COTE One Shots

Cliche 'Normal' Kiyo

Don't ask why his vocabulary is very unlike that of a typical 4 year old's vocabulary. In the end, it doesn't matter too much.

Ayanokouji Kiyotaka POV

1

The first memory of mine was of the ceiling. I was in a crib, unable to do anything but cry. My life consisted of me laying there until either my mother came or, more rarely, my father ran over. Although I wasn't able to understand their words, I remembered the specific 'sounds' they made.

I had my diapers changed, was breastfed, and even rocked back and forth. I didn't know how to feel back then, which hasn't changed even now. I'm indifferent to those times.

Now, I'm 4 years old. I've been told many times that I'm a genius, or that I'm very talented. I learned to crawl by 6 months, walk by 9, and talk full sentences by 12 months. Those achievements don't mean much to me, but my parents seemed really proud of me when it happened.

They asked me whether I wanted a tutor or not while I didn't know what it was. They laughed it off and decided for me.

"Kiyotaka, wake up!" I hear my mother, Ayanokouji Mika, from outside my door. She walks in a second later.

I pretend like I just wake up. They were concerned for me when I woke up unusually early, so I decided to not worry them.

"Good morning, mom."

I'm a little grateful to have my own room. My parents told me that I was very curious as a baby, always crawling around. Combine that with how early I wake up sometimes, and it's no surprise that they always get worried about me running off and getting hurt when I wake up early. Mother always held me in her arms as she fell asleep to try and prevent this, but my father convinced her to give me my own room.

"The food is downstairs, come down and say goodbye to your father. He's gonna go to work soon."

I'd already heard this, or variations of this, many times before. It's starting to confuse me. It was just not logical to tell me something I knew would happen every day.

I reply, "Alright."

I quickly followed behind her. Her steps were naturally longer than mine, so I had to walk at a faster pace to even keep up.

At the dinner table, I see my father, Ayanokouji Atsuomi, reading a newspaper while eating an English-style breakfast. He taught me about different breakfasts, and asked me what my favorite was many time. I never had a real answer, since I was indifferent to them.

I sat at my chair, which was slightly more raised in order for me to have my head above the table. Just a couple years ago, I was in a raised chair, since it was difficult for me to keep my head upright while sitting.

My mother brought me a bowl of cereal. I found a little enjoyment in having the right amount of cereal in a single spoon of milk. It took me 2 or 3 tries initially to get it right, since it was difficult to account for the lowering amount of milk I can get into the spoon as I drank it, but I figured it out eventually.

"Anyways, Kiyotaka. I'm gonna be off to work soon, good luck in kindergarten, okay? Don't let any kids bully you."

My father didn't even look up from his newspaper while saying so.

"Yes, father."

My mother sighed. "No need to worry, Kiyotaka. Your father's just exaggerating. There are no bullies there."

I spent the rest of the breakfast staying silent and finishing my cereal. My mother and father discussed a lot of things about his work as a politician, which I overheard.