kiyopapa x mamasuzune

test

The air in Kiyotaka and Suzune's home was filled with an unusual tension that morning. Although Kiyotaka remained outwardly composed, Suzune could sense a subtle shift in his demeanor. It wasn't every day that his father, Professor Ayanokoji—a figure of towering intellect and icy control—would come to visit. More than that, it wasn't lost on Suzune that Professor Ayanokoji's presence meant only one thing: scrutiny.

Kiyo and Suz, their twin six-year-olds, were both in the living room, each with contrasting reactions to the news of their grandfather's arrival. Suz, bold and curious, appeared unaffected as she sat next to her father, chin resting in her hand, contemplating the event with an almost skeptical calmness. Kiyo, on the other hand, glanced at his mother and father for reassurance. His wide, serious eyes betrayed his unease.

A faint knock at the door broke the quiet, and Suzune took a deep breath as she exchanged a glance with Kiyotaka. He gave her a subtle nod, a silent reminder that they would face this as a united front. Suzune opened the door, and there he stood: Professor Ayanokoji, a man with a commanding presence, his gaze as cold and piercing as Kiyotaka's once had been before he'd built his life outside the White Room. He stepped inside with precise, deliberate movements, taking in the family home with a neutral expression that betrayed no impression.

"Father," Kiyotaka greeted calmly, standing up as his father entered. Suzune followed suit, standing beside him with quiet strength.

"Kiyotaka," the professor replied, his tone unchanging. His gaze swept over the room before falling on the twins. Kiyo's posture tensed under the professor's stare, his small hands gripping the fabric of his shorts. But Suz met her grandfather's gaze with unwavering eyes, a spark of defiance visible even in her young expression.

"So, these are the children," Ayanokoji said, his voice an unreadable monotone. "They look... healthy."

Kiyotaka nodded, responding evenly, "Kiyo and Suz have grown quickly. They're bright children."

"Good." The professor's eyes flickered with brief acknowledgment. "Let's begin with a test."

The children exchanged a quick glance, each processing the moment in their own way. Suzune knelt down, placing a comforting hand on Kiyo's shoulder before offering Suz a quiet nod of encouragement. "Remember, it's just a test. Do your best, both of you."

Ayanokoji observed the family's interaction with slight interest, but his demeanor remained steely as he placed two identical, structured test booklets on the table before the children. Kiyo approached the test tentatively, eyeing the neat rows of questions. Suz, however, remained beside Kiyotaka, refusing to sit until he gave her a gentle nod. Even then, she seemed almost indifferent as she took her seat and scanned the questions with a look of mild boredom.

As the twins began, Kiyotaka and Suzune took their seats on the sofa across from the professor. The silence stretched thin, occasionally punctuated by the scratch of pencil on paper.

The professor finally spoke, his tone as cold as ever. "You've taken quite a different path from what I anticipated, Kiyotaka. And yet you seem... content."

Kiyotaka's gaze met his father's without faltering. "I chose a life outside the White Room's reach, yes. But it's given me more than just contentment."

"Contentment is hardly a marker of potential," Ayanokoji replied, a faint trace of judgment slipping through his carefully measured tone.

Suzune couldn't help but respond, a touch of steel in her voice. "There's more to success than what the White Room taught, Professor Ayanokoji."

He raised an eyebrow, shifting his gaze to Suzune for the first time. "Perhaps. But sentimentality rarely produces results."

Kiyotaka placed a reassuring hand on Suzune's, grounding her. "Our children are finding their own way—using both intellect and heart. That's something they'll never learn in the White Room."

The professor gave a quiet, dismissive hum and returned his attention to the children as they worked. After several minutes, Suz rose from her chair, setting down her pencil and walking back over to Kiyotaka without hesitation. She climbed onto his lap, resting her head on his arm as she nestled into him.

Professor Ayanokoji glanced down at her partially completed test with raised eyebrows. "You didn't finish."

Suz looked up at him with cool defiance, not an ounce of apology in her gaze. "I did half. I wanted to be with Daddy."

Ayanokoji blinked, perhaps the slightest hint of surprise breaking through his impassive mask. Kiyotaka simply placed a gentle hand on Suz's back, giving her an approving nod.

"What score did she receive?" Kiyotaka asked.

Ayanokoji took the test paper, scanning it with sharp eyes. "She answered fifty questions, all of them correctly. Had she continued, she would have achieved a perfect score," he admitted, almost reluctantly.

Suzune's hand tightened slightly around Kiyotaka's, the pride in her daughter unmistakable. Kiyo soon followed, setting down his own paper with a bit more hesitancy than his sister. The professor reviewed his paper in silence before setting it down on the table.

"Ninety-five," he said, glancing briefly at Kiyo. "It's respectable."

Kiyo exhaled, relief evident in his posture as he sidled up to his mother. Suz, satisfied, closed her eyes and nestled against Kiyotaka's chest, pulling a soft blanket over herself. She glanced back at her grandfather with a small smirk, as if daring him to comment further.

In an uncharacteristic show of softness, Kiyotaka wrapped his arms around his daughter, allowing her to relax in his embrace. Suzune watched them, a fond smile on her lips as she spoke up. "I remember when we did this with Kiyo and Suz as babies," she murmured, a touch of nostalgia in her voice.

Kiyotaka glanced over at her and extended an inviting arm, gesturing for her and Kiyo to join them. Without a second thought, Suzune gathered Kiyo into her arms, moving closer to her husband and daughter. Soon, Kiyo and Suz were fast asleep, snug in their parents' embrace, oblivious to the gaze of their grandfather.

As the professor watched the family before him, his expression remained impassive. Yet, there was a flicker of something beneath the surface—something almost like curiosity. But, just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. He stood up, his movements smooth and silent as he collected his things. Without another word, he left the home, leaving the family cocooned in their own warmth and comfort.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Kiyotaka looked down at his family, his heart swelling with a rare, unguarded happiness.