The car ride is painfully silent. And it’s the silence that drives the guilt deeper and deeper into Ichirou’s gut.
He uncrosses and crosses his legs for what must be the millionth time this single car ride, desperately trying to exude a calm nonchalance in front of his father but doing anything but. The man sitting across from him has barely moved an inch since they began their journey, and all that does is make Ichirou even more anxious. He knows that, logically, his father is lost in his own thoughts---his eyes have stayed fixed on the window, after all---and so there’s no way he’s giving much thought to Ichirou’s body language.
But Ichirou can’t help but feel self-conscious: it’s the result of his upbringing, of the situation, of the awful guilt he feels for what he’s about to do, for what hasn’t even been done yet, it’s---
“We’re here.”
Ichirou feels his entire body tense up at the sudden announcement.
Touma, on the other hand, just sighs before rolling back his shoulders and cracking his neck. “Right then. I called ahead to aware the family of our visit, but do make your way to the door to properly announce our arrival---I’d like to get this matter sorted as quickly as possible,” the family patriarch coolly instructs to the driver before his gaze slides over to land his son. “And Ichirou? You’re the one who asked to come to this---it’s too late for cold feet now.”
Ichirou shrinks a little in his seat. “Yes, Father.”
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There’s only one thing Mayumi hates more than her mother—and that’s change.
She hates not having Momo around the house anymore. Hates that she doesn’t get to see her daughter every morning and every night and a part of her can’t help but wonder if it’s because her daughter has gotten out of her sight that all the awful things have happened to her. She hates that now, when she talks to Momo, she keeps seeing traces of… things that weren’t there before: there’s a new step in her usual gait, a new wisdom in her young eyes, a constellation of bruises and small scars that mar the fairness of her skin.
She hates that Ichirou has started acting so strange around her. Hates that for years they had the workings of a perfectly functional relationship, that she had gotten accustomed to and had even begun to rely on. She hates that now he’s so obviously keeping secrets from her because it makes her wonder if perhaps he’s always been keeping secrets from her; if, maybe, she was wrong to have started to trust him, if, maybe, she really is just another tool in his arsenal and that he’s simply been playing the game this whole time. She hates how much she had allowed herself to get attached to a person who, from the beginning, was introduced as someone who would use her for her body and her family’s money and nothing more.
She hates that some stupid parent-teacher conference is churning up so much doubt within her: about Momo, about Ichirou, about herself. Hates the anxiety it causes to swirl up within her, hates how self-conscious and exposed it’s left her feeling, how unsure of herself. She hates the idea that, despite everything she’s done, everything she’s tried to do, she might still be considered a bad mother—even though it’s the only role she’s actively tried to assume for herself. She hates that it just seems to prove her own mother right; that, at the end of the day, no matter how hard Mayumi tries, everything will always result in failure. And that… That changes a lot of things.
When she re-enters the lobby, she quietly takes the open seat next to her husband, who seems so lost in his own thoughts that he likely hadn’t even noticed her absence. She waits for a moment or so, half-expecting him to say something first before finally asking, “Have you already checked on Momo…?”
Ichirou doesn’t even turn to look at her. “Yes. She’s still in the bathroom but there’s a classmate taking care of her.”
Mayumi feels the frustration tugging at her once more at the nonchalance of his response and the silence that resumes its place between them. Usually she didn’t mind the silence but now…
“Well. That meeting couldn’t have gone much worse…” She murmurs, forcing a short chuckle. The truth of her statement is obvious enough, but that’s exactly why she thinks it’s the perfect statement to fill the silence.
She couldn’t be more wrong.
She feels Ichirou freeze up beside her rather than sees it, feels his body turn rigid and his aura turn icy. “... I hope you’re not implying what I think you are.”
Mayumi’s genuinely taken aback—not just because of his change in tone but also due to genuine confusion. The pitch of her voice rises a little in self-defense as she replies, “Excuse me? I wasn’t implying anything—”
“Do not speak at me with that tone right now, Mayumi,” Ichirou bites back, eyes finally meeting hers with something that looks like a challenge shining in them.
Mayumi feels her cheeks flush in anger, all logic fleeing her mind as her emotions begin to consume her very train of thought. “For god’s sake,” she hisses. “What on earth has gotten into you? I wasn’t going to push it until after Momo’s conferences were finished but—”
“But here you are anyway,” Ichirou interrupts, turning his attention away from her to gaze forward once more. “Pushing it before her set of conferences are over.”
Her lips part in shock, and it takes her a few moments to remember that they’re in public and so people can freely see the stupidity of her expression. With that in mind, she takes Ichirou by the hand rather roughly and drags him down a hallway, narrowed eyes scanning for a secluded enough place for them to have what is—evidently—going to be their first argument after over fifteen years of marriage.
Wonderful.
Ichirou, for his part, doesn’t even fight against it. In fact, a part of him isn’t even surprised that this is happening at all; a part of him actually thinks that perhaps this had all been inevitable. It doesn’t mean that he’s glad that it’s happening, but it does mean that when Mayumi finally throws open the door to an abandoned classroom, slams it shut behind them, and then promptly raises her hand to smack Ichirou in the face, he’s prepared enough to catch her forearm before she’s able to make contact.
The worn leather of his gloves only accentuates the roughness of the action, and Mayumi actually flinches at the coarseness of the garment against her bare skin. A part of her knows that, logically, the gloves aren’t all that old—she had watched as Ichirou had created them just hours ago this morning. And yet, the unfamiliar texture feels all at once sobering and discomforting. Something flashes in Ichirou’s eyes—anger, astonishment, frustration, hurt—as he leans into Mayumi’s space, backing her up into a wall as he just stares down at her.
They’re in the back corner of one of the U.A. classrooms, sandwiched between the door itself and the supply cupboard—the only space in the room where the sunlight doesn’t touch. It’s almost eerie, in a sense: a place that is usually so full of life and energy and vibrance shouldn’t feel this desolate and cold.
But it does.
And Mayumi hates that it does.
She hates feeling so little and small and fucking helpless as she squirms against Ichirou’s grip. Her lips part to demand that he let her go, but he cuts her off.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Momo’s weight loss?”
Mayumi stops for a moment, the tension in her body dissipating at the familiar concern in the undertones of his voice. She has to look away for a moment so that she can finish collecting her thoughts before she finally releases a soft little sigh. “... Do you really think I didn’t try?”
(Do you really think that’s something I’d keep from you?)
The question weighs itself for a moment between them before she quietly adds, “You’re the one who suddenly cut off all contact with me… How else was I supposed to let you know?”
