Kinjou was nearly finished setting the table when a loud crash from the other room startled him. He set down the last of the bowls he was holding before hurrying in the direction of the noise—not too quickly, just in case Inui had spilled something toxic or corrosive again, but quickly enough, or at least as quickly as his five-year-old legs could carry him.
He expected the noise to have originated from Dad's lab; after all, that was where it normally came from. But this time, he only made it as far as Father's spare training space before he found what he was looking for—Inui scrambling around on the floor picking up the scattered circuit boards and drives that surrounded him.
"Are you okay, Dad?" Kinjou asked.
"I'm fine. The new server arrived, so I was just moving the old parts to storage. I think I've got them all now, so go back to dinner, your father should be coming up any minute now."
Kinjou would have listened. He was already halfway back to the door. But then he noticed the tear in Inui's pants and the blood dripping slowly down his knee.
"You're hurt," Kinjou said. His own knee, scraped on the sidewalk earlier that week, stung in sympathy.
"It's nothing," Inui said as he placed the last of the spare parts on top of the precarious pile in his arms.
"You're bleeding."
"Not badly. I'll take care of it later."
Kinjou shook his head. Uncle Oishi was very insistent about taking proper care of injuries (Dr. Oshitari was too, but Uncle Oishi came over more often, and Kinjou didn't want either of them to have reasons to scold Dad).
"Come to the bathroom; I'll make it better," Kinjou said.
Inui shook his head and tried to turn away, but Kinjou crossed his arms over his chest and stood between his dad and the door.
"Bathroom," he said. "Father doesn't like it when you track blood in the house any more than you do when he does, and Uncle Oishi gets mad."
"It's fine," Inui said, but something didn't sound right.
Kinjou craned his neck to look up.
It was hard to see around the pile of electronics, but it looked like Inui might be biting his lip. Maybe his knee hurt more than he wanted to let on?
"It's okay," Kinjou said quickly. "You don't have to come all the way to the bathroom. Just sit there"—he pointed to his father's lifting bench—"and I'll be right back." For good measure, he tried to mimic the look Kaidou made when he was serious. Something seemed to work, because Inui finally nodded.
Kinjou ran to the bathroom, ignoring the clatter behind him that he was fairly sure was the drives falling to the floor again. He opened the cabinet under the sink and took out the first aid kit Kaidou had left there for him. There was one in every bathroom in the house, and most of the other rooms as well, just to be safe. This particular one was green with a glittering snake on the front, and Kinjou was very proud of it. He had picked out the case all on by himself, and then Kaidou had helped him fill it.
He brought it back to the other room and sat on the floor in front of Inui, who he was pleased to note had actually followed his instructions to sit and had even gone so far as to push up the leg of his pants over his injured knee.
"This doesn't look bad," Kinjou reported. He wasn't sure exactly where the line was that made something "bad," but he was pretty sure Dad's scrape was quite a distance away from anything that would warrant calling Dr. Oshitari or even Uncle Oishi.
He tore open one of the disinfecting wipes in the kit, but when he started wiping the blood off of his dad's leg, he could feel it shaking under his hand. He looked up in surprise, and was even more surprised to see Inui pressing his hands into his temples.
"Am I not being gentle enough, Dad?" he asked. "It only stings for a minute; then it starts feeling better," he said. He didn't understand though. He had just scraped his knee a few days ago; he remembered what it felt like. It did sting at first, but he didn't remember it hurting that badly. And he couldn't know for sure, but he thought that whatever had caused the scars all over Dad's body had to have hurt a lot more than a scraped knee. He only had one scar like that himself—on his arm where he had caught it on a loose piece of wire sticking out of a fence, and in his opinion that had hurt a lot more than all of his scraped knees combined.
Just then, he heard footsteps come up behind him. "Problem?" Kaidou grunted from the doorway.
"Dad scraped his knee. I'm making it better for him, but I think it hurts a lot," Kinjou said. "I don't know what I'm doing wrong."
Kaidou seemed to barely spare him a glance as he crossed the room in a few long strides and wrapped his arms around Inui's shoulders. "You're going to be okay, Sadaharu," he whispered. "You're doing fine, Shingo. Just keep doing what you're doing."
Kinjou bit his lip. "Okay," he said.
By the time he finished, Inui had stopped shaking, but when he looked up again, his dad's fingers were digging into his father's arms hard enough to leave marks.
"Does it still hurt?" Kinjou asked. It shouldn't have. The disinfectant and the antibacterial cream both should have numbed the scrape, but it didn't seem like they were working.
"Here, watch this," Kinjou said. "Our teacher showed it to us, and I tried it on Uncle Eiji when he hit his elbow on the table, and he said it really worked." He pressed his fingers lightly to Inui's knee, then threw them up in the air as he repeated, "Pain, pain, go away! Pain, pain, go away!"
"Is it better now?"
"Yes. Thank you," Inui whispered, and when Kinjou looked up again, he would have sworn his dad was crying. Or at least Inui's shoulders kept shaking as he took short, hiccuped breaths he was clearly trying to hide. But was it still crying even if there weren't any tears? Kinjou had never heard of crying without tears before.
"You did well, Shingo," Kaidou said. "I'm proud of you." His voice sounded hoarser than usual, and Kinjou thought he must have been yelling at the training dummy again while he was sparring.
"Why don't you go finish setting the table?" Kaidou continued. "Your dad and I will be right in."
"Okay," Kinjou said, even though he wasn't sure it was, but he knew a dismissal when he heard one. He supposed this was another of those "grown-up things" everyone kept telling him he'd understand later when he was older. He'd record it in the notebook he kept under his mattress after dinner; if he had his way, "later" was going to be as soon as possible.
