Work Text:
Kazuha arrived home to Scaramouche shouting.
“—as a caretaker and you can’t even do something as simple as feeding him? If he refuses to eat, then make him eat because that’s your fucking job! Do I have to drill that into your he—”
“Hey.” Kazuha dropped his bags on the floor to step in between them. Scaramouche seethed in his usual suit and tie while their newest maid rushed to hide behind Kazuha with fat tears in her eyes.
“Ryuu hasn’t eaten all day,” Scaramouche spat, glaring at the woman. “His plate’s untouched in the kitchen. She’s starving our son!”
Kazuha took his hand, rubbing soft circles on his skin. “Babe, please calm down.”
“So you’re taking her side?”
“Don’t twist my words.”
“ No .” Scaramouche snatched his hand back and tried to shove Kazuha, but he remained still as stone. With Kazuha blocking the way, Scaramouche jabbed a finger at the maid instead. “If you can’t do something as simple as cooking, then what’s the point of paying you? Huh?”
When the maid only flinched, Scaramouche barked, “Answer me!”
“I said calm down,” Kazuha said firmly. “This could’ve stemmed from a misunderstanding. We both don’t want Ryuu hearing you like this and Misa’s about to come home, so let’s settle this somewhere el—”
“I locked the door.”
All their heads whipped around. Their thirteen-year-old son stood at his bedroom’s doorway, hands clenched into fists as he gave all of them nasty glares.
“Ryuu.” Scaramouche schooled his expression into a softer one, a kind reserved only for the likes of Kazuha and their kids. He took a step forward. “You should’ve told me if your maid is lacking; you know I despise incompetence.”
The teenager clenched his fists so hard his knuckles turned white. “Shut up.”
Scaramouche paused. “Excuse me?”
“You had no fucking right to talk to her like that,” Ryuu seethed, bottom lip trembling like he was conflicted between crying and raging. “If my nana’s incompetent then what the fuck are you?”
Kazuha ushered the maid away before stepping in between them. “What did I say about cursing?”
Ryuu rolled his eyes. “What’re you gonna do about it? Hit me?”
“Ryuu,” Scaramouche said, darkly. “Go to your room.”
“How about no—”
“Wait.” Kazuha took a step forward, frowning as he pulled the teenager closer to himself. Ryuu opened his mouth to retort, but Kazuha beat him to it. “Have you been smoking?”
Scaramouche froze while Ryuu scoffed. He snatched his arm back. “Mind your own fucking business.”
Kazuha ignored the teenager’s scowl when he cupped his face—he’s used to dealing with difficult people.
“Baby,” he murmured. “If there’s anything you wish to talk about, your dad and I are here, you know that? What happened to the sweet Ryuu who’d tell us everything?”
Ryuu’s expression hardened as he swatted Kazuha’s hands away, but Kazuha did not miss his short glance at Scaramouche, who stood behind them, wordless.
“He’s gone,” the teenager snapped.
This time, Scaramouche moved forward. He held Ryuu by the shoulders. “Are you being bullied?”
“What? N-No, that’s—”
“I’m driving to your school,” Scaramouche muttered, backing away to pull out his phone and keys. “I should’ve known they were incompetent. I’ll have my men install CCTVs so no one messes with you, I’ll be back.”
“Wait, stop—”
“I’m fixing this, Ryuu.”
“No, that’s not what I—”
“Kazuha, tell Misa I’ll be back by—”
“I said stop!” Ryuu raised his voice. “And don’t go to my school. I don’t want my friends seeing your gay shit.”
Scaramouche froze.
Kazuha could not see his husband’s face, who was already halfway leaving the room, but he didn’t need a look to know exactly how heartbroken his expression must be.
“What did you just say?” Scaramouche’s voice was strained. If this were any other person, he would’ve thrown them to the dirtiest pits of hell, but this was their son. Their only son.
Ryuu’s glare sharpened. “You heard me.”
Kazuha threaded carefully. “Baby—”
“Stop calling me that!” Ryuu stomped his foot, and the action was so much like the young Scaramouche Kazuha used to know that he had to pause. “Stop dotting on me. It’s annoying. I hate the way you treat me.”
The words were like stone cold water poured all over them. Scaramouche turned around, a slow, deliberate movement to face them once again. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do,” Ryuu said with thick venom laced into his voice. “I already get bullied enough for having gay dads. But then you always have to be so… so annoying . I hate it when you visit me in school, it’s embarrassing. And I hate that you’re always so overprotective when you don’t even care!”
Scaramouche’s face cracked at every word their kid spelled out. “Ryuu—”
“I always knew…” Ryuu gritted out, eyes on the ground. “You always liked Misa more than me. You’re no better than her .”
Kazuha took a sharp intake of breath and he decided this was enough. “Ba—Ryuu, go to your room. Now.”
“No.” Ryuu crossed his arms. “I want to know what dad says.”
Scaramouche remained silent, face contorted blank as his eyes glazed over like an entirely different scene played in front of him, one of a horrid past he witnessed himself. After long, tantalizing seconds, he cleared his throat.
“It’s late,” Scaramouche said. To strangers, his words were emotionless. To Kazuha, it was anything but. “I’ll fetch your sister from the mall.”
Kazuha shook his head. “Babe—”
“No.” Scaramouche tried to hide it, but Kazuha wasn’t his husband for show. The pain in his voice stood clear and the silence following the lone word weighed like tons on everyone’s shoulders. “Misa and I will have dinner outside.”
Without another word, Scaramouche fled. The slam of the front door shut echoed through the house.
Kazuha and Ryuu stood there, unmoving until the teenager let out a small sniffle.
“Ryuu.”
“ No . I’m… I’m going to my room. Don’t fucking go inside.”
