Disclaimer: Don't own, no profit.

Nightmares

Shuichi's childhood had been filled with nightmares, the kind of which Shiori could only wonder about. What kind of terrors could a child of less than a year already have haunting his mind? The little toddler would fidget and toss, the delicate skin of his eyelids twitching violently as his eyes darted back and forth in his sleep. Shiori would watch for a few moments, her heart in her throat as her little boy seemed to be terrorized by monsters that he shouldn't yet know exist.

She could only take so much before she would wake him, despite knowing how long it would take him to fall back to sleep afterward. Bright green eyes would startle open, pure fear shining through with unsettling clarity. She would take him up into her arms, pressing his soft little head tightly to her chest. Her hands would grasp his small body tightly, trying to fend off whatever night terrors had such a terrible grip on her son. His body would stay rigid, and on worse nights, young muscles would jerk and spasm away from her touch. Away from his mother.

And she would wonder, what could be so terrible that her own touch makes him flinch? Why would those eyes stare at her, with the solemnity of a man ragged from war?

Shiori could never find those answers, and the nightmares remained. Shuichi learned to talk of many things as he grew older. Though he always seemed to be sparing and decisive with his words, he refused to share any about the visions that gripped his nights. No talk of monsters or falling, not even acknowledgment of the fear itself. He would avert his eyes and offer empty reassurances that a child shouldn't feel the need for.

While the nightmares never faded, a transformation took place that warmed her weary heart. Over the years, Shuichi's flinching reaction to Shiori's midnight comforts lessened. Her hand would wipe the sweat soaked bangs out from a ten year old's eyes, and his body would relax against hers. Her gentle but strong palms would rub up and down that small shaking frame, and his chest would expand in a relieved sigh. Eventually, her son came to find solace in her tender comfort.

"Mother," he would say, ever so softly. And it had always been mother- not mom, nor mommy. He would whisper 'mother,' then lay his cheek to rest on her shoulder as she spoke soothing words and gave warm touches. There were nights that he would grip her tightly, clinging to her as if she were some flighty thing that would be gone come morning. It was on these nights that she would lie with him, stroking his hair and kissing his forehead until he fell back to sleep. Despite his protests and dismissals, she would curl him against herself and pet the soft, vibrant hair of her son until his breath evened and sleep reclaimed him. He never did speak of the night terrors that had plagued him since birth, and she resigned herself to never knowing.

Shiori had made a decision early in Shuichi's life. A decision that came to her from the lonely hardness in her son's eyes when they would blink open from some haunting vision.

Whatever pain and sorrow her little boy had been born with, she would do her very best to chase away the nightmares and let her kisses soften the pain. She would fill that child with all the love that she has for him, and hope that it would be enough to give him happiness. She would show him not how to live, but why.