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Chapter Text

Vapid music played overhead as the elevator steadily lowered. Looking at her wavy reflection in its door, Hinoka ignored the dark smudges under her eyes and blew at her bangs. She'd been on shift since three o'clock that morning and it'd been an ugly day that had left her feeling the same.

Glancing again at herself, she noticed that her cap was askew and sighed. Personally, she found that article of clothing entirely decorative and more than a little annoying to constantly monitor. However, it acted as an identifier and was required— just like the short-skirted dress and gartered stockings. The official uniform for female nurses certified by Hoshido was old fashioned. There were many times she wished that scrubs like students wore were allowed instead. However, so long as pompous men from the old guard donated the majority of the hospital's funding it'd remain just a wish.

Shoving aside her misgivings, Hinoka used the elevator's reflection as a mirror to right the cap, aligning her hairpins to keep the Hoshidan crest centered.

On the third floor the elevator slowed to a stop and its doors peeled open with metallic squeaks. Hinoka felt her tired eyes widen and the line of her mouth curve at the familiar face. Marx stepped into the elevator, the florescent lighting overhead was unflattering on his pale complexion and made him look wane.

Rather than selecting a destination on the panel, he simply stood close beside Hinoka. Only when the door slid shut did Marx speak, "Going down to the parking garage?"

Hinoka nodded. “I forgot my lunch in the car. But I’m on break, so might as well go get it.”

"It's against protocol to wear uniforms outside of the clinical area," he said, but his tone was far from serious.

"The changing facilities here stink,” she replied tartly. “I'd rather not use them until I'm ready to go home.”

At her last word, Marx finally turned his head and smiled. He reached to loosely loop an arm about her waist. Even through the fabric of her dress, she felt the warmed metal of the wedding ring on his finger— its weight still new and exciting when her husband touched her.

They'd met while both staffing the same teaching hospital, he’d been an international student from Nohr come to Shirazaki for the better medical training. She'd asked him out on a date, and he'd proposed after graduation. It’d only been a little over a month since their honeymoon. They were both working, again at the same location, she as a nurse practitioner and he as a doctor in his first year of the residency training program.

Their schedules this week had been near-opposites. Seeing Marx awake and alert, after days of falling asleep alone then waking up and leaving him asleep in their bed, lifted her spirits. Even when she felt worn out and unpretty, he looked at her like she was beautiful and made her feel that way.

“How many hours are left in your shift?” Marx asked.

Her feet ached from standing for eight hours already, so she leaned against him. “Three left, I’m pulling twelve hours today.”

The subtle brush of his fingers turned into blatant squeezing. “You’re taking a late lunch.”

Hinoka resisted rolling her eyes at his overprotectiveness. “My reliever didn’t arrive ‘til now. So save the lecture for Asama.”

He made a noise of understanding, having already been subjected to weeks of her complaints about her co-worker. His understanding and unspoken support had her smiling. Yet as much as Hinoka wanted to stay leaning against her husband, she made herself ask, “Are you really going to follow me to the parking garage?”

Marx nodded. “To the car and back.”

“Security might complain if they catch us both in uniform.” Before he could reply Hinoka hooked her fingers in the knot of his tie and tugged it apart.

“Now I just look sloppy,” Marx complained. Rather than reaching up to retie it, he shrugged off the long lab coat and placed it over her shoulders. “There, close the front and it’s not truly a proper uniform you’re wearing.”

Hinoka was tempted to tell him it made her look sloppy, the size far too large for her frame. But the white fabric was warm from his body heat and its collar faintly smelled of his tea tree shampoo. So she did as he said, gathered it close and allowed herself to lean on Marx for the rest of the elevator ride.

Chapter Text

"This festival isn't in celebration of anything?"

"Nope, it's just a fireworks festival because it's summer."

Marx made a noise of understanding, though it had notes closer to bemusement than how he sounded when pleased. Hinoka wondered if it was because there were very few holidays in Nohr, if the idea of partying just for the sake of it was what bothered her husband. On a mutual day off, this was the first festival they'd attended together as newlyweds. They'd gone to a handful while dating, but in casual clothes.

This time, Marx had agreed to wear traditional Hoshidan fashion for the occasion. Despite being unfamiliar with the clothing he moved well in the robe, the fabric flowing with his smooth movements. The dark blue honeycomb patterned yukata suited her husband's pale coloring. Hinoka's own cream yukata was patterned with sakura and camellia blossoms, a gift from her sister. It’d seemed an appropriate choice to go with their mother’s kanzashi.

Resisting the urge to touch the delicate hair decoration, she instead looked to their surroundings. They were currently walking hand-in-hand while taking in the changes to main street— now lined with stalls, food stands, and games. The traditional paper lanterns lighting all of them up made for a dreamy glow under the dark nighttime sky.

"What're those?"

Marx pointed to a nearby foodstand which had a sign reading Ringo Ame. Confection sellers was part and parcel for festivals, so it wasn't a surprising sight. Hinoka preferred to buy bags of bite-sized candied fruits like grapes or strawberries, but the stall Marx had singled out featured a larger ware.

She answered, "Those're candied apples."

"I thought as much. They make them in Nohr too, though I was a kid when I last had one." He sounded nostalgic, something that was very rare for him.

That tone had her tugging him over to the foodstand and cajoling until he agreed to buy— though just one. He seemed to have intended it to be for her, so Hinoka carried the treat by its stick. Yet his gaze kept drifting towards it as they moved back into the busy street, so she held it up in offering.

"Have some." Marx shook his head, but she insisted. "C'mon, just one bite! You can tell me if it tastes like you remember."

Marx gently laid a hand on her shoulder and leaned, the weight of him comfortably familiar. He dipped his head, set his teeth, then with one strong bite pierced through the hard candy shell and into the juicy apple. His eyes fluttered closed as he chewed, and though he wasn't the type to moan over food she knew he was savoring the taste. Although Marx'd never admitted to apples being his favorite, Hinoka had seen similar savoring whenever he ate this particular fruit.

It had her teasing, "Are you sure you don't want this all to yourself?"

Marx's eyes opened. He gave her a look along with quirked brow. The only thing preventing his own quip was the fact that he was still chewing.

The motion had her noticing in the left corner of his mouth was a bit of candied shell. Hinoka couldn't help but grin as she reached up and caught the stray crumb with her thumb. Before he could do little more than widen his eyes, she'd brought her hand down and licked it up.

When Marx swallowed it was loud. "Hinoka, you're the only thing I want all to myself..."

