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It burns a bit — but not unpleasantly.
It burns the way tickling does, it burns the way warm water does on cold skin, it burns the way the sun does when the weather warms and the rain goes away, it burns the way dry grass does when you roll in it, it burns in the way happy tears do when you receive positive news
It burns like love on battered and bruised skin, it burns like a loving touch on a hurt soul that knows of nothing else but mistreatment, it burns like loving and supportive words on a scratched and bleeding wound.
— ☆ —
The bushes and trees in the front yard rustle while the rain pitter-patters against the closed windows — the rain had caught all of them off guard, barely clothed for the weather as they rush home.
"Gah! Papa, i'm wet!" complains the little girl, her hair clinging together in locks off of her head, her clothes sticking to her small frame.
Kaiyo shakes herself, not too different to how a puppy does and the droplets of water hit her twin and her parents.
"Hey!" Akira whines, running behind their father's leg to escape the drops of water flinging through the air.
Tsukasa chuckles and crouches down in front of the little child- his hands taking Akira's into his as he ruffles through the wet hair. "It's okay, Akira."
"But Daddy! Kaiyo made me even more wet!" Akira complains, small hand coming up to point at Kaiyo, who's been stripped off her thin jacket and shoes by their Papa - Akito hanging the wet clothing up to dry on the coat rack resting in the corner of their small entry hall.
Akito looks down upon the small four year old, his gaze endeared as the small child stomps it's foot and hugs Tsukasa's arm tight. "It's alright, baby, you're already wet anyway." He laughs and shakes his head.
Akira crosses little arms in front of an equally small body — sulking as Kaiyo clings to Akito's neck.
"Daddy, say something!" Akira cries, stomping the socketed foot again.
Tsukasa laughs, and then picks up Akira. "How about a warm bath? Maybe you'll be less grumpy after." He whispers in Akira's direction, like a secret shared between only themselves.
"A bath!" exclaims the little child and claps excitedly, hands pointing upwards the stairs like a captain directing their boat.
"Do you want Daddy's help or do you want to do it alone, baby?" asks Akito, rightening Kaiyo on his arms as he also begins to walk up the stairs.
"Alone!" pouts Kaiyo — her small hands gripping the fabric of Akito's pullover.
"Alright, you're big kids now." Akito chuckles, patting Kaiyo's head as he puts her down onto the rug in front of the bathtub, and Tsukasa puts Akira down next to her.
Kaiyo nods her head, and looks up at Akito. "Can you do the water, Papa?" she asks, her hands laying on the porcelain of the Tub, green eyes focusing on Akito.
"Of course." He chuckles, leaning over the bathtub to reach the tab.
While the twins are bathing upstairs under Tsukasa's supervision, as to make sure they don't drown themselves — or each other, Akito sits down in the living room and awaits his sister's arrival. Ena had promised a visit — tho he kind of doubted she'd come in this weather.
But then the bell rings and Akito rushes towards it.
Saki grins at him, umbrella in one hand, and Ena's hand in the other. "Hey Akito!" They exclaim and rush inside, pulling Ena after them.
"Hi guys." He answers back and takes the umbrella from Saki's hand. "Did you run into any trouble?" He asks, watches them both kick off their shoes.
"Just the rain." Ena grumbles, running a manicured hand through her damp hair. "Why is it even raining?" She continues, glaring at the door like it personally insulted her.
Saki laughs fondly and walks towards the living room, Akito and Ena following closely.
Rain drums steadily against the windows now — heavier than before — like the sky decided to commit to it.
Saki shakes out their damp sleeves. “Your house always smells nice,” she says, peeking around like she’s expecting something to jump out at her. “It’s, like… warm.”
“That’s just because we panic-cleaned this morning,” Akito says.
Ena drops onto the couch with a long, exhausted sigh. “If I get sick because of this weather, I’m billing you.”
“You chose to come,” he shoots back.
“I was emotionally blackmailed,” she mutters, pointing a thumb at Saki.
Saki gasps. “I said ‘come see the kids with me’ one time!”
“That’s blackmail.”
Before Akito can reply—
Upstairs, there’s a loud splash.
Then shrieking laughter.