“Don’t curse,” Kazuha tried, then gave up when Ryuu rushed to slam his bedroom door shut. He sighed and walked to stand by it, knocking twice. “Hey, we need to talk.”
No answer.
“You hurt your dad,” Kazuha said. When he still received no response, he sighed. “I expect an apology tomorrow morning and… I’ll bring up dinner in a while, do you want your usual?”
He waited for a beat. Still nothing.
“I’ll bring up some chazuke then.”
It was usually Scaramouche cooking up Ryuu’s favorite chazuke, but given how his husband (expectedly) ran away, Kazuha had to make do with it himself. Ryuu still refused to leave his room so he left the steaming bowl by the door, knowing the teenager would pick it up when no one was around—a behavior he probably picked from his dad.
Kazuha waited in the living room, laptop and a cup of tea in front of him as the clock churned seven. As usual, the main entrance unlocked and the familiar rapid click of heels rushed toward him.
Their sixteen-year-old daughter tackled him with a hug, thin arms wrapped around his torso as she whispered into his chest, “Did something happen, Pa?”
Always the perceptive one, she was.
Kazuha hummed. “Is he being obvious?”
“Dad bought me dresses.”
“Doesn’t he always?”
Misa huffed. “I wanted Vera Wang, but he insisted on Givenchy.”
Kazuha knew they shouldn’t spoil their kids this much, but they’d long given up on that moral compass. Not when he and Scaramouche barely received attention growing up.
“How awful,” he mused.
“Oh!” Misa hopped back. She dug into her purse—along the cost of a million; Scaramouche loved spoiling their kids—and pulled out a wax-sealed letter. Her long nails grazed Kazuha’s hand and he opened his mouth to chide her about it, but she beat him to it. “There’s an honor’s convocation this upcoming Friday, and… Guess which place I got!”
Kazuha gave her a brilliant smile and took the envelope in his hands. “That’s amazing, darling.”
“Pa, guess my rank!”
“That isn’t important to me.” Kazuha placed the envelope on his laptop before ruffling Misa’s hair. “Your effort is much more valuable and I’m extremely proud of it—of you. Have you been resting well?”
He didn’t miss how Misa’s face dimmed. That was, until Scaramouche walked through the door, dozens of shopping bags in hand.
“Dad!” She rushed to him instead. “What I said earlier, I showed it to Papa.”
Scaramouche grinned. “Did he guess your rank?”
“No…” Misa's shoulders slumped, but she recovered just as quickly. “Your turn!”
“I don’t need to guess.” Scaramouche toed his shoes off and guided her to the living room. “My girl’s always first.”
Misa beamed brighter than she has the entire day. Scaramouche handed the shopping bags to an awaiting maid while Misa listed off the number of medals she’ll receive during the convocation, both fathers listening with smiles and offering well-deserved praises. It was around ten when the first yawn came out of Misa, bleary eyes as she headed off the bed, bringing with her the expensive scent of sunflowers.
“Babe—”
“Don’t,” Scaramouche said, but he collapsed against Kazuha on the couch, head buried into his shoulder as he shuddered out a shaky breath. Strong cologne entered his nose, intoxicating ouds mingled with a gentle hint of rose, a gift Kazuha gave him on one of their anniversaries.
“He doesn’t mean it.” Kazuha rocked them back and forth, holding his husband tighter when little tears poured onto his shoulder. “Please don’t cry, love. You know it breaks my heart.”
“I never knew,” Scaramouche gritted out. He tried to break away, a thump of a hand on Kazuha’s chest, but Kazuha didn’t let go. “I swore to never be like her and yet—” A heartbreaking sob. “And yet I’ve been making his life so hard.”
“He’s projecting,” Kazuha murmured, placing a tender kiss on the crown of Scaramouche’s hair. “He wanted to hurt you, and he did.”
“Our son’s getting bullied ,” Scaramouche hissed, looking up. “Bullied because of us . What the fuck do you expect me to do?”
“I know, baby. I know.” Kazuha felt his own heart break. It’s hard. Knowing his own son was subject to bullying and none of them had noticed; that Ryuu didn’t even feel the need to tell them about it as if they were incapable of assisting him when, in fact, they would burn the entire world to give him justice.
“He hates me,” he whispered, and that wouldn’t have hurt as much as it did if Scaramouche didn’t spend half his life hating Ei. “Our son hates me.”
All Kazuha could do was hold him.
The next morning, Kazuha apologized to the maid and ushered Scaramouche to do such, who only rolled his eyes at the sight of her, muttering about “a damn pay raise or something.”
Breakfast wasn’t as diplomatic.
They dined like usual. The aroma of eggs fried into a sunny-side-up and butter-toasted bread filled their noses, their hired celebrity chef going in and out of the kitchen to serve their food. Scaramouche dipped his spoon into a bowl of steaming ochazuke filled with fine green tea and small strips of nori. Kazuha’s pouring syrup on a tower of pancakes for Misa, with thin slices of strawberries and kiwi circling the plate.
“—and I have a debate tournament next Wednesday,” Misa said, plopping skinned grapes into her mouth. Dozens of curlers wrapped around her hair, a freshly dyed dark purple balayage that cost them thousands of dollars.
(Well, Misa had gotten a perfect score on her test, so who was he to refuse the request? And if paying for it meant improving Misa’s self-esteem, then, of course, Kazuha would allow it.)
Kazuha frowned. “Isn’t the Model United Nations this week?”
Misa hummed, nodding as she typed rapidly on her phone. “I’ll leave after the convocation and it’s only four days, Pa. I’ll have time to do scrims so I’ll be ready to compete again by next Wednesday.”
“That’s…” Kazuha didn’t know what to say.
“Amazing?” Misa flashed him a brilliant smile. “I don’t know why you’re so concerned, Papa. Not everyone can balance beauty and brains at the same time.”
Scaramouche smirked from his seat. “That’s my girl.”
