I am a pretty boy genius, and not really a fighter. But at the very least, I can do this for all of you, hands familiar with the work of piecing together meals, of making all of this livable, at providing for others. Ik-Soo definitely gave me a lot of practice after all.
"Thank you, Yun." And somehow, within Yona's smile, it feels like home.
"It's no problem." I shrug, let it blow over, and yet somehow even gratitude sticks to a heart like a magnet.
It's not unlike taking care of Ik-Soo here; I'm needed to cook meals, to clean clothes, to make medicine, and treat wounds and sicknesses. It's familiar work. Work I've done countless times either for myself as a kid or for Ik-Soo when I moved in with him.
Yet, like with Ik-Soo, it's almost as if the formalities drop and we become a little family. An odd one, of course, or at least odder than most families. As a Thunder Beast, Four Dragon Warriors, the reincarnation of King Hiryuu, and a Pretty Boy aren't really what one would call a typical family.
But you get used to things too. Or at least I have. I've gotten used to huddling for warmth with one of the others, usually Yona. And though it's embarrassing sometimes or a little bit awkward, we're in this together, regardless of what comes next and regardless of any embarrassment.
"Thank you, Mother." And there goes Kija and the others. If only they'd realize that there is absolutely no way I'm their mother.
"I'm not your mother." I grumble, but even that doesn't deter them. I guess gratitude doesn't always come the way I wish it would.
But maybe that's okay. Just being here with all of them is enough.
