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Yor wakes up, as she does nearly every morning, to soft birdcalls and Bond scratching outside her door ready for his morning walk. The midmorning sun blazes through her window, bathing her room in a soft golden light. It’s slightly jarring, to see the sun rising over the apartment blocks outside her window. Usually she is ready and dressed by now, pulled away from her sleep by Anya’s tiny hand and her insistence that both Yor and Loid need to help her pick out the hair accessories she’ll wear to school each morning.
Yor often doesn’t feel the need to sleep in, in fact, often she downright detests the notion. Every hour she spends in bed is an hour she’s not spending as a productive member of society. Every hour she sleeps is one more hour where scum are left to walk the Earth, blissfully unaware of the karmic judgement that inevitably awaits them. It’s one more hour where the worst of people are left to hurt and destroy innocent lives. It’s one more hour separated from Anya and Loid, sequestered off in her private room neither of them dare to enter.
Regardless of the later start, the morning is still achingly familiar. She dresses herself quickly before carefully opening her bedroom door. Bond has gotten into the habit of leaning against it in the mornings as he begs for his morning walk, as if he thinks that his furry body could break through if only he presses his weight in hard enough. He’s quite heavy for a dog, but she’s more than capable of pushing him back, the real issue is learning how hard to press open the door without hurting the poor thing. She would never forgive herself if something happened to someone in her little family.
The apartment itself is remarkably quiet for a Monday morning. Though, Anya’s school is on break for the week, so maybe it's not all that surprising. Without the need to corral a hyperactive child into her uniform and out the door. It can be a struggle to get her to sit still long enough for their breakfasts in the morning, but Loid is remarkably good at getting her to the table. Or at the very least, the promise of his food is.
Not one to waste her days off from school, Anya has already set herself up in front of the TV, a bowl of cereal in her hands. To her right and left sit Chimera and Penguin, angled so that they too could watch old reruns of the Bondman cartoon with her. “Morning Mama,” Anya says, grabbing a handful of her dried cereal and shoving it into her mouth. Her next sentence is garbled around her cornflakes, completely unintelligible.
Yor nods kindly anyway, taking a seat on the couch next to Anya. Chimera is kind enough to move into Anya’s lap (with a little help from the girl herself) so that the girl could curl up next to Yor. The bowl of dry cornflakes is dropped right on her lap so Anya can have easy access while still cuddled but to her side.
It's a nice morning, but Loid’s absence is felt acutely. His door stays firmly shut at the end of the hall, a rarity nowadays. Yor can’t think of the last time she was awake before Loid. In fact, she can’t think of a time she was awake before him at all. For all she hates waking up late, Loid sees it as a personal failing. He is strict with his routines. Always awake before dawn, breakfast prepared by the time Anya’s alarm starts blaring, running out the door fifteen minutes before the first bus runs so he can be acceptably early to work every morning. He’s a remarkably gentle man with Anya, and even herself, but he works himself like a machine, never straying from his preordained routines. Though, he did return from work rather late last night, so maybe he has finally chosen to catch up on his sleep. Lord knows it would do him some good.
Anya shakes her head from where it lays burrowed under her arm. “Papa’s not sleeping,” she says, “Papa has a cough. That’s why we have to be quiet.” Anya raises her finger to her mouth making an exaggerated shushing sound before turning to her toys to remind them as well.
At the very least it explains the dry cereal. Their foodstuffs largely stay in the upper cabinets away from the prying hands of young kids and the gluttonous snout of the family dog, but Loid had moved a few snacks into the lower cabinets so Anya could grab them herself after school. Dry, because she isn’t tall enough to reach the milk yet. Loid would likely have an aneurysm if he found out about the lackluster breakfast, but Yor’s not about to wake him over something so small. Her and Anya can go a day without Loid’s cooking if it means giving him the chance to rest.
In fact, it may be helpful to set out some medication and water for when he finally wakes up! She’s been really trying to take care of Loid like he does with her and Anya, but he’s so disciplined that she hardly ever gets the chance. Every time she wishes to fold the towels or dust off the shelves, she finds Loid has already completed it and then some. She’s only finagled dishwashing once she agreed to do it with him after meal times. But with Loid indisposed by a fever, this gives her the perfect opportunity to help him out in all the ways he does for her.
