Hooty is Watching

When Akio arrived home, the apartment was quiet as he slipped off his shoes. He could hear canned applause and circus music drifting down the hall, confirming his guess that Declan and Amaya were holed up in her room. 

He approached slowly, not wanting to barge in if she was resting. The door was open enough for him to peek.

Amaya sat propped up against a nest of pillows, wrapped in her comforter. Her hair was an unholy mess, frizzed in every direction around her pale face, but she looked far more alert than she had that morning.

Next to the bed, Declan lounged in one of the monstrous beanbag chairs she'd insisted was a "necessary life investment," the two of them appeared to be in the middle of a spirited discussion about something on the laptop screen in front of them, which displayed paused footage of an aerial routine mid-swing.

Akio lingered in the doorway unnoticed, noticing the changes in the room.

The room was transformed. It wasn’t just a half-unpacked stopover space anymore. Gone was the lone duffel on the floor and in its place was an explosion of Amaya’s personality.

The dresser drawers were slightly ajar, stuffed to overflowing with lace and frills. Trinkets and knick-knacks decorated the shelves: a tiny carousel music box, a rubber chicken, some old ticket stubs pinned to the wall in a collage. He wondered if she always travelled with this much junk. 

Akio’s eyes landed on the clown plushie sitting on the nightstand. He suppressed a shudder. Akio decided he’d pretend he hadn’t seen it and silently wished it a swift relocation back to the underworld, or, failing that, Amaya’s duffel.

He gave a polite knock on the doorframe. “Hey, I’m home.”

Three heads swivelled toward him – Amaya’s, Declan’s, and (he swore on his sanity) the clown’s.

“You’re back!” Amaya chirped, a welcome energy in her voice. She immediately attempted to throw off her covers as if to get up, but both Declan and Akio made noises of disapproval.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Akio chided, moving to her bedside. He gently eased her back against the pillows with a hand on her shoulder. “Bed. Stay.”

“I’m not a pup,” Amaya muttered, crossing her arms as she sank obediently into the pillows. “Quit it with the ‘stay’.”

Akio had to bite back a grin. “Alright then, please remain reclined, Your Majesty.” He bowed playfully.

Declan snorted. “You're feeding her delusions, mate. She made me carry her to the bathroom earlier like she was Cleopatra. I’m surprised she didn’t demand I throw flower petals along the way.”

“I did not!” Amaya gasped, throwing a pillow at Declan, which he easily deflected.

Akio held up his hands. “No judgment here. Whatever keeps you resting.” He sat down on the edge of the bed. Automatically, he reached out to feel Amaya’s forehead again. This time, her skin was warm but not alarming, and dry rather than clammy.

“Your fever’s down a lot,” he said softly, a bit of tension slipping from his shoulders. “That’s a relief.”

Amaya nodded. “Mhm. I’m feeling way better. Not, like, ready-for-backflips better,” she added quickly when she caught the twitch of his eyebrow, “but better.”

“You better not be thinking about backflips at all,” Akio said, half stern, half amused.

She pretended to zip her lips. “No acrobatics, I know, I know. I had two wardens drilling it into me all day.”

Declan raised his hands innocently. ““Who, me? I was a gentle, nurturing presence.”

Amaya scoffed. “You blackmailed me with DVD privileges.”

“Correction,” Declan said, grinning. “I incentivised recovery through strategic entertainment access.”

Akio looked between them and felt a surge of gratitude. “Thanks, Declan. I can tell she’s been in good hands.”

He then noticed the laptop and the trapeze video paused on-screen. “What were you two up to? Some circus movie?”

Declan shook his head. “Actually, watching footage from one of her old performances. We were analysing what went wrong on the catch that spooked her.”

Amaya’s smile faded a touch. “Declan…,” she whined, eyes flicking sideways in protest.

“Relax, we’re not gonna start a training session right now,” Declan assured, patting her foot through the blanket. “Just killing time and brainstorming. But since Doctor Akio is back—”

“Hey, I’m not a Doctor,” Akio interjected with a chuckle.

