Mailin’s POV

The waiting room in the hospital is cold. Too cold. My fingers tremble slightly as I clasp them together, trying to keep still, but my mind is racing. Shota is in the middle of the raid—fighting with everything he has against the Shie Hassaikai. I hate this. This feeling of helplessness. Of not being able to stand by his side when he needs me the most.

He was calm when he left, of course. Shota is always calm. But I know him better than anyone. I saw the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw tightened when he thought no one was looking. He knew this raid was dangerous. They all did. And now... I don’t even know if he’s okay.

I pace the floor, the sterile smell of the hospital doing nothing to soothe the storm inside me. All I can do is wait. The raid had been brutal—too many unknowns, too many lives at stake. And now, Shota’s out there somewhere, fighting for his students, for Eri, and I can’t do anything.

“Mailin,” a soft voice says beside me.

I glance up and see one of my fellow nurses, her face sympathetic. “There’s still no word yet, but I’ll let you know as soon as we hear anything.”

I nod, trying to smile in thanks, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. The waiting is unbearable.

---

Hours feel like days.

Finally, news starts to trickle in. Heroes have been brought to the hospital. Injured. Bandaged. Broken. My heart skips every time someone walks through the door, my eyes searching for any sign of Shota.

Then, I hear it. His name.

“Aizawa...” The nurse is back, her expression hesitant. “He’s been injured, but he’s stable. He’s in recovery now.”

I barely hear the rest of her words before I’m running down the hall, my breath coming in short bursts as I make my way to the room they’ve assigned him. I push the door open, not caring about protocol, and there he is.

Shota’s lying in the hospital bed, his arm in a cast, bandages wrapping around his torso and neck. His face is pale, but his eyes—those sharp, familiar eyes—open slightly as I rush to his side.

“Shota...” My voice cracks as I sit beside him, taking his uninjured hand in mine. The sight of him like this, so vulnerable, sends a wave of emotion crashing over me.

“You look like hell,” he rasps, his voice hoarse but laced with that dry humor I know so well.

I laugh, but it comes out shaky. “Speak for yourself, Shota.”

His hand squeezes mine weakly, but it’s enough. He’s here. He’s alive.

“They said you were hurt,” I whisper, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “But they didn’t tell me how bad... I was so scared, Shota.”

His eyes soften, and for a moment, the world feels still. “I’m fine,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just... tired. It’s over. We got Eri.”

Relief washes over me, but it’s quickly followed by anger—anger at how reckless he can be. “You idiot,” I mutter, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. “You didn’t have to do everything yourself.”

He chuckles softly, wincing as he shifts in bed. “Couldn’t let the kids handle it all, could I?”

“Stubborn as always,” I say, shaking my head, but my voice is thick with emotion.

I lean forward, resting my head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. It’s enough to calm me, to remind me that he’s here. That he’s still mine.

“I’m sorry I made you worry,” he says after a moment, his hand gently stroking my hair.

I close my eyes, holding him tighter. “Just promise me you’ll be more careful next time.”

“I promise,” he murmurs, his voice soft but sincere.

We stay like that for a while—no words, just the comfort of being together. The hospital room fades away, the world outside forgotten. All that matters is that Shota is here with me, safe.

---

Shota’s POV

Waking up in a hospital bed is never pleasant, but waking up to see Mailin by my side makes it bearable. Her eyes are puffy, and she’s trying to hide how worried she’s been, but I know. I always know.

“I’m fine,” I tell her again, even though I can see the doubt in her eyes. She leans in closer, and I can’t help but feel a pang of guilt. I hate making her worry like this.

But seeing her now—her face so close, her hands so warm against mine—it makes me realize how lucky I am to have someone like her. Someone who cares so deeply, who loves me despite all the danger that comes with being in this life.

“Mailin,” I say quietly, meeting her gaze. “I’m really sorry. But... thank you. For always being here.”

She blinks, surprised at my words. I’m not usually one for sentiment, but this time... I need her to know. She’s the one who keeps me going, even when everything around us falls apart.

She smiles then, her eyes softening as she leans down and kisses me gently on the forehead. “Just don’t make a habit of this,” she whispers.

I chuckle softly, wincing at the pain in my ribs. “I’ll try. I love you.”

"I love you too."