Loid always keeps a large bottle of aspirin in the medicine cabinet, so she makes a beeline for the bathroom. Anya fusses a little when she goes to stand, but seems to understand her intentions and ultimately lets her go. She really is a remarkably perceptive child, something she no doubt inherited from Loid. He has the same stare sometimes, like he’s looking past her skin and into the very essence of her mind and being. Peas in a pod those two.
Yor leaves Anya, now quietly snickering over some invisible joke with Chimera and Penguin, for the medicine cabinet. In all honesty, Yor is not too familiar with what medication they have and do not have. She has found in the past that pain medication often leaves much to be desired, and as such, usually decides just to bear with any pain. Or better yet, not get hit in the first place. Pushing past some of Loid’s stomach meds, Yor looks hopelessly for the aspirin bottle. They had some last she checked, but that had admittedly been quite a while ago. Still, Loid likes to buy in bulk, especially their pharmaceuticals. There was no way their tiny family had already blown through a whole bottle.
Yor worries her fingers, steepling her hands together. Is it possible that Loid has been using this much aspirin? She knows he gets headaches sometimes, but she didn’t think it was to this extent. She closes the cabinet carefully, making her way back into the living room. Anya’s still invested in her show, but she looks up when Yor speaks. “Anya, dear, I think we’ve run out of medication for your Papa. Do you want to run out to get some more with me?”
Anya rushes off the couch, barely stopping to turn off the TV in her excitement. “We should bring Bond too. Papa shouldn’t wake up when he’s sleeping.” She nods seriously, sharing a conspiratorial look with the dog. Yor smiles as she grabs his leash. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to get Bond out of the house, and she hadn’t had the chance to take him on his morning walk yet, despite his obvious want. She had gotten somewhat sidetracked with Anya.
So they leave the house, Anya still clad in her pajamas and Yor without ever truly brushing her hair, for the corner store. Anya tries to ride Bond at one point, insisting she was “too tired” to walk so early in the morning, but she relents when Yor offers her hand out to hold instead. “We should get Papa a present too.” Anya says, swinging their joined arms with considerable force. “You can find some medi-sation to make Papa feel better, and I’ll get him a present to fight off the germs.”
Yor smiles down at the girl, letting herself be pulled forward. “Oh, Anya. That’s sweet dear but I think it may be the other way around. Your father will be much happier getting a present from you than some regular old medication. But still, it’s important to help him fight off his fever.”
“Nope.” Anya refutes, shaking her head seriously. “Anya has to be the one to fight off the germs. It’s her mission.”
“Your mission?” Yor asks as they enter the corner store. The pharmacist himself doesn’t seem to have started his shift yet, but if she’s only looking for aspirin she should be okay. The store manager waves from his place at the register, already familiar with them after months of quick stops for cleaning supplies and last minute ingredients. Bond barks happily at him, but thankfully allows himself to be led further into the store.
Anya follows behind her as they approach the medicine aisle. “Yes, for world peace,” she responds. “Papa is insermental for world peace, so Anya has to fight off all the bad germies that want to keep the world sad.”
“I think you mean instrumental dear,” Yor answers absentmindedly, looking over the shelves full of bottled meds, then turns to Anya to add, “and that’s an admirable goal. We can definitely look for something while we’re here.”
Anya gives her a weird look, before letting go of her hand. With all the seriousness a six year old can muster she looks Yor in the eye and says, “You can say it's from Mama too, but make sure he knows it's my idea. I can’t have Mama taking all the credit for saving the world.” With that she runs off into the aisles, Bond trailing after her, still attached to the leash Anya had stolen from her hands.
It should be fine, she supposes. Bond is a remarkably well behaved dog and the store owner was rather fond of him. In fact, she assumes he’s already made his way up to the front of the store to extort dog treats and scratches from the man. The store is quite small too, and how much trouble can one girl and her dog cause in a store this small, even if that girl is Anya.
Confident in her decision, Yor turns back to the shelves of medicine. She had assumed this would be a quick trip, all she had to do was find the white bottle of the brand Loid typically buys, but now, confronted with shelves full of nothing but white bottles she’s feeling less certain. She had thought to look by size first, but nothing here looks quite as big as the bottles Loid brings home. He must have some special supplier, she thinks, to get that much medication at once. But still, even if she can’t find the size he usually buys, they should still stock the brand. Yet, she can’t find it anywhere.