Kazuha fixed him with a look. “I’m merely saying, love. If it’s all too much, you don’t have to push yourself so hard. We’ll be proud of you regardless of what you choose to do.”
Misa’s smile froze on her face. “Why can’t you just say congratulations?”
Kazuha stopped eating. “Sweetheart—”
“Nevermind!” She reached up to remove the curlers in her hair, movements so swift her fingers jumbled a little. “Sorry, my mind got mixed up. Anyway, as I was saying…”
Breakfast continued as such. A maid handed Scaramouche his laptop, who’s now juggling writing a proposal, eating, and listening to Misa rambling. Kazuha lost his appetite to eat, his daughter’s earlier words ringing in his mind. All he could do was nod and smile as he peeled off the skin of grapes to offer to her, pancake abandoned.
It’s a few minutes later when Ryuu joined the scene.
The atmosphere tensed immediately.
Kazuha paused. For a moment, he wished he could say what he truly wanted to voice out—to be a person first instead of a parent, but that wasn’t how this worked. So he called a maid to bring in the chazuke he prepared for Ryuu.
The teenager murmured thanks and walked to his usual seat beside Scaramouche.
Ryuu lingered for a moment, glancing at his dad, whose eyes were glued to his laptop.
“Good morning,” Ryuu tried.
Scaramouche kept typing.
“Morning!” Misa said, and knowing her, she spoke up before the silence could become uncomfortable. Kazuha silently thanked her.
Ryuu rolled his eyes and sat down with a huff. The action truly reminded him of a younger Scaramouche, a brat who declared one-sided rivalries to anyone he deemed as a threat.
“Your sister greeted you good morning,” Kazuha said. “What do you say back?”
“Morning,” he muttered, eyes down on his bowl.
“I’m driving you both to school,” Kazuha continued stiffly. “And from now on, Misa will walk you to class and if she sees you smoking, you’re grounded. Am I clear?”
Ryuu snapped his head up. “But Dad drives us to school.”
“Well, today I’m dropping you off.”
Scaramouche still zeroed his attention on his laptop, and Kazuha had to stop himself from sighing. Although he supposed it was better than his husband losing his cool on their kids. With the fresh wounds from Ryuu’s words last night, Scaramouche would be better away from the scene.
Ryuu pursed his lips, still avoiding Scaramouche’s gaze, while Misa stopped texting to watch them.
Kazuha went on, “If I smell a hint of tobacco on you—”
“You won’t,” Ryuu mumbled before pushing his bowl away. With Scaramouche refusing to acknowledge Ryuu, the atmosphere only grew icier.
The teenager stood up, shrugging on his jacket. “And the chazuke tastes weird.”
“Shut up,” Misa said with a smile. She followed suit and moved to peck Scaramouche on the cheek. “We’ll be going, Dad. See you.”
The kids left without much ceremony. Scaramouche, too, got up when they were out of earshot and Kazuha hurried after him, wrapping his arms around his waist to stop him from fleeing.
“You won’t talk to him?” Kazuha murmured against his neck.
“I’m busy.”
Scaramouche tried to pry Kazuha’s arms off him, but he didn’t let go so easily.
“Ryuu only likes your cooking.” Kazuha rested his chin on Scaramouche’s shoulder. “He knew you didn’t cook for him today.”
A sigh. “I know.”
“He’s sorry, baby.”
“I know.”
“And…” Kazuha turned Scaramouche around so they faced each other. Tired, starry eyes met his own. “I think Misa’s pressuring herself too much.”
“Mmh.” Scaramouche rested his head on Kazuha’s shoulder, the cold touch of his skin grazing Kazuha’s neck. “I noticed. I’ll talk to her later.”
“Thank you.” Kazuha lifted Scaramouche’s chin up to leave a soft, chaste kiss, laughing when his husband wrinkled his nose.
“You taste fishy.”
“You love it.”
“It’s disgusting and go . You’re sleeping on the couch if the kids are late.”
When Kazuha came home from work that night, their chef rushed up to him, beads of sweat on his forehead.
“My Lord.” The chef bowed, spine ramrod straight. Kazuha opened his mouth to tell him to stop with the honorifics but the chef continued, “Young Master Ryuu insisted that he cook dinner tonight and I couldn’t get a hold of Lord Raiden for permission. My Lord, forgive me for my impudence if letting the young master cook was not the right choice!”
Kazuha pulled him up. “No, it’s alright. I’ll handle the rest from here.”
The chef nodded. “Thank you, my Lord!”
As expected, Ryuu’s in the kitchen, dozens of pots and silverware scattered on the tabletops as a surprisingly decent smell entered Kazuha’s nose. His eyebrows raised.
“Hey,” he said, stopping beside his son who was stirring the pot. “Who drove you home?”
“I carpooled with Mika.”
Ryuu shifted his balance to his left foot. He didn’t look at Kazuha and his voice was carefully neutral; sometimes, Kazuha wondered if their kids truly were adopted because Ryuu had Scaramouche’s mannerisms perfected to a tee.
“Mika… Eula’s kid?”
The teenager bit his lip, stirring the pot faster. “Yeah. Was, um, was that okay? I forgot to ask permission.”
“No, no, it’s alright.” Kazuha clasped a hand on Ryuu’s shoulder for comfort. “I know Mika’s a good kid. I’m glad you’re making friends.”
Ryuu averted his gaze. “He has two moms, so we—” He fiddled with his cotton sweater sleeve and Kazuha had to stop himself from smiling. “Mika told me about it.”
“Hmm, about what?”
“Nothing,” Ryuu snapped unprovoked.
“How’s class?”
“Good.”
“... did you smoke today?”
“No.”
“Oh. That’s nice.” Kazuha let out a sigh filled with relief. “Really nice.”