(She doesn’t mention anything about how his sudden change in behavior had freaked her out; how it had made her feel cut off and closed off and fucking vulnerable—)
Ichirou’s jaw clenches a little at that and he has to avert his gaze.
He had somehow managed to avoid giving Mayumi a proper explanation the night before, but he doesn’t think it’s a feat that he can accomplish once more without further repercussions. All he’s trying to do is hide the proof of his guilt: that he had been plotting something with his father behind Mayumi’s back, and that… That brat had done something to him that had left him like this. But he couldn’t just come out and tell her that… Because then he’d have to try and explain that he had only agreed to his father’s plan because he wanted to assure that Momo would have a proper future—he had gone behind her back, sure, but only to further secure the goal they both shared…!
(Perhaps one of the few things they still share.)
But he can’t say any of that. So instead, he releases her arm to run a nervous hand through his hair. “I didn’t… I didn’t want to bother you with something as… Ridiculous as this.” He throws his hands up in the air lamely. “I know that you have things on your plate as well, and I… I didn’t want to keep burdening you and I thought I could handle this by myself so I—”
It’s not convincing in the slightest.
“You’re lying to me,” Mayumi cuts in, quietly and matter-of-factly. “You’re lying to me, Ichirou.”
The accusation—despite its truth—makes Ichirou’s insides drop, heart pounding mercilessly in his chest. “I’m not,” he insists, desperation dripping from his voice. “I-I would never!”
It hits too close to home.
“Bullshit,” Mayumi fires back, eyes eyes blazing.
No. No, no, no, it wasn’t supposed to be like this, it wasn’t supposed to—
“Put yourself in my shoes for once,” he tries, the gears in his mind whirring as fast as they possibly can to try and build some sort of argument for him. “Imagine that I had come forward with this stupid problem of mine—tell me that you wouldn’t have made me feel like an absolute idiot even though I have absolutely no idea what’s going on and what could have caused this.”
(He has a hunch. But she doesn’t have to know that.)
The shock makes Mayumi try to take a step back, but the wall prevents her from moving any further. It’s so, so easy for her to see the truth in his words, and when he puts it that way… She sounds almost like a monster. And she’s not, she just—
“I don’t… I don’t mean to make you feel that way… But I have to push you because without any push from me, you never take any initiative whatsoever!” The frantic need to defend herself is evident in the high-pitched panic of her voice—despite the accusatory nature of her words. “And when you don’t do anything it just pisses me off even more, so—!”
Ichirou can’t help but scoff. In all actuality, her matter-of-fact behavior has never been all that off-putting to him. In fact, he quite liked that she took charge off things so often—with all that was going on with the company, it was nice to know that all his other bases would be covered thanks to Mayumi’s constant vigilance. But to hear her justify it that way? It leaves a sour taste in his mouth. “Well. I’m glad to know that your view of me is so low then."
“What, as though your view of me isn’t?”
As soon as that question releases itself out into the open, it’s as though the whole world stops spinning.
A sharp, bitter bark of laughter escapes Ichirou’s throat as he shakes his head in incredulity. “Are you serious, Mayumi?”
She feels like crying. No, of course she’s not serious, she’s not dumb, she’s not stupid. She knows exactly how Ichirou feels about her; knows it from the way he looks at her and the way he says her name and the way he always knows things without her having to say anything—that sense of understanding that can never be replicated, that she knows she’ll never be able to find anywhere else—
But Mayumi has her pride.
And so she puffs her chest out a little in defiance before glaring up at him and saying, “Of course I am.”
For all his life, up until the very moment that Ichirou met Mayumi, he hadn’t really believed in happiness; sure, there was momentary joy at making his family proud, and there were times when he felt truly content with the cards that life had dealt out to him, but long-term happiness? No. It wasn’t something that he saw in his future—and he was okay with that. He had a company to run, a family to succeed, a life to live that was destined to play out regardless of whether or not he was enjoying himself with all the world had to offer.
But then they were introduced to each other as soon-to-be betrothed, and he felt his heart stop at the warm smell of jasmine and vanilla, at the sound of bitter, spiteful laughter, at the sight of mischievous eyes and a haughty smirk and something deep, deep, deep hidden away in the layers of velvet and satin that she had draped over herself. And Ichirou just knew, from that very moment onwards, that he was desperately, desperately in love with the woman before him.
And it didn’t take him long to figure out that it was a love she’d never return.
That didn’t mean he’d stop trying though—she didn’t need to love him for Ichirou to be happy. No, just being allowed in her presence would be enough for him; just being able to see her smile and laugh and be the person that she would sometimes—sometimes—reach for in comfort, during her times of need, would be enough for him. Mayumi, herself, would always, always be enough for him.
And so for Mayumi to doubt him… After everything they’ve been through, after everything he’s done for her…
For once, when he looks into her eyes, he’s filled with something akin to disgust.
“You do know that absolutely everything I’ve ever done has been for you, right? That literally the only reason why I’m able to wake up every day and face every challenge and consequence without complaint is because I just tell myself that I’m doing it for you, right? That, for the past fifteen years, I’ve done absolutely everything within the parameters of my being to try and secure your happiness, to try and make you love me, right?” It hurts him to admit it all out loud like this. Tears prick his eyes as he forces another incredulous laugh, stepping even closer into her space to fire his words down at her. “I honestly can’t believe that after everything we’ve been through together, after everything… You can still act as though I don’t love you. I’ve never loved anyone more in my entire life and I’m okay if I never do because—”
Mayumi slaps him, frustrated tears streaming down her face in fervent rivulets.
The shock is obvious on Ichirou’s features, and when Mayumi begins to speak, there’s a certain edge to her voice that he’s never heard before. “God, you’re so stupid. You don’t actually love me, you’re just… You’re just so good at doing what you’re told. And so when your parents ordered you to marry me, of course you tricked yourself into thinking that you loved me.” She lets out a sad, broken, little laugh. “God, Ichirou, how would you even know what love is? You’ve been sheltered your whole life—even more so than me—and… And you’d have to be an even bigger idiot than I already thought you were if you seriously think that anyone could genuinely fall in love in a situation like ours…”
(She doesn’t mean it. Or does she? She doesn’t know, it’s all so much, it’s all too much, and no matter how hard she tries to process the rush of emotions that surge through her small frame, it’s not enough. It’s never enough. She’ll never be enough for anything, for anyone, because there’s really no hope for her. Maybe her mother was right, and that’s the part that hurts the most because it means that maybe it’s time for Mayumi to stop trying, but if she stops trying then…)
“God, I… I hate you.”
(She doesn’t mean it.)
“I hate you.”
(She knows that she doesn’t.)
