"Wow. You look incredibly stylish with that cane," Michael said, his tone a perfect blend of genuine admiration and gentle teasing as Theo finally, slowly, exited the hospital's main entrance.
"Hmmm, if you don't lean on it too much and ignore the fact that it's a medical necessity for basic mobility, then yes, very stylish," he mused, tapping his chin.
"Shut up," Theo grumbled, his knuckles white where he gripped the sleek black cane. He leaned heavily against it, each step a deliberate, painful process accompanied by a pronounced limp. A sigh escaped him, heavy with resignation.
For now, this piece of polished wood was an extension of his broken body, a constant, humbling reminder of what he had lost. In front of the curb, Michael stood beside a discreet but expensive-looking car, holding the door open like a chauffeur.
"Come, come" Michael announced, beaming.
Theo sighed again, a familiar sound these past two months, and wordlessly maneuvered himself into the car's back seat, carefully pulling his stiff leg in after him.
He chose not to say anything, simply leaning his head against the cool window. As much as Michael's relentless optimism and perfect smile infuriated him, he couldn't help but silently admit that, through the grueling physical therapy and the dark nights of pain, Michael had become his only true friend.
Michael slid in from the other side, settling beside him. "Go. Take us to the apartment in Edogawa," he instructed the driver, who gave a silent nod before pulling smoothly into traffic.
Theo's head snapped up from the window.
"Why Edogawa?" he asked, confusion etched on his face. He had been mentally preparing to ask Michael to stop at a bank first, to access the meager savings he had squirreled away under his own name—funds that were now his entire worldly fortune since being cut off from the Kimura wealth. It was enough for a few months in a tiny, rented room, and that was it.
Michael smiled, a little sheepishly. "I was going to wait for it to be a surprise," he fidgeted with the cuff of his immaculate sleeve, "but I can't hold it in any longer. I got you an apartment!" he jubilantly declared, his eyes sparkling.
"You did what?" Theo asked, his voice barely a whisper, his body going rigid with shock.
"Yes! And it's great! Well, not 'penthouse-suite' great, because even I don't have that much liquid cash lying around... but you will definitely like it! It's... cozy!" he said, grinning from ear to ear.
Theo looked at him as if he'd just been physically slapped. He was utterly speechless, his mind struggling to process the sheer magnitude of the gesture.
"You... Why?" Theo finally managed, his voice thick with a confusion that bordered on distress.
"Why?" Michael tilted his head, his expression softening. "Well, you need a place to stay, don't you? And it's also very close to our SDN branch—your future workplace. You're still recovering, so it's practical that you're close by." He said it as if it were the most logical thing in the world.
"No," Theo interrupted, his voice quiet but intense. "I mean, why are you doing so much for me?" He gestured vaguely, encompassing the car, the job, and now the apartment. "We weren't that close... at least, not until recently."
Michael's grin softened into a more thoughtful, knowing smile. Yes, Theo didn't know. He had no idea of the debt Michael carried in his heart. As Aeon, Theodore Kimura had been more than a hero; he had been an unbreakable machine, flawlessly executing missions with a cold, detached efficiency. The hero Aeon never got close to other heroes; it was strictly business. The only time Michael had ever seen a glimpse of the man beneath the power was when shy, vulnerable children would offer him thanks, and for a fleeting moment, the hero's stern mask would slip, revealing a flicker of profound, humble humanity.
"Hold your thanks until you actually see the place," Michael said, waving a dismissive hand, expertly deflecting the emotional weight of the question. "It might be a shoebox. And besides, I fully expect you to make loads of money at SDN. Then you can pay me back every single coin. No questions asked, with interest!"
Theo just shut his mouth, the words of gratitude he wanted to express lodging in his throat like a stone. He didn't know how to convey the storm of emotions—the overwhelming gratitude mixed with a deep-seated pride that hated being so indebted. He looked downward, studying the plush carpet of the car. He didn't want to receive so much from Michael, feeling it was charity he hadn't earned. But the cold, hard truth was that he desperately needed it.
So, in the silence of the moving car, he made a new, silent vow to himself. He would accept this kindness, but he would pay Michael back every last penny.
"Thank you…." Theo said softly, the words feeling foreign and inadequate on his tongue, but sincere.
"Whad was dat?" Michael leaned in dramatically, cupping a hand behind his ear as if he were a hundred years old and hadn't heard a thing. "I didn't quite catch that."
"I said…." Theo gritted his teeth, a mixture of genuine gratitude and sheer annoyance warring on his face. "Thank you." Michael was his friend, he had cemented that fact, but he was undoubtedly the most annoying friend in the history of the world.
"Aaaah, music to my ears!" Michael laughed, a sound of pure, unadulterated joy, before leaning back and turning to look out the window, allowing Theo a moment of peace. Theo just sighed, but this time, a small, reluctant smile touched his lips.
After a forty-minute crawl through the car-infested arteries of Tokyo, they finally pulled up in front of an apartment building. It wasn't new or imposing, but it had a quiet, dignified charm. The brick facade was weathered but clean, with small, well-tended flower boxes under some of the windows. They exited the car, and Michael, with a flourish, even opened the building's main door for him.
"Come, my princess, let me escort you to your humble abode," Michael teased, offering an exaggerated arm.