Chapter Text

Marx had been confused with how Hoshidans celebrated Christmas, almost alarmingly so for Hinoka.

When they'd first been dating and winter came, he'd asked if she was going to visit family. Mortifyingly, she'd thought that her boyfriend didn't want to take her anywhere on one of the most romantic days of the year— until Marx had explained how in Vindam he'd always gone to his father's house for Christmas. She'd had to insist that it was better if they spent the day together as a couple and explained that she'd only be heading to her parents for New Years.

Then when she'd taken him to a restaurant that specialized in fried chicken for Christmas dinner— he'd taken it as an elaborate joke! She'd been torn between delight over hearing him laugh so freely and embarrassment over how he didn't seem to understand any of this holiday's givens.

That'd been several years ago now, but the memory came to her without fail in this season. Rather than bringing home a bucket of chicken this time, she'd agreed to let Marx cook a Nohrian meal traditional for Christmas. There was something charming about her husband wanting to cook for her. Although she'd never been able to return the favor, hopeless as she was with cooking.

That was how Hinoka came to sitting on a barstool in their kitchen. Not being able to help made her restless, so she asked, "Remind me again why we scoured Shirazaki for butchers and then bought pieces of chopped up baby cows?"

"Because spotted tortoises are an endangered species." Marx kept his eyes on the pot boiling before him on the stovetop, rather than giving her an exacerbated glance to match his tone. "The face meat of the calf's head best emulates their taste for the soup."

Hinoka couldn't help but grimace over his use of terms, but made herself ask, "What was that Nohrian dish called again?"

"Mock turtle soup," he answered while adding thin strips of aforementioned meat.

He'd already spent yesterday boiling the split skulls to create stock. She'd had to leave the kitchen entirely when he'd begun to combine the calf's brains with eggs, breadcrumbs, and shaped it into balls. The poached things currently chilled in their refrigerator until he'd decide to fry them.

Hinoka forced herself not to think about the fact her husband intended to serve brain balls as part of their Christmas dinner. Instead focused on watching her husband perform him magic in the kitchen. While most of the dishes he knew how to cook were deeply Nohrian, it was more than she could manage. At best she could wash and cut vegetables— she couldn't manage to wholly debone fish when she tried to make sashimi, and anything that involved managing heat never ended well for her.

After turning the soup down to simmer, Marx retrieved a different pot from the fridge— one full of gelatin that'd been sitting since he strained out the hooves and bones yesterday. He brought it to the counter on the opposite side of the stove then proceeded to skim and put the yellow fat currently layered on top into a skillet to fry with later.

As he moved the large spoon, his muscles bunched and relaxed under the rolled sleeves of his thin sweater. The blue jeans he wore weren't tight per say, but conformed well to the equally built muscles of his lower body. Hinoka had to tug at the knitted collar of her sweater dress, feeling suddenly hot. Despite the fact that they kept their apartment's temperature on the cool side for Marx's sake.

Finally, she got off of the barstool and walked until she was just behind Marx where he stood at the counter.

Hinoka tugged on the strings of Marx's apron, although not hard enough to make the bow unravel. This article of clothing had been a gift from her to him when they'd started living together. The apron was black overall except for bold white katakana over his chest that read: Kiss me, I'm Nohrian.

Hinoka had bought it on impulse. Then she’d worried that it'd offend Marx to the extent that she'd almost thrown it in the trash before he could see. In the end, she'd sucked up her anxiety and handed it to him after the day of their move.

Marx hadn't been upset as she'd feared. Instead he'd put the apron on with a serious face and then demanded that she follow the written instructions. It'd been a relief and frustrating at the same time. The man could be ridiculously literal at times.

"If you distract me now, the jellies will suffer." Marx actually stopped what he was doing to look at her over his shoulder.

"That's too bad." Hinoka said as she pressed herself flush against his back, luxuriating in his firm body contrasted by the softness of the grey knit. "I'd so been looking forward to eating goop boiled out of baby cow's feet."

Her husband clicked his tongue, and might have called her spoiled under his breath. However, she recognized the mischief in his voice as he asked, "Are you unhappy with my menu, Hinoka?"

"I'm happy enough, Marx." She took a few taunting steps back. "Just not in the mood for that sort of sweet thing."

They were both all smiles as Marx lifted Hinoka onto a clear segment of the kitchen countertop and then they satisfied a different sort of appetite.

Chapter Text

New Years had always been a family affair. The entire extended Byakuya family traveled to their estate in Shirazaki, and turned the usually picturesque building into a madhouse for the three days of celebration. When they’d simply been dating Hinoka had never brought Marx, wanting to spare him from her rowdier relatives and rooms crammed full of people. But her father wouldn’t accept any excuses now that they were married.

So they’d managed to get the holiday off, and here they were surrounded by unending food, loud music, and louder people.

It’d been a whirlwind of introductions since they’d arrived— every second cousin and great aunt wanting to meet her foreign husband for the first time. Marx had managed to keep a brave front, but she could tell it’d tested his limits by the way he refused to be more than an arm’s length away from her. Half-way through the second day his newness faded a bit, and her family had stopped coming out of the woodwork to ask him questions.

Yet even with this break, Marx seemed a bit harried by all the firecrackers people kept casually lighting out front in the drive way. He flinched and stepped up as if to shield her every time the loud pops started. So after she’d coaxed him into eating a plate’s worth of dumplings, Hinoka had taken him by the hand and led him to a less populated place in the big, old house.

It took a few moments after she’d shut the door behind them, but the tension in Marx’s shoulders visibly lessened once he’d noticed that they were alone in the small room and how quiet it was. He glanced to her, and Hinoka gave a reassuring smile. “I don’t know how long it’ll take before my brothers or sister comes looking, but we can rest here in the meantime.”

“Thank you,” Marx said nodding. He then turned to look more closely at their surroundings. What they were in was essentially a storage closet, piled with all the extra elements of the supplies needed for the celebrations sans fireworks and ingredients.

She watched as his perusal stopped on stacks of red envelopes embossed with a long-feathered rooster in gold. It’s been a long time since she’d last been given one, but she could remember her favorite design— a rearing horse all in black. Marx carefully picked one up, the shape of it even smaller in his big hand.

“It’s for lucky money. When you’re young and unmarried you receive it from older, married family members in these envelopes.” Hinoka answered before he could ask. “When we have a kid, once they’re out of diapers I expect we’ll be seeing these envelopes at this time of year.”

