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Secretly, Isamu Amamiya loves thunderstorms.
He loves the pitter-patter of countless raindrops crashing against the roof. He loves the water rushing along streets and gutters and how it echoes as it flows into storm drains. He loves the deep rumble of thunder and how it rattles the windows when the storm is right overhead. He loves the suspense when the whole world goes dark, and he loves the thrill when that darkness is shattered by a flash of lightning streaking amongst the clouds.
But Isamu keeps his love of thunderstorms to himself. His family HATES thunderstorms. Uncle Mona’s hair stands on end when he hears thunder; if it’s especially loud, he might even run under the couch. Mom hides it better, but Isamu can see her muscles tense and her eyes dart to the window whenever lightning lights up the black sky. All of Isamu’s aunts and uncles seem afraid of thunderstorms; the power went out at a party once, and all of them had huddled together and gotten real quiet until the lights came back on.
Dad definitely hates storms the worst, though.
KRAKOOM.
As the crash of thunder rouses Isamu from his sleep, his drowsy mind quickly turns to his father. “Mom’s working late tonight,” he mumbles to himself. He looks at the TV mounted on his bedroom wall. “Sophie, what time is it?”
Her face appears not on the TV but instead on the digital tablet on Isamu’s bedside table. “It is 12:05 AM, Mumu,” she replies.
He picks up the tablet, holding it in his lap with one hand while he rubs his bleary eyes with the other. “Power’s out?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Mom home yet?”
Sophie shakes her head.
Isamu sets the tablet back on the nightstand before he crawls out of bed, using the device’s light to navigate across his dark, messy bedroom.
“You’re a good boy, Mumu,” Sophie calls after him.
Isamu nods, sleepily humming along with the clatter of rain against his window as he reaches for the doorknob. Lightning flashes as he steps out into the living room.
KRAKOOM.
“Ah!” Isamu yelps as a shadow bolts across the apartment. He sighs in relief as he feels something warm and soft brushing against his shins. “Uncle Mona, you scared me.”
The cat sticks close to Isamu, practically clinging to his Featherman pajama bottoms. “S-sorry, Mumu,” he says, voice quivering. “I… just wanted to make sure you were okay. You shouldn’t be up so late, you know. A growing boy needs his sleep.”
Isamu lets the obvious lie slide, rubbing Uncle Mona’s ears and eliciting a purr. “How’s Dad?”
He’s answered by a sudden thumping coming from his parents’ bedroom. A second later, the door flies open. “Isamu!” Ren Amamiya-Niijima yells over the pelting rain. “Are you okay!? I heard a shout!”
KRAKOOM.
Isamu gets a brief, clear look at his father as lightning illuminates the apartment. His pajamas are soaked in sweat, and his left arm clutches at what remains of his right, fingers squeezing at the severed stub. Dad’s panicked eyes flit to the storm outside before returning to Isamu, his fear waning only slightly as he sees that his son is safe. There is no pretense of boldness like with Uncle Mona; Dad is clearly terrified.
It’s scary seeing Dad so scared.
Isamu slowly approaches his father, Uncle Mona at his heels. “The storm woke me up. Can I sleep with you?”
Dad lets out a shuddering sigh before taking Isamu’s hand. “Of course, buddy. Come on.”
Uncle Mona follows as they climb into bed, curling up at their feet as Dad pulls the covers over the two of them. “That all right, Isamu?”
KRAKOOM.
Isamu sees Dad flinch as the thunder shakes the apartment; the storm is right over them now. He shuffles closer to his father, ignoring the sweaty shirt as he buries his face in Dad’s chest. “Can you hold me for a while, Dad? At least until the storm passes.”
Dad’s arm comes to rest over his shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Of course.”
They stay like that for a long while, Isamu cradled in his father’s embrace. Isamu feels his father’s fingers dig into his shirt each time thunder rumbles. He hears Dad’s breath catch each time lightning flashes from behind the curtains.
Isamu loves thunderstorms, but he hates seeing his dad like this. Dad’s so strong and brave and cool and funny and nice. Everyone’s told Isamu so many stories about all the awesome stuff his father did to save the world. Dad’s a hero.
It’s scary seeing Dad so scared.
But Isamu can be brave if it will help his father feel better.