Theo chuckled, batting the arm away with his free hand while leaning on the cane with the other. "Just show me the door, you idiot."
They entered, and on the first floor, to the right, was a solid black wooden door. Michael produced a key, unlocked it, and pushed it open with a sense of ceremony.
Theo stepped inside and stopped dead in his tracks.
It was beautiful.
Old, yes, but impeccably maintained. Warm, honey-colored wooden floors stretched throughout. A quick glance revealed a bedroom, a storage room, and a living room that opened into a compact but charming kitchen with old-fashioned tiling. It was spacious by Tokyo standards—a generous 60 square meters. But the true marvel was the living room's sliding glass doors, which opened onto a small, private patch of emerald green lawn, a veritable kingdom in the heart of the city. The space was completely empty, save for a single, low-sitting wooden table in the center of the living room, which made the high ceilings feel even more expansive.
"So? What do you say?" Michael asked, a bright, hopeful smile on his face as he gestured with open arms at the empty space.
"It's… amazing," Theo breathed, and he meant it. Sure, he had lived in the Kimura family mansion, a place many times larger, but that house had been a museum of his parents' ego, cold and echoing. This place, even empty, had warmth. It had potential. It felt like a home.Michael beamed, his entire face lighting up.
"Come, sit down… if you can. I know it's not much for now, but you can personalize it afterwards, fill it with your own life." Michael gracefully settled onto the floor at the low table and immediately pulled a thick folder of documents from his bag. Theo joined him, the process of lowering himself to the floor a slow, grunting ordeal of maneuvering his stiff leg.
"Here are the promised documents. Sign here… here… aaaand here." Theo was mildly amazed at how professional and efficient Michael looked for once.
He took the papers and began to read them carefully, his brow furrowed in concentration. He looked up and saw Michael practically vibrating with anticipation, his professional facade cracking.
"We already discussed it. I'm taking the job. You don't need to be on the edge of your seat," Theo sighed.
And he signed.
POP
A shower of multicolored confetti sprayed directly into his face, startling him so badly he nearly fell over. On the other side of the table, Michael was aiming a spent party popper at him, a triumphant grin on his face. Theo had no idea where he'd been hiding it.
"Congratulations! Welcome to the SDN!" Michael beamed.
Theo, stunned, simply blew a piece of red confetti off the tip of his nose. "Yeah," he muttered, wiping glitter from his eyebrows. "I'm already regretting it…"
"Oh, come on, lighten up! This calls for a celebration! I just got the thing for us! A housewarming gift!" he declared, springing to his feet and marching to the empty refrigerator. He opened it to reveal a lone bottle of high-end whiskey and a cart of orange juice. He poured a generous two fingers of whiskey into one glass and filled another to the brim with juice. He handed the whiskey to Theo.
"Why do only I get to drink the hard stuff?" Theo asked, accepting the glass.
Michael shrugged, a look of genuine resignation on his face. "It's my power. I can't get drunk, no matter how much I drink. You know… being a Saint and all. My metabolism just purifies it. It's a curse, really. This delicious juice is the most I can look forward to." He clinked his juice glass against Theo's whiskey.
"To your new life, Theo. May it be filled with less collapsing buildings."
Theo finally let out a real, genuine laugh, shaking his head. "Cheers to that."
Theo downed the whiskey in one impulsive gulp. A line of fire traced a path from his tongue down his throat, settling in his chest like a newly stoked furnace.
Oh, how it burned. And oh, how he desperately needed that burn. His family had strictly forbidden alcohol, labeling it a vice that would cloud the mind and tarnish the pristine image of their heir.
But now, tasting the complex, smoky warmth of the liquor, he felt a rebellious thrill. By the gods, he was already in love. He smacked his lips in satisfaction, the initial fire mellowing into a pleasant, radiating heat that began to loosen the perpetual knots of tension in his shoulders.
"Wow, look at you! Careful there, cowboy!" Michael laughed, a rich, hearty sound that filled the empty apartment. He immediately poured another generous measure into the glass. Theo watched the amber liquid splash, and before he could second-guess the impulse, his hand was reaching out again. The burn was no longer a shock; it was a welcome sensation, a physical proof that he could feel something other than pain and loss.
"Thank you… again," Theo said, his voice a low rumble as he stared into the swirling depths of the glass, the simple words carrying the weight of everything—the apartment, the job, the friendship.
"Stop thanking me," Michael interjected, waving a dismissive hand, his laughter softening into a warm smile. "Like I said, one day I'll charge you interest so high you'll be working for me for a century. And besides," he added, leaning forward with a conspiratorial wink, "you know my power thrives on good deeds. Helping you like this? I'm pretty sure my 'Saintly Karma' just leveled up by a hundred points. You're basically a walking power-up."
Theo knew Michael's abilities were indeed amplified by altruism, but the "hundred points" was a clear, cheerful exaggeration. He said nothing, merely shaking his head with a faint, booze-warmed smile. He wouldn't spoil his friend's moment.
And so they sat there, on the floor of the empty apartment, the city's distant hum their soundtrack. They chatted and laughed deep into the night, the conversation flowing as smoothly as the whiskey.
For the first time in years, Theo wasn't Aeon, the burdened hero, or Theodore, the disgraced heir.
He was just Theo, a man with a stiff leg, a warm drink, and a friend.