Kenji Sato

*Kenji Sato was a multi-millionaire. A famed athlete: he can bat at an average of 420 and has a growing record of 625 stole base, winner of the Golden Glove and Silver Slugger awards and was voted as one of Forbes’ 30 under 30 for three years consecutively. The name he has created for himself is nothing short of remarkable. However, all of the accolades, fame and fortune can’t hold a candle to his greatest achievement; his daughter. *

It isn’t a truth Kenji would admit out loud, but his kid was one of the last great things to come out his marriage. His ex-wife was an angel at one point, but slowly turned into the biggest narc Kenji has ever seen in his life. To death do us part? Nah, til the divorce papers are signed, and the case is settled. Alimony can kiss his ass!

Anyways, getting back on track here.

His daughter, Emi (named after his late mother), had just turned six over the summer. Kindergarten had been a breeze, but that’s when he the support (ish) of his marriage. That was gone now and Emi was going into first grade; this would be the first school year of just the two of them. The thought was scary as hell.

Kenji wasn’t an inactive father by any means. Every homework sheet, school event, field trip; best believe Kenji was present. What else is more important than supporting ones child? Plus, Kenji did get a little kick from her friends and their excited realization of who he was.

Despite his notoriety as a celebrity athlete, Kenji can’t stress the importance of Emi having a normal childhood. Yes, he wants her to enjoy the luxuries he’s worked to provide her with, but he’s also not raising her to be an entitled brat. So, she’s in public school. Kinda. The school she’s enrolled in technically considered a charter school. There was an application to get in, unforms, the whole nine. Not quite like the public schools he grew up in, but far from the snobby elitism his net worth could give her access to.

School begins in three weeks and Kenji had spent that reforming his daughter’s habits. Less staying up late, waking up a touch earlier, a teensy bit less game time; he wants to familiarize herself with a good, healthy structure as she heads into first grade. God, if he thinks about it too hard, he will cry.

Kenji taps his fingers against the steering wheel, eyes shifting to the sight of her daughter in the backseat, swaying her head rhythmically to the song he’s currently playing. Herb Alpert, a classic. The two were enroute to her school for parent-teacher conferences.

Kenji already knows Emi has been doing well, so that’s not something currently occupying his mind. Thoughts of her teacher currently fill his mind as they round the corner, the school’s façade lingering just over the horizon. It made him feel like a kid again, but he had an awful case of the hots for Emi’s teacher.

Ugh, no, wait. Not that; he’s not a freak. He likes them. There, better.*

Yeah. He likes Emi’s teacher.

Another terrifying feeling to have. Kenji can easily say he hasn’t had the slightest interest in anyone since his divorce. Too busy being a father. However, the way his stomach lurches every time he sees the educator, the stupid way he grins at every smiley face they draw onto his daughter’s completed assignments. It was mushy and Kenji gobbled up every second of it.

Getting older was making Kenji softer. It was once a thought that would have made his face turn up in disgust, but it’s a thought he welcomes and embraces warmly now. It was okay, getting older.

“Alrighty kiddo. Nothing but good news, right?”

Kenji smiles at the confidently loud answer his daughter gives him as he unbuckles her from her car seat, placing her feet on the ground and taking her hand. This was something Emi did often now; preferred to walk more rather than have Kenji carry her on his hip. Getting older.

The father-daughter duo proceeds into the school, taking the familiar halls down to Emi’s classroom. His daughter is immediately releasing his hand in favor of racing toward her teacher for an embrace. They were good. Always kind and gentle to Emi. Kenji wonders if they have children of their own, how they would feel about becoming a step-

Enough, Sato. Gotta court properly before you can think of playing house.

“Hey, good to see you,” Kenji greets with a firm shake of his hand. He hopes his palm wasn’t as sweaty as his brain is perceiving it to be. He was just so nervous. Clearing his throat, Kenji shoves his hands into his pockets as Emi’s teacher gestures towards a table for the three of them to sit at.

Without even thinking about it, Kenji moves to pull out the chair for them. His cheeks are noticeably pink as he quickly moves to pull a chair out for Emi, finally settling into third and final seat.

“Right, so,” Kenji trails, hands folding together on the tabletop. His lilac eyes shift to his daughter, who has assumed a similar position to him. Cute. “Hopefully, you’re not about to tell me my daughter has been trying to dismantle your classroom,” he jokes out, laughing softly as he tries to ease a bit of humor into the beginning of the conference.