the day it stopped raining | midoriya izuku

21 | thundering fury

TOKYO
17°C
HEAVY RAIN

How does one wake up after a long night of endless cries?

It feels as though Masuyo woke up in an ocean filled with rainwater. How long it took to fill the shallowness of the earth caused by misunderstandings and denials was up to her to judge, but she knew more than anyone that this was nothing compared to those tantrums she threw.

Her skin feels disgustingly dry despite how long she had drowned in her own soul, feels terrified just by drawing her breath. The cold air that's eerily calm breezes through the gaps of her window, brushing against her skin as a reminder that—ah. It's not over yet.

Masuyo lets out a sigh that held all her fervour and endurance she went through countless times, on the brink of losing hope over and over.

"Ah! You're awake."

She glanced at the voice at the door to see Midoriya holding a glass of water, taking note that he's wearing one of those oversized shirts she owns. Masuyo looks away, though at least, the cold suddenly disappears.

"Are you hungry? I made omelettes," Midoriya brings the glass to her as Masuyo gingerly takes it. Part of her feels guilty for some reason.

"I'll eat later," she replied, avoiding the green eyes she had come to admire. "I'll just..."

She could feel the way the green boy looks at her, though she saw it coming. How long could she hide from him? From everyone? Midoriya's in too deep. Too close. Too... kind. She doesn't deserve it. But she wants to. She wants him.

She... She needs him.

Midoriya suddenly got on his knees to look at her in the eye, startling her. "Just what?"

Her heart pounds.

"I—"

There's a knock on the front door.

Their heads whipped up at the unexpected sound. Midoriya turns back to her, a look of uncertainty tugging on his eyebrows as if to say, "Let me help you." However, Masuyo is known for her stubbornness. Her will to push people away no matter how painful it is to hold everything together on her own. One could say she's selfless in her own way, but it all comes with a price of broken hearts.

When the knocking continues, she got off her bed without a word, brushing past him and walked to the front door, knowing well who it is. Because other than Midoriya Izuku, someone else knows where she lives. So with a deep, shaky breath, she opens it to see a woman slightly older than her standing with a leg leaned on one side, and one hand on her hip.

A smirk curls the corner of her lips. "Haru-chan, that was really rude, you know? Leaving your big sis like that in the street. How embarrassing."

The woman steps foot into her apartment, brushing past Masuyo as if she owns the property, though it's not like she could do anything. She's too stiff to even open her mouth. She's too sharp.

Her red hair was a similar shade of wine, but more to crimson—which is what suits the older woman after all. Piercing and merciless. Selfish. Arrogant.

Strolling into the living room, she lets out a low whistle as she places her slender hands into the pockets of her pencil skirt. "Wow. I didn't know you can afford a place like this just from that hobby of yours. Mum and dad would've been proud if you didn't leave all of a sudden."

Masuyo's throat tightens at the last sentence, clenching her fists as she slowly turns to her. She opens her mouth to at least say something—to defend herself, to fight back, to avoid looking weak.