the day it stopped raining | midoriya izuku

37 | perpetual snowflake

1 year and 2 months later

MUSUTAFU
-2°C
SNOW SHOWER

There was a book Midoriya once read when he was a little kid. The time before he found out he was quirkless, the time before everything went...dark.

A Tree for All Seasons.

It was out of curiosity when he saw that particular book in the store, in the midst of winter as his mother search for cookbooks. He stood on his tippy toes, reaching for that one book that's clean and new—fresh from printed chemicals and ink with its glossy cover of a children's book. That must be meant for him, he thought, as his small chubby hands held the light book as big as his face.

He flips onto the first page: spring—trees maturing as a sign of new life and new beginnings. Summer—trees brimming with life as their leaves and branches dance with the gracious breeze. Autumn—leaves morphing to red maple, falling and falling on the ground that used to be tender, a bittersweet journey of travails and wishful thinking. And lastly: winter—snowflakes clinging onto branches like flickering lights of fireflies that look like a Christmas tree, a season of celebration for all seasons—for all happenings and what-ifs. A season that's harsh to the external, but warm in the hearts of believers.

"Izuku, what are you reading?"

"Huh?" The little boy looks up from the book to his mother.

"Why are you crying?" She looks at him with worry.

"Huh?"

And he's right back to reality where Midoriya wasn't a little boy, but sitting at the dinner table on Christmas eve as an adult, with his mother right across him. When he came to realize, he felt tears already streaming down his freckled cheeks, feeling a little embarrassed that he had teared up in the middle of a special dinner. He quickly put down his utensils and wipes his woeful tears away, peculiar at his own actions.

"U-Um...it's nothing. Don't worry, mum." He lets out a broken chuckle, ignoring the irking ache buried in his chest.

Inko frowns, already putting down her utensils. "It's never nothing, Izuku. You know how I am when I'm worried about you."

There's no lying, isn't there? Midoriya almost laughed.

"It's gonna sound stupid."

"Is it about something I know of?"

He shook his head.

"I-It's just..." He swallows. "It's about this girl I met after one of my patrols a few years ago."

That piqued interest in Inko. "Oh? What happened?"

Midoriya wears a wobbly smile at the thought of her.

"Nothing...It's just...I miss her."

"Did you keep in touch with her?" He shook his head. "What then?"

"I...uh...gave her some space. She needed time after all. We're only meeting when it's time."

"...I see."

About a month after Masuyo got discharged from the hospital, she started going to therapy. It all began with a simple session that lasted an hour. Her therapies were in the afternoon while her quirk rehabilitation program was in the evening. Even if Midoriya wanted to be there for her after her last session of the day, he had to give her time to rest. As much as they wanted to spend time together having movie night every day, he thought things would be better if he'd just let her heal on her own without him interrupting. There are days when they text each other, but for him, it wasn't enough. It's never enough. Masuyo doesn't know that, but it's better that way.