Love Like You: Rohan Kishibe and Daughter Reader

The Moon Will Sing (Part Three)

A/N: Please read! This is the heaviest and angstiest chapter in the fic by far, as it very lightly touches on thoughts of ending one's self. If you are not comfortable with this topic, then please read with caution. The next chapter is very light-hearted and fun to balance everything out.

Up in the air was a taste akin to early morning fog, the kind so thick that the daily dawn chorus is increased tenfold so that birds could find their mates in the clouded terrain. Rohan threw a look to the ceiling, briefly wondering if there was a leak to be mended. He would have to look into it later.

Rohan reached (Y/n)'s bedroom door, puzzled as to how it could be wide open when he distinctly remembered shutting it so no outside noise or light could disrupt her sleep. Refraining from saying her name, he turned the knob ever so kindly to adjust the lighting of her room. His eyes pierced through the remainder of the darkness.

He saw nothing but a mess of blankets.

What? was his knee-jerk thought, approaching the mattress to look closer. "(Y/n)? Are you there? I'm sorry if I wake you, I want to make sure you're alright..."

He touched the blankets; they were cool, unused.

(Y/n)? His logic, a natural strength of a Kishibe, sobered him into thinking, she's probably in the bathroom.

But it too was wide open, and everything inside was submerged in complete blackness. Nothing breathing or thinking was present within the wall of shade, creating worry within Rohan that ticked like train wheels racing down the track. (Y/n)...? Perhaps she went downstairs to get something to eat?

The taste had turned into touch, a spray spouting up as Rohan coasted down the stairs. The misty sensation swirling in his nostrils, a breeze warmer than the inside of his house rammed into his face; the sound of rain was clear, as though he were standing outside. He stood on the last step, neglecting the idea of ever searching the kitchen for his daughter when he saw his front door wide open.

No...Oh God, please tell me she didn't...

In disbelief—and in case a strong gust of wind had actually blown the door open—Rohan shouted for (Y/n) many times over as he searched the house for her, hoping at the very least that he was learning that his daughter actually had a good sense of humor and was playing a joke on him. Her name bouncing against the walls in a confirming echo was enough for him to throw on a raincoat and rainboots and brave the severity of the storm.

"(Y/n)! Where are you?!"

First he inspected every inch of his yard, guiltily disturbing a mother rabbit's rest behind some brush, for the next time the sun was visible in Morioh's sky without the barrier of rain clouds, she was to birth her kittens into a wonderful world. Rohan rebuilt her shelter and moved his search to the streets, seeing his daughter was nowhere to be found on his property.

"Crap, which way could she have gone?" he fussed, switching his gaze from left to right. Floating under the streetlamp, caught in its own pitiful whirlpool, was a shape all too familiar to the mangaka. Rilakkuma?

A stream of water dribbled down the little teddy bear's eyes when he picked him up and squeezed out the rain. Rohan squatted and dipped his forefinger in the stream, using the plush to determine the direction his daughter fled, and sprinted in opposition to the stream's travels, pausing on occasion to call out her name.

Not once did she answer, but Rohan knew he was loud enough for a house nearby to shut their light and draw their curtains in annoyance for disrupting their slumber. His throat became parched from straining his voice, and his only source of refreshment was the droplets on his lips. "(Y/n)! Please, answer me! Where are you?!"