Jousuke promises to come back as early as he can, just for good measure.

As he leaves the house, he can't shake off the feeling that something is off . Hiroto's recovered much too quickly for a boy that's apparently been a depressed shut in for nearly a year.

He's acting like a normal kid now, and although Jousuke is relieved, it doesn't feel real.

Ten months ago, his son hated him enough to shut him out of his life. His son despised him enough to yell it in his face and refuse to eat any meals.

When Jousuke decided to try and make it up to the kid, he was prepared for struggle. For rejection. For himself to be hurt further, because of how he's hurt his own kid.

But none of that happened.

Hiroto melded back in with him and began livelihood with Jousuke anew, as if the whole incident had never occurred.

Maybe if Hiroto was an adult, Jousuke would have ignored it as a happy sign of maturity. Of a mutually bleeding wound they would let coagulate over time.

But Hiroto was a child .

Jousuke crouches down, and a part of him wonders if that's even his Hiroto anymore.