The sky up above was dark, gray, and gloomy—torrential rain. It beat heavily against the roof of the building, like drums announcing a death march.
It's fitting, he thought to himself.
Hands on his lap, Shouto Todoroki leaned against the hard, wooden wall behind him, intensely concentrated on the harsh pitter patter. It was the only thing he could do to distract himself from the loud wailing off at the right side of the room. Incense wafted into his nostrils, and it took all Shouto's willpower not to crinkle his nose in disgust.
A warm hand firmly gripped his, and he turned his head to the left to see his older sister, Fuyumi, regard him with a reassuring smile. She is his closest sibling and can tell when something is amiss.
Her eyes, red from crying, seemed to say, Just a little longer, Shouto.
He stiffly nodded his head, wiggling his hand out of hers because he's not a temperamental cry-baby anymore, and stared straight ahead, just like his older brothers, Isamu and Koji.
Shouto knew it was odd that only one of four children was crying at that very moment, probably made them look heartless, considering that it is their mother's funeral wake.
The room was split in half: the right side filled with her relatives, hair as white as freshly fallen snow and eyes as black as a starless sky. The left was only four people: himself, Fuyumi, Isamu, and Koji.
He clenched his fists.
It isn't that he was surprised over the lack of his Father's attendance. Rather, he was frustrated that Enji Todoroki sent his children to deal with a side of their family they knew next to nothing about.
Enji is a selfish man—he liked being in power and hated hearing oppositions to his plans. It's a trait that Shouto is overly familiar with, acquainted with the curves of every wrinkle that mars his father's face when he is displeased, heated exchanges resulting in fresh bruises and adding fuel to the flame of hatred burning in his heart towards that man.
Fuyumi's choked sob reminded him that this was not the place nor time to be angry at a husband who was not present at his wife's service. His resentment died down until there is just pity for the woman who had the dishonor of being his bride.
Finally, the Buddhist priest finished his last mantra, and everyone was free to leave their condolences at the altar.
It was odd, seeing people who are his family-but-not-really-family approach the altar filled with incense sticks and a picture frame, delivering parting gifts to a woman long gone. Their hunched backs, tear-streaked cheeks, and shaking hands are peculiar to the youngest Todoroki.
Such display of raw emotion was not allowed under his father's firm guidance.
"Shouto, we're going up," Fuyumi whispered quietly to her eighteen-year-old younger brother. He nodded his head, following the broad backs of his brothers, dressed in the same suffocating black suit he was currently sporting.
Wiping the sweat off his forehead, Shouto wondered why his mother couldn't have died during a cooler season instead of the middle of summer.
Isamu and Koji stopped and bent down to place the bouquet of yellow chrysanthemums with the others. They're steady, wasting no movement, before robotically clasping their hands together to offer one last prayer, one last thought to the woman who gave birth to them all.
This is the first time in a while since we've all been together, Shouto caught himself thinking. He's more occupied thinking about the last time the Todoroki siblings were all present at the estate than sending his final thoughts for the deceased.
Amidst the bed of flowers, he stared at the picture of an unfamiliar woman with soft cheeks, long white hair cascading down her back, rounded chin, and loving gray eyes.
He gulped down the lump in his throat.
She's different there than in his memories, eyes widened in fear, mouth open yelling obscenities, hand reaching out for the kettle of boiling hot water—
"You're Isamu, aren't you?" an elderly woman with a black yukata and gray bun asked his eldest sibling.
Tall, reliable, strong Isamu with white hair styled up to reveal his forehead. His face is chiseled and tall like their father's, not like Fuyumi who took the most after their mother's soft and round features.
He bowed his head towards the elderly woman. "It's been a long time, Grandmother."
Shouto shuddered as he heard the word 'grandmother'. The only memories he has of said term consisted of a woman with gray hair streaked red, cold blue eyes looking down at him as she raised her hand to strike his face for failing to recite his time tables fast enough.