“…oh?” Marx’s tone was all too curious as he looked at her with dark eyes.

She felt her face heating with an embarrassed blush. “Y’know, when we’re ready. Despite what my dad keeps insisting, he can wait on grandchildren for a few more years.”

Marx chuckled under his breath, but Hinoka didn’t fight him as he drew her in with an arm about her shoulders. When he asked her to explain the concept in more detail, she happily told him about the Hoshidan tradition. How wrapping money in red envelopes bestows more prosperity and blessings on the receivers, alongside wishes for a safe and peaceful year.

Chapter Text

Hinoka had worked a full shift at the hospital before her family'd decided that a surprise birthday dinner was precisely what she wanted. Of course they'd picked a five-star restaurant and she'd had to get all gussied up, putting on heels when her feet were already aching from standing all day. Admittedly the food had been delicious, especially since she hadn't had to pay for it. Yet having waved goodbye to her father and siblings, Hinoka found herself staring at the apartment stairs unable to make herself walk up it.

Instead she sat down on them and sat there long enough, that it was where Marx found her after having arrived home from work. He cocked his head when he took in her state of dress. "Did we have reservations I forgot about?"

"Noooooooo," Hinoka did her best not to groan. "But my father did at Seven Sanct."

Marx gave a low whistle. "Expensive."

"Fancy." Hinoka countered, then hung her head. "I'm tired. I don't want to walk in these heels, but I'd scream if I tore my pantyhose."

Staring at her own lap as she was, Hinoka didn't see how he reached down— instead was shocked as he swept her up in his arms in a bridal carry. Without another word he began to ascend the staircase towards their apartment. Hinoka wrapped her arms about his neck then pressed her face against his shoulder, likely smearing her mascara and lipstick all over the fabric of his jacket. Her husband didn't protest or even try to shrug her off. Simply kept climbing the stairs, so she didn't have to.

When they finally reached their door, Marx didn't even put her down. Instead angling himself so that his hand with the keys could reach the doorknob. It was soon finagled and kicked closed behind him. Hinoka peeked up enough to see that they were headed towards the bedroom, and she had to keep in another groan over expectations vs her tiredness.

However, Marx proved better as he said, "The next episode from Ribald Tales of the Faith Wars is available for streaming. You should change into something comfortable, then we'll watch that."

"I love you," Hinoka muffled against him.

This time Marx did move her, hands shifting until he kissed her head. "Anything for the birthday girl."

Chapter Text

It was relatively quiet in the apartment that morning, only the scantest noises of traffic drifting up from the streets outside. No longer did the whir and click of cooking utensils ring out from the kitchen, even if a mess of dirty dishes, used molds, and drips of melted chocolate had been left behind. It was all ignored as Sakura finished putting on her shoes and Hinoka handed over the collection boxed and gift-wrapped chocolates.

Sakura had come over in the early hours to make Valentine chocolates, since her dorms didn't even offer a kitchenette for student use. Hinoka and Marx's apartment was located much closer to campus than their family's estate, and it was good quality sister bonding time that was so much harder to find as adults. Her little sister had always taken gifting seriously, but this day had a special one to give.

"T-thanks again for letting me use your kitchen, Hinoka." Sakura managed to give her a worried look over the pile in her arms. "Are you sure I s-shouldn't stay? I c-could help you clean."

Hinoka shook her head. "No, I can handle it. Get going so you aren't late for class or handing any of those out."

"Do you need a ride?" Marx asked from the bedroom doorway. Although dressed, he was still toweling his damp hair dry.

Sakura ducked her head. "No, thank you. I-I've got one."

Just as she finished saying it, the phone in her purse gave a chirping chime. Hinoka opened the front door and peered over the banister at the parking lot below, quickly spying a familiar red, sports car. It had her grinning at her blushing, little sister and wishing good luck as Sakura hurried down the stairs. The moment she stepped onto the sidewalk proper, the driver of the car got out— his red hair only a few shades darker than the bright paint of his car. Saizou didn't delay in stepping around his car and opening the passenger side door for her sister. Sakura's face was blushing even more brightly as her mouth moved with words Hinoka was unable to make out at a distance.

"Is that really her crush?" Marx's voice make her jump; she hadn't noticed him come out to stand beside her.

"Don't call it that, makes her sound like a kid." Marx raised a skeptical eyebrow, but she ignored him. They both watched Sakura duck into the passenger side then watched Saizou close door, walk around and get behind the wheel, then back up and drive out of their apartment's parking lot. Only after the red car was out of sight, did Hinoka respond, "And yes, Sakura likes Saizou and plans on asking him out today."

"With those chocolates you helped her make?" Marx's brow rose higher.

Hinoka rolled her eyes. "I only handled putting together and wrapping the boxes, don't worry."

"Good. Nothing kills the mood like food poisoning." She lightly smacked him on the arm, but he hardly flinched, instead asking, "Doesn't he work for your father's company? Wasn't he in the same graduating class as Ryouma?"

Hinoka shrugged. "Yeah, there's an age gap, but my family knows and trusts Saizou."

That hadn't been the case for Marx. Hinoka recalled when she'd first them about her new boyfriend how suspicious her father and brothers had been over a foreigner dating her, convinced the man was trying to use her— for her inheritance, to get a green card, all sorts of accusations. She'd fired right back at them for being stuck in the status quo and too quick to judge those who looked different; it'd remained strained that first year of dating.Things had settled after Marx had stuck around for a few years and family had bothered to get to know him, but she was glad her little sister wouldn't have to endure similar suspicions.

Hinoka also recalled the first time she'd met Marx. She had been confused by his accent, his mannerisms, his appearance— basically, all his foreignness. Marx however, more than pulled his weight whenever they were given rounds or an assignment. So when he'd asked her out to coffee, after a few weeks when they’d gotten off around three-o-clock, she’d said yes and then next day had invited him to tea. Now they were husband and wife, and Hinoka had a hard time picturing what her life would be like without him.

Taking his hand in hers, Hinoka waited until Marx was looking at her then said, "Hey... we should go back in so you can unwrap your Valentine's Day gift."

The way Nohrians celebrated this holiday was different from all the exchanges of chocolates Hinoka had grown up with, Marx didn't even like to wait until White Day to get her a present in return. So they'd come up with a compromise, one that required less shopping and more quality time together. She felt a blush rise in her face at the way Marx's gaze became dark and hooded, yet he had the gall to argue, "I haven't given you roses yet."

