Chapter Text
Every mother knew, deep in her heart, that their child was special. Shiori knew that long before her son had even been born. She also knew that a mother’s bias was a powerful driver for the perception. Self-awareness was not enough to prevent it from happening, however, or even enough to make her want to try. She was going to be a mother, and she already loved her unborn son with all her heart. Whether that was reasonable or logical didn’t matter in the least to her.
Once he was born, she somehow found herself loving the tiny bundle even more. She went from loving him with her whole heart to loving him with her every fiber. From the strands of fiery red hair atop his head to the miniscule nails tipping each tiny finger, she adored him. She had known she would love her son, but hadn’t realized the true depths that love would go, how changed she would feel when she held him, how helpless she would be in the throes of that adoration. All brought on by this tiny creature, only able to cry, to eat, and to grip with all the strength in his tiny hands.
All mothers knew that their child was special. Looking down at her child, her Shuichi, Shiori knew in her bones that he was extraordinary, and that she would do anything to protect him and keep him happy.
—•—
Shuichi was a remarkably quiet child. Even as a baby he rarely cried.
In many ways it was a blessing. Tantrums were unheard of in the Minamino household, which Shiori knew was unusual but she was grateful for. Rules regarding vegetable eating, bedtimes and limits on TV were obeyed without fuss. Any requests for toys or coloring books, few as they were, were made politely, and the very few times they were refused that was accepted easily and without tears.
Shuichi was perhaps the easiest child Shiori had even heard of, and she thanked her lucky stars to have been so blessed with her first ever child.
All the same… sometimes she did wish that he would act a little more… like a normal child. His quietness and stillness worried her more the older he got. When they went out shopping he kept close to her side, staring around at fellow shoppers with occasionally unnerving focus. ‘Observing’ she would have said, had he been older than three. When they went to the playground, and Shiori found a place to sit at a nearby bench with other parents and sitters, Shuichi would find a quiet place to sit and play on his own. He wouldn’t mix with the other children, but instead watched them as he played on his own in the sand. Half of the time he wouldn’t even remain around the play area, but would wander away to any nearby trees or patches of grass and settle himself down there.
Waiting was a word which sometimes intruded its way into Shiori’s thoughts. It seemed as though her son were waiting for something at times, though for what, she was never certain. He never asked her for anything he just… waited.
She loved her son more than anything, more than her own life, and his stillness worried her. As time went on she found herself thinking that she would gladly accept tantrums and crying gladly if it just meant she would also see him run and laugh and play. She wouldn’t change her son, but she wanted to know for certain that he was happy.
—•—
When Shuichi began school, Shiori was riddled with both worry and with hope – another common feeling amongst parents. Sending one’s child to school for the first time was a major milestone, as well as a test for a parent’s nerves. She couldn’t watch over him, had to trust that the school and other children would treat her boy right.
Added to the normal concerns of a child’s first day in the wide world, Shiori almost worried herself into a fever over how Shuichi would react to being around so many other children for so long. In all of the times she had taken him to playgrounds and parks, he had never once attempted to play with any other children. At times he would watch and listen from his patch of grass, but more often than not he would simply ignore everyone around him, lost in his own private games. Which wasn’t to say that he’d never interacted with other children at all. Quiet as he was, his red hair was loud and a draw to curious youngsters, and occasionally one would approach him, asking to play or just making childish conversation.
All to no avail. If asked to play, he would shake his head. Any attempts at talk – favorite games, TV shows, and the like – were answered with no real interest, and the other children would soon wander off again, losing interest.
When Shiori asked him why he didn’t play with the others, she would get a shrug or a quiet ‘I don’t want to.’ Shiori wasn’t one to push, but she was tempted to do so if it would have him playing with other children. He was quiet enough as it was, a friend or two would do him good.
She prayed he made a friend, even if it were only one.
In her worry, Shiori suffered alone. Her husband had passed two years before, and she had no one to confide in with her concerns over Shuichi and his future. Her husband would listen to her, and though he had seen all that she did in their son, he had always kept a more positive outlook. He would tell her that their son was just shy, a ‘late bloomer,’ and that when he was ready, he would come into his own. Their son was healthy and safe, and happy in his own way. Her husband had been steady and reassuring, a check to her anxieties and fears, and always managed to calm her.
Now he was gone, and she was left to worry alone. And though Shuichi had been no more than four when his father passed, she couldn’t help but think that it had still affected him somehow. He didn’t cry – he never cried – or ask where he had gone, but he seemed to pull away even more.
It was a terrible thing to think of one’s own son, who was still only a child, as ‘cold,’ but no other word fitted so well. Shy, quiet, withdrawn, they all described Shuichi… But the way he would look around at the world, at her, was so distant it left a chill in her heart.
Was it his father’s death which had caused a change, or had there been any change at all? Shiori wondered if it wasn’t just the passage of years and the loss of her husband’s reassuring presence which made what was already there more the obvious.
Shiori hoped, with all her heart, that Shuichi would make a friend.
—•—
School was much less of an ordeal than she feared it would be. Which, she was sure, was also normal. Mothers worried over their children going to school, especially their first children, and were relieved to discover that all their anxieties were for nothing.
Normal. It was all normal. She just had to reassure herself of that.
When she asked Shuichi how school had been and if he liked it, he said it was fine. When she asked if he’d made any friends, he said no. When she asked about the teachers, the lessons, the school itself, or anything at all, the response was always the same – quiet and unengaged. Everything was fine, and Shuichi was unexcited by any of it.
It was fine. Shuichi was just that kind of child – retiring and self-possessed. Being at school and surrounded by his peers would be good for him, would help to draw him out of his shell. It would just take longer than with the average boy his age.
