Wilted Bloom

Maya stirred with a faint groan, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks as she blinked into the soft light of the hospital room. Her entire body felt heavy, her energy drained as though she'd been fighting a battle even in her sleep. Slowly, her gaze focused on the familiar figure seated beside her—the dark eyes, the untamed hair, and the ever-present exhaustion etched into his face.

"Shota...?" she murmured, her voice hoarse from disuse.

He was at her side instantly, leaning closer with a softness in his eyes that few ever witnessed. His fingers gently brushed a strand of pink hair from her forehead. "I'm here," he assured her, his voice low and steady.

Her brows knit together as fragments of memory filtered through the haze—Eri's tear-streaked face, the chaos of the fight, and the unbearable heat of her own quirk spiraling out of control. Panic flickered across her features. "Eri—where's Eri? Is she okay?"

"She's safe," Shota replied, his tone firm with conviction. "She's here in the hospital, resting. Midoriya helped stabilize her after—" He hesitated, the faintest crack in his voice. "After Sir Nighteye... passed."

Maya's breath hitched, tears welling in her eyes. Despite never knowing Nighteye personally, the weight of his sacrifice pressed against her chest. She sniffled softly, her wings shifting faintly against the mattress. Shota squeezed her hand, grounding her as he always did.

"I'm sorry..." she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

"Don't apologize," Shota said gently. "You did everything you could—for Eri, for all of us. And now... now you need to rest."

Before she could respond, a soft knock at the door drew their attention. The doctor stepped inside with a warm smile, carrying the ultrasound machine beside him. "Ah, Mrs. Aizawa, good to see you awake," he greeted. "I thought you might like to see what all the commotion was about."

Maya blinked, confused. "Commotion?"

Shota simply squeezed her hand again, his expression unreadable as the doctor pulled the covers down slightly to expose her stomach and applied the cool gel.

"This might feel a little cold," the doctor warned as he pressed the probe to her skin. The machine hummed softly, and after a moment of static, the screen flickered to life.

Maya's breath caught as the first image appeared—a tiny, perfectly formed fetus, curled snugly with its thumb tucked into its mouth. The rhythmic flutter of its heartbeat echoed faintly from the monitor, a steady pulse of life that seemed to fill the room with warmth.

"Oh..." Her voice trembled with awe, tears already pricking her eyes. "Is that...?"

"Your baby," the doctor confirmed with a nod, adjusting the probe slightly. "This little one seems content, nice and cozy. Heartbeat's strong, and development looks good so far."

Maya's chest swelled with emotion as she reached toward the screen, her fingers barely brushing the glass as if she could touch the life within her. Shota watched her quietly, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as her breath hitched with wonder.

But before she could fully process what she was seeing, the doctor shifted the probe again, moving to the opposite side of her abdomen. The image flickered, adjusting for a moment until—

"Ah... and here's the other one," the doctor announced with a grin.

Maya's eyes widened in shock. "Wait—other one?"

The screen now displayed a slightly larger fetus, its limbs stretching and squirming as though protesting the intrusion. The tiny legs kicked out with surprising force, making the probe jump slightly against her stomach. The doctor chuckled, adjusting the pressure with practiced ease.

"This one's quite the little firecracker," he remarked. "Doesn't seem to like being poked and prodded—very active and expressive already."

Maya gasped softly, tears spilling freely down her cheeks. "Twins?" Her voice cracked with disbelief as she turned to Shota, her expression a mixture of shock and joy.

Shota's lips quirked into a faint smile as he squeezed her hand. "Twins," he confirmed quietly. "One in each uterus... and from the looks of it, they're already showing off their personalities."

Maya let out a watery laugh, covering her mouth with her free hand as she gazed at the screen through blurry eyes. "I... I can't believe this..."

"Well, believe it," the doctor said kindly, capturing a few more images before removing the probe and wiping the gel from her stomach. "It's rare, but both babies seem to be developing well. We'll need to monitor you closely since carrying twins in separate uteruses can be a challenge, but so far, things are looking good."

Maya sniffled, wiping her tears with the back of her hand as Shota leaned down to press a soft kiss against her temple.

"Two babies..." she whispered, her voice filled with a mixture of wonder and overwhelming love.

"Two babies," Shota echoed, his voice low and steady against her ear.

The doctor smiled warmly as he switched off the ultrasound machine and wiped the remaining gel from Maya's stomach. "You're free to go," he informed them, scribbling a few final notes on his clipboard before handing Shota the discharge papers. "But I recommend finding an OB-GYN experienced with high-risk pregnancies—carrying twins in separate uteruses is uncommon and can present unique challenges. Regular monitoring will be essential to ensure both babies develop properly."

Maya nodded slowly, her mind still reeling from the whirlwind of emotions. "Thank you, Doctor," she murmured, squeezing Shota's hand as she shifted to sit upright. Her wings fluttered faintly against her back, their shimmering glow reflecting the mixture of awe, fear, and love swirling within her chest.

As the doctor stepped out of the room, Shota helped Maya slide her legs over the side of the bed, steadying her when she wobbled slightly upon standing. Her body still felt weak from the strain her quirk had endured, but the thought of going home—of finding a moment of normalcy amidst the chaos—gave her strength.

Pausing as she adjusted her hospital gown, Maya glanced up at Shota with a faint crease between her brows. "Is there any way I can see Eri before we leave?"

Shota hesitated, his grip on the discharge papers tightening slightly. "Since she was brought in, she's had a fever," he explained carefully. "They're keeping her in isolation until her condition stabilizes. The only way to see her right now is through the glass window outside her room."

Maya's heart clenched at the thought of the little girl—so small, so fragile—enduring more pain after everything she'd already been through. Swallowing against the lump in her throat, she nodded. "I just need to see her," she whispered. "Even if it's only through the glass."

Without a word, Shota draped his scarf over her shoulders like a protective shield, his hand resting against the small of her back as he guided her toward the door. Though exhaustion weighed heavily on them both, an unspoken determination propelled them forward—because in the midst of uncertainty, they clung tightly to the people they loved.