"I don't need flowers, just want you." He hummed curiously; Hinoka laughed a little as she stood on her tip toes to give him a kiss. 

Chapter Text

Hinoka might’ve entirely forgotten about the Nohrian holiday for honoring one’s father. That is, if she’d hadn’t come back to her husband sitting in their apartment with all the lights off, watching television while eating ice cream straight out of the container. And finally remembering the date, Hinoka knew it had to be because he’d made an international phone call to his father— and like always, Garon had spectacularly disappointed.

Leaning against the back of the couch, she glanced away from her husband to the glowing screen. It was their favorite show to watch and turn their brains off: Ribald Tales of the Faith Wars. The episode playing was a rerun, so it was likely that Marx had sat down with the pint of frozen dairy and binge-watched the series early seasons. The ice cream’s flavor, fruit-cluster double strawberry, meant Marx was in a mood.

Keeping her tone light, she said, “So you called, and Garon was his usual self.”

Marx grunted confirmation around a mouthful, his eyes not leaving the television. He swallowed then gestured to it, asking, “Why can’t our relationship be like this?”

Glancing at the scene currently playing, Hinoka asked, “You mean a relationship comprised of your father escaping imprisonment, fleeing his captors, only to die in your arms after a dramatic speech and parting gift?”

“Yes.”

On screen the young hero sobbed over his recently deceased father, looking perfectly handsome and dramatically overwrought.

“Well, I for one am glad our life isn’t anything like this show. I would’ve hated being kidnapped, brainwashed, and tricked into marrying someone else.”

“It would’ve been Leo for irony’s sake.”

Hinoka thought about Marx’s younger brother— his pretty face, smug arrogance, smarter-than-thou habit in correcting others —and shuddered. “Don’t even joke about that. It’d be like marrying a blonder Takumi, I couldn’t. Besides, Leo hardly wants to frame you for treason and have you executed.”

“Hmm,” Marx intoned speculatively, as if he couldn’t deny the possibility that his brother disliked him enough to destroy his reputation and life.

“Your brother doesn’t hate you, Marx.”

“He was mad that I left… that I came here.”

“He was younger then, angrier. You’re doing your best to take care of him and Elise, I’m sure Leo understands that.” Despite her sincerity her words didn’t seem to be penetrating him self-effacing gloom, so Hinoka voiced a hard truth. “Better than leaving them in Garon’s non-existent care.”

Marx’s brow furrowed low and he viciously stabbed the ice-cream with his spoon.

It taken a long time for her husband to open up about his past, he’d had a difficult childhood and didn’t like to talk about it. He might not have even told Hinoka if Camilla hadn’t visited before the wedding and metaphorically strong-armed him into explaining why their father wouldn’t be attending. Compared to her own family and experiences, it could be called dysfunctional, and despite his usual confidence her husband was self-conscious about the stigma. If nothing else Hinoka resented Garon Anya for being able to throw Marx into morose moods, let alone for being a terrible human being.

“I think you should give my father a call.” She said, then snatched the mostly emptied pint from his hands.

Marx frowned, but mostly sounded confused. “…Sumeragi?”

“Yes. While Father’s Day isn’t really a thing here, he’d be over the moon that you’d remembered him.” Her husband had a thoughtful look though still appeared reluctant, so she said, “It’d also be something he’d needle my brothers over for the rest of the month, or likely, all year.”

“Hand me the phone.”

Hinoka grinned and kissed Marx’s cheek, before fetching the phone.

Chapter Text

That day, Hinoka had strong-armed the shift manager into letting her off at the same time as Marx. It’d let her distract her husband and delay their arrival home. As they’d climbed the stairs, he’s been more preoccupied over her presence than what day it was. Which meant the moment the door was opened, their apartment lit up as the party guests jumped up— that Marx was taken by complete surprise.

As they lived in a small apartment, there weren’t many guests: some colleagues, a few college friends who still lived in Shirazaki, and most importantly, the other Anyas. It’d taken a lot of pulled strings and a modest withdrawal from Hinoka’s side accounts to cover the plane tickets, but with Camilla’s help coordinating Hinoka had managed to bring them over in time. All that secretive work was worth it; seeing Marx smile and laugh with his siblings.

Elise had yelled ‘happy birthday’ the loudest, fairly flying into Marx’s arms to hug him tightly. Leo on the other hand had showed patience and had waited until most of the other guests had given congratulations and finished small talk, before starting a conversation with his brother that was currently ongoing. Camilla had taken it upon herself to cut and distribute the cake, chatting the rest of the guests up with her easy charm. Hinoka took care of drinks while covertly watching her husband.

Only Elise swiping a flute full of champagne snapped her attention away from his happy face.

“Whoa there.” Hinoka was actually taller than the blonde girl, so used her superior reach to pluck the glass out of her hand. “No high schoolers get alcohol in this house.”

“Aw, c’mon, Hinoka! The drinking age is eighteen in Nohr. Just for the party, pretty please?” Elise wheedled.

Hinoka shook her head, which put a ferocious pout on her little sister-in-law’s face. That is until, Camilla said, “Don’t forget we have a tour bus scheduled for tomorrow, dearheart. You wouldn’t want to miss Shirazaki over a hangover.”

Elise rolled her eyes, but acquiesced, “Fine. Gimme the sparkling apple juice.” She did thank her for the non-alcoholic drink before flouncing off.

Camilla met Hinoka’s long-suffering glace with a grateful smile. It was almost surreal how different Marx’s sisters were, not only to each other, but Sakura and herself. It never failed to put Hinoka a little on edge, no matter that she knew they meant well and that Marx greatly loved his family. So, Hinoka swallowed her sudden bout of nerves and asked, “Is Elise really drinking already?”

Her sister-in-law gave an unconcerned shrug. “Only at get togethers once in a great while. Our family also has a high alcohol tolerance.”

Hinoka recalled how Ryouma once challenged Marx to a drinking contest. The end result had her brother flushed red as a cooked lobster and unable to walk straight, whereas her husband had only been tipsy. It was almost funny how the differences in Nohrian and Hoshidan genetics could manifest. Idly, she wondered if the kids they might have would inherit the best, or the worst of them.

Camilla broke her from further musings as she continued, “Hoshido’s quite different from home. But it’s good to see Marx happy… although he does look tired.”

Glancing at her husband, she found the dark bags under his eyes undeniable. “He’s lacking sleep. The hospital’s been scheduling him evenings and mornings back to back, even though it’s against policy.”