Ryuu turned off the stove and set the pot aside, the familiar aroma of Scaramouche’s signature chazuke wafting in their noses. Kazuha never remembered Scaramouche teaching their son the recipe, or perhaps Ryuu’s eaten the dish enough times to discern the cooking process himself. Thin strips of nori decorated the tea-drizzled rice, and with a glint in his eye, Ryuu added tiny chops of chili.
Kazuha chuckled.
“If this is supposed to be a prank, you should know your dad adores spicy food.”
“I know. I mean—” Ryuu glanced up at him as he chewed on his bottom lip. “I cooked this for myself,” he rushed to add. “But if Dad would like some then… Can you tell him to come down? Please.”
Kazuha’s eyebrows lifted. “He’s home?”
Ryuu nodded solemnly. “He got home around six and went straight to his room.”
Of course, Kazuha kept his sigh in and presented his son with a reassuring smile. “Sure, I’ll get him.”
Ryuu’s face lit up and he hurried to the cupboards to bring out two bowls, a small red one that had little Spiderman webs littered on it and a sleek, black one that was slightly larger than the other.
Scaramouche isolating himself in the bedroom instead of his office was the first sign. When Kazuha opened the door, he wasn’t sure what to expect. Probably something in between the lines of overworking, seething, or plotting someone’s death. What he did not expect was Scaramouche sitting cross-legged on their bed, pretty pink gift wrappers and tape in hand as he stared at a small velvet box before him.
“Hey, baby.” Kazuha walked over to the bed, careful not to mess with wrappers and tape scattered around to give him a kiss. “What’s this for?”
“Misa’s already sixteen,” Scaramouche said. He tossed the small velvet box to Kazuha, who caught it with one hand. “She’ll need a car sooner or later. Let’s give it when she wins that debate or something.”
Kazuha removed the lid to reveal car keys, the Porsche logo engraved in the middle.
He placed the keys down and slipped their hands together, thumb rubbing Scaramouche’s skin. “This is thoughtful of you, but… What if she loses?”
Scaramouche frowned. “What?”
“What if she loses?” Kazuha repeated, looking him in the eye. “I know you, babe. You’ll prepare an entire celebration party beforehand, so tell me, what if she loses?”
“She won’t,” Scaramouche said like Kazuha was stupid. “She’s my daughter; she doesn’t lose.”
Kazuha pursed his lips. “You said you’ll talk to her about this.”
Scaramouche rolled his eyes and placed his wrappers down in favor of crossing his arms. “I did and I changed my mind.”
“I don’t think I heard you right,” Kazuha said, coldly. “What do you mean you changed your mind?”
“You heard me. I don’t get why you’re so against her success.” Scaramouche made a face. “She’s right; why can’t you just say congratulations? Is it that hard?”
“That’s…” Kazuha shook his head. “Of course, I’m proud of her. Why would—”
“Then show her you’re happy!”
“I’m talking about you ,” Kazhua stressed. “The problem’s not Misa, never her, but you’re pressuring her far too much. Do we even know if she likes debate?”
Scaramouche’s face fell blank. “No shit, that’s what she excels at.”
“Are you sure?” Kazuha monitored his every move. “The only time you give her attention is when she wins a competition or receives a prize. Of course, she’ll push herself to succeed in those because that’s what satisfies you.”
“I praise her when she does something good. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?” Scaramouche hissed, snatching the wrapping papers to measure on the velvet box, just a touch more aggressively than moments ago.
“Okay.” Kazuha took a breath. “Let’s say you plan a celebration party for her and she loses. She’ll be humiliated .”
“Then it’ll be a consolation party.”
“That’s not the point. You don’t realize it, but you’re pressuring her. And she’s been slaving herself over just to meet your expectations.”
“I’m not raising a failure!” Scaramouche whirled to face him and froze when he realized his words came out as a yell. He let out a deep sigh, running a hand down his face as he continued, quietly, “I’m not like her .”
Kazuha shook his head. “You already—.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I said I’m not—”
“Ryuu’s acting up because you barely pay attention to him.” Kazuha knew to choose his words carefully here. “And it’s come to a point where he’ll do anything for you to notice him because you only focus on Misa.”
Silence.
They both knew why the situation sounded familiar.
“I…” Scaramouche gulped, burying his head in trembling hands. “I want to be alone.”
Kazuha’s throat tightened as his heart cracked. He whispered, “Baby—”
“Just—” Scaramouche’s voice climbed high again, but he cut himself off. “I need to think.”
“You know I don’t like to argue—”
“Kazuha,” Scaramouche snapped. “ Go . I mean it.”
“... Ryuu made chazuke for you.”
Scaramouche didn’t answer him, back turned as he sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped down with his head hung low.
And since Kazuha had always been annoyingly persistent, he walked around the bed to sit beside his husband. “I’m sorry,” he said, softly. “I’ll go. I didn’t mean to go too far.”
“I know,” Scaramouche whispered. “I was in my head.”
“Hey.” Kazuha wrapped his arms around his husband’s waist and rested his chin on his shoulder. “You’re trying your best.”
“I’m fine .”
Scaramouche pushed him off and Kazuha let himself be pushed, afraid he truly was pushing it too far now. When Kazuha was on his way back to the kitchen, Ryuu sat alone on the long dining table, staring at his two bowls of cold tea on rice.
“Ryuu, I’m sor—”
“I know,” he mumbled, miserable words off his lips. “I heard you guys fighting.”
Kazuha’s throat hitched, but he didn’t let it show. “We weren’t fighting.”
“I’m not stupid,” Ryuu said with more aggression now. He slammed his spoon down and stood up, collecting the bowls to place on a tray. He muttered, “This doesn’t taste good anyway.”
“Baby, your dad’s just…” Kazuha tried to find the right words. “He’s hurt, and he’s processing it.”
Ryuu’s jaw clenched. “No, he hates me.”