“I hate you.”
(She knows that she doesn’t mean the words as they’re spit from her lips but she can’t stop herself from repeating them, as though the mantra is the only thing grounding her to her senses.)
“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”
With each repetition of the phrase, she gets a little louder. And when the height of her voice is about to reach its crescendo, Ichirou crashes his lips onto hers.
For a moment, it’s like even time stands still: the warmth of another’s lips against her own is something she hasn’t felt in the longest of times, and to have her thoughts cut off by something so sudden and sincere and just… all-encompassing is enough to make Mayumi’s entire mind go blank.
And then the seconds begin to tick—slowly but surely—and the world begins to spin once more—or perhaps it had never stopped to begin with—and then Ichirou’s tongue gently swipes at the parting of her lips and Mayumi can’t help but gasp a little and—
Where… Where is this even coming from…?
Before she knows it, she’s kissing him back— fingers entangling themselves in his hair as she pulls him even closer towards her, gripping at him desperately as though she’s afraid that once this moment is over, he’ll never be hers again.
And then they hear it from outside.
“Mother? Father? Where did you go…? It’s time for our meeting with Aizawa Sensei now…”
Ichirou and Mayumi release each other immediately, each of them hurrying to fix themselves into a presentable state and not meeting the other’s eyes.
It’s Ichirou that exits the room first, staging his entrance into the hallway as well as he can. “My apologies, darling! I couldn’t seem to find the bathroom.” He follows up the pathetic excuse with a laugh that sounds painfully fake, but judging by the way Momo’s laughing along, it seems that it had been convincing enough.
Mayumi lingers back a few moments longer though, face flushed, tears threatening to prick at her eyes, and fingers thoughtfully set upon her lips as she stares at her husband’s back.
For the first time in fifteen years, she had actually felt something.
The sight of the decorated classroom eases All Might somewhat, but he can't help but admit this truth to himself. What he'd just stumbled upon has almost... disturbed him in a way. His mind couldn't help but reel at the sight of such a gesture, both parts innocent and suggestive, sensual and taboo and wrong. He shouldn't make assumptions... And God knows he shouldn't judge...
... But he was here to discuss his student's future, for fuck's sake! And if that student's future involved dealing in the painful dramatics of their parents, damn it, that was his responsibility too, wasn't it?!
... Was it?
He has no idea. They didn't exactly cover this in his teaching textbooks.
Sighing tiredly to himself, Toshinori sits at the desk, pulling out the file he'd brought with Yaoyorozu Momo's name with it, along with a notepad of small notes he'd scribbled as he had studied them the night before. As he waits, he skims through his notes, hoping to quickly prepare himself enough to act professional during his meeting. He could only pray it wouldn't be too awkward.
The voices of the Yaoyorozu family can be heard before the door to the classroom is even opened.
"I can't believe this!" Mayumi half-shrieks, half-whines. It's clear that there's no real anger in her voice---she'd never allow her daughter to see her in such a state---in the end, it sounds more like a spoiled child upset that they didn't get their way. "You kept me waiting for almost fifteen minutes and didn't even bring any alcohol back for me." Ichirou does nothing but stare at his wife, expression impassive. After a few moments of silence, Mayumi straightens back into a more professional position, slight concern on her features. "Is everything okay...?"
It's only then that he forces a chuckle, ruffling her hair in the same, affectionate way he had ruffled Momo's earlier. "Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"
Mayumi frowns a little bit at this answer, but stays silent. Momo just playfully nudges at them both. "You're both acting like schoolchildren," she jokes with a roll of her eyes. "Come on, Father said that All Might Sensei is already waiting for us."
With that, the door finally parts with the youngest Yaoyorozu leading the way and her parents following closely behind. Ichirou's the last to enter the room, meeting All Might's eyes for a brief moment before quickly looking away. "Good afternoon, All Might-san," Mayumi begins, a polite, business-like tone in her voice as she takes her seat. There's no trace of the same woman that had thrown the childish tantrum only moments earlier as she folds her hands in her lap and shoots him a friendly smile. "We've heard so many things about you! It's nice to finally have a formal meeting like this."
So much for not being awkward.
All Might just quietly sits there, listening to the (somewhat?) playful bickering outside. His mind helpfully supplies the details for him despite how much he doesn't want them, focusing violently on the glass of wine in Ichirou's hand, the fifteen minutes that the man should have been devoting to his wife. How uncomfortable.
How is he supposed to sit through this meeting now...?
Resigning himself to despair, All Might forces an equally polite smile as the family enters the room. It's hard to figure out who to look at: The scorned wife? The traitorous husband. Their poor, innocent daughter who has no idea of what the hell is happening between her parents? In the end , he only stares at his notes, rearranging them quietly before he flashes another quick smile.
"Oh! Is that so! Ah- Yes! I agree, it's fantastic to get to meet you all in person." Luckily for him, years and years of practice in front of cameras and crowds makes it easy to slip into a more sociable persona. "Hopefully you've been enjoying your visit so far-" That feels a little stupid to say, considering, but he doesn't dwell on it much. "I'd like to get started, unless there's anything you'd like to say first...?"
There's a momentary pause as all three members of the Yaoyorozu family exchange glances with another. It's clear that there are a few questions on their minds, but they're not sure if this exact moment is the best time for it. Mayumi's the one who ultimately speaks up, completely oblivious to the awkwardness that All Might feels. "We'll hold our questions until after we've heard your report about our daughter," she says. "I'm sure we're all... Very interested in what it is you have to say."
All Might nods awkwardly. "Yes," he agrees, tapping his notes against the desk to straighten them further. "Well, let's start then..."
He takes a breath, steadying himself. Quite honestly, he hardly has much confidence in his teaching nowadays. Everything that's happened has chipped it away, eroding away what was already a fleeting sort of ability. But being able to praise a student that has done so well for herself...? It's a simple action, really.
"Young Yaoyorozu is..." He pauses, smiling to himself as he looks warmly at his notes, and then onto the student in question. "... a wonderfully bright child and a pleasure to have in the classroom. Besides her incredible abilities, her intelligence is far beyond any of her classmates. Why, you should hear the input she gives sometimes! She's smarter than me at times!" He chuckles, the sentiment ending with a light cough. "I'm very blessed to watch her grow and progress. She's always one to be on top of the game, follows instructions to a T, scoring the highest in tests and exercises-" He flips to a new page. "Shows adept skills as a leader while also excelling at being a team player. Helpful to have in the classroom too, she never fails to reach out and lend a hand even if she has her own hands full. Which has its disadvantages as well, don't get me wrong!" He starts, jabbing a pencil in Momo's direction. "Too much of self sacrifice is never a good thing, take it from me-"
Oh, he's rambling now... He looks back at his notes again. "Also noteworthy is the maturity she approaches in her work. She's one of the most disciplined students in the classroom and it shows. She always works hard and takes every matter as seriously as if it's happening in the real world... Which truly shows how fantastic her mind is, she's quick to think on her feet and that's-! Well, that's the makings of a fantastic hero!"