“You could’ve fooled me with that note you left.” Declan pointed to the nightstand where the instructions note was, now with three boxes checked off, though one had a very dramatic, scribbly line running through it. “We followed Doctor’s orders to the letter. Well, mostly.”

Amaya’s voice emerged from the depths of her blanket. “I’m deducting points for tonic-related trauma.”

Akio picked up the note and couldn’t help but smile at the added checkmarks. “Let’s see… pills taken, tonic… violently rejected… half the bento, check… ointment applied by noon.”

He glanced at Amaya’s palms, seeing they were properly bandaged now (Declan must have helped re-wrap them after ointment).

His brow lifted. “And this last one, ‘rest, no acrobatics’, shall we discuss your compliance?”

Amaya gave her best innocent grin. “Define acrobatics.”

Declan snorted. “She tried to do a handstand while I was in the kitchen. I walked into her upside-down on the bed. Nearly shaved ten years off my life.”

“I was bored,” Amaya groaned. “And I fell right back onto the pillows, so it was fine! It was like, the opposite of dangerous.”

Akio fixed her with a flat look. “Can't leave you alone for two minutes…”

She shrank a little under his stare, but the mischief in her eyes betrayed any real remorse. “I was practicing resting by falling onto the bed. It’s a very advanced technique.”

Declan rolled his eyes and rose from the beanbag, stretching. “And on that note, my babysitting shift is over, before this one gives me any more grey hairs.”

Already? Akio felt like he’d just gotten here, but Declan had been here all day, running damage control on human tornado, Amaya. The guy deserved a break.

“You sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?” Akio offered, already half-turning toward the kitchen. “We’ve got noodles, rice, curry… I could whip something up.”

Amaya perked up like a cat who just heard the can opener.

Declan shook his head. “Tempting. Real tempting, but I’ve got a crack-of-dawn class to teach tomorrow. Gotta pretend I’m a functioning adult.”

He stepped over and ruffled Amaya’s hair. “You, missy, take it easy. I’ll see you tomorrow or the day after, and we’ll figure out a revised training schedule, okay? No more secret solo bootcamps.”

“Okay. I promise,” she moaned, wrinkling her nose.

Declan then turned to Akio and extended a hand. “Akio, you’re a lifesaver. Literally might’ve saved her life yesterday, and definitely saved my sanity today with that bento. Thanks, man.”

Akio shook his hand firmly. “Anytime, and thank you. Couldn’t have managed this without you.”

They walked to the door together as Amaya called out, “Text me later, Dec! And tell the others I’m not dead!”

“Will do! Don’t miss me too much!” Declan called back teasingly. With a wave, he was out the door.

Akio lingered by the door for a beat before making his way back to her room.

He settled on the edge of the bed next to her legs. He noted she’d changed at some point into fresh pyjamas, a black t-shirt with a chibi dragon breathing sparkles, and probably shorts underneath.

“So,” Amaya began, fiddling with the edge of her blanket, “I guess you saw the grand makeover.” She nodded toward her now personalized room. There was a hint of uncertainty in her voice, as if she worried, he might not approve of the sudden explosion of décor.

Akio let his eyes roam the room again. “It only took you, what, four months to unpack?” he said, the corner of his mouth tugging up. “But I’m glad. It feels like you’re really here now, not just passing through.”

Amaya’s eyes widened slightly. “Yeah… I… guess I am,” she said softly. 

She was putting down roots, at least a little, in their little apartment.

Amaya being Amaya, broke the seriousness with a smirk. “Anyway, look at Hooty. Isn’t he cute?” She picked up the clown plushie and wiggled it at him suddenly. “He says he likes you.”

Akio jerked back in a panic, nearly slipping off the bed. “Gah! Keep that thing away from me!”

Amaya burst into giggles. “Aww, poor Hooty. Don’t be rude, he’s very sensitive, you know.” She placed Hooty back on the nightstand. “Don’t mind him. He’s just jealous because you’re hogging all my attention.”

Akio shook his head, chuckling. “Your haunted clown has a lot of nerve.”

He tilted his head to give her a more pointed look. “Speaking of things with attitude… How are you really feeling?”