“Is it the same for you?”

This time Hinoka shrugged. “Not this month, but all too often.”

Camilla didn’t frown, but the way she crossed her arms made it clear she didn’t approve. “I keep telling you, work for yourself, then you get to set the hours.” Her tone was deceptively mild, but there was a glint in her eye. “I could give a recommendation to my regular customers wanting to watch a cute Hoshidan girl.”

Hinoka stumbled over her words as she tried to formulate a polite refusal. Camilla carried herself with great confidence, and it likely carried over to her career of fulfilling lewd requests on camera for an internet audience. While Hinoka wasn’t overly self-conscious, she knew she didn’t want anyone but Marx to see herself in such an intimately vulnerable state.

Fortunately, she was saved from the awkward situation when Marx called out, “Now that everyone’s had refreshments, let’s begin opening presents.”

After Hinoka sent her sister-in-law a tight smile, Camilla let her go without further questions.

While everyone else moved towards the couch and circled chairs, Hinoka headed to their bedroom door, intent to dig out the wrapped present she’d hidden at the bottom of their closet. However, as sudden firm tug at her waist stopped her short. Indignant protests were left unsaid as she looked over her shoulder and for Marx the perpetrator— having caught the looped bow in the apron strings. Hinoka had rushed away from the drink station so quickly that she hadn’t noticed she still wore Marx’s apron.

“Need help with this?” He asked, even as his fingers pulled apart the bow.

Lifting the apron tie over her head, Hinoka gave an indelicate snort. “Hardly. I’m not the one clamoring for your attention, birthday boy.”

“Thank you for bringing them here.” Marx glanced towards the couch, where his sisters had hemmed in his brother, then back at her with a smile that zipped down her spine.

The sincere gratitude had Hinoka fighting a grin as she nudged him towards their guests. “Go on and visit. I’ll get my quality time with you later.”

Marx’s gaze went warm and speculatively wandering, before he bent to whisper. “That’s a promise, wife.”

Chapter Text

It’d been tricky securing the time off with New Years around the corner, but eventually Asama had agreed to cover for her that weekend. After packing their bags Marx had driven them out of Shirazaki and to an inn nestled within the nearby mountains. The drive hadn’t been as scenic as it would’ve been in other season but being under the night sky, nothing could beat a clear winter sky for stargazing.

The stars were beautiful, twinkling like diamonds scattered across the velvety black. The new moon and their distance from the city meant very little light pollution to interfere from the sight. The inn itself was extremely old fashioned, with lanterns being the only illumination for the outdoor onsen. The hot springs itself was beautiful— the sunken pool surrounded by artfully arranged rocks, trimmed evergreens, and the high cedar fence. Steam rose into the chilly air in lazy clouds, Hinoka couldn’t help but sigh and let herself sink further beneath the lovely hot water.

Only when her floating hand accidentally bumped against Marx’s side and felt how tense his body was did she look away from the sky and to her husband. He sat rigid, back ruler-straight and the visible line of his shoulders held stiffly. His eyes were looking down at the blue-green water rather than their surroundings or at the stars.

“Marx, what’s wrong?” Hinoka sat up, ignoring the nip of the cool air against her newly wetted skin.

Her husband flinched as his gaze met hers and his smile was strained. “I’m fine.”

Hinoka couldn’t hold back a frown at his obvious lie, something was upsetting him. She knew Marx wasn’t comfortable with deep water because of poor swimming skills, but with his height, this pool didn’t really count as that. They were both still wearing towels, even in the water, as Marx had clearly been uncomfortable with a remote possibility of being caught naked outside— perhaps their location was the problem.

“Do you hate open-air hot springs? I figured you wouldn’t like a public mixed pool, that’s why I booked this private one.”

“…I don’t think we can afford it,” he replied, his voice so even it was monotone. Marx’s face went blank in that way where he purposefully hid his reactions, a habit of his to conceal what others might find disagreeable.

Hinoka tried not to take it personally and kept pushing, “What do you mean? We checked in with the front desk, it’s already paid for.”

Dark eyes glanced around the onsen with one big hand swishing through the water, before settling back on her. “We could make two months’ worth of utilities and rent payments with the cost of tonight.”

“Marx don’t worry about that. Aside from the price tag, you always wanted to visit an onsen right? I saw you looking at those traveling magazine articles.”

“That was just window shopping. I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but…” From the face he was pulling, Hinoka could tell that he was struggling not to argue.

Her husband was better at frugally budgeting money than her, a skill he’d had from a young age gained out of necessity. His mother had died when he was still a child, and Garon had been a neglectful father who fooled around with women rather than staying home. It’d often fallen to Marx to not only fix meals for his younger siblings but also buy the groceries, and sometimes he’d have only funds he managed to scrape together by himself. This’d left some extremely ingrained habits, ones she witnessed most often when they shopped together and how he’d hone-in on anything priced at a bargain.

Hinoka should’ve realized gift like this he’d consider to be a big purchase, something that’d agitate his neurosis about money.

Wading over to the pool’s side closest to the doorway, Hinoka leaned over the edge and managed to fish her smart phone out from the robe’s pocket. After shaking a hand dry, she entered her password and opened the relevant app. Raising that hand, she beckoned him closer. “Marx, there’s something I need to show you.”

He hesitated only a moment before coming over and hovering beside her to look at the lit screen.

“This is an account with an investment company my great-great-grandfather founded in the early 1900s, my family still owns and runs it. My father worked there until his thirties when he decided to follow his passion project instead. But because of it, he set up diversified funds for all of us and every year for my birthday he deposits more into it.”

“There’s a lot of zeroes.”

“I mentioned it once in passing when we were dating, how my family was old-money wealthy. Well, I am too even if I’d rather make my own living. So please don’t worry over expensive gifts I give you.”

He blinked, expression finally changing. “This explains what your brothers said to me when we first met.”

What do those knuckleheads have to do with this? “Huh, what’d they say?”

“That they’d make it so I couldn’t live in this country, let alone city, if I tried to sponge off you.”

“Wha-” A series of unintelligible sounds escaped until Hinoka wrestled back her words, “They accused you of gold-digging!?”

“More like warned me not to try.” Marx shrugged.

For a beat she was at a loss for words. The shock and outrage must’ve been plain on her face, as her husband moved closer to her and brought up a hand to stroke over her arm. Finally, she heaved a sigh. “Those idiots.” I’ll get back at them next time I see them. Setting her phone safely away from the water, Hinoka turned and hugged him. “If I want to spoil you, they should know better than to get in the way.”

