Love Like You: Rohan Kishibe and Daughter Reader

The Moon Will Sing (Part One)

A/N: I'm back from my hiatus! Getting settled into a new place and routine was a little rough and strange at first, but I adjusted to my new life pretty quickly (though my neighbors can be pretty noisy, urgh)! As always, feedback on my strengths and weaknesses is always appreciated! Happy reading! (One last note, these next two chapters are fairly heavy in their material: there is a depiction of child abandonment at the end of this chapter, so if you are sensitive to this type of content, please read with caution).

Due to the anesthesia still present in her system, Rohan had to carry (Y/n) up the stairs and to each room he brought her in to help her get ready for the night: first she took her medication, not as painstakingly as Rohan thought she would. Then he snipped off the mangled ends of her hair (though her locks were far from perfect; I'll have to take her to a salon to fix it up, he thought). After her haircut she was given a bath, Rohan reassuring her that the water was warm and nothing like the freezing baths she had to endure at her old house. She was changed into a simple white t-shirt and sweatpants as pajamas, and her overalls were tossed into the garbage.

Nearly freshened up for bedtime, Rohan carried (Y/n) into the first room to the left of the stairs. He opened the door with a creak and said, "And this, right here, is your bedroom."

She could tell that it had no particular purpose, for the cream-colored walls were naked and only a few pieces of furniture were present: a queen-sized mattress hidden under a layer of fuzzy blankets, a chair with an olive-colored cushion on its seat, and a desk crafted from the wood of a walnut tree; if one were to count the rings that rippled across its surface, he or she would find that the tree was three-hundred years old. An older scent, one that resembled a library, oppressed the scent of vanilla in the mansion, though it held a sweetness of its own. Overhead, the arms of a chandelier made of black iron spiraled towards the ceiling, coughing an amber light onto the hardwood floor and walls.

"My apologies that it's not the most exciting room in the house," Rohan said. "I'm not sure how long you'll be staying with me, so I didn't bother to do much decorating."

(Y/n) lifted her head, the corners of her mouth curling so subtly it was practically unnoticeable. "I like it, Rohan-Sensei..."

And this was not a lie: after the most complicated day of her and Rohan's lives, nothing was more housewarming than the simplicity of her bedroom.

Rohan gently sat her on the mattress. By far the comfiest piece of furniture she ever had the pleasure of resting on, the intensity of (Y/n)'s yawn was so great it had her falling back into the bed with a soft thud. She was splayed out like a starfish with Rilakkuma's arm tight in her hand.

"I wouldn't fall asleep quite yet, (Y/n)," Rohan chuckled. "The soup and tea are still on the stove, and you need to eat to recover from your wounds and fever."

(Y/n) licked her lips at the thought of dinner and took her new plush into consideration. "Rohan-Sensei, may Rilakkuma have a bowl of soup and a cup of tea too, please? He needs to eat, too!"

"Hm, I don't see why not, there is plenty for the three of us, after all," Rohan said, concluding in secret that (Y/n) would just eat Rilakkuma's portion as her second serving. Then at the command of the teapot's whistle and the kitchen timer beeping, Rohan said, "Ah, speaking of, dinner is ready! I'll be right back, (Y/n)."

She was briefly left alone, though she was not as stressed as the first time around, because all she needed to do was look outside of the window:

The moon had awoken from his slumber to send his lustrous light across Morioh, ensuring that nothing but sweet dreams were to be had. A sweet, cool breeze welcomed itself through the partially opened window. She folded her arms onto the windowsill and rested her head, closing her eye and softly smiling. (Y/n) could faintly smell faraway rain and flowers.