All Might beams with that, flashing a huge grin and a thumbs up before realizing. "Ah- That's all the good. I do have some, well, bad to hit you with too... Some criticisms that I think may help Young Yaoyorozu a lot in the future....."
It's impossible for Momo not to blush violently at her teacher's words, an unmistakable gleam shining bright in her eyes before she hurriedly averts her gaze downward into her lap---using All Might's lighthearted jab as an excuse for her embarrassment.
Both Mayumi and Ichirou are clearly taken aback by the older man's barrage of praise regarding their daughter, neither of them quite knowing how to react. They share a knowing glance with one another---something Momo misses as she struggles to hide her own self-consciousness. They both know that their daughter's psyche lies in a fragile state right now; they hadn't anticipated the depth of All Might's praise, and they're not sure how detailed his critiques will be either. While it's true that some of their concern lies in whether or not Momo will be able to maintain her composure at All Might's judgment, their bigger concern is a strategic one: will what All Might says steer her away from the position they've tried ever-so-subtly to push her towards?
Before they're able to properly gather their bearings, Momo slowly lifts her head once more. The uncertainty is plain on her features, tugging down at the edges of her lips as her brows knit themselves tightly together in slight distress. "Do continue with the criticisms, Sensei. It's important that I hear them for myself."
All Might's smile softens as he looks at her. While he may not know the depth of her inner suffering, he's had more than just a glimpse of the way the young girl was. He knows this was a matter he has to handle gently, like handling the most preciously brittle of gems. Nodding in approval with Momo's determination to keep her composure, he leans forward a bit, folding his arms in front of her.
"In the past, you've struggled with having your emotions get the better of you, Young Yaoyorozu," he says honestly. "And that's hampered you on more than one occassion. This is something you've been getting better at, but in times of strife... You either show utter confidence, or you freeze up."
He pauses, his expression solemn. "It worries me at times that you don't realize how capable you truly are, especially in spite of how hard you work. I hate to see you squander your skillset, but..." As he trails off, he hands her a piece of paper with neatly typed notes detailing quick summaries of exercises she hadn't quite excelled on because of some fearful blunder of hers.
"Moving forward, I would like to help you stay present in what's happening, rather than getting trapped in your own head. Listen, I can hardly fault you, especially after everything that's happened..." His voice tightens against his will as he speaks, forcing him to clear his throat as he continues. "And all the added responsibilities you've been made to take on. If there were any way to lighten the load on you, I'd like to do that... But on your own, I would like you to stay focused on what's around you, rather than worrying as it's happening. Save the grief for after the fact..." He smiles again, expression slightly strained. "Make sense...?"
Momo sits straight and rigid in her chair as she waits for All Might's response, nails digging slightly into her palms as she tightens her fists in her lap.
She hadn't quite been sure what to expect, but her teacher's stern---yet ultimately gentle---words certainly weren't it.
As All Might continues, the emotions become almost unbearable for her; the mortification, the fear, the shame well up in her chest, constricting her lungs as they swirl up, up, up. Momo has to cover her mouth, in fear that the feelings will accidently slip through, out into the open, for everyone to see---and she doesn't need that. She doesn't want that.
But instead they trickle down her face as tears: slow, placid, almost like All Might's words as he continues to speak them. And as they drip down her face, they leave her with nothing but the trace of something familiar, something that she hasn't thought of in the longest of times---
(Hope.)
God, she had forgotten what that had felt like.
Ichirou and Mayumi look at her with obvious worry, eyes continuously drifting from All Might, to Momo, and then to each other; it's clear that they hadn't anticipated this meeting to take such a turn, and it's even more clear that they aren't exactly sure which steps they should take moving forward.
Somehow, despite it all, Momo manages a weak little nod in reply to All Might's question before the tears start to streak down her face with greater intensity. Ichirou hurries to retrieve his handkerchief from his pocket and offer it to Momo while Mayumi rests a gentle hand on her daughter's back. "Sweetheart... Are you alright?"
When Momo doesn't immediately respond, Mayumi shoots a slightly panicked look back at All Might, as though silently asking him for help. Ichirou looks visibly more distraught than his wife, clearly wanting to assuage the situation but not knowing what to say or do. "Ah... Perhaps you can go wash up in the bathroom while we finish up this meeting," Mayumi finally suggests. The concern is thick in her voice, and it's clear that there are a multitude of thoughts rushing through her head even as she tries her best to put up a strong front before the former hero in front of them. After her suggestion has been made, her eyes flicker back to All Might imploringly. "Would that be alright, All Might-san...?"
Oh.
Crap.
He'd been so driven by his words to continue, he hadn't even noticed until it was too late that he'd accidentally brought the young girl to tears... All Might stares at her, horrified as she starts to weep. He- he hadn't meant for this! He was just trying to help!!!! Damn it, he really is only capable of making things worse lately, isn't he...
Stricken, he only nods helplessly at Mayumi's question. "Yes, yes please, of course, take all the time you need-!" he rushes out, trying to keep the despair he was suddenly plummeting towards from reaching his expression. "That's perfectly fine, of course, and I'll - I'll be here after, still. If you need me, Young Yaoyorozu," he desperately assures. "We can always talk after. There's- there's no shame in talking about it all, and I'd love to help, so-"
Rambling again. It's such a new form of panic he's feeling, he doesn't know how to fight it. How hypocritical of him to scold Momo for getting overwhelmed when he so easily does the same. Ashamed now, he finally shuts up, mouth pressing to a thin line as he simply nods and nods as he fidgets with his notes.
Momo hesitates at the permission she's been given, face flushing an even brighter shade of red at all the extra attention. Oh god, this isn't what she wanted at all, this is exactly what All Might had been talking about earlier, when he had said that she should save her grief for after the fact but---
But what she's feeling now certainly isn't grief. It's the same sort of emotional roller coaster, definitely, but... But it's different. It's like expecting to hear something awful and terrible and absolutely soul crushing, but instead hearing something that's... Not all that bad at all.
("You wanted to be a hero.")
Maybe she still could be.
"I-I'm sorry," she whispers, chair screeching as she hurriedly stands up out of it. "I-I'm so sorry, I---"
Momo doesn't bother finishing her sentence before rushing out of the room, trying to keep her face as covered as possible.