Returning the embrace Marx smiled, this time sincerely. “It is beautiful here, and the soak was nice. Thank you for sharing that with me. It… gives me some peace of mind.”

“Sure, sorry I never brought it up earlier. Actually, we need to do so paperwork so that you’re a beneficiary of my accounts. It shouldn’t take too long considering we’re legally an item.” Hinoka slid both her hands down his back and under the water. “But before that, give me some sugar.”

Marx leaned in to kiss her but made a choked sputter as she stole his towel, having slowly and sneakily undone the knot tying it around his narrow hips. Hinoka had to hold in a shriek as he proceeded to return the favor with a much more direct method. All his previous tension melted into a laugh and they made far too many splashes.

Chapter Text

It was here, the grand finale of Hinoka's current favorite show series: Ribald Tales of the Faith Wars. She wasn't the only one either, most of her co-workers and friends also watched. So when Hinoka's day off just happened to coincide with the airing, she took the opportunity to invite some friends over for a viewing party. Only a couple had been able to make it, but she felt better not watching alone and the suggestion to have not only popcorn but also wine was an inspired one.

Orochi had brought the wine, a bottle decent vintage rather than boxed stuff, while Setsuna had brought her popcorn popper and the necessary kernels; Hinoka was happy to provide the wine glasses and popcorn bowls. She hadn't had a casual get-together like this in a long while, let alone with her little brother's former babysitter and college dorm mate— both had unique outlooks on life so she anticipated fun commentary. Orochi had already downed half a glass by the time kernels had finished popping, the butter and salt was applied, then Setsuna and Hinoka were able to get settled on the couch.

After a long sip, Orochi dramatically announced, "If this episode is anything like what they did to Pinkie and her hubby in the last one, I swear I'll riot."

Said characters had been her friend's favorite so Hinoka understood why the older woman was sore about them being killed off. Hinoka had honestly found it to be a ballsy move by the show's writers, since none of the main cast had suffered beyond emotions and non-lethal wounds. Though the way they'd taken out the lion-themed knight who seemed like a shoe-in to join the protagonist should've been a clue.

As the familiar intro began on the TV screen, Hinoka teased, "How could they do worse than cold-blooded murder and kidnapping?"

Forty-five minutes later the writers for Ribald Tales of the Faith Wars proved they could indeed do much worse than waylaying a young couple in the desert and having their killer adopt the orphan. The last-minute betrayal and massacre came with a display of excellent pyrotechnics and burning body special effects. As the credits rolled, Hinoka couldn't keep silent any longer.

"THAT RAT BASTARD!"

"...you mean 'dastard'," Setsuna corrected.

"My vocabulary's not limited by age rating!" Hinoka threw one of the couch pillows across the room and it hit the wall with a thud before falling to the carpet. "I can't believe they killed off everyone."

"Just all the dudes." Orochi said through a mouth full of half-chewed popcorn. "I think most of the female characters got away, with all those couple's asides and more than one being obviously preggers."

Hinoka scoffed, "So what, you think this'll turn into a fantasy epic about single moms and their infants?"

Orochi shrugged. "Hard to say where they'll go now. The hero's way dead, like barbecue bricket dead, but we know the next season's coming out later this year."

"I just hope they don't let the villain get away with this." Hinoka fell back against the couch, picking up another pillow to squeeze in frustration. "Uuuurg, I hate how it feels like that guy's trickery and backstabbing won."

"...isn't he your favorite character?" Setsuna cocked her head to the side.

Hinoka felt the blush rising in her cheeks. "It's just his hair that I love!"

Orochi nodded sagely. "Makes sense, same color as yours but curly like Marx's. I bet your kid will have hair like that." She gasped, abruptly leaning into her space. "Hey, why don't you name your kid Arv-"

"DON'T finish that thought!" Hinoka shoved a pillow to silence her friend. "No babies of mine will be named after a two-faced murderer."

"What's this about babies?"

The three of them turned to find a confused-looking Marx standing in the apartment's entryway, having paused in the action of removing his shoes. Hinoka's blush intensified when his gaze honed in on her and then the wine glasses on the living room table.

Unfazed by his judgemental gaze, Setsuna told Marx, "...Hinoka likes curly hair. Your kid should have curly hair."

It had Hinoka blurting loudly, "I'm not pregnant!"

"But once you are, feel free to call anytime you need me to watch your rugrat." Orochi grinned. "I promise to keep them away from matches."

Chapter Text

“Why were we sent as go-fers for groceries?” Takumi groused, looking far more put upon than walking several blocks while totting full bags in the chilly winter air should’ve merited.

Hinoka shrugged, though the motion was likely mostly hidden by her coat and favorite scarf. “Since we’re useless in the kitchen and this got us out of the way.”

“Mom didn’t banish your Nohrian, though.”

While Hinoka didn’t like it when her brothers used her husband’s race like a title, Takumi’s tone was now teasing rather than venomous so she let it slide. Instead replying, “That’s cause Marx doesn’t back talk, and he’s a good cook.”

“Oh, I know. Back when you two were dating Ryouma wouldn’t shut up about how that man made you lunch boxes-” Takumi snorted with a mocking smile. “Like a love-sick girl.”

Hinoka felt her face go hot, remembering the time their older brother had dropped by the hospital trying to treat her to lunch only to find her then-boyfriend handing her a carefully-wrapped bento box. The way Ryouma had roared with laughter, it’d made for such a spectacle her co-workers had talked about it for a month. The most annoying part was trying to explain to Marx why her brother had found it so funny, as it was one of the few times he’d taken the offense to heart.

“Hey, there’s nothing gendered about cooking!” Mulishly, she glared at Takumi. “And Marx just noticed I constantly purchased my lunches, so he thoughtfully offered an alternative.”

“He’s still cooking for you, isn’t he?” Takumi’s smile widened into a grin.

Hinoka rolled her eyes. “Groceries save money compared to eating out. And you can’t seriously expect me to not eat my husband’s cooking?”

This time Takumi shrugged. “Maybe you should try being the one to cook once and a while.”

Honestly, she had tried when they’d first moved in together, wanting to share chores evenly. But she was bad in the kitchen, even with basics. Although Marx never complained while eating something charred, or lumpy, or slightly undercooked, it’d only taken a couple nights of waking to him rushing for the bathroom to throw in the towel. And once she had, he’d been more than happy to taken over keeping them both fed.

