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Shinya stands speechless for a few long, long seconds and stares at the surprise in front of him. He thinks it’s only fair, since as the name suggests, surprises do entail a moment of astonishment.
His surprise is bigger than his stringy body, like most things nowadays. Round and almost daunting, towering over him and apparently sporting what Tsunagu described as a wooden design, for a more elegant look I thought you would appreciate. The light reddish hue of the wood is elegant enough, Shinya supposes, its quality certainly high, as he would expect from Tsunagu, but that does nothing to tamper the horrifying mix of affection and humiliation Shinya is trying really hard not to feel.
No matter how thoughtful a gesture, Tsunagu essentially bought him a hamster wheel.
“Ah, Hakamata… Don’t you think this might be… a bit much?”
“The doctor’s instructions are clear. You’re to exercise daily, to gradually build your endurance back up and hopefully ease back into your body within the week,” Tsunagu calmly explains, a hand dusting off the sleek, perfectly spotless surface of the kitchen island Shinya and his new… gym equipment are standing on. “This is just the most logical solution.”
“Tsunagu,” Shinya tries, making a point of using his given name and looking at him. He tries to stand tall, but quickly reaches his limit. He feels barely a millimeter longer, and that’s a generous estimate. “Are you sure this is the kind of exercise they meant. I could just… stretch.”
“Your quirk is not the only thing in need of practice. Your physical strength requires attention, your body-” Tsunagu pauses, emotion betraying the composure in his voice. Shinya feels for him, maybe even more than he feels for himself. “There’s so much work to do, much to weave together still, and we cannot let too much time pass! This is just a starting point. The doctors suggested it, but I’d never force you to do anything you feel unsure or uncomfortable about. But this is here, if you accept to try it out.”
Shinya can’t help it – no matter how much time has passed since his school days, there’s still a part of him that remains young and dutiful, desperate to impress. A part of him that folds under Tsunagu’s confident, authoritative tone. It might be because of his less than ideal physical state, and the vulnerability that he’s been forced to come to terms with, but… Tsunagu’s always had everyone’s best interests at heart, and ever since they met, he’s kept proving himself even more selfless and caring.
A true hero.
Shinya was always meant to follow after him.
There won’t be any coming back from this, that much he knows. He can keep living in a world where he doesn’t, hasn’t, and won’t ever step foot – leg, string? – on a running wheel made for rodents. Or he can make Tsunagu happy.
It’s easy to set his pride aside, almost ridiculously so. He’s never been above sacrifices.
“Of course I’ll try, and I’ll do my best. Thank you.”
Shinya slithers his way over to the wheel and clumsily climbs on. The wheel feels sturdy, or maybe he’s just that weightless. He tries wobbling in place, testing the wheel’s give with the heaviest part of his tiny body, head tipping from side to side. He just hopes getting acquainted with it won’t take him too long – he should’ve known he was going to fold from the moment Tsunagu placed the doomed thing on the counter.
He hears the sounds of Tsunagu folding the paper bag and walking off to store it away, a subtle attempt at providing some privacy. Shinya appreciates it. Shinya appreciates him.
Touched and inspired, Shinya tries moving forward, slowly, carefully, and the strain on his thin, weak body only takes a few seconds to make itself challenging. It’s a feeling he welcomes and doesn’t hesitate to chase, because pushing beyond his limits is scary and exciting, but most importantly familiar. Comforting.
The curved surface forces him to fully stretch, to become conscious of physical sensations he hasn’t been able to feel in days. He’s suddenly aware of his internal organs, ceaselessly working with microscopic precision; the smooth, solid feeling of wood underneath him; the rays of sunshine filtering through the window, warming the thinnest part of his body.
It’s even more obvious now, just how much of a strain he put on himself to perform that impromptu procedure on the battlefield, but a precious life saved is worth another lived in discomfort, especially if just for a little while.
Shinya will never stop being amazed by and proud of how finely he’s honed his quirk, how incredibly far he’s managed to come with all the support so kindly offered to him, but he’s also touched by how well Tsunagu knows him, his needs, and his quirk.
Somehow, Tsunagu knew this would help. Of course he did. He’s been the best caretaker Shinya could’ve ever dreamed of, let alone asked for – and Shinya didn’t. He never would have dared to even entertain the scenario as a fleeting thought. Tsunagu had to nearly kidnap him to make him accept his offer to help, because staying in the hospital was apparently out of the question. Shinya eventually agreed to it, mostly because he would never want to take up precious and limited space due to a pseudo-injury he inflicted on himself.
It’s only been two days, which is short and impossibly long at the same time, and Shinya feels utterly blessed. With health, hope, and good company.
It’s only after Shinya’s slithered out of the wheel that Tsunagu reappears, his curiosity barely disguised. Shinya feels warm, unsure if it’s because of the exercise, the knowledge that Tsunagu was watching him, or finally being able to tell Tsunagu’s smallest expressions apart. He’s surprised by just how much he feels right now, but he supposes that is the path to recovery.
“What do you think?”
Shinya finds himself winded, so he simply wheezes out a, “Very good. Thank you.”
“You look more… shaped already.”
Shinya has no idea what that means and he has no breath to spare for words, so he stays silent.
Tsunagu’s hand reaches for the wheel, a finger making it turn. He hums. “If you plan on using it again, I can set this wherever you’d like.”
Shinya has already spent some time slithering his way around Tsunagu’s apartment – mostly trying to work up to not feeling guilty about invading his space, but it counts. Climbing the tallest pieces of furniture is still a challenge, but Shinya has developed alternative routes that will take him wherever he wants to be. He wasn’t particularly familiar with Tsunagu’s layout before being invited to stay there indefinitely, so he can’t and won’t voice his thoughts, but he did think the placement of some objects was… suspiciously convenient.
Now he knows for sure.
“If it’s not too much trouble,” Shinya says, still a little out of breath, “The shelves near the window would be ideal.”
He notices Tsunagu’s little smile, knowing that they’re both remembering the same incident from yesterday, when Shinya’s presence on the windowsill prompted a bird to peck at the glass for a good while. It got a good laugh out of them both, but Shinya wouldn’t want any bird to hurt its beak or waste its time and energies because he looks like a tasty, meaty worm.
Tsunagu moves a potted plant to make space for the training wheel. He’s as meticulous as ever, fixing the angle this way and that until he finds a spot he deems good enough, studying the result with sharp eyes.
Shinya thanks him, flattered that Tsunagu would provide him with the most perfect position to admire the landscape while staying partially hidden from hungry eyes, but not surprised at all.
“Time to rest, then,” Tsunagu announces, his knuckles touching the counter.
Shinya wordlessly climbs on his palm, already familiar with how to balance himself. The first few times were awkward, with Shinya feeling wobbly and sheepish – for some… reason – which made him even more precarious. Tsunagu was significantly less relaxed, too.
But his hand is not rigid anymore. He holds a tired Shinya with confidence and care, his hand warm and steady, the natural curve of it just cozy enough for Shinya to doze off before they even reach the couch.