Chapter Text
“Otou-san, wake up! It’s my first day at school!”
Shuichi groaned and sat up, rubbing the sleepiness from his eyes. He looked at the clock on his bedside. 5.00 am. The sky was still dark, but Shiori had turned on every single light in the room in an attempt to wake her father. Shuichi swallowed his irritation at her and forced a smile instead. “Alright, I’m up. Give your old man some time to get washed up, okay?”
Shiori beamed. “Don’t take too long, otou-san! I don’t want to be late!”
Saihara Shiori, his precious daughter. She was born six years ago on March 13 to Saihara Shuichi and Akamatsu Kaede, on the same day her mother passed away. She died a few hours after childbirth, the last word that ever passed her lips being her daughter's name.
Six years later, Shuichi still missed her.
“I won’t, I promise. Meanwhile, can you put some rice in the rice cooker? Two cups should be enough.”
“Can I make miso soup while the rice cooks?” Shiori begged.
“Only with me around,” Shuichi said. As independent as she was, Shiori was only six. It was dangerous to let a child cook on their own. Shiori pouted and ran off, but Shuichi knew she would listen to him. He forced himself out of bed and into the shower, making sure to leave the heater off so that the cold water would shock him awake.
When Shuichi was done with his shower, he quickly toweled his hair dry and got dressed in his usual clothes (a white button up and dress pants) before glancing at the clock again. 5.15 am. He opted to leave his tie for later and headed for the kitchen.
“Rice is almost done!” Shiori said.
Shuichi smiled. “Very good, Shiori. Now, would you kindly prepare the miso soup while I make the rest of your bento?”
“Really? I can make the miso soup?”
Shuichi nodded. “Sure, I did tell you that you could make miso soup if I was around to supervise you.”
Shiori beamed. “Well, I won’t mess up. I’ll make otou-san proud!”
Since Shuichi prepared most of the ingredients last night, he did not have much to do to prepare their bentos. He simply placed the cooked chicken and vegetables in, and once the rice was done he spooned that in as well. He made two bentos, one for Shiori and one for himself, and set them aside. By then, Shiori had finished making the miso soup, so they sat at the dining table and enjoyed their meal in a comfortable silence.
There was still a lot of time after they were done, so Shuichi took the time to braid Shiori's hair. Shiori had her father’s hair, black that had a slight bluish tint if the light shone at it in a certain way. There was even a stubborn few strands of hair that refused to cooperate with him, so he simply opted to ignore it and hoped others would pass it off as a deliberate hairstyle choice.
Shuichi’s heart lurched. Kaede had hair like that, too.
"Otou-san, are you done?" Shiori asked.
"Y-yeah," Shuichi faltered. He let the braids fall from his hands, tucking them behind Shiori's ears. "All done. Do you want to look at yourself in the mirror?"
"Yeah!" Shiori hopped down from her chair and to the bathroom. Shuichi followed her automatically, his body moving before his mind gave the command to. Shiori used a stepping stool to reach the mirror, fiddling with her braids as she scrutinized her reflection in the mirror.
Shuichi could not look away. Shiori had Kaede's eyes.
"Hmph, I guess this is okay," Shiori huffed. "I want Chabashira-sensei's cool hair ribbons next time, though!"
"I have no idea where to get those kinds of ribbons." Shuichi admitted. "I suppose we could ask Chabashira-san when we go for Aikido this Sunday."
"Yay!" Shiori cheered. Shuichi picked up his daughter by the armpits and hoisted her over his shoulder. She giggled and squirmed, but surprisingly did not put up much resistance. He carried her back to the kitchen and placed her yellow hat on her head, making sure it would not fall off her head.
“Alright, let’s get you to school," Shuichi declared.
“But otou-san, it’s only seven! School starts at eight thirty.”
Shuichi scratched the back of his neck nervously. “A-ah, sorry. I need to be at work by eight.”
"But it's my first day at school..." Shiori whined.
Shuichi sighed dejectedly. "I'm sorry, Shiori."
He was. The first day of school was extremely important to all Japanese children, and most parents did not miss the occasion. Shuichi, however, had to see this client today. The client was offering a ridiculous sum of money for his request as long as Shuichi himself took the case. He could sustain the detective agency, pay the house loan, Shiori's school fees and still have enough left over to live comfortably for at least two months.
“It’s okay! I understand that your work is really important, otou-san.” Shiori smiled brightly while saying those words, but Shuichi could feel the sadness in her voice. "We can always spend the weekends together!"
Shuichi smiled bitterly. Shiori had even inherited Kaede's forgiving spirit.
