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Muscles strained to support a body not used to Earth’s gravity as a stomach grumbled, aching for food. Slowly, Toya lifted himself out of his bed and into his wheelchair, painstakingly so, before pushing his hands against the rims of the wheels, bringing him towards the kitchen where his uncle cooked while a seemingly perpetual frown appeared on his face, but then—
“Can I help?” Toya asked.
“Sure,” the former mayor of Anshin City said, pulling a small table over that was at wheelchair height, setting a bowl and carton of eggs on top of the table. “Start with cracking the eggs. I think eight will do.”
“Eight?” Toya frowned. “It’s just the two of us.” Fingers reached out and awkwardly opened the egg carton, then awkwardly picked up an egg, slowly cracked it against the table, and lifted it to empty it into the bowl, hoping no shells would end up in there, or else the task of digging them out would make the work even longer.
“You need the protein for your muscles, Toya,” his uncle said.
“Yeah, well, eggs do taste better than stupid space food,” Toya said, succeeding in cracking the first egg, only to drop the second in. He glared at the bowl, then took the strainer that his uncle handed to him. “You sure the eight eggs aren’t from what is lost by me straining out eggshell every time?”
“You’re honestly getting better at this task, Toya, but eventually you’ll be walking around like a normal kid.”
“Yeah right,” Toya said. “As if a moonchild can ever be normal.”
“Have a little more faith.”
Slowly, he continued cracking the eggs, only needing to strain out the shell from two of the eight eggs, meaning his uncle was actually correct about him improving at the task. The leftover eggs in the carton were taken away, and a spoon was handed to him.
“What do you want in your eggs today?”
“Cheese is always good. Makes them less dry, but better to add that on top,” Toya said. “Bacon crumbles?”
“Bacon crumbles it is,” his uncle said.
“A bit of cinnamon?”
“A bit…” And then his uncle turned. “Now you’re pulling my leg, right?”
“Cumin,” Toya said, cracking a smile.
“Glad to see you smile,” his uncle said, reaching over to ruffle his hair. “You’re getting there.”
Toya listed off other spices and—
His uncle let him measure out this time.
“This is going to be a disaster, you know.”
“You’ll learn,” his uncle replied, letting out a laugh.
“Right,” Toya frowned, slowly measuring out spices, thinking he may have gotten a bit too much of the cumin as the eggs were a bit yellower than normal, but he stired the spices in and his uncle took the bowl to add them to the hotpan, and Toya rolled over, then lifted himself out to support himself with the counter to watch his uncle cook the eggs that would be their breakfast.
Slowly, the eggs turned a golden brown, were flipped, then cheese was added, and then dished up.
“Still not letting me set the table,” Toya said.
His uncle laughed. “Most kids would be happy to not be setting the table.”
Toya wheeled himself over, and—
—frowned—
“Too much cumin.”
“Edible?”
“Unfortunately,” Toya said.
“You’ll get there, just like the other things you’re working on.
“Sure,” Toya said.
“Have a little more confidence,” his uncle laughed. “Only two eggs strained today, right?”
“Oh, right,” Toya said, nodding his head. “And they’re edible.”
“And they’re edible.”