Chapter 2

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It was four thirty when you woke up, the sun attempting to stream in through the cracks in the blinds. You rolled onto your back and winced as a dull pain throbbed through your shoulder and down your spine. Took a deep steadying breath, your shoulder aching as your chest expanded. You clenched and unclenched your first, there was no pain in your hand or arm: Good. You pushed yourself up into a sitting position and huffed as more pain throbbed through your shoulder and back. You tried to stretch your arms upwards, but you only got the one arm up, the other shaking as you tried to lift it higher than chest height.

A hot shower, you decided, might do you wonders. Shota's voice echoed in your head. Heat for chronic pain, cold for injury. Hizashi rarely got hurt, he was a long-distance fighter and a public figure, more adept at keeping villains at a distance and inspiring the masses. Shota on the other hand was more prone to injury, not only did he work at night where he had reduced visibility, but he also engaged in close range combat more than Hizashi. Still desperate for a shower, you padded over to the bathroom and turned on the shower, keeping it in the cool range for the sake of your already damaged muscles. It took longer than expected to do nearly everything, having one less arm was a real detriment to shampoo efficiency.

Eventually you felt clean and remembered that breakfast that Shota had promised to leave for you. Shota, you found out when you moved in, was a good cook. It was one of the only domestic skills he really mastered aside from cleaning litter boxes. Hizashi on the other hand would burn almost everything and much preferred dining out than cooking. Shota made a traditional Japanese breakfast, something none of you prepared very often as you were all darting in and out of the house so much. But given that you skipped dinner for work last night you were glad he'd found the time to make so much this morning.

You settled into the couch with your meal, an ice pack and one of the cats.

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