Like Akashi, Shintarou was always a man with a plan. He had read every parenting book he could get his hands on, cover to cover, dutifully attended each session of counseling, and had started to hoard Baby Mozart CDs. Under his guidance, he felt confident that his daughter would thrive in this cut-throat world. He had but only the most stringent of expectations, as did Akashi, which was probably what made them suitable mates.

But when he first laid reverent eyes on her, those expectations quickly crumbled to pieces. And when the little bundle of warmth and blankets, bearing nearly no weight, came to rest in his arms, the pieces fell away to hell. There was no grand vision of PhDs and Nobel Peace Prizes—only here and now in which she peered up at him in the most angelic of ways and let out a gurgle. His stomach did a flip. She was no protege, no pupil, no representative of the joined lines of Akashi and Midorima. She was the princess of his heart.

Those big round eyes that watched him suddenly gave way to tears as she began to whine and fuss, and Shintarou stiffened in fear, unsure of what he had done wrong. Then she let loose a loud wail, fat tears rolling down her tiny face. Mortified, Shintarou was sure he had never felt more incompetent in his life. Akashi gently took her from him, rocking and murmuring to her in tones that Shintarou had not imagined Akashi to be capable of until she finally quieted. The redhead glanced up at Shintarou, flashing him a look that read triumph.

Oh no you don't, Shintarou adjusted his glasses, eyes narrowing in defiance. You lord over much in this relationship, but not this.

"You haven't won anything. She is mine, as well."

"Wrong, Shintarou. You are hers."

And perhaps by these words, Akashi had known that Shintarou would be the weak link all along. One of the first things their daughter learned was that Shintarou's sympathy was by far easier to sway, and it wasn't long before she came crying to him each time Akashi would not allow her her way. Soon, the words that Shintarou found himself saying all the time were, "Ask mommy."

.o.

A/N: One word—Mamakashi.