At times like this she regrets her lack of experience. She can name a thousand different poisons and the hundreds of different ways they fail to affect her heightened immune system, but finding just one bottle of over the counter medication escapes her. Still, she has to find something to soothe Loid’s fever. Would it be shameful for a housewife to ask the manager for help? Would it be suspicious for a young wife to be so oblivious as to need help buying such a common drug?
Yes, she thinks, it would be. But still what can she do? She doesn’t want to make Loid feel worse by failing to buy the right medication. So she defaults to what she always does when she doesn’t know what else to do. She leans on the years she spent taking care of her brother. Down at the end of the aisle, displayed prominently with the other bargain medicine, is the familiar blue bottle she would buy for her own medicine cabinet back in the apartment she shared with her brother. She could certainly afford better now that she’s living off her current income, not to mention the large stipends Loid brings home from the hospital, but at the very least she knows it will work. Sure, the concentration of the drug leaves much to be desired, it was one of the first medications that stopped affecting her when she started her training, but it would be better than nothing. It won’t kill him at the very least. Hopefully it’ll be enough to at least get him back on his feet, that way he can get some more of his regular medication. He’ll have to introduce him to the pharmacist he gets it from. That would be helpful knowledge to have in case anything like this happens again.
It takes Yor a minute to locate where Anya had run off to, but eventually, and with some help from Bond’s barking, Yor finds her crouched down by a shelf full of snacks. The girl’s face screws up as she seriously deliberates between two packages before nodding decisively and grabbing one off the shelf. Her mouth is set with an almost grim determination as she hands the bag over to Yor.
The packaging itself is bright and cheerful, emblazoned with the cartoon mascot of Anya’s favorite brand. Yor had asked once, what set this brand of peanuts apart from any other brand, and the girl had looked at her, stunned speachless by even having to be asked the question. She never did get the answer, but Yor suspects it has something to do with the smiling cartoon lion that’s printed on all their products.
In all honesty, Yor shouldn’t have been very surprised by the fact that Anya’s special present would be a package of peanuts, a snack she will no doubt be eating alongside her sick father after kindly gifting it. However, unlike the pre-cracked peanuts she usually chose, this package was hard and lumpy, full of peanuts with their shells still on. Yor leaned down to point this out to Anya, tapping the little badge that advertised them as “in-shell”. In the kindest voice she could manage, Yor said, “Anya, did you grab the wrong package? These ones are still in their shell.”
Anya shook her head, face still lined in fierce determination. “Those are the right ones. Cracking the nuts is hard, so Papa can train up his muscles. That way he’ll be ready to fight off those evil germs.”
Yor laughed as she stood, taking Bond’s leash from Anya’s hand and leading them both up to the register. The store’s manager rings them up quickly, stopping only briefly to send well-wishes to Loid and slip Bond another treat. Anya’s swaying in place the entire time she’s paying, much too anxious to sit still. Yor has barely grabbed their bag from the manager’s hand before the girl’s pulling her out of the store and into the street. Though she may have ulterior motives, considering the hand she takes is the same hand Yor is holding the bag.
Anya’s quick to rustle around, trying to free the peanuts from their plastic prison. She tears into the packaging, barely keeping the nuts from scattering across the street. With careful deliberation, she looks into the open package, looking for something that Yor is not quite aware of. Despite this momentary hesitance, Anya eventually reaches down into the package, pulling out one of the peanuts to offer to Yor.
Yor takes the peanut from Anya’s hand carefully, shifting the weight of the bag from her hand to her elbow. The nut breaks open with a satisfying crack, leaving behind two uneven halves that she hands back to Anya. Yor expects Anya to immediately dig into the shell and grab her prize, but instead she grabs for Yor’s free hand. Into her own hand goes the half of the peanut, and into Yor’s goes the other. “This one’s for you.” Anya says, forcing Yor’s fingers to curl around the broken peanut, “and this one’s for me,” she says holding up the (bigger) half she had kept for herself. “The rest we can save for Papa.”
The pill bottle rattles in the bag by her side with every swing of her and Anya’s joined arms. In the other she holds the broken shell of her and Anya’s snack. At home, Loid must be suffering horribly from his fever, and Yor is not planning to make him wait any longer than he has to.