Recap:
"I don't want to leave," she sobbed, finally leaning forward and burying her face in the crook of his neck. "I just wanted to be real to you."
Shoto wrapped his arms around her, pulling her so tight there was no space left for lies. "You are the only real thing I have," he whispered into her hair.
^ • ^
The morning sun filtered through the paper screens of Shoto's childhood room, painting soft golden stripes across the tatami mats.
For the first time in three months, (Y/N) woke up without the heavy, cold knot of dread in her chest. She was tucked firmly against Shoto's side, his left arm draped protectively over her waist even in sleep.
As the fog of sleep lifted, the memories of the previous night the screaming, the ice, the raw confession in front of his family rushed back. (Y/N) groaned softly, burying her face in the pillow.
*I shouted at Natsuo. I cried on Lady Rei's lap. I told Shoto I wanted to die.* The embarrassment was a physical heat crawling up her neck. How could she face them at breakfast?
"Stop thinking," Shoto's sleep-roughened voice rumbled near her ear. He pulled her closer, his nose brushing against her temple. "I can hear your brain spiraling from here."
"Shoto, I can't go out there," she whispered into the pillow. "I made such a scene. Your family must think I'm unstable."
"My family is unstable," Shoto countered dryly, shifting to look at her. His hair was a mess, and his eyes were soft. "You fit right in. Besides, they're just happy the ice in the hallway is finally melted."
^ • ^
Getting (Y/N) to the dining room required Shoto practically shielding her with his body. He walked half a step in front of her, his hand firmly anchored in hers.
The scene in the dining room was surprisingly domestic. Fuyumi was setting out bowls of miso soup, and Natsuo was sitting with his wife, who was chatting quietly.
Even Enji was there, seated at the head of the table. He looked different, quieter, his presence lacking the suffocating pressure of the "Number One" persona. He looked like a man trying to learn how to be a person again.
As (Y/N) entered, the room went quiet for a heartbeat.
"Good morning," Fuyumi said with a bright, encouraging smile. "Sit, sit! Everything is hot."
(Y/N) felt her face turn beet red. "I... I wanted to apologize for last night. I was-"
"If we apologized for every breakdown in this house, we'd never have time to eat," Natsuo interrupted, though his tone wasn't biting. He looked at (Y/N) and gave a stiff, awkward nod. "Eat your rice, (Y/N). You look like you're about to faint."
Shoto helped (Y/N) sit first, but he didn't sit in his usual spot. He moved his cushion right next to hers, so close their shoulders were touching.
"Shoto," (Y/N) whispered, nudging him. "There's plenty of room."
"I'm fine here," he said simply. When Enji passed a plate of grilled fish toward (Y/N), Shoto reached out and took it first, inspecting it for a second before placing the best piece on (Y/N)'s plate.
"I can feed myself, Shoto," she hissed, her embarrassment reaching a fever pitch as Natsuo's wife giggled behind her hand.
"You're shaking," Shoto noted, his voice loud enough for the whole table to hear. He reached under the table, squeezing her knee. "Eat."
Rei, sitting across from them, watched with a peaceful expression. "It's alright, (Y/N). Let him fret. He's been wanting to do this for months."
Enji cleared his throat, the sound heavy. (Y/N) froze, fearing a lecture on decorum. Instead, the big man looked at her with a complicated sort of remorse. "The tea is good this morning."
It was a clumsy olive branch, but it was there. (Y/N) felt a lump form in her throat, not of sadness, but of relief. They weren't judging her. They were folding her into the chaos of their healing.
Shoto, meanwhile, was busy peeling a tamagoyaki apart to make it easier for her to eat, his focus so intense you'd think he was defusing a bomb.
"Shoto, please," she whispered, leaning into him. "Everyone is looking."
"Let them look," he murmured, finally leaning in and for the first time in front of his entire family pressing a lingering, tender kiss to her temple. "I'm not letting you go back into that shell."
Natsuo rolled his eyes, though there was a smirk on his face. "Okay, we get it. You love your wife. Can you pass the soy sauce before you start hand feeding her?"
Natsuo's comment hung in the air, drawing a round of soft chuckles from Fuyumi and a gentle, knowing smile from Rei. (Y/N) felt like she was glowing from the roots of her hair to her toes.
Shoto, however, didn't even blink; he simply passed the soy sauce with his right hand while his left stayed firmly anchored to (Y/N)'s, as if she might float away if he let go for even a second.
As the meal wound down, (Y/N) took a deep breath. She felt better-stronger-but the thought of their home made her stomach do a nervous little flip.
"Shoto?" she whispered, leaning closer to him. "I think... I think we should go back to the villa. I need to see the damage. I don't want the staff to see it like that, and I should probably start cleaning up the ice and the... well, the glass."
Shoto took a slow sip of his tea, his expression unreadable. "You want to go back now?"
"Yes," she said, her voice gaining a bit of resolve. "It's our home. I don't want to run away from it."
Shoto looked at his family, then back at her, and nodded. "Okay. If that's what you want."
^ • ^
The drive back was quiet but comfortable. Shoto kept his hand on her knee the entire way, a silent reminder that he wasn't going anywhere. (Y/N) spent the ride mentally preparing herself.
She remembered the jagged walls of ice, the shattered balcony doors, and the frost-covered furniture. It had looked like a war zone-a physical manifestation of their heartbreak.
When they pulled into the driveway, she took a steadying breath. "I'll start with the hallway. If the ice has melted, we'll need towels-"
"(Y/N)," Shoto said, stopping her as he opened the front door. "Just... wait."
She stepped into the foyer and stopped dead.
The air was warm. The scent of fresh lilies and cedarwood filled the house. She walked toward the grand staircase, expecting to see warped wood and puddles of water.
Instead, the floor was polished to a high mirror shine. The walls were pristine.
She hurried up the stairs to the master bedroom. The heavy balcony doors, which she had seen shatter into a thousand pieces, were perfectly intact, the glass gleaming in the afternoon sun. The carpet was dry and plush.
Even the curtains, which had been singed by Shoto's flames, had been replaced with identical, heavy silk drapes.
"How?" she breathed, spinning around to look at him. "Shoto, the ice was feet thick. The glass was everywhere. It's like it never happened."
Shoto stood in the doorway, looking a bit sheepish as he leaned against the frame. "I called a professional quirk, cleanup crew and a contractor last night while you were asleep at the estate. I told them I wanted every trace of... that night... gone. I didn't want you to have to walk into a house that reminded you of why you cried."
(Y/N) walked over to the vanity. Her perfume bottles, which had been knocked over, were lined up in perfect order. In the center of the room sat a fresh vase of her favorite flowers.
"You did all of this?" she asked, her voice thick with emotion. "While I was sleeping?"
"I couldn't let you come back to a wreck," he said, walking over to her. He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder as they both looked into the mirror.
"This house was supposed to be a sanctuary for you. I'm the one who broke it. It was my job to fix it."
(Y/N) leaned back against him, her heart swelling so much it felt like it might burst. She realized then that he hadn't just fixed the walls and the glass.
he was trying to show her that he was willing to put in the work to repair everything, including the parts of her that felt broken.
"It's perfect," she whispered, turning in his arms to face him. She reached up, adjusting his collar, her eyes dancing with a bit of the light he had feared was gone forever. "But you know... I had a whole plan for how we were going to scrub the floors together. It was going to be very domestic and romantic."
Shoto huffed a small, rare laugh, his eyes crinkling. "In that case, I can go get a bucket of water and spill it if it'll make you feel better."
"Don't you dare," she laughed, pulling him down for a kiss that felt exactly like coming home.