She knew what he was truly asking. Amaya’s smile faded to a more thoughtful expression.

“Physically, I’m okay now. Just tired, but I’ll bounce back soon.” She looked down at her bandaged palms resting in her lap.

“Mentally… I know I scared you, and Declan, and even myself a little.” Her voice fell quieter with each word.

Akio placed his hand gently over hers. “Yesterday, you told me you felt like you had to push yourself. That you had to do it alone.” His stormy eyes searched hers earnestly.

“I just want you to know… you’re not alone, Amaya. So please… no more pushing yourself until you break. No more pretending you're fine when you’re not. If you need help, ask. If you’re scared, say something. You’re allowed.”

Amaya bit her lip. Her first instinct was to joke or deflect, he could tell, her eyes darted as if seeking a witty retort. But after a moment, she squeezed his hand back. “Okay,” she whispered. “I… I’m sorry. I never wanted to worry anyone. I just… didn’t want to look like a coward.”

Akio’s heart squeezed. She looked so small right then. “Needing help isn’t weakness.” he said softly. “Think of it as your crash mat. Every circus performer needs one.”

She blinked rapidly and sniffed. “That was… incredibly sappy,” she muttered.

“Too much?” Akio teased.

“No.” She managed a wobbly smile. “Just enough.”

With a deep breath, Amaya straightened up a bit.

“So, new plan: I’ll work with Declan on a sane training schedule. I won’t sneak off to practice when I’m half-dead and delusional. And I’ll… I’ll tell you if I’m freaking out or something.” She rolled her eyes playfully. “Since you’re basically going to sense it and hunt me down anyway, psychic worrywart that you are.”

Akio blinked innocently. “Psychic? Please. I told you yesterday, Naomi tipped me off.”

Amaya’s mouth dropped open, scandalized. “Naomi?” Her brows furrowed as memory slowly returned. “Ohhh, that snitch. I’m gonna strangle her for tattling.” She flopped back against her pillows with a groan. “Remind me to thank her after I strangle her.”

“Will do,” Akio chuckled.

He realized then that he was still holding Amaya’s hand, and that neither of them seemed inclined to let go.

Gently, he brushed his thumb over her bandaged palm. “Does it still hurt?” he asked softly.

She shook her head. “Not much. The ointment helps. Or maybe it’s your magic touch,” she added with a cheeky grin.

Akio’s ears turned pink. He released her hand with a quick cough. “R-Right. I’ll… uh, make sure to reapply my… magic touch… later. Before bed.”

Amaya’s face lit up in a bright, horrified blush, as she realized how that sounded. “Y-You know what I meant!” she yelped, grabbing a pillow and lightly smacking it into his arm.

Akio laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m just offering first-rate medical care.”

She groaned into her pillow. “You’re hopeless.”

After as moment, Akio stood. “You must be hungry. Properly hungry, I mean. How about I make us some dinner?”

Amaya perked up. Truthfully, her stomach was beginning to rumble, a sure sign she was on the mend. “Only if it’s not more bland sick person gruel. I want real food,” she insisted.

He smirked as he rolled up his sleeves. “How about oyakodon? Rice bowl with chicken and egg. Nice and gentle on your stomach, but real enough.”

Her eyes lit up. “Sounds perfect.”

“Coming right up. You stay put.” He pointed at her in warning.

“Yes, sir~,” she sing-songed.

As he reached the doorway, she called after him softly, “Akio?”

He froze and glanced back. She looked at him with a tender, slightly sheepish expression.

“Thank you.”

Akio felt a fuzzy, warmth spread through his chest.  “I’d carry you through a hundred cities while you sing off-key German songs if it means you’re safe, Amaya.”

Her cheeks flushed as she giggled at that image. “Okay, now you have to. That’s a verbal contract.”

“I’m already regretting it,” he muttered, though he was still smiling when he stepped out and turned toward the kitchen. 

Back in the room, Amaya snuggled into her comforter, a big smile on her face.

Tilting her head sideways, she noticed Hooty. 

She narrowed her eyes at the clown. “What? Don’t look at me like that.”