"My, look how tall you've grown," the woman cooed, motioning for Isamu to bend down so she could affectionately rub his head.
It's an action that is completely foreign to Shouto.
"Then, this must be Koji? You have your mother's eyes," their grandmother kindly complimented. Koji pushed his black-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose, brushing red bangs out of his face so the woman has a better view.
She turned to Fuyumi who wiped her nose with a handkerchief hurriedly. "And the only daughter, Fuyumi. You look exactly like my daughter when she was your age."
When Shouto's mother had been Fuyumi's age, she was sent off to a loveless marriage from the countryside to the city with his father.
"Then that leaves…" The elderly woman turned to Shouto, eyes softening.
He wanted to crawl and hide away from his grandmother's piercing gaze. It was omniscient, piercing through the walls and barriers he built up, and never before in his life had Shouto felt so vulnerable.
Shouto could hear his siblings sucking in air as the frail lady hobbled over next to the youngest Todoroki, hands reaching up to his face. He was amazed that she can reach so high when he's already two heads taller.
Calloused fingers gingerly traced over the terrible burn scar marring the left side of his face.
"Shouto-chan, you have beautiful eyes," she said in a saccharine voice. It made him sick to his stomach, as if he just ate a handful of sweets; it made him feel so full.
He held back from telling her that his mismatched eyes, the right gray like smoke and left blue like murky water, are far from beautiful.
"Mother, leave them be," a tall man who looks strikingly like their mother save for the goatee on his chin demanded. His eyes were bloodshot, and there were dark bags under them. "They're her children, but I refuse to think of them as family."
"Uncle…" he heard Isamu mumble sadly. The bridge that Isamu had hoped to make with his mother's side is impossible.
Shouto did not share the same sentiments as his older sibling: these strangers are no family of his.
"Fubuki, stop that. They are Yukimuras by half of their blood," the old woman rebuked her son. She removed her hand from Shouto's face and returned to his uncle's side.
The teen felt a twinge of disappointment but quickly pushed that thought away.
Fubuki glared daggers at his niece and nephews. "So? Your worthless father couldn't even be damned to attend his own wife's funeral?"
"Fubuki," the elder said in a warning tone. Fubuki shook his head angrily. Not even the gods could stop his venomous assault because there in front of him were four reminders of the countless years of abuse his beloved sister suffered from that man.
"I bet he's with another woman, isn't he? Probably fell for a god damn whore because he sent his spouse to wither away in a psychiatric hospital—"
"Fuyumi, take Shouto outside," Isamu ordered. The poor girl looked to be on the brink of tears. Shouto felt his anger flare towards the man who was supposedly his mother's brother. "Koji and I will handle this."
"Don't cry, Fuyumi," Koji whispered encouragingly. He patted her shoulders comfortingly. Shouto turned his head away from the affectionate display. "Todorokis are strong."
So Shouto found himself sitting on a bench just outside the entrance, listening to the cicada cries that signal the summer season, fanning himself with one hand. The rain fell hard on the beaten ground. Fuyumi kept looking back at the room, watching with troubled eyes as her older brothers suffered from verbal attacks.
His siblings' predicament only fueled his hatred for his father even more.
"You can go back if it bothers you that much," Shouto told her. She'd been patting down her sweat with the sleeves of the rental yukata. The funeral had come unexpectedly for all of them, leaving them with little time to buy their own garments for the event.
"I'll be right back. Stay right here, okay Shouto?" Fuyumi instructed. She took three steps forward before turning back to him, glasses glistening dangerously. "I mean it."
Shouto scoffed at her warnings. He wasn't like her kindergarten students, so he doesn't know why she treats him like one.
Then again, she did take on the role of his mother at a rather young age.
Reflecting on his relationship (or lack-of) with his mother, he found that he can't recall much. Everyone in the Todoroki household—from his father to his siblings to their servants—avoided speaking about the touchy subject.