When the door slams shut behind her, a heavy silence takes root in her place. The Yaoyorozus are both aware that they should perhaps say something, but the issue is what to say. Mayumi's eyes are still worriedly fixed on the door, mind racing with questions and concerns that she can't find it in herself to articulate. It's Ichirou who ultimately speaks up, licking his lips in a half-baked attempt to dissipate some nerves before weakly explaining, "She's... She's been going through a bit of a rough time ever since... Well. You know." He clears his throat awkwardly as he focuses his gaze downward at the hands in his lap. "We've been doing what we can---donating money to the U.A. security department, spending more time with her when we're able... But I assume that it'll take much longer for her scars to properly heal..."
As Ichirou begins to ramble and sink further and further into her chair, Mayumi's able to find it in within herself to properly bring the meeting back on track. "Yes, that's right," she delicately interjects. "We're concerned that... Health-wise, she may be lagging behind her peers. I've noticed that she's lost a bit of weight since the incident, but given the nature of her quirk... We're worried that she might not be eating enough to make up for whatever extra energy is expended during quirk training." She pauses, eyes returning to All Might once more. Her tone is different now---it’s a little more concerned, a little more genuine, a little more desperate than at the start of their meeting. "I'm not sure if there's a nutritionist onsite but we'd like to request further monitoring of her eating habits in any way, shape, or form. And what’s the daily training regimen like within the heroics course? I know that Momo would loathe any sort of special treatment, but perhaps she’s not the only child still suffering from the… after effects of last November. I’m sure that adjustments have already been made, but I can’t help but wonder…”
"..."
A cold sweat appears on his skin, soaking greedily into his shirt.
"Health-wise..." he repeats, throat dry. Oh, that's terrible. That's... not good at all. Already anxious, All Might's thoughts take another turn for the worst as he tries to imagine Momo's predicament. He's... really not well versed in mental issues, really... Though recently, with all that's happened, he's been including a few psychology articles in his research. In an instant, the horrific reality of eating disorders and the like strike him, filling his mind with gaunt images and terrifying statistics. He loathes how he could not have seen something like this coming from miles away, he should have noticed this- Has Momo's quirk truly slowed down during training because of all this? Why hasn't he noticed?
He feels horrible. Dabbing nervously at his forehead with a hankerchief he draws from his pocket, All Might nods slightly. "Well... let's see," he stammers out. "We do have a regime, yes... I believe we do have access to a nutritionist but it's- it's by appointment, I believe-" He fumbles with his notes, hoping her parents don't notice his growing nerves. "Generally, students make special requests if their diets need to be altered for their training. I'm sure you remember submitting a form on the subject of diet upon Young Yaoyorozu's admittance to the school? But, ah..."
His fumbling slows to a stop before he finally gives a low bow in apology. "I don't want to lie to you. Matters like this are more between a student and the counselors available. And I... wasn't aware it ever got to this point." He inhales shakily. "I don't want to use this as an excuse but Young Yaoyorozu, like many of our students, tries exceptionally hard to act like she isn't affected by the going-ons of the world. It's my job to not foolishly fall for the act, but it seems, in this case, I have... And I apologize."
Raising his head, he shakily starts to jot notes down. "I'll do better. We will monitor Young Yaoyorozu's weight in the future and make sure it's on par with your expectations. Not just with the nutritionist, but with our staff in the infirmary, to make sure she stays healthy. I hope that... suffices."
Mayumi watches as All Might fumbles through his words and fiddles with his papers. When he finally gives up his facade to stand up and bow to her and her husband, her chest tightens with a painful sort of acceptance---as though the idea that she had been toying with at the back of her head has finally become a confirmed reality.
Oh.
She bites at her lip in thought, averting her gaze as Ichirou eventually manages, "We know what she's like..." He looks a little dazed when he speaks, obviously lost somewhere in his own thoughts. "This is something we had intended to bring up with her homeroom teacher, but I'm sure you can imagine why doing so would be difficult in front of Momo---there's no knowing how she would take it."
In truth, Ichirou had had no idea about Momo's weight loss either. It's not something he'd noticed. So does that mean Mayumi had kept it from him? ... Or is it just one of those things that he had brushed under the rug for later, for when he finished ridding himself of the guilt of his lie, of the blood on his hands.
He feels sick.
"There's only so much we can all do," Mayumi quietly adds. "We'll try to talk to her too, of course. We hadn't expected... Such a reaction from her during our meeting with you today." She allows her words to linger in the air for a little longer, before her eyes slide over to meet Ichirou's.
Nothing is said for a moment as they stare at one another: Ichirou with a full expression of guilt on his features, and Mayumi with eyes that look all at once aware and exhausted. Neither of them had been able to finish their full preparations for the day's press conferences, but neither of them had anticipated the situation would ever reach such a state.
It's Ichirou that finally breaks eye contact, unable to bear the weight of his wife's stare any longer. "I don't believe we have any further questions for you, All Might-san. So unless there's something else you'd like to add...?"
All Might grows pale. The silence in the room suffocates him as he sits there, watching the two exchange agonizing looks to each other.
A weight lands on his shoulders. The same violent sense of responsibility that's rested on them for God knows how long, only growing heavier with every month, only digging in deeper with every terrible thing that's happened throughout the year, sinks its claws hard into his body. His body aches, his side seeming to flare up like the wound that has robbed so much from him was suddenly fresh and spewing blood.
He coughs. Lightly at first, then again in a short fit that ends with the taste of iron clinging to the back of his throat. He brings his handkerchief to his mouth, hacking a few times, both grateful and ashamed of the distraction as he fights his thoughts off.
"N-nothing to add," he finally grits out with a weak smile. "I apologize again for how this all went. I hope the rest of your meetings end... better. Please, let Young Yaoyorozu know of my apology to her. And... know that I fully intend to do better by her." He pauses awkwardly before fumbling a second, patting at his jacket before he pulls a small card out and slides it to them.
"... My personal information. Number, email..." he mumbles out, flustered. "Please, if there's anything I can do, the second you feel I can do it, please... Do not hesitate to ask. I..." A sheepish smile, almost bashful. "I want to be there for her. Really."
"... Thank you, All Might-san. We're grateful for your concern---and we're sure that Momo is as well," Mayumi says with a small smile that's obviously forced. Her and her husband both stand up out of their chairs to offer him a courteous bow.
