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Phantom pains were an everyday experience for Shouta at this point in his life.
Most times he could fight through it and get his job done, though he had to force himself to take it easy, using his crutches or wheelchair instead of his prosthetic. Other times, it was bad enough that he was bed ridden.
Today just so happened to be one of those bad days. The pain had started as a dull throb in the morning but had escalated to sharp jolts by noon. Shouta gritted his teeth as another wave washed over him, knowing from experience that fighting against it only made things worse.
He shifted in bed, trying to find a more comfortable position, but nothing seemed to help. The bottle of pain medication sat on his nightstand, but he was hesitant to take more so soon after his last dose. Instead, he closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, using the techniques Recovery Girl had taught him years ago when he first started dealing with this particular flavour hell.
"Hey," a soft voice called. Shouta forced his heavy eyelids open, blinking slowly as he peered through his disheveled fringe to meet concerned brown eyes looking down at him. "How you feeling, sweetheart?"
Anan.
Shouta managed a pained grunt, his voice rougher than usual. "Thought you were supposed to be at work right now."
"Nedzu insisted I come home early to check on you." Anan’s voice was gentle as she sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle the mattress too much.
Figures. Shouta couldn't help but smile slightly at the principal's thoughtfulness. The rodent never missed a beat. A warm hand settled against his cheek and he exhaled slowly, melting into the touch. He'd never said it out loud, but moments like these made him infinitely more grateful for Anan's presence in his life.
Shouta locked eyes with his wife, the sharp pain softening under her gentle gaze.
“You don’t have to worry about me, you know,” he murmured eventually, though they both knew that was a lie. His stubborn independence had softened over the years of their marriage, allowing vulnerability to seep through the cracks of his carefully built walls. “But… I’m glad you’re here.”
Anan smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling in that way that still made his heart skip a beat, even after all this time. She reached for the glass of water on the nightstand, carefully helping him take a sip before setting it back down.
"How long ago did you take your meds?"
Shouta's brow furrowed as he thought about it. Time had become a bit warped, each minute bleeding into the next. After a moment's consideration, he rasped out that it had only been about an hour and a half since his last dose.
Anan pursed her lips, clearly considering the risk. Her caution was reassuring, but mildly frustrating — reassuring because he knew she cared, frustrating because he hated being the source of her worry. Her eyes softened as she reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers.
"I'll make you some tea with honey for now," she said, her thumb tracing soothing circles against his skin. "The ginger might help take the edge off until you can take more medication."
Shouta nodded, grateful. As Anan rose to head to the kitchen, he caught her wrist with a gentle touch. "Thank you," he murmured softly, words carrying a weight he couldn’t quite speak into existence. She bent down to press a kiss to his forehead before slipping from the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.
A few minutes passed before Shouta decided to attempt leaving the bed. The pain had subsided just enough, though he knew better than to risk his prosthetic today. With a careful push, he shuffled himself toward the edge of the mattress and swung his remaining leg over the side. He reached out, fingers searching for the familiar grip of the wheelchair they always kept within arm's reach.
He grunted softly as he manoeuvred himself into the chair, taking a moment to catch his breath once he was situated. Shouta exhaled slowly through his nose, gathering his strength before wheeling himself toward the hallway to join Anan in the kitchen.
She hadn't noticed him, her back still turned as she hummed quietly while preparing his tea. Shouta leaned back into his chair, a gentle smile playing across his features as he watched her move about the kitchen.
The small, domestic scene struck him. This was what they had built together over the years: a space where neither of them had to be heroes, just two people who found comfort in each other. It didn't matter that they made an unusual pair — him with a missing leg and eye, her with arms the colour of midnight adorned with galactic swirls that seemed to contain entire universes.
It was them.
The tea kettle whistled, snapping Shouta from his musings. Anan turned, finally noticing his presence, and her expression softened instantly. "I thought you were staying in bed," there was no accusation in her tone, just that same gentle concern as she moved to pour the steaming water into a mug.
Shouta shrugged as he adjusted himself in the chair. "Sitting still was driving me crazy anyway. Figured I'd join you."
Anan smiled, bringing the steaming mug over to him. "I had a feeling you might," she hummed knowingly, carefully placing the tea in his hands. As Shouta sipped the warm tea, Anan kneeled in front of him, her gentle fingers sweeping unruly hair away from his face. She settled comfortably against his knees, her presence more soothing than any medicine could ever be.
They sat in the quiet, the only sounds being the occasional sip of tea and their synchronised breathing. Shouta found himself marvelling at how easily they'd fallen into this rhythm — how the most average of moments had become the ones he treasured most.
Anan's touch moved to brush against the jagged scar beneath his eye, her caress tender as he released a quiet sigh. "It’s funny how life works," she mumbled, a hint of wonder in her voice. "Fighting off villains at USJ, and barely twelve months later we were exchanging vows."
Shouta chuckled softly. "We circled each other for ages, didn't we? But when we finally took that step..."
"Everything just clicked into place," Anan whispered, her eyes sparkling with the memory.
Shouta felt that familiar warmth blossom in his chest and cheeks, the one that only came from moments like these. For all the chaos they faced, it was this quiet peace that made it all worth it.
"Looking back, I wouldn't change how things happened," Shouta murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
Anan's lips curved into a tender smile as she squeezed his hand. "Me neither. Somehow, the timing was perfect."