the day it stopped raining | midoriya izuku

31 | red storm

TOKYO
18°C
HEAVY RAIN

People say it gets worse before it gets better, yet Masuyo feels like she's getting worse without getting any better.

The curtains drawn by the window hides the increasing pile of bottled coffees and spicy ramens as if she were reliving the same old days. Unwashed cups litter the coffee table, dirty plates pile in the sink. Masuyo couldn't remember the last time she mustered enough energy to do something productive, even the simplest task, but all she does now was stare at the television as it plays some news channel talking about the weather that's most likely her fault.

Her eyes were adorned by dull crescents, appearing as if she was too exhausted to open her eyes wide, only seeing the bare minimum to get through her day. She rests her feet on the table, unbothered of anything, not even the tangled strands within her hair. Although she showered, she just lets it air dry instead, and forgets to comb it. As much as she wants to feel fresh and awake, the girl found no reason to even keep up with time, falling asleep on purpose by consuming as many sleeping pills as she can to feel nothing, forget everything and just...go.

She's too tired to stay, but too scared to leave. She doesn't want to die, she just wants relief.

The only thing that kept her going was the thought of him. But knowing herself, she doesn't want to keep bothering anyone anymore. She's tired. She doesn't know how many times she had said that or even thought of it. She just needs to rest for as long as she can so she can finally have the strength to walk through this world—walk hand in hand with Midoriya.

But why? Why is she like this? She must have done something wrong for the universe to choose her.

Unfazed, her phone starts ringing and Masuyo weakly turns to her side, reading the caller ID on the screen.

Mother

She turns back to the television.

She left it untouched to make it go miss call, pretending as if she never existed. The girl starts questioning herself why they even bother calling her or even having the audacity to find out where she lives when they were dissatisfied with her leaving. If they were that upset, they shouldn't have bothered coming all the way to Tokyo to look for one specific girl, and yet, the people who ruined her life thought that long periods of time would simmer the tension before pouncing on her back.

When the third call came, Masuyo snapped and pushed away a cup off the table with her foot before snatching her phone, spitefully answering the call.

"What the fuck do you want?" Her blood boils as soon as she hears her voice.

"I just want to know how you're doing." Her mother calmly says, but Masuyo still doesn't believe her. No one in her family wants to know how she's doing. Never.

"Well I'm doing fucking great. Thanks for asking. Is that all?" She spits out, though she didn't realize she was shaking, either from rage or on the verge of breaking down.

"Haru," the girl almost hiccups. She wished her own name was erased. "I've never seen you like that. Or even hear you like this. I'm worried."

Masuyo barks out a laughter. "Worried? Bitch, I was emotionally constipated in that house. I went to you for comfort. I went to everybody for help because I needed someone, yet nobody gives a single shit about me just because I was the black sheep in our family."

"You know that's not true."

"It is true! You think I'd forget what you said? Why bother coming here when you told me that I shouldn't have been born? Fuck! I wish I wasn't born. I wish I could control this—stupid fucking curse of a quirk I got! I wasted my whole life over something I have no control of and you're suddenly worried? Where were you when I needed you? Where was everybody when I needed them?"

By the time she finished yelling into the phone, tears were already dripping off her cheeks. Her chest heaved up and down, breathing heavily through her mouth, vision blurry as she sees nothing but a mess of what she'd become.

"I know. I know, Haru. That's why I—" She paused, and Masuyo hears a faint hiccup. "That's why I called. If you need help or anything, I can get you throu—"

"I DON'T NEED HELP!" Masuyo yelled furiously, gripping the phone tightly.

Her mother lets out a choked sob on the line.

"I'm so sorry, Haru."

Masuyo throws her phone at the television, cracking the screen as it glitched. It lands on the floor facing up, blatantly showing its uselessness when it cracked as well, screen black. She could hear the thunder clapping a few times in the distance, not that she cared enough to stop herself from splitting the world any longer.

"Fuck!" She screams, violently tugging at her hair. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

And in the midst of a thunderstorm, the girl started making a mess in her own home again, shattering more porcelain and glasses all over the floor, torn between feeling the pain of her heart and the shards underneath her feet. She sees red but doesn't know if it's the blood or unresolved bitterness blinding her. The girl continued screaming and screaming in synch with the thunders, landing a hit on antennas and risking the lives of civilians. Her voice bellowed with venom and a cry, and Masuyo couldn't even recognize who she is anymore.

Tables are flipped, trash was thrown around, plants were scattered across the floor. It's like a scene of hell on earth, a battlefield—a war among herself. Masuyo couldn't feel anything, couldn't see anything. Her hands were searching for something to hold and let go—because that's the only thing she knew she'll end up letting go of when it comes to things she desires.

However, at some point, the girl tripped on her own feet, most likely because of the small pieces of glass stuck in the sole of her feet.

And when she did fall, her head lands on the edge of the coffee table.

The thunderstorm abruptly stopped.

_________

wow this was really heavy. i guess I had a depressing day today I had to let it out in this story ahah