“ No ,” Kazuha rushed to say, and it hurt to hear his son utter such a thing. “He could never hate you, I promise.”
Ryuu only pursed his lips and left to clean the dishes himself.
Kazuha was a fool to believe things would resolve themselves over time. Especially when one of the overlying factors was no other than his husband, the most difficult person he could ever possibly know. He just never imagined Scaramouche would give their son the silent treatment.
It’s a Sunday night and Misa had (thankfully) won her competition. Scaramouche had thrown her a yacht party where she invited her friends that lasted until midnight. Before the event, Kazuha tried to invite Ryuu, but the teenager said he already had plans with some friends—and it’s only when Ryuu was about to leave did Kazuha see the bandages on his knuckles, but Misa dragged him away before he could chase Ryuu for it.
They’re settled on the couch, lights dim and popcorn in hand as he, Scaramouche, and Misa watch a new Netflix series. From Misa’s quick description, it’s about a group of poor people trapped in a facility and they had to play games to win an absurd amount of money. Kazuha wasn’t sure about the appeal of it, but Scaramouche and Misa overruled him, who both fawned over violence.
It was about to hit midnight when the front door unlocked and Scaramouche tensed in his arms.
Kazuha looked over to find Ryuu walking inside, backpack slung over his shoulder.
“Welcome home. I thought you had plans with your friends?”
“Taru wanted to sneak into his dad’s club to drink.” Ryuu handed his backpack to a maid and shrugged, trying to come off as nonchalant. “So I left.”
Kazuha blinked, surprised, then smiled. “That’s great. Amazing, actually. Thank you for not drinking with them.”
Ryuu tried to play it off with a shrug, but his cheeks colored red. He headed over to them. “Um. Can I… join?”
“Of course, of course.” Kazuha tried to move over, but he was seated on the corner of the couch. The only available spots were beside Scaramouche, who was curled into Kazuha, and Misa, who was nobbling on popcorn on the floor.
“The show’s just started,” Misa said, putting her popcorn down. “C’mon, hurry up.”
But Ryuu did not move his spot. His lips pursed into a tight line as he glanced at Scaramouche, hesitating, waiting for him to give the go signal.
“I have an early business trip tomorrow.” Scaramouche stood up, untangling himself from Kazuha’s arms.
Kazuha's expression fell blank. He replied, voice cold, “Are you serious?”
“Yes.” Scaramouche looked him in the eye. “Dead serious,” was all he said before retreating to their bedroom, leaving behind a thick silence that weighed over all of them like mud.
Kazuha only snapped out of it when a small sniffle came from Ryuu.
“Dad hates me,” Ryuu gritted out, voice wet. “He’s still mad.”
“Hey, hey.” Kazuha rushed to stand up. He cupped Ryuu’s face, cooing as he wiped the brimming tears with his thumbs. “He doesn’t hate you, alright? He’s just… hurt.”
“But I’m sorry,” Ryuu whispered, a dangerous vulnerability to his voice, and in the background, Misa turned off the TV. “I know he’s hurt, but how can I apologize when he won’t let me?”
Kazuha brought Ryuu close to his chest, wrapping his arms around him tightly. “He loves you.” He glanced at Misa, who awkwardly stood at the side, and extended an arm to her. Gently, she joined the hug. “He loves both of you. So , so much. That’s why what you said really hurt him, Ryuu.”
“I know.” Ryuu sniffled, angry tears spilling onto Kazuha’s shirt. “But he keeps avoiding me, how am I supposed to apologize?”
“... I don’t know,” Kazuha finally said. “I’m sorry, baby. It’s hard to be in between the two of you like this.”
“Dad rarely shows how he feels,” Misa said, quietly. “But when he does, everything he’s kept inside boils over and it’ll take a while to heal.”
Kazuha blinked. “How’d you know that?”
“Yae calls me during the weekends,” Misa admitted, running her hand through Ryuu’s hair. “She’d relay Ei’s advice on how to handle dad.”
“Oh,” was all Kazuha could say. All he could conclude was that it made sense; Yae Miko always liked to meddle in family drama when she was bored. Luckily this time, it’s a helpful intervention. “Tell her of my gratitude.”
“Go away,” Ryuu whined, nudging Misa. “ I’m hugging Pa.”
Misa only squeezed him tighter. “No. Deal with it.”
Kazuha couldn’t find it in himself to laugh after what just happened, so he had them go back to their rooms and settled down on the couch, pulling out his laptop to continue writing his report. The two kids lingered until, surprisingly, Ryuu spoke up, “Can we cuddle?”
He had to stop himself from choking on the air. Ryuu stopped being physically affectionate when he grew older, so his request must mean a lot to him.
Kazuha offered him a smile. “Of course, come.”
Ryuu rushed to get comfy on his arm, snuggling into Kazuha’s worn sweater, and he didn’t miss Misa’s pout. Kazuha chuckled. “Come on, Misa.”
“I have an early council meeting tomorrow…” Misa mulled things over in her mind. Not long after, she flipped her hair over her shoulder. “But I suppose if I’m late, it’ll be for this.” She weaseled her way into the cuddle group and stuck her tongue out at Ryuu’s complaints.
Kazuha supposed this was okay, but it didn’t feel right. Not when they’re missing someone.
The turning point happened a week later.
They’re locked inside Scaramouche’s office. As ideal a situation it was for Kazuha, unfortunately, his husband had other plans in mind: sorting their pure cocaine packages.
To serve as their front, they had put up a hotel and casino business that boomed across Inazuma. Underneath it all was a massive drug ecosystem Scaramouche lorded over while Kazuha focused on their front. Although now that they had kids, they had to take extra precautions for subtlety.
“A runner stole from us,” Scaramouche snapped as soon as he barged into the home. “Ten kilos of pure cocaine. Fuck!”
