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It was a highly-anticipated game—for both the team and the audience—that they were very favored to win, so Kanto took the field with an air of confidence. He was a running back best known for his speed and agility and had been at his peak throughout the entire season. Today was to be no different.
Kanto burst through the defensive line in a powerful surge after kickoff, leaving his opponents in his wake. With each carry, he showcased his nimble footwork, gaining significant yardage for his team. The crowd erupted in cheers, captivated by Kanto’s not-surprisingly impressive performance. The applause fueled him as it always did, and nothing else mattered but that and the pigskin he had to keep in mind.
He weaved through defenders, executing spin moves and jukes that left his opponents grasping at thin air and the crowd taking gasping breaths. With each successful run, the anticipation in the stadium grew, and the cheers intensified.
However, as Kanto prepared to make another explosive dash downfield, a defender’s helmet collided with his thigh, causing him to stumble and fall to the ground. Kanto winced in pain, clutching his leg as the cheers quickly turned to concerned murmurs.
The scene caused a bout of déjà vu. The sight of the medics approaching him from a distance and the sound of Coach barking in his ear, asking him about his condition, brought back snippets of the last time he was in this position.
It’d been an opposing defender two years ago, who lunged at Kanto recklessly in an attempt to dispossess him. Their legs collided with alarming force and Kanto swore that he heard something crack at the same time blinding pain overtook his senses. He didn’t even have the strength to push the defender off him before the medical team tended to him.
A lot of the time between being stretchered off to be examined and waking up in the hospital with Toph clutching his hand as steadily. They were only friends, then, but who were they kidding, really? They were bound to each other from day one. Still, Kanto did remember the arduous road to recovery. The surgeries. The rehabilitation. The countless hours of both physical and mental struggle.
He never wanted to experience that again. He refused to.
Shot back to the present by Coach’s hands on either side of his face, Kanto nodded absently at the routine questions being fired at him: Do you know where you are? Can you feel that? Are you in any pain? Can you move at all?
Against his discomfort as the medical staff continued to assess the injury, Kanto straightened out his leg. While the pain was very there and very real, it was likewise manageable. It became apparent that he had suffered a minor muscle strain in his thigh. Though the injury wasn’t severe, it required immediate attention to prevent any further damage.
As he was strolled away, the player on the opposing team who had rammed into his thigh seemed contrite. He followed behind Kanto’s gurney and medical team, uttering apologies and promises of paying for the medical bill that was sure to come. Despite the very obvious agony he was in, Kanto waved him off and shouted as best that he could that it was fine; a beer and dinner eventually would suffice.
Time lapsed as he was rolled over to the infirmary and tended to quickly. His helmet gone, he was fussed over and assessed until everything involving a greater injury was ruled out. Ultimately, they told him he was fine, shoved pain medication down his throat, and was given ice for his strain, which was to be treated for two to three weeks. There was a collective sigh of relief around the room as it began to empty out, and Coach shook his head at him.
“You scared the shit out of us,” he said, helping Kanto off the examination bed inside the infirmary. “Knowing what you went through last time… you need to be careful.”
“I’m fine. Everything’s fine. No pain, see?” Kanto reassured, standing up to make a point and trying to keep his face neutral against the pain he was experiencing to prove his point. “I can get back out there and help us win this.”
Coach merely scoffed, ignoring Kanto’s bid to continue playing as he made to exit the infirmary. “Go home to your fiancée, man. Let her take care of you for the next few weeks. She might kick your ass into next Sunday if she knew you wanted to get back out there again.” Coach laughed. “And she should be on her way over here from her dojo to watch the tail-end of the game, anyway, so just—sit tight. You’ve got a good one; don’t scare her away.”
If there was one thing that Kanto couldn’t do it was scare Toph Beifong away, and he knew he wouldn’t. She would understand his need to get back out there, especially during a game so important to the team and to the season. He didn’t want to miss it because of a silly little muscle sprain.
So Kanto clumsily grabbed his gear—deliberately leaving his icebag behind—, followed Coach out of the infirmary, and speed-walked—not limped because he was definitely not hurt—in his direction.
“You can’t bench me!” Kanto shouted like one of those jocks he used to despise in high school. He immediately cringed at himself as his voice echoed through the tunnel. Running a hand down his face, Kanto whisper-shouted, “Coach. You can’t bench me, please, I can still—”
“Nope,” he heard from behind him. His entire body went cold and he instantly wanted to cease to exist. “He can’t. And I appreciate you, Aoki, for pulling him out of the game when you could despite him whining like a spoiled little bitch baby.”