When she asked his teachers how he was settling in, if there were any problems, they all gushed over her son. Shuichi was well behaved, attentive, and showed every sign of excelling already. No, he didn’t interact with others as freely as might be expected, but that happened sometimes. Not every child was outgoing, especially when thrown into an unfamiliar social setting for the first time. It was normal.
Normal.
—•—
Finding interests for Shuichi had been something of a challenge more or less from the moment he could walk. As with most things, he didn’t care much for what Shiori thought of as ‘normal’ for most children. He didn’t ask for the brightly colored or light up toys and games when they were in stores, and the few Shiori bought in the hopes of his developing an interest later were often put neatly away at home, unplayed with. For quite some time the most reliable form of entertainment she could find were coloring and picture books. With those Shuichi would keep himself entertained for hours at a time.
What Shuichi really seemed to truly enjoy, though, was spending time outside. It didn’t have to be at a playground – in fact he seemed to take less pleasure out of being around other children. But being outdoors had Shuichi light up in his own quiet way. He would sit in the grass and flowers, rustle through the bushes, and eventually began climbing any tree he could get close to. He adored nature, and would spend hours at a time outside if allowed, returning indoors with dirty knees and twigs tangled in his hair. It was comical, not to say reassuring, that her reserved little boy still loved to play outside so much. The cherry tree outside their house held a particular fascination for him, and he climbed it nearly every single day.
It took some time to calm her heart, to keep from becoming convinced that he would fall every time he clambered up. Shuichi was remarkably steady, the branches almost seeming to hold him, keeping him safe.
He was by far the most excited over the little gardening kit she got for him than any other gift. The gloves, miniature gardening tools and little pots all had his face lighting up like a lamp, but were nothing to the half dozen packets of seeds. There were a couple varieties of flowers, carrots and mint. All easy things for a beginner to grow, all bright, aromatic or edible.
Shuichi flipped through the packets, eyes wide as he looked on the illustrations on each one. When he reached the end he looked up at her with a wide smile, and before Shiori knew it, had thrown his little arms round her neck in an impulsive hug.
“Thank you, mom.”
Shiori felt as though her heart were melting. Such impulsive shows of affection were rare, and she treasured them. Holding her precious son close, and holding back an urge to cry, she made a mental note to pick up a couple of strawberry starters as well.
Their home could use a little touch of green, she thought.
—•—
She heard the clatter, the shatter of plates and glass.
She saw the chair Shuichi had climbed to reach the top shelf of a cabinet tilt, taking Shuichi with it.
It was no tree, it would not hold or protect him.
Her son was falling, tumbling to the ground – to the splinters of ceramic and glass.
“Shuichi!”
It took seconds to cross the room, but it felt like minutes. Shuichi fell in slow motion, falling towards the floor, the carpet of shards —
Shiori dove. A sharp burning raked across the backs of her hands, her arms – But in her arms was her son. Shuichi, blinking up at her with wide green eyes.
Safe.
“Mom…?”
Pain wracked through her, and she became aware of the blood. Blood over the floor, running down her arms. None of it was Shuichi’s. He was whole and unharmed.
She smiled, feeling her lips tremble. “It’s alright, Shuichi. So long as you’re alright, everything is fine.”
He stared up at her, a line appearing between his brows in the beginnings of a frown. Then he looked down and around them, and she saw his eyes widen, felt him go still when he saw the blood streaked across the floor. She didn’t want him to see, to be frightened, but there was nothing she could do to hide it from him, not with her arms full. And there was so very much.
“You’re hurt,” he said, voice faint and distant.
She tried to give a small laugh, something to reassure him, but it came out as more of a sob than she intended. “It’s not too bad. But I should probably see a doctor…”
Shuichi was wriggling away from her. She tried to hold on, to keep him away from the glass, but her arms hurt so very much, her grip wasn’t enough. Shuichi landed clear of the debris, and before she could stop him he’d sped away.
Was it all too much, she wondered? Had the blood, the fall, and his mother being injured all been too overwhelming and frightened him? She couldn’t blame him. It was almost too much for her, too. But she couldn’t hide from it, much as she might wish to. She had to get help for her injuries.
She had only gotten halfway to her feet – it was difficult to get up from the floor without the use of her hands – when Shuichi came back, arms full of towels. On seeing her trying to rise he rushed to her side.
“Mom, sit, please. You shouldn’t move!”
“No, it’s alright, Shuichi, I just need to—“
“Mom, please sit. We need to wrap your arms, and then I’ll call the ambulance.”
She still attempted to rise, but Shuichi nudged her gently with his shoulder, as though attempting to hold her down. The force itself wasn’t enough to do much of anything, but she still stopped when she saw Shuichi’s shirt stained red from the contact. Looking down, his socks were wet as well from where he’d had to walk through her blood. She settled back into place, not wanting to soil her son any further.
Shuichi worked quickly, wrapping her arms in the towels, surprising her with how firmly he managed to bind them. She tried to help at first, to take the towels and do it all herself so he wouldn’t have to see the mess she had made of her own flesh, but he refused to let the responsibility be taken. He did it all, her brave, self-possessed little boy, as though he had done so countless times before.
“You shouldn’t have to do this, Shuichi. It’s too much for you…” The pain was beginning to become too much, making her feel ill and dizzy.
“Don’t be silly,” Shuichi replied, sounding annoyed, though that might have just been her perception. “It’s my fault you’re hurt. You protected me.” He looked at her, and through her haze of pain it seemed to her that he was so much older than his six years. “Let me protect you, now.”
The wrappings finished, Shuichi rushed off again, this time to call an ambulance to pick her up. Shiori could only watch after him, dazed and wondering when it was that her son had become so very grown up.