Shuichi was so caught up in his work that not only did he forget to eat his packed bento, he was already fifteen minutes late to pick Shiori up from school. He gave the bento to Samidare (the poor girl was so thin anyway, she needed to eat more) and rushed out of the office, not bothering to say his goodbyes like he usually did.
Hopefully the other detectives would think their boss was chasing a lead and not skiving off work.
He hopped on his bicycle and peddled off at full speed. By the time he reached Shiori's school, his shirt was soaked through with sweat and he was heaving to catch his breath. He stood at the school gates, gasping for breath with his hands on his knees for a good few minutes.
When Shuichi lifted his head, he was greeted by the sight of his daughter holding hands with an older boy. His first instinct was to growl at the boy and tell him to back off from his daughter before he realized that the boy was too well dressed to be a mere student. Sure, Hope's Peak was known for being home to many rich kids (unless the children's parents were alumni), but there was something about the way that boy was dressed. Polished leather shoes, dress pants, a formal vest and a matching tie. It clicked in his head when he saw the stack of papers in the other male's hand. This person was Shiori's teacher.
He bowed deeply. “I’m sorry, I’m late! Please forgive me!”
“No worries, it was just half an hour, Saihara-san. Shiori-chan, your father’s here!”
“Yes, Ouma-sensei!” Shiori gave a playful salute to the teacher.
Shuichi paused. Ouma? That was a name he had not heard in years. It was probably a coincidence, he tried convincing himself. But when he lifted from his bow to look at the teacher, really look this time…
The teacher was short, the top of his head barely reaching Shuichi's chin. If not his voice being distinctly male, Shuichi would have definitely mistaken him for a female. It did not help that Ouma’s hair was tied up in a small ponytail near the nape of his neck, since long hair was usually reserved for females in Japan. His hair was black, but if Shuichi turned his head slightly he could see the familiar tinge of purple in it. When Ouma tilted his head in curiosity with his finger on his chin, Shuichi could see the similarities between the teacher and his old classmate.
“Ouma…kun? Ouma Kokichi-kun?” The words escaped Shuichi’s mouth before he even realized he said them.
Ouma looked just as surprised, if not more. “Eh? Might this actually be my beloved Saihara-chan?”
Just hearing Ouma call him Saihara-chan brought back a flood of memories. Memories of being in the prison school, spending three years recovering from despair's influence with everyone else. The warmth of Ouma's hand in his, fingers entwined together. Time spent in silence in the privacy of their dorms, the only time when Ouma never lied. The spark between them neither of them were willing to acknowledge.
And of course, graduation day. The day Ouma ruined everything.
Shiori tugged at his sleeve, breaking Shuichi out of his thoughts. “You know Ouma-sensei, otou-san?”
Then, it hit him like a ton of bricks. “Ouma…sensei?!” Shuichi exclaimed. Ouma was a teacher at Hope's Peak Elementary? More importantly... he was Shiori's homeroom teacher?!
“Nishishi, is it really so difficult to believe that I became a teacher? Why, you have such little faith in me, Saihara-chan!” Ouma's eyes started going cloudy, but Shuichi knew him well enough to know that those were crocodile tears.
If Shuichi was being honest, it was not strange at all. Ouma always had a playful spirit, retaining a childlike behavior despite being surprisingly jaded with the world. Shuichi had seen it for himself, how much he cared for the other members of his group of pranksters to the point of neglecting to care for himself. It was not difficult for Shuichi to envision Ouma surrounded by children, teaching them about the ways of the world. Somehow... it suited him.
(Shuichi wondered how Maki would react if she knew Ouma worked with children. He made a mental note to bring it up the next time they met.)
“A-anyway, thank you for looking after Shiori today. I’m counting on you to take care of her for the next year, Ouma-sensei.” Shuichi bowed again to express his gratitude.
Ouma waved his hands in dismissal. “No need to be so formal, Saihara-chan. Hearing you call me 'sensei' gives me the chills.”
Shuichi released himself from his bow. For the second time today, the words came out of his mouth before he even realized he said them. “Then… Ouma-kun, will you come over for dinner sometime? We haven’t met in years, and I’d like to catch up with you.”
Ouma smiled. “…really? You’d sit at a dining table with me after what I did?”
Shuichi hesitated for a brief second, but steeled his resolve. Sure, what Ouma did was beyond repulsive, but Shuichi wanted to give the small boy (man, Shuichi corrected himself, Ouma was now a man) a chance. It had been a decade, surely it was time to move on. “I’m trusting you with my daughter. I can trust you enough to have a meal with you.”
Ouma laughed. “Fair enough. Here’s my number and email address." He took out a business card and placed it in Shuichi's hand. There was a spark when they touched, but Ouma pulled away before Shuichi could acknowledge it happened. "Call me anytime, Saihara-chan.”