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Slowly but surely, they fall into a routine. There's nothing else for them to do, really - the powers that be have put their feet down, and the two surviving people who saved the world are stuck in a small house with no responsibilities or requirements. Secretly, Mako's grateful for the quiet. She would adapt fine to being in the public eye, but having time to decide who she is without everyone hovering over her is surprisingly nice. Except, of course, that it isn't that simple.
Ten days into her new life, she sits down and makes a list of everything she knows she is. Some of the details are more demographic than anything else - female, Japanese, 23, survivor. Everything else, however, was decided for her. In a different world, one without the Kaiju, she doesn't know who she would've been. And, for the first time in her remembered life, that strikes her as distinctly problematic. Without the war to focus on, she's not sure who she is anymore. She's in emotional freefall, and try as she might to distract herself, nothing works.
She's still wide awake late at night, still staring at that list, when she hears a knock on her door. "Come in," she says on instinct, knowing full well who it is.
He looks like hell, haunted eyes that match her own, his typical half-smile replaced with an expression of desperation. "Insomnia's a bitch, isn't it?"
"Not for me," she replies, although it's been less than a week since she learned that curling up next to him is oddly comforting and oh how she wonders if that could be more than a one-time occurrence. "I was actually about to…"
"I can leave if you…"
"Stay." Her voice is forceful, and the light in her eyes matches it perfectly. "It's nicer… with you here."
So he stays, averting his eyes as she quickly changes clothes - he remembers enough of what he saw in her head that no physical detail would surprise him, but he's fairly certain she'd hit him if she caught him staring - and curling up beside her. To their mutual surprise, they are both safe that night, arms wrapped around each other so innocently and her face nestled in the curve of his neck. There are no battles in their minds - only this, only them.
In the morning, she wakes moments before he does, blinking as she processes where she is and what has happened. It's oddly fitting that the first thing she sees as sunlight flickers through her window is his eyes locking onto hers, memorizing her. "Hey," he whispers, voice heavy from sleep. "You alright?"
It's so tempting to point out how silly that question is under the circumstances, but for some reason she doesn't care to know, Mako isn't in the mood. "Fine," she replies, releasing herself from his embrace. "I quite like… this."
"I like it too."
And the next night, when she turns up at his door, there are no questions. There's just a routine neither of them knew they needed, and that's quite enough to go by.