Kanto refused to turn around because he knew that if he did, he wouldn’t like the sure picture of his fiancée—his heavily pregnant fiancée—with her hands crossed over her protruding belly and a scowl that would send him running in the opposite direction. So instead, he winced and sheepishly scratched the back of his neck, otherwise unmoving.
Coach finally turned around to face Kanto, a smug look on his face as he shrugged before exiting the tunnel and making toward the field. “Looks like you should listen to the boss, Nakamura. And think of your team here—your injury will only drag them down.”
Scowling, Kanto tested his weight on his bad leg and immediately winced, causing his coach to send another I-told-you-so look his way just as he felt Toph smack the back of his head before she grabbed his earlobe and pulled him down to her lips.
“Really?” she asked into his ear. “Playing injured?”
He released a nervous laugh. “Technically, baby, I never played while injured.”
“But you were going to if allowed, weren’t you?”
“N—”
Toph didn’t hesitate to slam her white cane into the shin of his bad leg. Hard. He doubled over in pain, clutching at his leg and trying not to let the tears stinging his eyes fall because that really hurt as she crouched beside him and said, “Try again, Hotshot.”
He was seeing stars with the pain he was experiencing now, but he knew that it was the smallest punishment he could get for lying to one Miss Toph Beifong to her face when she was trying to get an answer at face value.
After exhaling and straightening himself out, he let out a strained, “Yes…”
“And did you think about how much an injury like this could cost your career? The very same career you claim to love so much that you can’t imagine leaving?”
As much as he knew that replying to her would’ve been an impossibility, he tried to anyway, only to be interrupted by another question: “Did you think about how, the last time you got injured, you ran the risk of never walking—let alone playing—again? How I was—how I almost lost you? Did you think about that, huh?”
“Toph—”
“No.” She shook her head, her unseeing eyes full of rage. “The fact that you didn’t even—how could you not even think about how your decisions can affect those around you? Those who love you? How? Tell me, Kanto; I’d love to understand because I genuinely don’t.”
How could he explain that he was only thinking about how his career would be affected? Or that he only prioritized his athletic image over anything else? How could he tell her that his own selfishness clouded his judgment?
Even so, he pushed down the ache in his chest when he reached for her and she recoiled, and told her, his voice strained, “I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t—I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted to—I wanted to prove to you and to everyone that I could bounce back—”
“You already proved that, though, Kanto. You proved it when you busted your knee and recovered in a year, and were back on the field six months later. What more do you want?”
For some reason, Kanto found himself speechless. He knew that he wanted to tell her that he only wanted to prove himself further; that he didn’t want to lose out on opportunities that could take his career to newer heights; that he wanted to be the best to get the best for himself and his growing family. But nothing came out, not even a puff of air.
So, really, Kanto couldn’t blame her for scoffing, waving him off, and turning on her heel to leave. And he couldn’t bring himself to stop her. She had every right to be pissed off at him. And he knew Toph enough to know that what she sought was space when she was upset as much as he wanted to take off and chase her and admit to her that he was an idiot for even entertaining the idea of playing while injured after what he’d put her through.
Agonized, he slumped against the side of the tunnel and slid onto the ground, head in his hands. His career mattered to him, sure, but the life he was building with Toph trumped that a million times over. He couldn’t screw it up.
After forcing himself to watch his team win the game from the sidelines in order to give Toph some space, Kanto rushed home, but not before picking up a selection of her pregnancy cravings along with some takeout.
One of his teammates had done him the solid of driving him around before dropping him off. And when Kanto hobbled over to their house, he took a deep breath as he pushed open the door.
It was too quiet for the time of day. Usually, Toph would’ve returned from work at her Chow Gar dojo and would’ve been practicing forms outside, and he’d have been able to hear grunts and groans from inside the dwelling, even now that she was six months pregnant. He stopped telling her to be careful because she would always respond with the fact that she was being careful and that she would take a break from training when she could no longer. But today, there was nothing but silence.
He set the food down on the kitchen peninsula softly, grabbed a fresh icepack out of their freezer, and staggered around the house to find her with no luck. Defeated, he fell onto their bed, set the icepack aside, and grabbed a pillow to loudly and childishly grunt into. He really truly was an idiot, wasn’t he?
As his eyes welled up not for the first time today, Kanto took deep breaths to keep himself together. She wouldn’t leave him because of this, would she? Maybe she was over at Katara’s or Sokka’s, trying to get her mind off things. Or maybe she was just out, getting some air, knowing that he would be back when she returned.
Or maybe she just got sick of his crap and needs to think about what to do next. He wouldn’t blame her.
Just as he was beginning to spiral, he heard the front door open and shut, and footsteps and the tapping of her cane approaching the bedroom. Kanto immediately sat up, regretting the speed at which he did so as it made him dizzy. Damn pain meds.