His hand unconsciously covered his left eye.
With good reason, he thought bitterly, huffing as boredom quickly overtook him. Luckily, his siblings returned just when he considered exploring the vicinity. He eyed the white envelope in Isamu's hands cautiously.
"This is for you," the oldest Todoroki announced, handing the mail over to Shouto's uncertain hands. He looked at his youngest sibling with pitiful eyes. Shouto hated that look. "Grandmother insisted for you to have it."
"You don't have to read it, if you don't want to," Koji hurriedly said, anxiously pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. It is a nervous habit of his. "But, Uncle Fubuki looked like he was ready to kill Isamu when he took it from Grandmother. Guess what's inside is important, huh?"
Now, Shouto was motivated to read the letter more than ever.
Said letter is in his hands right now, his heterochromatic eyes dutifully scanning the contents once again for the umpteenth time before setting it on the table in front of him.
His mother's funeral was three days ago.
The train he is riding drives over a bump, and his hand shoots out to catch the piece of paper fluttering down. With a sigh, Shouto takes out his cell-phone to read over some messages.
From: Fuyumi-Nee
To: Me
Shouto-chan! Hope you made it to the train station safely (*´▽`*)
Remember, Grandma's address is written in back of the envelope!
Safe travels, and can't wait to see you again in a month (ಥ﹏ಥ)
P.S. Please bring home some of Grandma's daifuku for me! (* '▽')_旦~~
He scoffs at the overly cute way his older sister types. Given her age and occupation, many wouldn't expect it from a teacher of all people, but the Fuyumi he knows acts like an over-sized child with a sweet tooth.
Thus, it came as a surprise for them all when she announced that she received her teaching license. He recalls his father's anger when she didn't follow business management like he intended for her to and frowns when he catches himself thinking about the disagreeable man.
His father likes control, especially when it came to four of his most precious pawns.
Shouto doesn't want to dwell on unpleasant thoughts, so he scrolls down his message log. The next text is from Isamu.
From: Isamu-Nii
To: Me
Shouto, this is Isamu. (Shouto snorts because he can tell from the phone number, but Isamu is technologically-impaired.)
Father is still upset over your decision to visit Mother's hometown.
However, I shall take responsibility for it since I played a role.
Make sure to focus on your studies when you return home.
Though the youngest of the four siblings, his father places the brunt of his expectations on Shouto's shoulders.
Isamu had been the picturesque heir of the Todoroki company and its assets. However, he jeopardized everything when it was revealed that he was getting married to his high school sweetheart, breaking off a prior engagement to one of his father's business partner's daughter.
The entire affair had been made public. Thus, Isamu was removed from his position as the Todoroki heir and placed as a member of the committee board so the company could avoid negative press.
On the other hand, Koji's body is weak, and he is often hospitalized as a result. They had attributed it to a genetic condition that ran in their mother's side of the family. It was probably the same condition that claimed her life.
Plus, his older brother seemed much more interested in computers than handling people, a fact he abashedly admitted to Shouto as he apologized for failing to be a 'good older brother'.
Whatever that meant.
Fuyumi had always been deemed too kind to run their father's company, though there were some expectations for her to be married off to secure an alliance with one of their father's rivals. However, their father had a soft spot for his only daughter, hardly expressing his anger save for when she revealed her desire to be a teacher.
That was the one time she had ever blatantly refused their father's wishes, and Shouto's respect for his sister only grew after her decision.
Now, their father's attention is focused on Shouto to be flawless.
His education was carefully fine-tuned to produce the best mind to run the Todoroki company—a mind that his father approved of. They hired the best at-home tutors to prevent him from making the same crime his oldest brother committed.
Shouto's playgrounds were the dull hallways of the company's offices, his playmates adults dressed in lavish suits, his toys stacks of books about management theory and stock prediction.
Now, at 18, he had become his father's perfect puppet.
