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Sometimes Kai misses being a Ninja. A lot of the time, actually, not just occasionally. He misses the thrill of the fight, the excitement of getting to stop bad guys, and the prestige that comes with being a hero. He misses waking up early in the morning with a purpose, and while he does still sometimes wake up in the morning with the sun, it’s not for any particular reason.
Retirement does not suit him.
He does get to teach, though! It’s nice to pass his training and ideas and skills onto the next generation, then watch them use it to do the things he wishes he could still do. Kai is technically not too old to fight, nor is he by any means weak, but he got benched a long time ago because of his stupid hands.
His Elemental Power had come with the drawback of leaving burns anywhere his fire touched his skin. Ugly, raised skin covers his hands, all the way up to his elbows. They’re not superficial, like he originally thought they were. For years he toughed out the pain and shaking until one day it ended up so debilitating he was nearly killed in a fight, and Nya pulled the plug. His hands had frozen, unable to curl his fingers or grip properly as they trembled, and thus had not been able to block a strike. Then another time the pain had been so blinding it took him to the floor in the middle of a battle, and from there he was completely benched.
It varies from day to day now. The pain is chronic, nothing he or anyone else does will ever be able to make it end or go away, but it isn’t always so severe that he can’t function. He’s learning to live with it.
This morning he wakes up and already knows he’s in for it. He’d worked with them rather a lot yesterday, and it’s also cold in their house. Kai’s core temperature is a few degrees higher than a normal human’s, which makes his external temperature much more sensitive to changes in the temperature of his environment. Nya and Jay are very considerate of his need for heat, but they aren’t as resistant to it as he, and can’t leave the house too warm.
Kai climbs out of bed and immediately starts to shiver. His hands hurt, stinging and burning under his skin, trembling all the while. Sometimes it irritates him because his hands shaking and moving makes the pain worse, and the pain being worse makes them shake more, and everyone would be far happier if his hands would just calm down.
He locates the wraps which sometimes help him, and puts them on. They add a nice pressure, sometimes reducing the swelling, and protect, if not a lot, against the cold. He gets dressed in his warmest layers, begrudgingly. When he puts on his long sleeved shirts and wears a robe that’s made for winter he signals to everyone that he’s having a bad day, and he hates that. No matter how old he gets, no matter how far behind him he puts his past, his distaste for vulnerability never leaves him. He lives with his sister again, which he loves, but she isn’t a little girl anymore and she sees right through his lies. He can’t hide from her. It’s probably a good thing, but he doesn’t like it and on days where he’s already frustrated and uncomfortable it’s even worse.
But he knows better than to try and hide either his symptoms or himself, so he leaves his room and heads to the bathroom, keeping an ear out to try and hear Nya or her husband in the kitchen. He does not, and breathes a sigh of relief. He still has a little more time before his very caring sister jumps on him. He will brush his teeth, pull his hair up and out of his face, and go to make himself some tea. He will then sit in the garden and either tend to it with his sister or watch her as she does, because the forecast for the day said it would be sunny and fairly warm, considering it is winter.
Once finished in the bathroom he heads to the kitchen, which is thankfully empty, no one in sight. He struggles to curl his fingers around the kettle’s handle, but does manage, fills it with water, then lights the stove beneath it. A long time ago now he might’ve done it with his finger to show off, but now he turns the little dial and waits for the flame to burst forth. That teenage bravado melted off of him the way insecurity maybe never will.
He sits on the counter while the water boils and experimentally clenches his fists, then releases them. He tries to bend each finger individually, but finds it too difficult and so abandons the attempt. Nya likes him to try stretches like this but he doesn’t see the use in it. He will not ever get better.
The kettle squeals, surely waking the others in the house. Kai turns off the burner and retrieves from the cabinet two mugs and he and Nya’s respective favorite teas. He doesn’t get one for Jay because he does not and never will make his brother in law tea. He doesn’t hate him anymore, nor does he question whether or not he’s good enough for Kai’s sister, at this point it’s pettiness born of brotherhood.
Sure enough, Nya appears a few minutes later, her yawning husband rubbing his eyes behind her. She’s tying up her hair like Kai has, but hers is much longer. Finally she takes one look at him and something in her eyes softens a little.
The old pain in Kai screams and thrashes at it, wanting for him to open his mouth and shout and fight and throw things. Claim in words and show in actions that he does not need her pity or her help, and he can handle himself just fine.
But Kai is older now, and that urge is small despite its demanding presence, so he ignores it and hands his sister her tea.
“Thanks, Kai,” she says, holding her mug to her face to feel the steam. She doesn’t ask about his hands, which he is grateful for. She probably will later, always trying to figure out how he’s doing, but for now she simply sips her tea. “I’m going to go out and garden, do you want to come?”
“Yeah,” Kai replies, trying out his own tea while Jay makes a cup for himself. Nya’s smile brightens, though she certainly knew he was going to say that.
A few minutes later she heads out to the garden on the cliff their house exists on, overlooking the sea. It had originally made Kai quite uncomfortable, but he’s grown to like it. The same way Nya has grown to like gardening. It wasn’t really her thing, but she knows he likes to sit with her and so she invested enough time into the hobby that she actually enjoys it.
Plus they save money on fresh produce, which is nice for when Kai wants to cook.
The morning is chilly, but it’ll warm quickly with the sun already rising. Kai takes up his post on the stump in between all of the garden’s beds while Nya retrieves her tools. Sometimes Kai likes to help, but this morning he’s hardly even able to hold his mug steady.
“My hands hurt,” he says, eyes fixed on the sun as it peeks out from the water. Nya doesn’t stop with whatever she’s doing, but he knows she’s listening. He doesn’t really want to add to it, that should be as good an explanation as any. It will sate her, he knows. Sure, she will want more details because she likes when he tells her things, but she can infer based on what he has done so far and what he avoids doing. Too painful for gardening, but not for tea.
The sound of her shovel in the dirt and the birds in the sky and the gentle swishing of the waves silences that horrible, wounded thing in his belly. He’ll never say it, but he likes it better that way.