When you told Shota to not come home with short hair, to instead have Hizashi or Nemuri* cut his hair at home it wasn't because you were being controlling or because you didn't trust him with some pretty hairstylist or barber. It was because you knew, you knew, that the moment he would step through that door and into the sight of your children that it would be absolute bedlam, but of course he didn't believe you.
The kids had broken into hysterics the moment they had seen him, Eri because she didn't understand why her dad had cut his hair, and Oboro because as a one year old thought that the short haired man was a stranger, a stranger that sounded like his papa but didn't look like him entirely.
The hysteria got worse when he tried to take Oboro from you, or tried to comfort Eri.
"NO, EI-CHA!!!!" Your baby had wailed, reaching for his sister, only calming when she returned to your side.
When you tried to comfort Shota or even kiss him, he would swat at him or grip onto your arm yelling, "NO, MAMA!!"
Now here your four were, sitting under the kotatsu, Eri and Oboro tucked into your sides, and Shota sitting glumgly across you three. You couldn't comfort him as you wanted, instead resorting to pressing your leg against his as best you could. The gentle hold of his hand against your ankle let you know he understood.
In the sniffles and tears that filled your home you and Shota whispered trying to figure out a way to explain to your son that the man in front of him was his dad and not some villain pretending to be his favorite person in the world.
"This is the last time I cut my hair." Shota groaned, rubbing his face as of he could rub away the ache.
"Don't say that, you just caught them by surprise is all." You wanted to say 'I told you so,' but the kids reaction was enough to have gotten your point across.
"He's going to look at me and have the same reaction, and it'll keep happening until he figures it out. You can't comfort him and Eri all night on your own and I can't bear hearing them cry without doing anything." Oh, now your heart was really breaking.
As indifferent as Shota seemed to the outside world. The truth was that he was a real softy and extremely caring when it came to his family, especially his kids. So to be forced away by something like this was really hard on him. But as hard as it was on him there was also no way he was going to force his kid to acknowledge him or force Oboro to let him hold him.
"Obi, baby, will you look at papa?" You hushed Shota before he could even think of protesting.
"No, papa." Your infant whined squirming deeper into your hip.
"Yes, that's papa. Papa fought a bad guy that stole his hair," from your other side Eri snorted, her first positive reaction since this all started.
It wasn't the best lie and honestly it was kind of funny to imagine your husbands hair disappearing from his head but it was what you had and you were gonna pull every mom negotiation skill you had to pull it off.
"Look, papa has his eye patch, and bandages." You coaxed Oboro to look at Shota, pointing at his face and capture weapon. "He looks sleepy like papa, and sounds like papa too."
"His feet even smell like papa's." Eri grimaced, fanning her face but somehow it was enough to catch Oboro's curiosity and he lifted the Kotatsu's blanket.
"Gross!" He cried after sticking his head in.
Now you were trying not to laugh, Shota had gone from sullen to looking slightly offended but the plan seemed to be working.
It was between a few more physical comparisons and a few more sniff tests that you carefully moved closer to Shota, enough so that you sat only inches away from his side with your son and Eri following dutifully.
Oboro still looked a little hesitant, shy more like, but it had been the closest he had allowed you and his sister to your husband without breaking down into panicked crying.
"Papa?" He asked looking over your shoulder.
"Yeah, I'm papa," he moved carefully. Years of training and battle prowess were being put to use in his own home in an attempt not to spook his own child.
He bracketed you between his legs, chest at your back. He didn't move to touch your son or pull you closer; he simply let Oboro look at him closer, at his own pace. The only movement came from his hand reaching to pat Eri's head, who sat behind her brother, who was too caught up processing his dad.
"Papa, ouch?" Oboro asked climbing over you and into his father's arms, tiny hands patting and pulling his hair. Just like that the past 15 to 30 minutes of tears, screaming and gloomy silence were pushed aside as if it had not happened.
"Just a little." You knew your husband meant his feelings hurting more then a planned hair cut but none of you were gonna explain that to your son.
"Is okee." Oboro smiled planting a snotty and very much wet kiss on Shota's head.
It wasn't until later that night as Oboro and Eri were already sleeping that Shota buried his face into your neck arms wrapped around you tightly.
"I won't do it again." He mumbled quietly, it was as close as "you were right" as you were going to get and you were going to ride that high quietly and for days.