Once they straighten their positions, Ichirou speaks up, eyes politely downcast. "If it's not too much trouble, please pass our concern about Momo's health to her homeroom teacher. I'm sure Momo would only become more distressed if she heard us worrying about her to her teachers, and it'll be difficult to convince her to leave two meetings in one day." After a moment, as though he had almost forgotten about it, he reaches for the business card that All Might had placed on the table. He fingers it thoughtfully before finally meeting All Might's eyes once more. There's a grave seriousness in his eyes as he slips the card into his blazer. "We appreciate... your discretion."
With that, he turns for the exit, Mayumi trailing quietly behind him.
But while Ichirou exits the room without looking back, Mayumi seems to waver in the doorway. From behind, her silhouette looks delicate, fragile, almost pitiful. It's obvious that there's something weighing heavily on her mind, something she wants desperately to articulate but simply can't find the words for.
After a few beats too long, she finally works up the courage. Without turning to face him, she quietly asks, "Did you mean it... When you said that Momo has what it takes to be a hero...?"
All Might can only manage to nod as the two say their goodbyes. Quite frankly, he's exhausted, something inside him withering too rapidly to stop. He doesn't know how he's going to be able to trudge through the rest of the meetings when he feels so beaten down already-- and he hates himself for the thought, for being so damn weak now. In his prime... in his golden years, such a thought would have never crossed his mind.
...
Lost in thought, Toshinori flinches slightly as he hears Mayumi's voice again. He'd sworn he'd been alone in the room again at that point, expression perking back to the tired, fake smile he'd worn earlier as he looks at her. The pitiful state of the woman, however, brings him to frown, the open show of vulnerability absolutely breaking his heart and shattering what semblance of a persona he has left.
She looks so sad.
For a moment, he wonders. Is it hypocritcal to want to hold her? To comfort her? To warn her of what he's seen, what he fears will befall her and her family? To take her away from all this pain? He can tell how tired she is. And he's tired too.
So tired.
He doesn't move, emotions warring inside him, eating away at everything he has inside him until he feels nothing but hollow. And then he nods, resigning himself to their distance. He shouldn't. Couldn't. He's already done enough and not enough...
"... I meant every word, Yaoyorozu-san," All Might murmurs back, throat tight. "I think- I really, truly believe that your daughter is incredible... and she'll help change the world someday. I know it." He touches his chest, fingers curling over his heart. "I feel it. Right here."
Frowning again, he lets his hands fall, still for a moment before he returns to his fumbling habit, gathering his papers as he starts to rise. "And I fully intend to be there for her every step of the way until she does. I promise you, I'll see to it that she becomes a great hero."
This meeting has been... eye-opening for Mayumi---and not in a way she had ever anticipated. Sure, of course she had been worried when Momo had begun to cry... But the discomfort had started even before that---before Mayumi had even become conscious of it.
And it's all because of the heaps of praise All Might had effortlessly thrown upon her daughter, the ease with which he was able to list point after point, quality after quality, without hardly any prompting at all. It had all simply been so... natural.
Mayumi should have expected as much---and, in fact, she did. Ever since she had first laid eyes on her daughter, Mayumi knew that Momo would be destined for great things. And she never once believed that such an opinion was one formed in the distortion of subjectivity because Momo is objectively a child protege in her own right: from the speed with which she developed her quirk, to the way she can look at certain things and just... understand them, inside and out, enough to almost perfectly replicate them after only a few moments of gentle contemplation.
Mayumi has always staunchly believed that Momo would be capable of doing anything she set her mind to. Which is exactly why Momo's going to make a great heir to the Yaoyorozu fortune.
But hearing this man praise her daughter's natural talent, her instinctive prowess, her hard work and effort...
Momo... Momo really wants to be a hero, huh?
The revelation began to hit her sometime when All Might was listing the few criticisms he had of her daughter, when she saw Momo's shoulders tremble from the heavy weight of her dreams. It had come to Mayumi as a shock: this... this hero thing isn't just a silly phase that Momo's going through... It's a legitimate dream that she has, that she's desperately reaching for in spite of all the trauma and horror that's been thrown her way.
And Mayumi... Mayumi had never fully realized that. That Momo actually goals of her own. She's sure that somewhere, in the back of her mind, it's something that she's always taken at face-value: all people have goals, after all, whether they be big or small. But... But the realization that Momo's willingly and consciously running headfirst into danger and suffering because it's something she wants... Is new. That... That part hadn't been there before.
By trying to push Momo into the role of heiress... Is Mayumi doing exactly to Momo what her mother had done all those years ago, back when she was forced into her marriage with Ichirou…?
God it… It makes her feel so sick.
And so when she hears All Might’s words…
Mayumi bites down on her lip---hard---to hold back the sob that threatens to escape her throat.
She can’t… She can’t break down like this. Not yet. Not when they still had another meeting to endure after this and she had to make sure that Momo was alright and had to figure out what the hell is going on with her husband because he’s very obviously hiding something from her and---
She can’t.
“I-I see,” she finally manages, hands balling into fists in a pathetic attempt to keep her emotions at bay. “Thank you for that, All Might-san… Truly.”
With that, she lets the door shut behind her with a quiet click.
...
And finally, silence.
All Might slumps in his chair. He knows he needs to return back to the lobby, a long, long list of people to see still beckoning for his attention. But he needs- he needs a moment, at the very least. Just a few seconds to try and find the strength.
None of this was ever supposed to be so hard.
Slowly, he reaches up and covers his face, feeling that earlier despair wrapping around him tenfold. There are so many people in this world he wants to help, so many he wants to save, so many he just... wants to steal their suffering from. If he can't even help his students and the people he cares about... What kind of hero really was he? Was he ever one?
It's a silly thought. A heavy one that's plagued him ever since it first took root in that one fateful, vicious blow. He tastes blood again and forces the urge away to weep, wail, and cough out everything inside him until there's nothing left.
He sighs. He has to keep moving forward. He has to.
For this generation of heroes... It's the least he can do.
He sighs again, quietly chiding himself for his dramatics like he suspects his dear friend will the moment they meet up after all this is through. And then he stands, gathers his things, and heads for the hall.
“I am deeply sorry for my outburst towards your classmate, I should have known better.”
ua-momo
Ah, well, this is sudden...
Honestly speaking... Yeah, I think you should have. With everything Bakugou-san has gone through—especially in the public eye—I think it’s unfair to throw such cruelties his way when a) you don’t really know him and b) you’re a professional hero... It was all just very sudden, haha...
We’ve all... Been through a lot this year... And so to have a professional hero tell one of us that nobody cares if something happens...? It’s a little...
