excellent dad choice
a bokuaka family drabble
“Tsubasa, I said no,” came Koutarou’s stern voice from the living room.
Keiji picked up his coffee and shuffled out of the kitchen, reluctantly joining his husband and daughter for whatever that evening’s argument was about. Tsubasa stood in front of the couch, where Koutarou was seated, with her arms crossed, resting her weight on one leg, hip jutting out, exuding all of the attitude a thirteen-year-old girl was capable of. Which Keiji was coming to realize was insurmountable.
“But dad that’s not fair!” the demon that had possessed their wonderful child at some point in the last year screeched.
“Well, let me tell you something about that little one,” Koutarou said, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees, “Life isn’t fair.”
Tsubasa rolled her eyes so hard Keiji feared she might hurt herself. He sat down in his armchair and waited for the inevitable:
“Stop calling me that,” she snapped, placing her hands very purposefully on her hips. “It’s condescending and I’m not a child anymore!”
Koutarou sat back, raising a finger in the air. “First of all, excellent word choice.” He let his hand drop. “Second, I don’t care how old you are, you will always be my little one.”
Tsubasa made a frustrated noise, suddenly rounding on Keiji.
“Papa,” she cried, “Tell Dad that he should stop acting like I’m a little kid!”
Keiji took a sip of his coffee, regarding his daughter with a raised eyebrow.
“Are you trying to convince your father and I that you’re not a child while whining at us like one?”
He barely had time to file away the look he received from his daughter in his mental scrapbook of ‘You’re Literally Ruining My Life, Dad’ Faces before Tsubasa exploded, making that lovely pubescent growling/screeching sound that would erupt from the back of her throat.
“YOU TWO ARE INFURIATING!” she shrieked, storming away from them.
“Excellent word choice,” Keiji called while she stomped up the stairs.
“I KNOW!” she yelled back.
There was a slam of a door and then it was quiet.
They both sighed.
“You really shouldn’t call her that while she’s angry,” Keiji chided lightly.
“I know,” Koutarou groaned, “But she was being such a brat, I couldn’t help it.”
Keiji smirked. “What did she want?”
Koutarou made a face, picking up his tablet from where he must have put it down to properly argue with their daughter.
“To go out and see some new scary movie with her friends,” he answered, swiping at the screen.
“But she gets nightmares,” Keiji stated.
“And is still afraid of the dark.”
“I know,” Koutarou said, throwing a hand in the air. “That’s why I told her she couldn’t go.”
“Oh no.” Keiji’s eyes widened. “You didn’t tell her that, did you?”
Koutarou snapped up his head, looking at Keiji like he was insane. “Of course not! I’m not an idiot. Besides,” he added, going back to whatever he was doing on his tablet, “that would just make her feel bad.”
Keiji hummed. “You’re a good dad.”
A wide smile broke across Koutarou’s face, but before he could reply he was interrupted by their daughter’s door being thrown open.
“I HAVE TOLD YOU NUMEROUS TIMES THAT SOUND CARRIES IN THIS HOUSE,” she shouted. “I CAN HEAR YOU!”
“Oops,” Koutarou mumbled, looking guilty.
There wasn’t much either of them could say to assuage the situation, so Keiji didn’t even bother trying.
Instead, he did what dads do best–
“Excellent word choice, sweetheart.”
–which was to say the worst thing possible.