To make matters worse, the transaction with their usual VIPs was happening tomorrow. The Scaramouche from before would have dropped everything to hunt down the rat, but with both of their years of experience, they had to prioritize dishing up the lost drugs.
So here they were, locked up in an office, cutting up cocaine from their own pockets before their VIPs could sense anything amiss because Scaramouche didn’t trust his underlings. Kazuha would rather be locked in a room with his husband doing something else, but he’d rather not test his luck. Especially when Scaramouche was using a knife to divide.
“Brings us back to the old days.” Kazuha attempted to lighten up the mood.
Scaramouche frowned harder, slamming his knife down the cocaine particularly harder than before and sliding to the side. Sometimes he had a penchant for acting like a moody wife. But Kazuha was used to it.
Thirty minutes later, they’re sealing up the last bag. Scaramouche chopped carrots on his desk, muttering about how it can help melt the inhaled drugs faster when a crash came from outside.
Kazuha’s head snapped up, and Scaramouche froze.
A series of footsteps rushed outside— familiar footsteps.
“Fuck,” his husband said.
The footsteps and distant bickering got closer. All Kazuha could do was swipe his arm across the table to clear it off the drugs. He kicked them all under the desk while Scaramouche snatched Misa’s hydro flask from his drawer (who knew why it was there) and slammed it on the table. Kazuha’s rushing back up when the office door slammed open, and their kids rushed inside.
“Dads, Ryuu’s skipping school!”
“Stop following me!”
Ryuu shoved past Misa and bounded over to Scaramouche’s desk. He slammed a thick stack of papers down the table, stapled together clumsily with specs of dirt and grass on it.
“I need help with accounting homework,” Ryuu announced, staring his dad dead in the eye.
“Accounting?” Misa yanked at her brother’s hair. “You’re barely in high school!”
“Well, I applied for the subject and got in,” Ryuu snapped. “I used three weeks of my savings to buy the class. So—” He slid the stack of papers to Scaramouche, who pursed his lips. “Help me with my homework, Dad.”
Ryuu must’ve been waiting for this moment of confrontation. As a parent, Kazuha wanted to scold him for wasting his allowance on a subject he didn’t need as a thirteen-year-old. On another hand, Kazuha wanted to slap his son on the back for having such persistence, the correct approach to an icy Scaramouche.
“You’re both skipping school for this…” Kazuha was at a loss for words. “Misa?”
“I tried to stop him!” Misa cried. “It was lunch and I saw Ryuu marching into the registrar’s office, and then he insisted on going home through public transport, and we’ve both never touched public transport so I went with him!”
Kazuha could feel a migraine coming up.
“Both of you,” Scaramouche said, coldly. “Go back to school,” was all he said before he went back to chopping his carrots.
Misa frowned. “Why’re you chopping carrots in your office?”
“Let’s take this outside,” Kazuha said, already leading the kids out before they could catch a whiff of anything dangerous. Archons.
“No.” Ryuu dug his heels onto the floor. “I’m not leaving if Dad isn’t coming.”
Scaramouche’s shoulders tensed.
“Babe,” Kazuha warned. “The kids need to be outside .”
“ Fine ,” Scaramouche bit out. The more time the kids spent in this godforsaken office, the more dangerous it’d be for them. He picked up his carrots and stalked outside and onto the kitchen with Ryuu following him like a lost puppy.
When they all settled into the kitchen, away from the office—thank god, Kazuha almost had a stroke—Ryuu and Scaramouche had a stare-down.
“Accountancy’s math. I need help with math,” Ryuu began.
Scaramouche resumed cutting his carrots, to make his scene believable, Kazuha started the stove and waved a confused maid away. He picked up a couple of instant noodles and poured them in.
Misa tilted her head. “I don’t understand why you’re chopping carrots in the offic—”
“The office is your dad’s safe space,” he was quick to say.
Kazuha hated lying and Scaramouche knew that, so he said, “It’s adult business. Go back to school.”
“I said no.” Ryuu dragged a chair over and plopped himself on it, his homework in hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Scaramouche stiffened, still chopping his carrots. “I’m busy cooking. Ask help from your dad.”
“Papa’s not good at math,” Ryuu said as a matter of fact, and Kazuha couldn’t even be offended. Not when Ryuu probably had this all planned. Who knew his son was so calculating? Kazuha didn’t know whether to be proud or scared. “ You’re the one good at math, dad. So yes, I need your help.”
“Why’re you cooking instant noodles?” Misa raised a suspicious brow. “I thought you wanted us to eat healthy, Papa—”
“We’re in a good mood, darling.” Kazuha tried a smile that conveyed please drop it, please drop it.
And Misa, the sweetheart she was, dropped it. However, Kazuha should have expected her next words. These were Scaramouche’s kids, after all.
“I’ll drop it if Dad helps Ryuu with the homework.”
How cunning.
Kazuha could see Scaramouche’s resolve wavering. Knowing how perceptive Misa was, she’d immediately figure it out after a few more hints.
“I have to wash the dishes,” Scaramouche said as he chopped the carrots harder.
“You’re as picky as Misa, Dad. I know you don’t wash the dishes,” Ryuu countered. “And I already signed up for the subject, if I fail, I get held back.”
“Then ask Misa for help.”
“Misa doesn’t do accounting. You literally manage a bank, Dad.”
“Then you shouldn’t have signed up for the subject.”
Ryuu’s jaw fell open.
To no one’s surprise, Ryuu’s voice raised into a yell. “You’re kidding me. You’re so immature!”
Scaramouche glared at his chopping board, movements stiff. “Don’t raise your voice at me.”