Instead of explaining any of that, she quipped, “Then I’ll make you something to eat when we get back.”

Takumi scoffed out a laugh. “As if Mom’d risk her high-quality pans getting ruined.”

She acknowledged that truth with a sigh, but countered with her own teasing. “So what about you, Takumi? Has Oboro made you any lunch boxes?”

“It’s not-” The way he abruptly stumbled almost caused him to drop a grocery bag, but it was funny how he suddenly blushed and bristled. “We’re not like that!”

Hinoka played coy. “Like what? Dating?” She batted her eyes as he started to glare, and then burst out laughing. “Oh c’mon, lil bro! That girl’s been in love since you met on that kindergarten playground. What’s the hold up?”

“S-shut up! It’s not that simple.”

“Why not? You’re attending the same university and are both a semester away from graduating.” Her younger brother suddenly went quiet, expression going pensive. It had Hinoka sobering, as she asked, “Takumi?”

“Oboro’s design won a competition for an internship at one of the biggest fashion magazines in Nestra. She’ll be moving there after getting her degree.” He said, clearly struggling to keep his tone even. “I’d planned on working with Ryouma at Dad’s company, but it’s not like they’ve got branches in Nestra. If I’m not doing that, I don’t… I don’t know what I’d do.”

For a moment Hinoka was struck by just how adult Takumi’s problem was, thinking long term and finding there was no easy answers. She remembered how it’d taken her an off year to figure out being the fiancée to some corporate heir wasn’t for her. How she’d rather work for her own money and live independently, then later the determination to marry whom she damned well pleased. Seeing her brother struggling with his own priorities, she took a moment to consider what words wouldn’t hurt him.

“You could always be a house husband.” She laughed at the face he made, so juvenilely offended. “Though seriously, you could try long-distance. Or just take the plunge, and go with her. I’m sure Oboro would be happier with you in her life and figuring things out rather than away and all put together.”

Takumi gave a non-committal hum, expression falling back to pensive. She let the conversation drop, instead enjoying the fairly quiet walk up the estate drive to their house proper. After taking off their coats and shoes in the entry hall they carried the bags to the kitchen, the air filling with the delicious smells from all the party preparations.

“Ah, you’re back!” Ikona turned away from the large pot on the stove long enough to smile at them. “Set those out on the right counter, please. And take out the leeks and tofu for the soup.” Then their mother turned back, addressing the tall man beside her. “Now that the broth dropped from a boil to a simmer it’s the perfect time to add the miso.”

Hinoka delayed in digging out the groceries to watch as her husband added the ingredient, smoothly stirring with the ladle. His face always seemed a bit more peaceful when he cooked, the activity soothing for him. She was glad he was able to share that common ground with her mother, now that Sumeragi had mellowed to the idea of having Marx as part of the family.

Takumi broke her wandering thoughts, by snatching the stalks from her hands. “I’ll chop the leeks. Uneven tofu is more survivable.”

Hinoka stuck her tongue out at him, but went over to the draining packages and cutting board. As she picked up the knife, however, a larger hand carefully covered hers.

“Would you like some help?”

The way Marx had come up behind her, he’d just need to reach his other arm around for an embrace. It sent pleasant butterflies through Hinoka, so she let herself agree with a smile. With Marx’s guiding hand on hers, the tofu managed to be divided into small, even cubes and once set aside, she leaned back against him and quietly asked, “Having fun with my mom?”

“Mmhm,” Marx curled against her, ducking to whisper into her ear. “We were talking about you.”

“Oh?”

“Ikona told me you looked happy.”

“That’s because I am!” Hinoka turned around and hugged him, smiling as his own arms looped around her to squeeze.

“Enough with the PDA.” Takumi said, doing his best to affect disgust. “The soup will never get done at this rate.”

“Takumi, dearest, you’d have less to complain about if you brought a cute girl home." Ikona giggled, high and girlishly.

“Moooooooooom!”

Chapter Text

It'd all started with a series of failed voice messages left on her phone, ones that'd been near indecipherable because of the hoarseness of the voice and constant interruptions of coughing fits. Thankfully, she'd already had Ryouma's number registered in her contacts list so just texted: You sound like you're dying, need help? He'd replied via text, affirming that he wanted a ride to their family's physician. Once that day's hospital shifts had ended Marx had graciously let her take the car to act as chauffeur. Her brother was feeling badly enough that Hinoka had needed to walk beside and steady him, the struggle of his inhales painfully audible from behind his face mask.

So when the physician had declared Ryouma ill it wasn't much of a surprise, despite how rare an event it was for him. What had been surprising had been how the physician had then started asking Ryouma questions— where'd he'd been, who'd he seen —in the last couple weeks. Her brother admittedly to have recently flown for a business trip, from there they'd been informed about an outbreak in Nohr of a nasty new virus and how it was rumored to be easily communicable. Hinoka had heard about it, though moreso through Marx communicating with his family who lived in the affected country. She'd never have thought it'd spread far enough for Ryouma to catch it, but when the doctor sent both of them to a lab for tests... they'd then been ordered to self-isolate in quarantine while awaiting the results.

Hinoka had understood the risk of exposure and how she might expose her husband or workplace to it, so had made the necessary calls. Her shift manager clearly hadn't wanted to redo the schedule, but a threat to escalate the conversation had eventually gotten her the sick days. Telling Marx had proven more difficult.

"What to you mean you have Hydra Virus!?"

"No, no, its just a contagion risk. My brother might've contracted it, maybe, and I've been in direct contact with him. Dr. Yukimura wants us to wait on the test results."

"But you said its a fever with a dry cough. That he was feeling exhausted and weak."

Hinoka had to hold in a sigh at the blatant concern in her husband's tone, it was obvious he was going to overthink and worry about this. Though it was also true those were his symptoms, and that it was unusual as Ryouma was a hale fitness nut. The Anakos20 Virus was thought to be respiratory, but it was new enough they didn't know much... along with Nohr being generally more disorganized in governance, so sifting the data out of the propaganda wasn't exactly straightforward. She'd talked to Marx about it to let him vent his worries for his siblings, but it'd seemed less dangerous for people under fifty so hadn't dwelt on it beyond that.

"It's true that Ryouma's flight had a layover through Cheve, but they've not enacted any sort of lockdown or travel restrictions."

"The western countries aren't taking this seriously enough, it'll become a pandemic."

Hinoka did sigh aloud then. "Marx, relax! My brother probably has some other bug, and I'm feeling totally fine."

