Disclaimer: Frankenweenie & all related characters are property of Disney, & Tim Burton.
Nanashi Yamane glared from her place at the kitchen counter
"What happened Toshiaki" she asked coldly. Her eight year old son, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, shuffled his feet guiltily
"I got into a fight with Saitou after school" he muttered. Nanashi looked him up and down; he was covered in dirt, she clicked her tongue disapprovingly
"Go wash up, we'll talk when your father gets home". She sighed as he hurried off; it seemed that her son's attitude and smart mouth made him more enemies than friends, and she was always left to clean up afterwards. She was glad that he felt confident enough to voice his opinions, but sometimes she just wished for him to come home clean at the end of the day.
Nanashi looked up from the story she was meant to be editing for tomorrow's paper, at her nine year old lying on his stomach in the living room. He was very quietly playing with his turtle as he worked on his maths homework. He seemed to be having a hard time concentrating, but was half-heartedly smiling as his turtle made its way around the room. She sighed and rubbed her temples. Earlier this year he'd be out with the few friends he had, either playing or getting into fights. Making his clothes absolutely filthy. While here he came home clean every day; it was obvious America wasn't working out well for him.
While both she and her husband were very happy in their jobs, Toshiaki was having a miserable time. While they'd made sure he could understand English before they'd moved, it turned out that his speaking skills were sub-par; meaning that he needed time to form sentences, time that his classmates weren't ready to give him. He was a very social boy and the lack of connections, positive or negative, was affecting him greatly. Nanashi watched sadly as he gave up on his homework and headed back to his room with his turtle. She gave a heavy sigh and returned to her editing. She would give ten-thousand loads of the most horrifically stained clothes to see her little boy happy again.
Nanashi gave a pained smile. She was looking at the trail of mud and dirt that her eleven year old son and his friend had trailed from the front door into her kitchen. Her pained smile turned into a genuine one as she turned to the boys at the kitchen counter. Their baseball uniforms stained with grass and mud. The two were talking animatedly about today's game. Actually Bob was animatedly recounting everything that had happened; while Toshiaki was nodding along, occasionally interrupting to correct something before letting Bob continue. He gave a self-satisfied smirk every time Bob mentioned how he'd struck someone out; while making sure to place emphasis on the times Bob tagged someone; or the point when Bob hit a home run, surprising everyone. She smiled as the boys finished their post-game drinks, and ran off to Toshiaki's room to do who-knows-what. She fetched the bucket and mop; for once she was more than happy to clean up her son's mess.