“I’m sorry, Dad!” Their son leaned forward, eyes desperate. “I’m sorry and I didn’t mean anything I said. I just—I just wanted to hurt you because I was mad and… and you never paid attention to me. It’s always Misa this, Misa that, and I was tired of it!” Ryuu’s voice cracked when Scaramouche didn’t even glance at him, eyes brimming with tears. “Dad, I’m sorry . Please forgive me, it hurts when you’re mad at me. It’s been two weeks.”
Only Kazuha noticed the falter in his husband’s flow as he moved to chop an apple.
“I already forgave you,” he said, voice carefully blank, head still down to focus on cutting.
“No, you haven’t.” Ryuu sniffled. “I know you hate me. You won’t even look at me.”
At this, Scaramouche finally looked up.
A wetness spread on his cheeks, a stream of tears from his eyes. No matter how tough Scaramouche tried to act, he was so soft for their kids—Kazuha knew.
Ryuu took a step back, while Misa clutched at Kazuha’s sweater sleeve.
“I-I’m sorry,” their son stammered, having never seen his dad be this vulnerable. “Please let it go. It’s… weird to see you cry.”
Scaramouche scoffed through his tears. “Of-fucking-course. ‘Cause I’m not allowed to cry, am I?”
Both the kids flinched at the curse word. Before things could escalate even more, Kazuha stepped forward.
“Love,” he said, softly. “Let me take over, hm?”
“ No ,” Scaramouche snapped. He went back to cutting, a sniffle coming out of him as his movements got more aggressive. “You don’t always have to butt in, Kazuha. I don’t need you to be my savior, I can handle this myself, you know.”
Kazuha frowned. Ryuu and Misa glanced back at him, both hesitant about the next step to take with the sudden turn. He gently pulled the kids behind him.
“Kuni,” Kazuha said, firmly. “Let’s talk somewhere else.”
“Why?” Scaramouche said, something near hysteria in his voice. His eyes still glistened as he chopped furiously. “Why not talk here? Ryuu thinks my crying is weird, so let’s show him how immature we are. Misa, Ryuu, you think you’re adults? Fine. I’ll talk to you like one: let me tell you how hard it was to raise the both of you.”
“ Kunikuzushi ,” Kazuha said with warning.
“Being a parent was the hardest thing I’ve done,” Scaramouche continued, his tone getting more heated as each word left his lips. “My mother cut me off and Kazuha’s lost his entire family. We were poor and alone , and we were barely out of college. Kazuha and I had to take turns going to work and staying home to take care of you both in some shitty ass apartment with cockroaches and rats, and we couldn’t even afford a proper bed .”
“Come on.” Kazuha grabbed Ryuu and Misa’s arms. “I don’t want you to hear this.”
“Why not?” Scaramouche was crying now—always the first to break in their arguments, emotional as he was. “I think they should know how hard it was for us. How we had nothing because our parents couldn’t give two shits, so we promised to give our kids everything. Why not fucking tell them, Kazuha? Tell me.”
Ryuu and Misa’s faces were pale, not a single word was spoken out by either of them.
“But I’m keeping that fucking promise,” Scaramouche barreled on. “It was hard, but I was happy. I was free. I spent every day with Kazuha and my pretty babies. And I love both of you. I always will. And it fucking breaks me to know you don’t see me that way when I’d give my life for you both.”
“Why…” Misa breathed out. “Why would you ever think that, Dad—”
“You’re only happy when I buy you gifts,” Scaramouche muttered. “You only talk to me when you want something and I know Ryuu likes Kazuha more than me. My son’s embarrassed to be seen with me. And it hurts because I want to give you the love I never received.”
“Dad…” Fat tears rolled down Ryuu’s cheeks. “I—I never… Dad, I’m sor-sorry. I love you. I don’t hate you, I’m sorry .”
The sight broke his heart. “That’s enough,” Kazuha said. “Let’s all calm down and clean up. This must be exhausting for everyone—”
“I was waiting for you to speak up.” Scaramouche rolled his eyes. “Can’t imagine a conversation without you butting in, my knight in shining armor.”
“Kuni,” Kazuha whispered, hurt. “What are you doing?”
He could practically see his husband regressing in front of him, going back and returning to his old habits of picking fights.
Scaramouche opened his mouth to retort, but he cried out instead. Too focused on conversation, he had lost count on chopping and nicked his finger, red liquid spilling out of his pointer at an alarming rate.
Kazuha held him in an instant. He pried the knife off him with tender motions and cradled Scaramouche’s hand like it was worth gold.
“It’s deep,” he said with a furrow in his brows. “Misa.”
She didn’t have to be told twice. Misa rushed to get the first-aid kit while Scaramouche tried to hide his hand, struggling when Kazuha didn’t let him.
“Ryuu hates blood,” he hissed, trying to cover the mess. “Fucking hell, Kazuha—”
“It’s okay, Dad.” Ryuu handed him a bunch of tissues, which Kazuha used to wrap around the finger. It’ll do for now.
“I got a butler to clean the kitchen,” Ryuu said. “Let’s go to the living room.”
Kazuha smiled. “Thank you, baby.”
Ryuu nodded before going on ahead. When he was gone, Kazuha lifted Scaramouche’s wrapped finger to place a gentle kiss on it. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing,” he muttered.
Typical. Kazuha sighed. “Let’s move to the living room, love.”
“No.”
An answer he expected. Without much ceremony, Kazuha threw Scaramouche over his shoulder, who growled, but didn’t throw much of a fit like before in their younger days. He placed him down on the couch with a kiss. Misa and Ryuu arrived not long after with the first-aid kit, huddling around their dad to patch him up with worried coos and words. In the background, a maid peeked in with their family doctor in tow, but Kazuha shook his head.
“Ryuu, apply pressure while I prepare to disinfect the cut,” Misa ordered.
The teenager nodded and did as told, a rare occurrence of him listening to his sister.
Scaramouche tutted and tried to pull away once again.
“Kuni,” Kazuha warned.
