the day it stopped raining | midoriya izuku

03 | cloudy curtains

TOKYO
21°C
MODERATE RAIN

Masuyo didn't have the strength anymore to grab onto the sky that's welled up with tears.

Back then, as a child—a once, salutary and lively girl—her lips would curl up to the sunny skies and its ocean hue filled with cotton puffs loved by soaring wings. The sun would mirror her gaze and ethereal smile as she runs through the neighbourhood with her old friends chasing after her carefree mind—the typical hangouts of high school students who were also known as sad teenagers wearing happy faces.

Perhaps that was true when even Masuyo's inner circle of friends had their own problems as complex as hers too—a sonder realization. They had to learn at the age of fourteen that life isn't what they expected. And when they do realize it, such adults like older sisters and parents start seeing her as a threat to their pride.

Masuyo lets out a shaky sigh as she stood in front of the ramen aisle in Neoma, snapping out of her trance when the same reveries clouded her mind. It wasn't the first time that this had happened—because then the past will always find its way back to her no matter how much effort it took to run away from it.

It was still clear as day when she remembers how her family reacted to her getting in a cab with a bag full of clothes, screaming, raging and begging for her to stop for a moment and feel remorse for leaving behind her own family. And Masuyo let out a cold laugh at that—laughed at their deception and unresolved sins.

Because in the end, the ones who end up breaking your heart are your own family.

A lump formed in her throat before Masuyo realized her eyes burned at the sensation of tearing up. She quickly blinked away the memories, cursing herself as she tries to calm down.

It's okay. It's okay. It's just you now.

Is she?

The wine-haired girl blindly picks out the usual spicy ramen from the shelf before guiding herself to the cold fridge, grabbing her usual drink as well and grabbed a few snacks along the way to the cashier. She carried them all in her arms, struggling a little as she tries to place them gently on the counter. Masuyo was more than aware that the staff at Neoma practically know her routine. Though she secretly hoped that there wasn't an ounce of disgust or judgement.

But then she thought—does she? Does she really give a shit about what the scrawny cashier who pops a lollipop think about her? Does she give a shit about how sometimes she could hear the sounds of anguish and frustration rolling off his tongue whenever she walks into the store heavily soaked?

Does she give a shit about herself?

As declared; Masuyo didn't have the strength anymore to grab onto the sky that's welled up with tears.

It's blatant and strongly suggested that she gave up the moment she left her old home—broken and smothering that she had to leave for her own good. But then the good ends up being bad, leading to a swirling mess of question marks and unresolved tension.

It's the same as the hooded girl walking out of Neoma with a bag of shitty food, letting the rain kiss her uninvitingly, soaking through her hoodie and shorts and slippers. She just stood there, in front of the store, gaze slightly blinded by beads of rain—letting the cold overwhelm her numb body and mind. People spared a glance at the frozen girl as they rushed their way into the store, some inadvertently bumping their shoulder against hers, saying sorry as if she heeded enough to listen.

She was soaked to the bone that it almost feels as if she was taking a shower, but she eventually sat on a wooden bench situated by the walls of Neoma, the night light of Tokyo lighting up the area between the store and her apartment a little. It must be peculiar why Masuyo couldn't give a single fuck to whatever she was doing. People must be thinking why she's exposing herself to the pouring rain as if the world wasn't burning—but Masuyo was used to this. And she knew she shouldn't be.

Because rain is like a constant reminder that she's still in pain.

Masuyo pictures an imaginary interview with an old photo of herself, an enigmatic figure who still lives in the grainy and colour-warped house she grew up in, who may well spend a lot of their day wondering where she was and what she's doing now, like an old grandma whose kids live far away and don't call much anymore.

That version of Masuyo would be very, very disappointed. So disappointed that she wouldn't be surprised if she'd cry.

But she did.

She feels fire behind her eyes, but she couldn't feel the tears streaming down her cheeks. She could only feel the rain disguising her distressed state, hearing the thunder rumbling when she lets out a sob.

Why was she crying? Was it because today's a bad today? But every day's a bad day, isn't it? Or was it because she ruined her own mind by constantly overthinking? Who hurt you? Your family? Society? Or you?

"Are you okay?"

She jolts at the contact of someone's hand on her shoulder, causing her senses to sharpen at their voice. She looks up to find the source, breath hitching at how close their face was. She leans back a little, their hand still lingering on her shoulder, heart thumping out of anxiety.

Masuyo takes a deep breath, swallowing her nerves and perhaps, a little bit of rainwater. Then she blinked her eyes into focus this time, finding a new perspective to the origin of the question asked for her.

The girl sees green eyes that reminded her of the vast field behind her old school. A place where most memories were made worthy and free of the cruel world. The girl sees dark green hair that reminded her of lush bushes and falling leaves, remembering how the winds danced with the trees. The girl sees freckles adorning round cheeks, reminding her of the times she watched the night sky like a movie, lying down on the field with her old friends as they point out shooting stars.

Masuyo sees a green boy, and almost thought she was saved from her own misery.

"Are...Are you okay?" He asks again in a tone so soft it almost made Masuyo cry again. As if he was afraid that every part of his soul would break her.

She slowly nods, which immediately made him smile a little—in which his smile made her eyes wide in surprise.

"Okay," he chuckles. "Okay...Okay."

Just uttering such simple words cleared her mind.

Masuyo noticed he was holding an umbrella in between them, sitting on the bench with her. He was wearing some kind of a green jumpsuit, adorned with hints of red shoes and pouches. It immediately occurred to her that this angel in disguise was a hero. Though he looked too young to be a pro. A rookie perhaps?

She almost flinched again when the boy brought his umbrella closer to her, causing part of his side exposed to the rain, getting wet by the second.

"Here, take it...Keep it."

The boy smiles at her again, and Masuyo almost convinced herself that this human being was the sun in disguise. She could only stare at him in awe as he brings the hook towards her hand.

When she gingerly wraps her fingers around the hook of his umbrella—she could feel the rain morphing to drizzling, sunny rain.

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