"Mmm," he grumped. She could clearly picture the way his brow wrinkled as his face pinched with worry. Made Hinoka wish she was by Marx in person, to brush his fringe out of his eyes and comfort him.

"I'm telling you, I'm fine." She tried her best to distract him over the phone. "Just three days until the lab results, and then I'll be back home. Sorry for stealing the car."

"It's alright, the bus is currently still an option. Once you're back we'll have to disinfect the interior-"

"Marx!"

Although she hadn't quite succeeded in allaying Marx's fears, the phone call had ended with less germaphobic language and more appropriate  mushy promises. They'd arranged for Saizou to collect a Go Bag with some of her personal items from their apartment and leave it at Ryouma's doorstep. Hinoka would be staying in her brother's apartment, which considering it was twice the size of her own meant space wasn't much of a problem— no, a different issues reared their heads.

The first was food. Truth: Hinoka was a bad cook. She even tended get the rice-to-water ratio in the cooker wrong and made it soggy. Her brothers had never let this lack of talent fly unmentioned and after a couple bad attempts at helping with meals had cut her practice time in the kitchen off entirely. Which meant, despite being stuck with a fully equipped kitchen, right now all the health-nut worthy ingredients sitting in Ryouma's fridge were going to waste. Her brother had attempted to make some congee, but his knees buckling had nearly landed his face against the stovetop and had her sending him straight back to bedrest... or trying to.

"You can't expect me to sit around all day," Ryouma argued from his living-room armchair, sounding like he's swallowed gravel.

She'd tried to get him back to his bedroom, but had'd to compromise with this. Still, she'd set a mug of hot water near him and was wrangling him to accept a blanket. "That's exactly what you need, Ryou. You can't hold a knife when you might fall over at any moment!"

He grimaced, but kept arguing. "Anything I make will be better than take-out."

"But you're in no condition to make anything, so just rest. I'll order some chicken noodle soup."

"Some chicken what-"

"It's a traditional Nohrian cold cure." Marx had made it for her in the past, and he'd introduced her to more than one Nohrian style restaurant in the city.

Ryouma had scoffed, though it sounded more like a frog was trying to escape his throat— then a long coughing fit shook him and gave her enough time to arrange online for the soup to be delivered. Over the three days they'd waited for results each mealtime was a repeat of this, just with different meals being delivered: yuzu tea, Izumo pears with honey, spicy beef soup, dishes loaded with ginger and pickled radish and shiitake mushrooms and bean sprouts, even some congee. Although Ryouma failed at just letting Hinoka order food without protest, she was surprised that he never complained about eating the food itself.

 "See? Eating take-out every day isn't so bad, sort of your own personal tour of Shirazaki cuisine." Hinoka quipped as they finished lunch of ginseng chicken soup.

He started to say 'a waste' but her glare cut him off, then Ryouma muttered, "Maybe if I could taste anything."

"What do you mean?"

"Since this started, I haven't been able to taste food."

"Really?" Lack of taste and smell were symptoms of the Hydra Virus.

Her brother looked at her, tired eyes ringed with exhaustion. Despite being a stubborn patient adamantly against bedrest, he hadn't done much other than sitting around and drinking plenty of liquids. She'd most often caught him with blankets gathered around himself typing away on his work laptop, but when not taken by fits of coughing he'd mostly fidget restlessly until he fell asleep in his armchair. Healthy Ryouma was an unrepentant workaholic, the type who even packed his leisure time to the brim with scheduled events— being stuck in his apartment was clearly getting to him. If he really did have Anakos20, quarantine would last much longer.

"I should probably let Dr. Yukimura know about that."

Ryouma heaved a scratchy sigh, but didn't protest.

The food situation was close enough to what she dealt with at her job that it didn't overly aggravate, but being trapped in a space where it didn't feel like she belonged was a whole different problem.

Ryouma's guest room was nice enough, tidy and private, but she'd always been a light sleeper. The lack of a warm body koala-bear-ing itself around her own had Hinoka waking up shivering more than times than she'd like to admit. She hoped Marx was sleeping better than she was, but suspected being left alone with his thoughts wasn't doing the man any favors. Also while red was her favorite color, there was something weird about sleeping on fire-truck red satin-texture sheets. Made her miss the nubby cheap polyester discount sheets her husband refused to throw away despite them having pilled and gone from black to spotty gray.

Also her brother didn't believe in television— as in, he didn't own a TV set. He had shelves and shelves of books, but they were dry philosophy and history and non-fiction memoirs, not what she'd choose to read for entertainment. Between the coughing and ill-feeling, conversation was more of a trial for her brother than enjoyment and his crankiness was far from abating. Although he had a well-equipped work-out corner that was all there was aside from care-taking and cleaning to occupy herself with. So she resorted to streaming the newest season of Ribald Tales on her phone but panoramic the screen was not. Like Ryouma, in just three days of house arrest she was already feeling more than a little stir-crazy.

His confession to a lack of taste was something that'd lingered in the back of her head no matter how she'd tried to banish the thought— So when their physician called that night with the lab results, it was more a confirmation than surprise. Though Hinoka hadn't been expecting the positive for herself, but it seemed the Anakos20 Virus could inhabit some without manifesting symptoms... which was more than a little disturbing. The order to quarantine for two more weeks had made her burst into tears.

Hinoka's a medical caretaker, a professional one, but being trapped with her older brother was far too personal.

"I don't know if I can do this." She confessed into the speaker, curled up in bed and burrowed under the irritatingly satiny covers.

"It's just fourteen days," Marx's voice was pitched to soothe, but it just made her more aware of his physical absence. "Just think of the consequences if you acted like a Typhoid Mari."

Logically he was right, but she needed to vent. "Ryouma and I usually get along, but being stuck like this with nothing to do is making us want to tear each other's hair out!"

"Losing that would be quite the blow to his ego."

Despite everything, Hinoka snorted out a laugh. "And you'd be fine if I was a bald?"

"I like the shape of your head."

"You're lucky we're already married." Her shoulders shook with more laughter, until she realized the hitched in her breath were actually silent sobs. "...I miss you."

"And I you, Hinoka." Her husband's deep voice murmured back, unfairly intimate against her ear even through the distortion of the phone.

"Marx, don't die on me while I'm trapped here." She tried to joke, but the increased possibility from the usual barracks of infectious diseases had her chest feeling tight.

"Same goes to you." He chuckled, though his sigh was forlorn. "It would kill me to miss my own wife's funeral."