X. And so It Rains

I woke up wondering why I even bothered to open my eyes.

I laid in my bed and looked out the window. The sky was a mixture of light and dark blue as the sun was just beginning to rise. My eyes felt heavy with the weight of exhaustion holding them down. I closed them and told myself I would sleep for just five minutes longer— but then I heard a creak in the floor outside my room and my eyes immediately shot open. I sat up and got to my feet as quietly as I could. With my wings folded against my back, I tiptoed out of my room and into the hallway, where a faint light shone just a few feet in front of me.

I walked towards the light and found myself standing in the kitchen doorway. My father stood up against the island, his back towards me, and he placed a cup of steaming liquid beside him. His wings were unfolded slightly and he rubbed his hand across his shoulder, something he did when he was about to pluck out his feathers. Instead, though, he removed his hand and picked up the cup again.

I was shocked.

"Dad?"

His wings unfolded and he quickly whirled around, unintentionally knocking off a fruit bowl with his appendage. The bowl fell to the floor with a loud crack, shards flying everywhere and the fruit either splattering with the bowl or rolling away.

"Shit—" my father cursed and placed the cup down. He hurried over to the mess— as did I— and the both of us were crouching beside it, with him picking up the shards and I tasked with the fruit.

"I'll— I'll get a rag," he said. "To clean up this mess."

I nodded. I watched as he moved to the other side of the kitchen.

"And a broom," I said, though he must've not heard it, because he returned with just a worn rag in his hands.

"Um… a broom, too," I repeated. My father looked at me.

"Oh! Right—"

My question of why I woke up at all re-entered my head, along with the thought of melting into a puddle, which seemed incredibly tempting right now. I sighed quietly and pinched the bridge of my nose. My father and I, who were so used to just ignoring each other, were in a situation where we actually had to interact— and neither of us knew how to do it. The awkwardness was pricking my skin and pulling at my hair.

By now, my father had gotten the broom and swept most of the pieces up, while I retrieved the fruit and threw them in the garbage, as well as cleaned up the ones that had made a mess on the floor. We now stood at opposite ends of the kitchen and looked at each other. I felt like I should've just left and put this entire thing behind us, and just return to our routine of not acknowledging each other, but there was a sort of tightness in my chest that kept me from doing that. My father let out a quiet sigh and sat at one of the stools at the island, and slid his cup closer to him.

"I, uh… I saw you a couple days back. At the sports festival." My heart leapt out of my chest. "Watched you on TV."

"... Oh."

I didn't know what to say aside from that. I cleared my throat and strode over to the sink, where I turned the faucet and washed my hands under the warm water that splashed against my skin.

"You did good."

My ears burned hot. I turned off the faucet and flicked my wrists, removing the excess droplets of water, and ran my hands down my shirt.

"You think?" I asked.

"Yeah."

I turned around to face my father, and he looked at me. And his eyes— they had such a different look in them. One that I hadn't seen in eight years.

"I'm proud of you, Yukiko."

My wings fluttered and my throat tightened. At first, I thought that this was just a joke— that my father was saying things just to say things, but saw the way he looked at me, and his eyes were glossy and true, looking directly into mine. I wasn't sure what to do or say. I wasn't sure if I should even react at all.

"T-Thanks…" I stammered after a few moments of contemplative silence. "I mean… I only got in the top sixteen."

"Out of how many students?"

I took in a deep breath.

"Hawks really did train you well, huh?" my dad chuckled as he took a sip of his drink. "Yeah… you fought well against that kid. He's your classmate, right?"

I nodded. I was astounded at how much he was saying. I couldn't remember the last time we had an actual, full conversation like this. For the past eight years, we were just strangers who shared the same space.

"Yeah…" I trailed off, my cheeks beginning to warm with the thought of Bakugo. "He's my friend."

"Mm. I guess you've made a lot of friends since school started."

I nodded. My father chuckled.

"That makes me happy."

"I'm glad you're happy."

More silence.

I once again began to consider the idea of leaving. I felt awkward and uncomfortable more than anything. The bond my father and I had once upon a time faded into nothingness, and because of this casual conversations like the one he attempted to have with me just felt forced, and needlessly somber. I wanted to leave. I had to. But for some reason, my body refused to move, and I soon found myself yearning for what we had all those years ago.

My mind screamed the bond we have will never be mended. My heart whispered but maybe we can try. And like that, I found myself at a crossroads within myself. Either way, I felt silly. It really did seem like melting into a puddle would be the best decision.

"Yukiko—" my father sounded. I perked up at the way he said my name. It was soft.

"Hm?"

My father folded his hands and turned around fully in his seat to face me. His head was lowered, eyes remaining on the ground. I began to fear what was coming next.

"I…" he began. Then he stopped, and he sighed. "I know that… our relationship isn't great. Ever since Shinobu disappeared, I—"

There was a burning on the back of my neck.

"I've been lost," he whispered. His voice quieted with each word. When he finally looked at me, I didn't want to admit how similar we looked.

I was scared of realizing how similar we truly are.

I had never stopped to consider how my father felt about my mother's disappearance. I never took a moment to think, truly think, about how much this affected him. I never took the time to understand why he developed his poor habits, and why he began isolating himself, and why our relationship deteriorated so quickly. I would only tell myself that he loved her and missed her, and left it at that. And in realization of this, my stomach began to churn and twist as I began to fully process everything my father and I have gone through until now.

How could I have been so selfish?