It’s a little much, to be frank, Gang Orca-san.
ua-gangorca
“You don’t mince words, do you? That’s good though: we all need someone like that, especially me. Still...I didn’t know what you kids were going through, it was a real wake up call seeing all that, even if it wasn’t first hand.”
ua-momo
Forgive me, but since Iida-san is on extended leave, I’ve been taking on more class representative duties. I’m by no means as qualified as Aizawa Sensei to speak on the matter, but Bakugou-san is still a member of my class and so I think it’s only just that I stand up for him since he’s not always the best at articulating his thoughts.
And... forgive me again, but how did you not? The scandal about the lockdown was all over the news for months.... The League of Villains sent the footage to literally every device in Japan and a bunch of U.A. teachers and professional heroes had to give a press conference on the matter to assuage the nerves of the public...
I don’t want to relive any of what had happened, but... But I really... I really just can’t understand how you wouldn’t know...
ua-gangorca
“I don’t know really, I guess it’s just that my only interactions with other people for the past few months was either lecturing kids that were too freaked out to even listen to me, saving folks, helping UA from time to time and being so tired I couldn’t even change out of my clothes or turn on the TV. So when I saw how aggressive the kid was being it just made me wonder how the hell this kid was going to a school like this....especially since at the school I went to, a kid like him....and me as a kid....would get beaten daily. So I stuck my nose where it didn’t belong and this was the result.”
ua-momo
... It wasn’t just... On the TV... It was... It was literally a scandal that rocked the country... The entire country... My classmate is still being hospitalized for his lockdown injuries and you’re saying that you didn’t know because you were too busy...?
How could you be busy with hero work and U.A. but not know about one of the biggest villain attacks in history...? At a school you said you were working with...?
I just...
I’m sorry, I can’t—
I don’t—
.... I’m not the person you should be apologizing to, so... So you should speak to Bakugou-san first and foremost...
I’m just... I’m just a kid, I don’t... I don’t...
...
ua-gangorca
“Don’t worry, I made sure that Katsuki was the first one I talked to.”
“Still, I’ve only been working here for a little while but....that doesn’t matter right now, if I keep trying to make a case for myself then it’s probably only gonna get more confusing. Look, Yaoyorozu, if you don’t wanna talk to me...then please don’t, I’m only wasting your time at this point.”
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Momo’s been in France for nearly a month now. Today is her birthday, and if her grandfather hadn’t surprised her with a sudden visit, she wonders if she would have forgotten. He’s brought with him an assortment of gifts that had apparently been left for her, as well as some personal ones he had chosen for himself. And when he looks at her, his eyes beam with a certain degree of pride that she doesn’t think she’s seen in ages; he laughs at the sight of her, remarks at how much she’s grown, how much honor she’s brought to her family, what her current actions mean for the current status of the Yaoyorozu legacy...
And there’s a piece of her that has to hold back tears at his praise because it all feels so, so wrong.
That part of her has grown smaller now though. Nearly nonexistent. In a country far away from her closest friends and family, with only the support of the Hero Commission and her distant relatives to give her any solace, that part of her has whittled away into scarcely anything at all. She wonders if that thought should sadden her.
Touma looks a little uncomfortable for a moment and excuses himself to the bathroom.
When he returns with a noticeable lump in his pocket, there’s a curiosity sparkling in his eyes and he looks at her. Really looks at her. Momo wonders when was the last time someone actually had.
“Sweetheart… Is there something you’re not telling me?”
Momo doesn’t even have the energy to sigh at the question, instead fingering a sparkly green box that sits upon the pile of gifts her grandfather had brought. There’s something about it that holds her attention, but she can’t quite pinpoint what exactly it is. “I have internship duties today, Grandfather. I’m not sure how long I can stay with you to chat.”
Touma frowns, obviously hurt by the answer. “Why, you can’t even take a day off to spend time with your loving grandfather who’s already flown all this way?”
“I cannot abandon my duties, Grandfather. You’re the one who taught me that.”
He says nothing for a moment, leaning back in his chair with a relatively dumbfounded expression on his features. “Well… Yes. I suppose that’s true. It’s important for you to live with the responsibility of your actions. You are the one who wanted to be a hero after all, and now that you’re getting all of these opportunities… It wouldn’t be fair of you to change your mind. After all, people expect a great deal of things from you now, Momo.”
She feels herself shrink in her seat.
“Yes, Grandfather. You’re absolutely right.”
--------------------------
It isn’t until night falls, when she’s said her goodbyes to her grandfather and finished her duties for the day that she finally gets to open that sparkly green present.
Mayumi and Ichirou sit at opposite ends of the dining table, doing everything they can to avoid looking one another in the eye. They’ve made it a point to continue acting as though everything’s okay—for Momo’s sake, they continue to insist, though at this point its more for their own than her’s. Appearances have always been their everything and that much shouldn’t have to change. So they continue to play the respective roles of loving husband and wife, doting mother and father, with masks of carefully painted porcelain and smiles that never truly reach their eyes. It’s been fairly easy to do; Ichirou had already been spending nights at the office even before their big fight, and Momo had planned to stay in Musutafu to be closer to her internship. Their interactions have been minimal at best.
Which is what makes this whole thing feel even worse.
They had both been surprised to receive individual calls from the heads of the family’s chauffeur team, informing them that “Miss Yaoyorozu will be arriving at the family estate just past seven—we apologize that she won’t be arriving until after dinner, but this is the best we can do on such short notice. Our sincerest apologies.”
Mayumi had lamented that the news was “most regrettable,” Ichirou had responded that such circumstances were “perhaps unavoidable,” and then they had each hurried to call the other with frustrated demands to learn just what exactly was going on.
Neither one had an answer for the other. And so, really, all they could do was arrange for a caterer to provide the setting of a loving family dinner, sit at their respective places at the dinner table, and wait.
Today was the first official day of her internship.
Momo hasn’t even been working for a full day.
Mayumi can’t help but bite her lip at the thought, consciously doing everything in her power to not sneak a glance at her husband across the table. But she can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking—if he’s rushing to the same conclusion that she is, the only viable conclusion, really, given that Momo’s made the decision on her own to return home and that she hadn’t even bothered to phone ahead to let her parents know.
Ichirou, for his part, has been unable to take his eyes off his wife—and he wonders if its the weight of his gaze that warns Mayumi to never once grace him with even the most sparing of glances, lest they make eye contact and feel obligated to start up a conversation.
It pains him in a way that he can’t quite describe.
Her hair is pulled back in a way that’s he knows is meant to appear somewhat messy, but the way the stray strands of hair frame her solemn features only seems to highlight the gauntness of her cheeks and the dark circles beneath her eyes. The red of her lips is moreso from the way she gashes at them with her teeth than the artificial color of her makeup; in fact, the light application of blush only seems to emphasize the pale pallor of her features. She looks stressed and tired and almost forsaken—and it feels as though it’s been lifetimes since Ichirou last saw her like this.
