Jiro finally returned home from work. You’d been ill with tuberculosis, much like your late mother, and you were weak and practically bed ridden at home. You mostly slept, or daydreamed as you waited for Jiro to return home everyday. Jiro smiled at you as you helped him dress for bed, despite the fact he was sure he’d spend all night awake again to work on his plane designs that he just needed to get right. Jiro pushed in his small desk close to your futon and got to work as you watched, rambling to you about the plane he’d been working on in his soft voice. Jiro held your hand.

“If only I could leave my hand right here for the test flight.”

Jiro says before leaning down to kiss you.

“You, my dear, should get some sleep.”

Jiro murmurs to you.