He saw her fold away her cane and lean against the bedroom’s doorframe with an inscrutable look on her face, arms crossed over her chest, on top of her belly. He almost smiled at the image because she was just so beautiful like this. As much as she couldn’t stand the additional weight—mainly because it threw her center of gravity off when she trained and partially because her students wouldn’t take her seriously at her dojo until she showed them a thing or two—she looked radiant. And he would tell her as much every day until she blushed and shoved him away, only for him to reel himself back in and kiss her.
Knowing that he shouldn’t just yet, Kanto opened his mouth to apologize, but Toph’s hand in the air stopped him.
“You know what pisses me off?” she asked him, very likely not awaiting an answer from him. “It’s not the fact that you’re so dedicated to your career that you wouldn’t think twice about getting back out there, even after a small injury. It’s the fact that you didn’t even consider how your decision would affect the people who love you.”
He kept quiet, thinking it wiser to say nothing as she continued to speak. “It’s one thing to freak the shit out of me or get yourself hurt when it affects only you and me because I’m sure you know I’d do everything for you, but it’s another to know that we’ve got a kid on the way and still pull this crap. What—I just—what were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t,” he responded immediately, standing up and reaching for her. She made a face and shook her head, leading him back to the bed and sitting him down. Then, she silently lifted her hand and upturned her palm, asking for the icepack, which he promptly gave to her as he propped his leg up. Toph gently placed it on his thigh as he further explained himself. “I was just—I was being a selfish ass. I wasn’t thinking about anything other than helping the team to victory and was blinded by all of that. I should’ve—”
“Yeah, you should’ve. Because what would’ve happened if this injury had been worse? I wouldn’t have been able to be there as much as I was last time, Kanto, and I—I don’t know what I would’ve done to help you. And I hate thinking about not being there for you. But I also know that my kid would’ve taken priority in this case because you were being reckless and putting your career over family.”
Kanto swallowed a lump in his throat at the emotion that she barely ever displayed in her voice. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“You can’t be selfish like this anymore,” she told him, playing with the ring on her left fourth finger. “You can’t, and if you’re going to be, I’m not going to be here to deal with it—”
“I won’t.” He interrupted her, not wanting to hear the rest of her sentence. He took her free hand—the one not holding the ice to his leg—and kissed her knuckles. “I promise, I won’t.”
“And I’ve heard this before, and as much as you don’t realize that you’re doing it, I don’t like being lied to. And I won’t be. No matter how much I love you, no matter how much you mean to me. I’m not doing that again, and I’m not putting our kid through it, either.”
His grip on her fingers tightened slightly with conviction. “I swear, Toph. I—I won’t put myself in a position to lose you. I won’t. And I know that I haven’t given you much of a reason to, but you’re going to have to trust that I won’t. I’m never going to think for only myself again. I’ve got you and I’ve got our baby and—that’s all that matters to me, okay?”
The look on her face was one that he’d seen before. She wasn’t sure if she could take him for his word, but upon this realization, Kanto flattened her hand against the left side of his chest so she could feel the steadiness of his heart along with the truth in his words. Kanto couldn’t lie for shit and he was very reactive when he did; Toph learned that he either sweat, laughed maniacally, or his heart rate quickened enough to set off his watch’s monitor. Knowing this and feeling the steady pace of his heartbeat, her face softened and she leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth.
A breath of relief left Kanto when he took her lips, his hands flying to her face. The very last thing he ever wanted was to lose the love of his life; their child. He would’ve never been able to forgive himself if he had.
When they parted, Toph rested her forehead against his before swatting him in the chest. He hissed.
“You scared the shit out of me, you know that, right?” she asked him, her voice betraying the slightest bit of humor.
Despite himself, he smiled. “I know and I’m really sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“I was in the thick of telling one of my kids’ parents off for being overbearing,” she tells him, her brows in her hairline, “and then, I got a call from the stadium, telling me I had to get over there as soon as possible. I didn’t know if I wanted to rush to your bedside to kiss you or kill you.”
“Hm, well, the latter sounds more in character for you.”
This time, Toph was the one who grinned before whacking him in the chest again and leaning onto his shoulder, the grip on the icepack still strong against his thigh. Then, she suddenly sniffed, lifting her head again. “So, uh—did they tell you how long you have to stay off this leg?”
He knitted his brows together at the unexpected question. “Few weeks. Why?”
“Oh, you know. I might want to engage in physical activity of my own if you’re unfit to do so yourself.”
“I see.” Kanto’s smile spread slowly across his face, catching her drift as he leaned down to kiss her neck. “And when can we get that started?”
“I don’t see why we can’t start now.”
His recovery period seemed to be making a great start.