“I told you, he doesn’t like blood.” Scaramouche gestured at their son, whose green in the face. “See? Let me do it—”
“No.” Ryuu refused to move. “Let me.”
Kazuha placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I can take over if it’s too much.”
“No,” Ryuu said again. “This is my fault, anyway.”
Scaramouche clicked his tongue. “No, it was an accident.”
“You were too busy yelling at me, actually,” Kazuha said.
Scaramouche smirked. “You deserved it. You were getting on my nerves.”
Misa giggled as she nudged Ryuu’s hands away to dab alcohol-filled cotton on the cut. “Papa always looks terrified during fights. He probably thinks you’d wage war with Ryuu if he didn’t butt in.”
Kazuha didn’t know what to say.
Scaramouche smirked. “Your dad has a savior complex. Let him be.”
While Misa wrapped the cut in gauze, she said, “You only give me attention when I achieve something, dad. I didn’t know you thought you had to buy me things in return. I just—” She glanced at Kazuha. “I just want to make you both proud of me.”
“No, I’m sorry,” Scaramouche bit out, those words always hard on his tongue. “I projected on you.”
“No.” Misa shook her head. “... Yae told me about your family situation,” she said, quietly. “So I thought I could make both you and Ei proud by being just like Shogun.”
Scaramouche blinked and Kazuha reached up to wipe the dampness on his cheeks.
“Misa…” Scaramouche moved forward, holding her by the shoulders. “For the love of god, stop talking to Yae. And—” He took a sharp intake of breath. “I cut Ei off. Forever. So just… do whatever you want.”
“But Dad—”
“I know you’re materialistic anyway.” Scaramouche smirked. “So I won’t stop spoiling you two. Honestly, just do whatever the fuck you want. Shogun’s a loser, anyway.”
“Don’t curse,” Kazuha tried, but gave up when Ryuu bounded forward.
“I really mean it, Dad.” Ryuu shoved Misa to the side, who shoved him back, harder. “I never hated you, I was just emotional. And I don’t have favorites. You and Papa are both cool as fuck.”
“I believe you, Ryuu,” Scaramouche said with a softness only reserved for his family. “And I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. I was being a dick”—Kazuha considered butting in, but he might get called a Savior Complex again, so he shut his mouth—“I only thought about myself because sometimes, I forget your worlds don’t revolve around me.”
Misa snorted. “Shithead.”
Kazuha couldn’t keep his mouth shut anymore. “I said don’t curse.”
“You wanna know what’s funny?” Scaramouche drawled, leaning back on the couch to smirk at all of them. “How your dad’s so strict about you smoking, Ryuu.”
Their son perked up, a shit-eating grin crept on his lips. “What’d you mean?”
“Kazuha was a pothead.”
Ryuu gasped. “No way.”
“Actually, I knew that,” Misa said. She shared the same evil glint in Scaramouche’s eye. “I found Papa’s old Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter.”
Kazuha’s jaw fell. “You did not .”
“Yes, I did. Your whole feed was full of Dad, parties, and poems.” Misa gave him a look. “I can’t believe you’re the type to vent on the timeline, Pa.”
“He didn’t just publicly vent.” Scaramouche’s smirk grew wider, taunting. “Your dad even spammed my DMs, begging me to give him a chance. He was a delinquent in high school.”
Misa gasped. “Oh my god.”
Ryuu's eyes gleamed. “How about Dad? What kinda student was he?!”
“If this is how it is…” Kazuha shot Scaramouche a look. “Then your Dad was a sheltered, goody-two-shoes in high school. He would come to me after class, begging to borrow my vape since his mother wouldn’t let him buy one.”
“Oh yeah?” Scaramouche rolled his eyes. “And who failed every class except literature? I had to tutor your dad or else he wouldn’t even be able to get into a college.”
“Actually, I didn’t need tutoring,” Kazuha said drily. “Itto gave me the idea so I could become closer to you.”
Scaramouche's shit-eating grin grew wider. “Your dad had the most embarrassing crush on me. He asked me out one hundred days straight to be romantic or whatever, and I rejected him every time.”
“Oh my god.” Misa looked between them. “No way .”
“Yes way. I only accepted him on the hundredth day because I took pity.”
Ryuu gave a Kazuha look. “Papa, you have no game.”
“Your dad took a lot of liberties with his storytelling,” Kazuha said. “He accepted me because no one wanted to ask him out for prom, and he was worried he had to go alone.”
“ Actually ,” Scaramouche interrupted. “You sick fuck. Everyone thought we were dating ‘cause of your one-hundred-day bullshit so no one asked me out.”
Kazuha was smiling so hard he forgot to chide his husband for cursing.
Ryuu grinned, too. “I take that back. You have all the game, Pa.”
“I thought Dad would be the delinquent, to be honest,” Misa breathed out like she discovered the purpose of life. “He gave me the vibes.”
“You owe me a hundred.” Ryuu grinned, smugly.
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Wait,” Kazuha spoke up. “Are you two betting?”
“All this talk has me hungry.” Misa stood up, stretching her arms. Ryuu followed suit and Scaramouche did, too. “Let’s order pizza?”
“Wait a minute. Don’t bet and no pizza for dinner.”
Kazuha glanced at Scaramouche’s finger, which was all patched up, and sighed in relief. All was well.
Misa pouted, then turned to Scaramouche. She batted her lashes. “Pizza for dinner?”
Scaramouche, who was always weak for their kids, grinned at her. “Fuck yeah.”
Kazuha already knew he was playing a losing game, but he had to try. “That’s not healthy—”
“You’re outnumbered, Pa!” Ryuu rushed past him to hand a phone to Misa, the screen already on the delivery website. “Pizza, it is!”
In the end, he could excuse one night of junk food if it meant his husband and kids having fun—a family man he was.