But the fact of the matter is that it had only been last November, when news of the attack on U.A. had first been released and they weren’t yet sure if Momo was okay or if they’d lost her forever to the cruel trials of the world.
The door chooses that exact moment to softly click open, and at the subtle break of silence, Mayumi and Ichirou rise to their feet in expectation.
“Momo darling, is that you?”
There’s no response.
“Sweetheart, you’re just in time for dinner!”
Nothing.
Ichirou feels himself stiffen up as a chill runs down Mayumi’s spine. He whips his head back to stare at her once more, a desperate, questioning look in his eyes as he finds himself at a total loss for what to do, unable to understand what it is that’s going on because he fears too strongly what that understanding might mean.
Mayumi doesn’t spare him a glance. And the door clicks shut.
The sound seems to spur her into action, and she scurries out of the dining room without another word. Ichirou finds himself chasing after the crimson silk of her top, turning sharp corners in a desperate attempt to keep her in his sight and to be led to the answers she’s sure to find.
Still standing in the entryway to the parlor is Momo, clad in her hero outfit and an expressionless mask. Her bags are nowhere in sight and her shoulders are slumped forward, as though they’re being forced down by a burden invisible to them all. She stares at her parents, blankly, and when Mayumi rushes to give her an affectionate hug and a kiss on the cheek—as is their usual greeting—Momo flinches back.
She flinches.
An expression of shocked horror consumes her mother’s features as she struggles for the words to say, but it seems that such an attempt is futile. Before she’s even given a chance, Momo simply shakes her head, turns, and walks up the staircase to her room.
For the first time since their fight several nights ago, Mayumi finds herself willingly turning to meet Ichirou’s gaze, eyes wide, desperate.
Ichirou says nothing but the knowing way in which he stares says everything.
Mayumi falls to her knees, grabbing at her hair as her breathing picks up, as her worst fears are all but confirmed and she realizes that her prayers fell on deaf ears—as they always do—and that it really is true…
She’s useless.
(She just wanted to do what was best for her family.
Mayumi and Ichirou sit at opposite ends of the dining table, doing everything they can to avoid looking one another in the eye. They’ve made it a point to continue acting as though everything’s okay—for Momo’s sake, they continue to insist, though at this point its more for their own than her’s. Appearances have always been their everything and that much shouldn’t have to change. So they continue to play the respective roles of loving husband and wife, doting mother and father, with masks of carefully painted porcelain and smiles that never truly reach their eyes. It’s been fairly easy to do; Ichirou had already been spending nights at the office even before their big fight, and Momo had planned to stay in Musutafu to be closer to her internship. Their interactions have been minimal at best.
Which is what makes this whole thing feel even worse.
They had both been surprised to receive individual calls from the heads of the family’s chauffeur team, informing them that “Miss Yaoyorozu will be arriving at the family estate just past seven—we apologize that she won’t be arriving until after dinner, but this is the best we can do on such short notice. Our sincerest apologies.”
Mayumi had lamented that the news was “most regrettable,” Ichirou had responded that such circumstances were “perhaps unavoidable,” and then they had each hurried to call the other with frustrated demands to learn just what exactly was going on.
Neither one had an answer for the other. And so, really, all they could do was arrange for a caterer to provide the setting of a loving family dinner, sit at their respective places at the dinner table, and wait.
Today was the first official day of her internship.
Momo hasn’t even been working for a full day.
Mayumi can’t help but bite her lip at the thought, consciously doing everything in her power to not sneak a glance at her husband across the table. But she can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking—if he’s rushing to the same conclusion that she is, the only viable conclusion, really, given that Momo’s made the decision on her own to return home and that she hadn’t even bothered to phone ahead to let her parents know.
Ichirou, for his part, has been unable to take his eyes off his wife—and he wonders if its the weight of his gaze that warns Mayumi to never once grace him with even the most sparing of glances, lest they make eye contact and feel obligated to start up a conversation.
It pains him in a way that he can’t quite describe.
Her hair is pulled back in a way that’s he knows is meant to appear somewhat messy, but the way the stray strands of hair frame her solemn features only seems to highlight the gauntness of her cheeks and the dark circles beneath her eyes. The red of her lips is moreso from the way she gashes at them with her teeth than the artificial color of her makeup; in fact, the light application of blush only seems to emphasize the pale pallor of her features. She looks stressed and tired and almost forsaken—and it feels as though it’s been lifetimes since Ichirou last saw her like this.
But the fact of the matter is that it had only been last November, when news of the attack on U.A. had first been released and they weren’t yet sure if Momo was okay or if they’d lost her forever to the cruel trials of the world.
The door chooses that exact moment to softly click open, and at the subtle break of silence, Mayumi and Ichirou rise to their feet in expectation.
“Momo darling, is that you?”
There’s no response.
“Sweetheart, you’re just in time for dinner!”
Nothing.
Ichirou feels himself stiffen up as a chill runs down Mayumi’s spine. He whips his head back to stare at her once more, a desperate, questioning look in his eyes as he finds himself at a total loss for what to do, unable to understand what it is that’s going on because he fears too strongly what that understanding might mean.
Mayumi doesn’t spare him a glance. And the door clicks shut.
The sound seems to spur her into action, and she scurries out of the dining room without another word. Ichirou finds himself chasing after the crimson silk of her top, turning sharp corners in a desperate attempt to keep her in his sight and to be led to the answers she’s sure to find.
Still standing in the entryway to the parlor is Momo, clad in her hero outfit and an expressionless mask. Her bags are nowhere in sight and her shoulders are slumped forward, as though they’re being forced down by a burden invisible to them all. She stares at her parents, blankly, and when Mayumi rushes to give her an affectionate hug and a kiss on the cheek—as is their usual greeting—Momo flinches back.
She flinches.
An expression of shocked horror consumes her mother’s features as she struggles for the words to say, but it seems that such an attempt is futile. Before she’s even given a chance, Momo simply shakes her head, turns, and walks up the staircase to her room.
For the first time since their fight several nights ago, Mayumi finds herself willingly turning to meet Ichirou’s gaze, eyes wide, desperate.
Ichirou says nothing but his knowing stare says it all.
Mayumi falls to her knees, grabbing at her hair as her breathing picks up, as her worst fears are all but confirmed and she realizes that her prayers fell on deaf ears—as they always do—and that it really is true…
She’s useless.
(She just wanted to do what was best for her family.
