Kuroko no Basket Imagines {Continued}.

My Mother.(Father!Kagami x Reader)

-Thank you for requesting! Enjoy! This oneshot is written in your son's point of view.-

My father was a courageous man. Some say there are good fighters and bad fighters , he was only one of those things. I always admired the gallantly tall figure in my life, and aspired to be able to look the epitome of authority and honour. He always told me that he signed up never for the money, but to serve and protect the innocent and the kind. But I knew that he was lying, sometimes he even went out of his way to protect those unworthy of his help. He saw the worst in humanity on a daily basis, and was strong enough to handle it rationally and efficiently. His blood-colored hair reminded me so much of an angry fire, smouldering and frightening but yet so warm and supportive.

My father was a wonderful husband. From the day I was born till the day I graduated from high school, he never fought with my mother. Besides the whole concept of never being able to win an argument with his wife, he would do everything in his power to keep her smiling and happy. On cold winter nights, he would lean forward, his warm breath against her cheek, then hum the songs that they listened to in their era. I never understood their tastes in music, but I also was smart enough not to criticise it. The way my mother looked at him, it was as if he was the light and she was the shadow that silently watched him illuminate the lives around him. Sometimes, they would kiss in front of me, a soft tender brush of lips that sent my head swivelling to the side with burning cheeks. I was innocent and naive, but so were they.

Sometimes, my father would get mad at me. Whenever I talked back to mother or broke the rules of our household, he was stern and sent me to my room quivering. His usual voice would increase in volume and depth, becoming almost too menacing for a child to bear. His eyebrows scrunched over and creased together whilst he would place his hands on his hips in annoyance. But once a fire is ignited, it spat out life-threatening sparks. His heat was too oppressive and even scalding at times. That was when mother would swoop in and rescue me. She let me have my fair share of scolding and yelling from father, but when she noticed how sad I was becoming, her mother instincts would kick in. Unlike father, mother was soft like a feather. She contradicted the brute man she fell for, and they worked well like a sun and moon. The woman would bring me up to my room and wipe away my tears with her soft and pink fingers before lulling me off to sleep in her arms. After I drifted into sleep her face would grow mellow, without him watching her she had no reason to limit the love she felt for her own kin.

My father was a firefighter. This was where his outstanding physical fitness played a part. I used to make fun of the strange lumpiness of his torso and back when I was little. But as I got older and more mature, I secretly longed to be like him, though I took after my mother more by staying skinny and lank throughout high school. It wasn't until my late university years, where my physique did my father proud. I never watched my father work, as we weren't allowed to observe him tackle a stubborn fire. He never let me tag along to the station, grumbling on and on about how dangerous it was. But sometimes when mother and father believed that I was tucked away into bed before he came home, I would tip-toe across the wooden floor with high hopes that they would not cave in and creak underneath me. Usually, he'd come in grinning covered in soot from head to toe. But some days, he'd come home with a burst lip and multiple deep stitches embedded in his skin. On those days, he did not laugh or smile. But he would hold my mother tightly in his arms, appreciating another day spent alive and well with his family. The scary thing was, these incidents were occurring more and more frequently...until one day my father didn't come home at all.

Father, you were my superhero. And to my mother, you were everything. You should have seen the way she reacted to the phone call we all dreaded. It wasn't like she was hysterical enough before. I'd never seen such a gentle soul resort to anger and frustration when you went missing for the whole night. She didn't get an ounce of sleep, you know? You promised me. You promised that you'd defeat every single bad guy and return to me unharmed. Why did you lie? I thought superheroes couldn't die? Mother took me to see you at the hospital one day, you appeared to be sleeping, but you wouldn't wake up no matter how many times I screamed for you. That was the first time mother struck me into silence. Tears streamed down her face as she made sure I got it through my thick skull by screaming louder than me. She said that you wouldn't come back to us, and that you were gone. My cheek stung, but you know what hurt the most? The fact that you breathed air, but showed no sign of waking up. My eyes burned with a cocktail of tears and anger. Through my young and premature eyes, I watched your breathing cease for good, and the heart monitor go monotone.

Mother cried for days, weeks and months. I didn't cry at all. I went to school like normal, even after the news spread across town. I answered countless questions about how I was doing and how I felt with the same exact answer: shut up. I didn't mean to offend anybody, father. I knew very well that you'd make me wash my mouth with soap if you heard me be so rude. But maybe that was exactly what I wanted. I wanted you to appear and scold me. But then I knew that would never happen. I hid away my emotions that threatened to spill over through my tear ducts. I held them down though, just like you always told me to do. I stayed a strong man, just like you told me to. But do one thing for me, and one thing only.

Won't you come back for the sake of mother?

You never had the chance to kiss her good bye.

Who are you to cause mother to cry?

She only loved one, and bedded no other.

As you drew your last breath to shake hands with death

You left her behind with nothing but memories.

Think about all the lost anniversaries.

Here I stand watching you burn

Wishing that you would return.