Enji’s work is important. He can’t race home for every little issue and scraped knee, even if Rei is out of the house.
But Fuyumi was crying on the phone, overwhelmed and all Enji can remember is how small his children are. How precious and delicate they were in his hands the first time he held them. The way he felt when they opened their eyes and looked at him.
He charges in, ready for any manner of crisis, Fuyumi wasn’t all that coherent beyond needing him to come home.
He surveys the kitchen.
Fuyumi is still crying, hitching little sobs.
He spots the issue.
“Touya–” Enji starts and his son flinches.
“I didn’t mean to!” Touya snaps, almost a shriek. “I wasn’t doing anything!”
He’s trying his best to look angry, like he’s ready for a fight, like he expects one.
Enji can only see the tears and the way he’s holding his hand, like if he tucks it away it might hurt less.
It won’t work.
“Touya–” Enji takes a breath, reminding himself to speak clearly. “I’m not angry.”
Touya glares at him for a moment. Is Enji really so untrustworthy? His lip wobbling is the only warning Enji gets before he bursts into tears.
“It hurts!” He cries and stands to stumble into Enji’s arms.
“I know.” Enji steadies him carefully, taking a moment to run a hand through his son’s hair. “Fuyumi? Are you hurt?”
“No.” She rubs at her eyes and sniffles. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You did a good job.” He reaches over and awkwardly pats her head. “That’s what my number is for.”
She nods and he asks her to fetch him the burn cream. As she leaves he sets his son back a step and kneels so he can take a look.
Touya sobs as Enji carefully pulls his hand closer.
“Shh, it’ll be okay.” He turns Touya’s hand back and forth, examining the burn carefully. It isn’t anything life threatening, not deep or extensive enough to warrant a hospital visit. It probably hurts like everything, especially for someone so young, but Enji has seen worse. They can treat it at home. The clinical assessment doesn’t bring Enji as much comfort as he thought it would, his son is still in pain.
“Hurts, Dad, hurts.” Touya cries. He shakes with the force of it.
“I know.” Enji nods and reaches out to wipe the tears away with his thumb. “Do you think you can walk over to the sink?”
He sees his stubborn son try to nod, try to pull himself together and stop crying. Enji can’t stand to watch it.
What is he doing? What is Enji’s strength for?
He reaches out and scoops Touya up, careful not to brush up against the burn. It only takes him a few steps to reach his destination and set his son on the counter next to the sink.
Touya whimpers as Enji turns the water on and tests the temperature but obediently gives up his hand when Enji deems it time.
His fingers are so small. It shouldn’t be a new revelation but he’s struck by it every time he sees them. Fuyumi’s are too, the tube of burn cream so large in her hands when she comes back with it.
“Better?” He grunts after a few minutes.
Touya sniffles and nods.
“Good.” They sit in silence apart from the occasional pained noise from Touya until the timer Enji set goes off.
“Hand.” He picks up the cream and waits for Touya. It takes a few hitching moments and Enji does his best to be gentle.
Enji is built for power and strength. He can’t help but think he isn’t meant for the small, soft movements of comfort that Touya needs.
But Touya needs them and Enji is better than the alternatives.
He pauses at every flinch, it takes a lot longer than it should. Enji doesn’t say anything at all until he’s nearly finished wrapping the burn.
“Too tight?” He asks when Touya winces.
“No.” He answers. “Just hurts.”
Enji nods in understanding.
“Are you mad at me?” He whispers.
Enji pauses, tries to catch his little son’s eye.
“Touya, look at me.”
He does.
“I said I wasn’t mad.”
Touya mutters something about him changing his mind.
“I did not change my mind.” He sighs. “I was… worried.”
He walks away for a moment, leaving Touya sitting on the counter looking puzzled, and searches for the chewable painkillers he knows Rei keeps somewhere for the children.
Touya still looks confused when he comes back and Enji holds back a sigh at the sight. He is… Does he not realize? Touya is a stubborn one and so is Enji. It is hard to see himself reflected back sometimes but oh how it pains him more to see his son hurt.
“Take your medicine, Touya.” He grunts.
His little boy who wants to be a hero and burns himself so badly.
Enji can’t help but feel that he’s made many mistakes in his life. He hopes whatever he’s done wrong here is something that will mend.
“They taste gross.” Touya whines. “I like the other kind.”
Enji just raises an eyebrow.
“Fine.” Touya scowls and reaches out to take them only to wince when he moves his burned hand. He switches to the other and glares at his feet.
“You’ll feel better soon.” Enji says and moves to pick him up off the counter.
Touya briefly looks surprised and then quietly pleased before he schools his face again.
Enji was going to set him down, he’s big enough to walk on his own but… he doesn’t want to let go yet.
Touya hesitantly sets his head down to rest against Enji’s chest and blinks at the world.
Enji hums and walks over to find Fuyumi.
“Fuyumi?” He calls, careful not to speak too loud. “Would you like to join us? I think it’s time for a movie or something.”
She beams at him and shuffles off ahead of them.
“Would you like to watch a movie, Touya?” He asks.
Touya hums a vague affirmative, content and clearly crashing hard in the wake of everything.
Enji chooses not to let him go when they settle in, draping a blanket over the two of them and tucking his son into his side, ever careful of the new burn.
Fuyumi turns on what is apparently one of Touya’s favorites and snuggles in on his other side.
Touya is asleep in minutes. Fuyumi follows him not long after.
Enji breathes in, breathes out.
The movie isn’t very good. There are a million other more important things he could be doing.
Somehow, he can’t bring himself to care.