Then Tsukasa’s voice, panicked and theatrical: “No— no— we do not stand in the tub— why are you both— sit down—!”
Another splash.
Water hits tile.
Akito closes his eyes.
“…They’re alive, at least,” Saki laughs softly.
Right then, Ena lights up like a lightbulb.
“Where are my favorite little Troublemakers?”
“Don’t call them that,” Akito says automatically.
“I’m just joking around! I know they’re not actually troublemakers!”
He snorts, grabbing towels from the laundry basket.
“Not yet, at least.”
As if summoned by prophecy, something upstairs crashes over.
Tsukasa: “WHY IS THERE WATER ON THE CEILING—”
Saki claps delightedly. “See? Troublemakers.”
—
A few minutes later, the bathroom door creaks open.
Tiny wet footsteps slap against the hallway.
Kaiyo appears first, wrapped in a towel like a cape, hair damp and curling at the ends, grinning like she just committed a crime and got away with it.
Behind her, Akira steps carefully, clutching a pajama top with a deep, serious frown — like the shirt personally offended.
“It’s backwards,” comes the quiet complaint.
Tsukasa follows, sleeves soaked, looking like a defeated lifeguard.
“They both tried to ‘swim,’” he says. “There is no water left in the tub. It’s all on the floor. Possibly the walls. Maybe the mirror.”
“Impressive,” Ena says.
“I’m raising athletes,” Tsukasa insists.
“You’re raising disasters,” Akito replies.
Kaiyo runs straight past everyone and launches into Saki’s legs. “Auntie Saki!”
Saki melts instantly. “Ohhh, you’re so big already! You’re like— this tall now, Yoyo!” She measures way too high on purpose.
Kaiyo gasps like this is groundbreaking news.
Akira lingers near the doorway, still wrestling with the pajama shirt, tiny fingers twisting the fabric, brows knit in concentration.
Ena watches for a second.
Then sighs dramatically and stands.
“Give it here, Aki.”
The shirt is gently tugged from small hands, flipped, straightened, shaken out.
“Arms,” Ena instructs, softer than usual.
Akira lifts both arms immediately, trust apparent in the young child's big orange eyes.
It’s so automatic it almost hurts to look at.
Ena freezes just a little — then carefully pulls the shirt down, smoothing the fabric after like it matters a lot that it sits right.
“There. Fixed. Don’t fight your clothes, okay?”
“…Okay,” comes the small answer.
Akito catches the way Ena looks away too fast after.
Like the softness embarrassed her.
Like Akira reminds her of something.
He smiles to himself.
—
Soon the living room fills with the chaos of towels and half-dry hair and little bodies running where they absolutely shouldn’t.
Kaiyo spins until she gets dizzy and crashes into the couch.
Akira toddles after Tsukasa, stubbornly determined to walk without help, slipping a little on the wood floor but refusing to grab onto anything.
“I can do it,” comes the quiet, firm mutter.
Tsukasa hovers anyway, hands out just in case. “Of course you can.”
Akito watches it all from the doorway for a moment.
Saki on the floor playing some ridiculous hand game with Kaiyo.
Ena pretending not to care while sneaking snacks onto a napkin for later.
Tsukasa laughing, hair still damp, sleeves rolled up.
Akira determined and wobbly and so, so serious about every tiny thing.
The house is loud.
Messy.
Little footprints everywhere.
Someone left the bathroom light on.
There’s probably bathwater still dripping somewhere.
It should feel overwhelming.
It used to.
Back when silence felt safer.
Back when empty rooms felt safer than every other possibility.
But now, after years in the chaos—
The noise settles into him like heat.
Like something alive pressing against his ribs.
Something that says you’re not alone anymore.
It’s strange.
It almost burns.
“Papa!”
Kaiyo barrels into his legs again, arms wrapping tight.
A second later, Akira bumps into his side too, towel slipping, small hands grabbing onto his pant leg just to stay upright.
No words shared between them this time.
Just existing there like that’s where belonging is.
Akito exhales, a slow, careful breath of air.
Like if he moves too fast, this might disappear.
Tsukasa glances at him, smile softening.
Like he knows the kind of train of thought Akito is having.
Then, Akito crouches down to be on eye level with his children.
"Who wants dinner?"