Alas, Shouto always did have a spirit of rebellion, so it was with great satisfaction that he jumped at the chance to escape the house, even if it was just for a bit. It is exhilarating to be doing things that his father blatantly disapproved and experience the things his father prevented him from experiencing.
He stares outside the window, watching as the blur of gray buildings and street signs are replaced by blades of grass and the color of countryside crops. With a small smile, he observes the shapes of big, fluffy white clouds against the sky-blue background.
Never in his entire life has he been outside the city's boundaries save for the business trips he accompanied his father on, and even then he was more familiar with the hotel and conference rooms than the cities they visited.
Shouto stares at the piece of paper laid flat on the table before him, edges crinkled and frayed from being held onto too tight, too often. He begins to read it inside his head.
To my youngest son, Shouto,
I'm sorry.
This line has been crossed out and re-written a total of seven times, each time growing briefer.
I don't think there are enough words in existence to properly apologize for what I've done to you. I'm not fit to be your mother.
Shouto believes that the fault should not entirely be hers to claim because he's sure that his father had pushed her to the brink of insanity. The only thing he remembers about his parents' marriage is hushed yelling behind closed doors. None of their family portraits hung at the front of their estate for display have both smiling.
I hope that your memories of me extend far beyond that of the incident. I know I seem like a monster to you for what I've done, but I love you, Isamu, Koji, and Fuyumi with all my heart.
A part of him does consider the written words to be true. Although he only retains that one singular memory vividly, of a crazed stranger throwing burning hot water at his face, sometimes when he sleeps at night, he recalls the ghost of motherly touches that cradle his head, kiss his cheeks, and wrap around his body.
The doctors tell me I don't have much time to live, reprimanding me for refusing to take medication.
What good would it have done? I'm stuck in a psychiatric ward with no chance of escape. So, forgive me for being unable to meet with you in person and talking face-to-face. It's been years since I've seen any of you.
Regret doesn't even begin to cover Shouto's feelings as he reads this part of his mother's farewell letter to him. Given her circumstances, he could understand why she thought dying was the only escape. Maybe if he was a bit stronger, a bit more rebellious, he could have saved her from the cage his father built.
What his mother did to him was cruel, but his father's response was by far crueler.
I hardly got to know you. It's painful to hear about your children's growth from a stranger's mouth instead of watching it with your own eyes. I wish I was there by your side.
He found himself wishing the same thing.
You hardly got to know me as well. I'm sure your father has silenced everyone from mentioning my name.
But, I have one request for you. I'll understand if you don't want to complete it.
His mother was a fool to think he would turn it down.
Shouto, please go to my hometown to learn more about me. The 'me' there is the true side of your mother. I was happier back then, surrounded by people and places I loved. I'm sure you'll grow to love it, too.
And above all else…
Shouto grips the edges of the paper as he reads the next line.
Find Nobuyuki Yaoyorozu.
Love,
Setsumi Yukimura
Shouto has read the letter over a million times. And each time, the burden in his heart grows heavier.
It is obviously a man that his mother requested for him to search. And perhaps, it is because of this man that his parent's marriage was loveless.
This is the mystery that Shouto Todoroki is determined to uncover this summer. He had read novels with premises like it. Granted, he could be overthinking things, but this was a sense of adventure that he lacked in his sheltered life.
"Arriving: Kannami," the P.A. announces. Shouto perks up because this is his stop. He takes a deep breath and gathers all his belongings. His expensive sneakers step onto the worn arrival platform, and Shouto exhales softly.
He takes a step forward, hesitant at first before planting his foot firmly on the ground, and begins trudging towards his grandmother's house. He does not look back.
Author's Notes:
The FF account is unbearably bare (ehe). Though I like AO3 formatting a hecka lot more, there's not enough Todomomo fanfics going around ;;;; So er yeah it's just x-posted lmao it's lit fam (ifuckingloveCamie)