TeniPuri/Yowamushi Pedal, Kinjou & Inui/Kaidou, G
He expected the noise to have originated from Dad's lab; after all, that was where it normally came from. But this time, he only made it as far as Father's spare training space before he found what he was looking for—Inui scrambling around on the floor picking up the scattered circuit boards and drives that surrounded him.
"Are you okay, Dad?" Kinjou asked.
"I'm fine. The new server arrived, so I was just moving the old parts to storage. I think I've got them all now, so go back to dinner, your father should be coming up any minute now."
Kinjou would have listened. He was already halfway back to the door. But then he noticed the tear in Inui's pants and the blood dripping slowly down his knee.
"You're hurt," Kinjou said. His own knee, scraped on the sidewalk earlier that week, stung in sympathy.
"It's nothing," Inui said as he placed the last of the spare parts on top of the precarious pile in his arms.
"You're bleeding."
"Not badly. I'll take care of it later."
Kinjou shook his head. Uncle Oishi was very insistent about taking proper care of injuries (Dr. Oshitari was too, but Uncle Oishi came over more often, and Kinjou didn't want either of them to have reasons to scold Dad).
"Come to the bathroom; I'll make it better," Kinjou said.
Inui shook his head and tried to turn away, but Kinjou crossed his arms over his chest and stood between his dad and the door.
"Bathroom," he said. "Father doesn't like it when you track blood in the house any more than you do when he does, and Uncle Oishi gets mad."
"It's fine," Inui said, but something didn't sound right.
Kinjou craned his neck to look up.
It was hard to see around the pile of electronics, but it looked like Inui might be biting his lip. Maybe his knee hurt more than he wanted to let on?
"It's okay," Kinjou said quickly. "You don't have to come all the way to the bathroom. Just sit there"—he pointed to his father's lifting bench—"and I'll be right back." For good measure, he tried to mimic the look Kaidou made when he was serious. Something seemed to work, because Inui finally nodded.
Kinjou ran to the bathroom, ignoring the clatter behind him that he was fairly sure was the drives falling to the floor again. He opened the cabinet under the sink and took out the first aid kit Kaidou had left there for him. There was one in every bathroom in the house, and most of the other rooms as well, just to be safe. This particular one was green with a glittering snake on the front, and Kinjou was very proud of it. He had picked out the case all on by himself, and then Kaidou had helped him fill it.
He brought it back to the other room and sat on the floor in front of Inui, who he was pleased to note had actually followed his instructions to sit and had even gone so far as to push up the leg of his pants over his injured knee.
"This doesn't look bad," Kinjou reported. He wasn't sure exactly where the line was that made something "bad," but he was pretty sure Dad's scrape was quite a distance away from anything that would warrant calling Dr. Oshitari or even Uncle Oishi.
He tore open one of the disinfecting wipes in the kit, but when he started wiping the blood off of his dad's leg, he could feel it shaking under his hand. He looked up in surprise, and was even more surprised to see Inui pressing his hands into his temples.
"Am I not being gentle enough, Dad?" he asked. "It only stings for a minute; then it starts feeling better," he said. He didn't understand though. He had just scraped his knee a few days ago; he remembered what it felt like. It did sting at first, but he didn't remember it hurting that badly. And he couldn't know for sure, but he thought that whatever had caused the scars all over Dad's body had to have hurt a lot more than a scraped knee. He only had one scar like that himself—on his arm where he had caught it on a loose piece of wire sticking out of a fence, and in his opinion that had hurt a lot more than all of his scraped knees combined.
Just then, he heard footsteps come up behind him. "Problem?" Kaidou grunted from the doorway.
"Dad scraped his knee. I'm making it better for him, but I think it hurts a lot," Kinjou said. "I don't know what I'm doing wrong."
Kaidou seemed to barely spare him a glance as he crossed the room in a few long strides and wrapped his arms around Inui's shoulders. "You're going to be okay, Sadaharu," he whispered. "You're doing fine, Shingo. Just keep doing what you're doing."
Kinjou bit his lip. "Okay," he said.
By the time he finished, Inui had stopped shaking, but when he looked up again, his dad's fingers were digging into his father's arms hard enough to leave marks.
"Does it still hurt?" Kinjou asked. It shouldn't have. The disinfectant and the antibacterial cream both should have numbed the scrape, but it didn't seem like they were working.
"Here, watch this," Kinjou said. "Our teacher showed it to us, and I tried it on Uncle Eiji when he hit his elbow on the table, and he said it really worked." He pressed his fingers lightly to Inui's knee, then threw them up in the air as he repeated, "Pain, pain, go away! Pain, pain, go away!"
"Is it better now?"
"Yes. Thank you," Inui whispered, and when Kinjou looked up again, he would have sworn his dad was crying. Or at least Inui's shoulders kept shaking as he took short, hiccuped breaths he was clearly trying to hide. But was it still crying even if there weren't any tears? Kinjou had never heard of crying without tears before.
"You did well, Shingo," Kaidou said. "I'm proud of you." His voice sounded hoarser than usual, and Kinjou thought he must have been yelling at the training dummy again while he was sparring.
"Why don't you go finish setting the table?" Kaidou continued. "Your dad and I will be right in."
"Okay," Kinjou said, even though he wasn't sure it was, but he knew a dismissal when he heard one. He supposed this was another of those "grown-up things" everyone kept telling him he'd understand later when he was older. He'd record it in the notebook he kept under his mattress after dinner; if he had his way, "later" was going to be as soon as possible.