Isamu doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t do anything. He just lies there, fighting down his own fear and letting Dad hug him tight as the night goes on.
The storm slowly dwindles, the roll of thunder becoming a distant growl rather than a resounding roar. Isamu can feel his father’s grip on him slacken as Dad takes a few deep, slow breaths. “Isamu?” Dad whispers, so softly, as if fearful that he’ll awaken his sleeping son.
“Mm-hmm?” Isamu mumbles, confirming he’s already awake.
“I think the worst of it’s over.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Are you okay? Do you want to go back to your bed?”
Isamu hugs his dad tighter. “Only if you want me to.”
Dad chuckles under his breath. Isamu feels his father’s lips brush against the top of his head. “You’re a good boy, Mumu. You know that?”
Isamu nods. “I try sometimes.”
Dad lets out a loud guffaw; Isamu doesn’t know what’s funny, but he giggles along with his father. Uncle Mona’s tail twitches in annoyance. “Seriously? I just got to sleep.”
Click.
The bedroom light comes on. Makoto looks down at them, exhaustion and confusion plastered across her face. “What are you two doing up so late?”
“Looks like the power’s back,” Dad mumbles to himself.
“Dad let me sleep in here because of the storm,” Isamu explains.
Mom snorts as she takes off her jacket. “It doesn’t sound like you two are getting much sleep.”
“That’s what I said!” Uncle Mona whines.
Dad takes Mom’s hand, gently pulling her down to the bed and placing a peck on her lips. “We’ve got such a good boy, Makoto. You know that?”
Mom raises an eyebrow. “Our Isamu?” she says, giving her son a mischievous grin. “Are you sure, Ren?”
Dad smiles as he ruffles Isamu’s hair. “Absolutely.”
Isamu shrugs. “I try sometimes,” he repeats.
Mom’s grin breaks out into a snicker. Dad and Isamu laugh along with her, although the latter still isn’t sure what’s so funny about his statement. He’s just happy to see Dad feeling better with the storm over.
Uncle Mona sighs as he hops off the bed. “I can’t sleep with all this noise. I’m heading to the couch.”
“Let me get changed and I’ll join you two,” Mom says, pulling some pajamas from her dresser and heading toward the bathroom.
Dad sighs, lying back as he waits for Mom. Isamu’s eyes wander to the stump of his father’s right arm; he's reminded of the image of Dad standing in the door, sweating, gasping, clutching at his severed limb, and fear creeps back into Isamu’s mind. On instinct, he reaches out and touches it.
Dad flinches, and Isamu pulls his hand away quickly. “S-sorry!”
“No,” Dad gasps. “It’s okay. Here.”
He takes his son’s hand in his, placing it over his severed arm. It’s warm, and Isamu can feel his father’s pulse against his skin.
“You remember how I lost it?” Dad asks.
Isamu nods. “You said a really bad stormcloud guy took it. Jupie-something.”
“Jupiter,” Dad corrects him. He gently guides Isamu’s hand along the amputated appendage; Isamu cringes as his fingers brush against the bony tip where his father’s elbow should be. “It hurt a lot, and it was really scary. I still have nightmares about it sometimes. Especially during storms.”
Isamu pulls his hand away as he looks into his father’s eyes. “But you beat him. He’s gone. He can’t hurt you now.”
Dad smiles. “I know. But sometimes, really scary things stay with you, even if the reason you were scared is gone. Like when you had nightmares for a few nights after watching the Featherman Halloween Special.”
Isamu shudders as he recalls a zombified version of Aunty Ann groaning for the Feathermen’s brains. “Will the nightmares ever go away?” he asks.
Dad sighs. “Things like that tend to stick with you for a long time.”
Isamu trembles at the thought of having Aunty Ann’s peeling, rotten face playing in his mind every night for the rest of his life. “Will I ever have something that scary happen to me?” he whispers.
Dad pulls Isamu close to his chest. “Not if I can help it.”
The fear in Dad’s voice is gone. His words carry an absolute truth in them, an oath that can’t be broken. Awesome confidence is once again radiating off of him, and Isamu feels his own worries slip away. After all, if the leader of the Phantom Thieves says he’ll be okay, then Isamu knows for sure he’ll be okay.
“You’re a good dad,” Isamu says, hugging his father back.
Dad chuckles. “I try sometimes.”