fragrance
I'm in the middle of writing stuff for 500themes , and this came from yesterday's three prompts I did. :3
Title: Fragrance
Author/Artist: souleater411
Rating: PG
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Pairing/s: None.
Theme: 69 - A Child's Truth
Words: 737
Genre/s: General.
Warnings: None.
Worksafe: Yes.
Summary: Tsuna, even as a child, had always seen things with such clarity. It made one wonder where such keen insight had come from.
The rain fell heavily on the windows of the Sawada household. "Mommy," The small child wandered over to his mother's side. She was warm, and always smelled of either fresh laundry or hot food. He had pure caramel eyes, and as he climbed into her lap, he felt less than half his age of six. "Where's Daddy?"
The question wasn't unexpected. After all, children were curious. And when his father hadn't been home for months at a time, it was only natural that he'd eventually start to notice.
"Daddy's at work, remember?" She smiled softly to her son, putting down the shirt she was folding to press him close to her, feeling his every breath. She pressed a thin hand to the top of his head and tried, vaguely, to smooth his messy head of hair. "He'll be back soon, Tsu-kun." Her voice was soft and reassuring.
"I bet he's doing something dangerous. He turned his big brown eyes to his mother, little mouth set in a scowl. "Daddy's going to come back all hurt, and I'm not going feel bad, because I knew he was going to come back hurt."
"Don't say that," She gasped, startled. "You know your Papa loves us very much! We don't want him to come back hurt, now do we?"
Her child pouted for a moment, his arms crossed. Then he whispered softly. "No."
"See?" She patted him again, and hugged him close. "Don't you feel bad for saying such a bad thing about your father?"
"But Daddy...he's..." Tsuna struggled to find the words, and his mother blinked curiously. "He's not...normal."
"Your father is a construction worker," Nana said, brushing her long hair from her eyes. "His personality is a bit strange, but his job is certainly normal enough, Tsu-kun."
"But he always comes home after dark, and he's all gross-smelling," The boy's nose crinkled up, as if to prove his point. "I don't know what it is, but it's not a Daddy smell. No one else's Daddy smells like he does."
Nana wondered absently if her son knew something she didn't. Sure, Iemitsu did come home late, but she could never smell anything worse on him than maybe occasionally manure or the foul stench of stale and bacteria infested waters. What a good nose the boy had, then, if that was the case. "What does Papa smell like to you, Tsu-kun?"
"Bad stuff," He thought with a shudder. "Like...like when you light a candle! Or when you get an oopsie!" Nana laughed a little bit.
"Daddy builds things--of course he's going to smell a little like smoke, Tsu-kun," Another giggle as she lifted her son and stood. "And he has scrapes and callouses from his job, too. Your nose is too good for your own good!"
He kept trying to tell her what he meant, but it soon gave way to giggling instead. They ended up talking about lunch instead, and all too soon his nose was more preoccupied with food than anything else. Nana simply forgot the incident happened at all, and went on about her business as though nothing had changed.
However, when her husband returned a few days later, she cooked a feast and told him what their son had said. He blinked before laughing heartily and assuring his wife that she was right. That night, though, he waited until his son was asleep and smiled fondly. "You're good," He whispered. "My little detective." There was still a hint of blood and dirt under his fingernails, the first from when he'd killed someone and gotten their information from his stained breast pocket, and the second from where he'd been in hiding to shoot the man. The gunfire and the explosives from where they'd entered his mansion by force and then burned the place down were probably still lingering in his skin.
And to think that his son had noticed it at the tender age of six. He laughed again. His child stirred and moaned his name, and he let his large hand fall on his thin frame for a moment before kissing him goodnight and walking away.
They always did say that a child's words are more reliable than anything else. He swept out of the room silently, and he could only pray that his child remained in the dark for just a few years longer.
You aren't ready for the truth yet, after all.
Title: Fragrance
Author/Artist: souleater411
Rating: PG
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Pairing/s: None.
Theme: 69 - A Child's Truth
Words: 737
Genre/s: General.
Warnings: None.
Worksafe: Yes.
Summary: Tsuna, even as a child, had always seen things with such clarity. It made one wonder where such keen insight had come from.
The rain fell heavily on the windows of the Sawada household. "Mommy," The small child wandered over to his mother's side. She was warm, and always smelled of either fresh laundry or hot food. He had pure caramel eyes, and as he climbed into her lap, he felt less than half his age of six. "Where's Daddy?"
The question wasn't unexpected. After all, children were curious. And when his father hadn't been home for months at a time, it was only natural that he'd eventually start to notice.
"Daddy's at work, remember?" She smiled softly to her son, putting down the shirt she was folding to press him close to her, feeling his every breath. She pressed a thin hand to the top of his head and tried, vaguely, to smooth his messy head of hair. "He'll be back soon, Tsu-kun." Her voice was soft and reassuring.
"I bet he's doing something dangerous. He turned his big brown eyes to his mother, little mouth set in a scowl. "Daddy's going to come back all hurt, and I'm not going feel bad, because I knew he was going to come back hurt."
"Don't say that," She gasped, startled. "You know your Papa loves us very much! We don't want him to come back hurt, now do we?"
Her child pouted for a moment, his arms crossed. Then he whispered softly. "No."
"See?" She patted him again, and hugged him close. "Don't you feel bad for saying such a bad thing about your father?"
"But Daddy...he's..." Tsuna struggled to find the words, and his mother blinked curiously. "He's not...normal."
"Your father is a construction worker," Nana said, brushing her long hair from her eyes. "His personality is a bit strange, but his job is certainly normal enough, Tsu-kun."
"But he always comes home after dark, and he's all gross-smelling," The boy's nose crinkled up, as if to prove his point. "I don't know what it is, but it's not a Daddy smell. No one else's Daddy smells like he does."
Nana wondered absently if her son knew something she didn't. Sure, Iemitsu did come home late, but she could never smell anything worse on him than maybe occasionally manure or the foul stench of stale and bacteria infested waters. What a good nose the boy had, then, if that was the case. "What does Papa smell like to you, Tsu-kun?"
"Bad stuff," He thought with a shudder. "Like...like when you light a candle! Or when you get an oopsie!" Nana laughed a little bit.
"Daddy builds things--of course he's going to smell a little like smoke, Tsu-kun," Another giggle as she lifted her son and stood. "And he has scrapes and callouses from his job, too. Your nose is too good for your own good!"
He kept trying to tell her what he meant, but it soon gave way to giggling instead. They ended up talking about lunch instead, and all too soon his nose was more preoccupied with food than anything else. Nana simply forgot the incident happened at all, and went on about her business as though nothing had changed.
However, when her husband returned a few days later, she cooked a feast and told him what their son had said. He blinked before laughing heartily and assuring his wife that she was right. That night, though, he waited until his son was asleep and smiled fondly. "You're good," He whispered. "My little detective." There was still a hint of blood and dirt under his fingernails, the first from when he'd killed someone and gotten their information from his stained breast pocket, and the second from where he'd been in hiding to shoot the man. The gunfire and the explosives from where they'd entered his mansion by force and then burned the place down were probably still lingering in his skin.
And to think that his son had noticed it at the tender age of six. He laughed again. His child stirred and moaned his name, and he let his large hand fall on his thin frame for a moment before kissing him goodnight and walking away.
They always did say that a child's words are more reliable than anything else. He swept out of the room silently, and he could only pray that his child remained in the dark for just a few years longer.
You aren't ready for the truth yet, after all.