Disclaimer: I do not own Digimon
Summary: Takuya has changed, and for the better. His father wonders what brought it on.
Hiroaki Kanbara was a simple man, some might say uncultured, others might say typical of the average male adult of the times. He went to work in the morning, completed a few generic tasks, and went home at the end of the day. He read his newspaper while his wife prepared the evening meal, and smiled indulgently as his children bickered and fought. Dinner was brought to the table, eaten and the plates put in the dishwasher. The family gathered in the living room whereupon the decision of what show to watch was decided on with a minimum of dissension. At eight and ten respectively the children went to bed, and he and his wife watched the news before retreating to bed, until the next morning when the whole process would begin anew.
It was a mundane life he lead, and he wouldn't have it any other way. Yuriko often commented that Takuya had inherited many of his personality traits, impatience, a propensity to be easily pleased and easily amused, a healthy sense of humour. He was a normal, growing boy that hated sitting still for very long, and was always rearing to try new things. He hated homework, and it seemed as if the idea of reading for recreational purposes wouldn't enter his mind for a few more years.
And in the absence of something to do, he fought with Shinya.
He had fought with his own brothers. There was nothing foreign about the scene that met him most evenings, of the two wrestling on the living room carpet, Takuya winning due to his size advantage, each heatedly claiming it to be their turn to play. He didn't get involved in their squabbles, that was Yuriko's department, and he only ventured in when one of the two had done something drastic. Thankfully these instances were few and far between.
Imagine how astonished he was to come home one day to have Yuriko tell him that Takuya had let Shinya have three consecutive turns on his game, and evidently not under duress, if his wide smile and encouraging words were anything to gauge by. He seemed to have attained the patience he had lacked within a relatively short space of time, and Hiroaki could see no obvious cause for his sudden burst of goodwill.
He had never wished that Takuya were different. He had all the makings of a fine son, he was just a little rough around the edges. Watching him now, it was as though he had evolved into something more civilised, as if someone had sanded down those corners and smoothed him out. He had gained character where he previously had attitude, had understanding and patience where he didn't before. It was like seeing a preview of what the finished product would be when he grew up.
Hiroaki didn't care to know why or how. He would just allow myself to take pride in the fact in the fact that this was his boy, who would undoubtedly be a fine man.
Evolution knows best, in the end.