the day it stopped raining | midoriya izuku

10 | campfire drizzle

TOKYO
19°C
MODERATE RAIN

To say that Masuyo couldn't remember the last time she had a proper life was an understatement.

She was left alone for far too long to recall how a conversation works, or how it feels like to have someone else in her home for over an hour. It's as if she was on the brink of foreign territory outside of civilization with nothing but learnt knowledge lodged at every inch of her brain, ready to make a living based on nothing but instincts. Her routine consisted of waking up, checking and rejecting emails, drink a cup of coffee, spicy ramen, watch tv, drop by Neoma and probably go to sleep—if that's what you call a life for someone who lives based on freelancing and independence.

So when she sees Midoriya on the foot of her balcony door with nothing but a bag of groceries this time, Masuyo's mind got put on hold. The greenie grins sheepishly at her, torn between anxious and embarrassment as he places the bags of vegetables and meat on the coffee table. His whole face was beet red from the feel of her gaze as he slid off his shoes and gloves before unzipping the back of his costume on his own, relieving himself from the dreary weather while tying the sleeves around his waist.

Still unfazed, Midoriya snaps a finger in her face. "Masu-chan. Please don't stare at me like that."

"I know," she utters, looking at him, then pointed at the bags. "But—What are those for?"

"Cooking?"

Masuyo rolled her eyes. "Yeah but—why? Also, you could've just took the elevator and walk through the front door like a normal person."

"I know," he laughs lightly, head tilted back. "I just thought—maybe it's special between us. L-Like a thing that only you and I would know. So maybe...I don't want to be a normal person."

Masuyo didn't need to reply to understand what he meant. After all, it's nice to have friends who find different meanings in their own actions. Be it a secret handshake, a different way of saying goodbye and I love yous, a simple nod of understanding without a single word being uttered out loud. The girl thought it was special too...Although it can be interpreted in a romantic way in anyone else's mind.

A grateful smile forms on her lips. "Anyway, you really don't have to do this—"

"I want to, Masu-chan." He cuts her off as he hooks the bags with his fingers again, a tender smile on his lips as he stares at her. He walks past her to the kitchen, placing the groceries on the marble counter this time before taking out the ingredients for some unknown dish. His head turns around for the light switch, turning the lights in the kitchen before continuing what he's doing.

"You might be thinking, why is this boy who I met for a short time doing all of this? And by this, I mean, delivering food to your balcony or trying to have conversations with you. Or just, trying to spend as much time as possible with you. Plus, you did say you'd let me make you understand." She could hear a cheeky smile in his voice.

Currently, Masuyo was sitting on the couch, listening to his words. The sound of cabinets opening and the retrieval of pans and pots clanked on the counters, the ambient noise of someone preparing dinner in the kitchen—the kind of noise she didn't know she missed hearing. It sounds like home. Feels like home.

"I just—I just thought that maybe you need someone. Sometimes when I observe how you live—not that I'm judging—I see myself. I see a four-year-old version of me staring into space all day. Like I don't know what to do or where to go next. Like I have no purpose. And maybe, just maybe, that's why I approached you that day—when I saw you sitting under all that rain."