I had only known my mother for a small part of my life, but my father knew her for what must've been double that. And while that didn't mean I couldn't miss her or be sad about her, it did mean that my father felt her loss deeper than I did. I lost my mother, but he— he lost a part of himself. His soulmate. His heart. And when you lose yourself, what more are you than just an empty shell?

And I— the only part of her he had left— in my desperation to bring her back and my anguish in the fact she was gone in the first place, I had ended up turning against him. When my father reached his lowest, rather than support him and try to bring him out the abyss he had fallen into, I turned my back on him. I abandoned him when he needed me most.

I was mortified at myself. I was blinded by my own selfishness and refused to see the type of man he was. How could I doubt he ever loved me? How could I say he was a terrible father? How could I act like he didn't know me, when in reality, he knew me better than I knew myself?

"Yukiko?"

Without a second thought, I rushed forward and wrapped my arms around his neck.

"Dad—" I took in a deep breath, trying to blink away tears that began to form. "Dad, I'm so sorry…"

"Sorry? For what?"

My heart ached in unfathomable regret.

"I treated you so terribly, I—" How can I say sorry?

My father placed his hand on the small of my back and pulled me closer towards him, returning my embrace. My eyes began to water. I forget how warm his hold was. I forgot how comforting it felt to be held by him. I forgot what it was like to just be near him, and how much depth his hugs had.

"What're you apologizing for?" he chuckled, his voice cracking. "I was a pretty awful dad, you know—"

I quickly pulled away and shook my head.

"No!" I shouted. He recoiled in shock. "I pushed you away! I refused to be near you because I thought you abandoned me, when it was I who abandoned you! And I blamed you for everything, and I just sat there and watched you spiral downwards but you were just— you were so sad and I thought you hated me and—"

"Yukiko."

He pulled me away and held my shoulders as I tried desperately to hold back tears, sniffs wracking my already trembling body.

"You shouldn't blame yourself," he said. "Whatever you think you did, I mean— it's okay. I'm not mad at you. I never was…" he sighed. "I should've been more considerate of you. I've said and done horrible things to you, Yukiko. I've hurt your feelings and left you alone to cry and made you feel like you're just a copy of your mother. But you, Yukiko—" Even with my blurry vision, I could see his own tears form. "You are so amazing, and so wonderful. I never told you how relieved I was to see you uninjured after USJ, or how happy I felt when I saw how your face changed because you finally started making friends—"

He ran his thumb over my reddened cheeks.

"Yukiko… everything you've done and continue to do never ceases to amaze me. You're one half of me, and one half of your mother, but you're one hundred percent you. You're kind, and you're loving, you're beautiful, and you have such a stunning view of the world…"

I shook my head. "Please…" I whimpered. He only continued.

"You didn't hurt me, or abandon me. You've done nothing but make me proud—" he exhaled deeply. "You've done so well, and grown so much, and nothing can make me happier. I know I've been horrible at showing it, but Yukiko, truly, sincerely, there is nothing and no one I will love more than you. Because you're you— you're my daughter, and even when the stars stop shining and the sky falls, I will never stop loving you."

Finally, he breathed.

"How could I?"

My father was the type of person to believe love only ended in disaster. After everything that happened, it was only natural. And yet, despite this— despite everything— there was still some love left. There was still space in his heart and he reserved it for me. There was nothing that could make me happier than that. This happiness, inevitably, consumed me and overwhelmed me until words were no longer appropriate, and all I could do was cry.

This was a moment I thought I'd never have with him again, or ever. To be crying like this now, when we were awkwardly cleaning up a mess of fruits just a few minutes earlier, it almost made me laugh. How did we get here?

Rather than contemplate the events that led up to this, I just let the moment happen. My tears were ones shed from happiness and relief, because for the first time in a while I finally felt like something in my life was going right. I think this is what closure was called— this deep feeling that everything now and after would be okay.

When I pulled myself away from my father's shoulder, I looked at the wet stain on his shirt and he just laughed softly.

"It's okay," he said. "You have school soon. You should start getting ready soon."

I nodded and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. "R-Right."

I wrapped my arms around my father and gave him a tight hug that lasted for a good few seconds. I sighed deeply and in content.

"By the way, Yukiko," my dad said, looking at me curiously. "Have you tried wearing your hair down? I think it'd look good on you."

I chuckled a bit under my breath. Maybe today called for something different.

I couldn't say I was a very big fan of rain. I often had to carry large umbrellas and keep my wings close to my body to prevent them from getting wet. While they were mostly waterproof, molting periods meant the feathers were vulnerable to getting wet and thus hindering my ability to fly. And, of course, with a combination of bad luck and the sheer amount of feathers I've shed lately, my molting period was beginning. Three months worth of constant feather shedding and an ache in my wings began now.

I sighed quietly and raked my fingers through my loose strands. Per my father's suggestion, I decided to let my hair down for today, though I kept a hair tie around my wrist in case I got the urge to wrap my hair back into its typical bun. The raindrops pelted gently against my umbrella as Yūei's building came into view— along with someone else. It didn't take me very long to recognize him.

"Iida?"

I, for one reason or another, never got much of a chance to interact with Iida outside of the occasional small talk or note sharing. I suppose the chance never presented itself until recently. Gripping the umbrella handle with both hands, I hurried up to him, and he greeted me with a small smile and an incline of the head.

"Good morning," I returned. "This rain, huh? Makes you forget yesterday was bright and sunny."

I noticed the twitch in his lips. He just nodded his head.

"Er— yes."

"Um…" I furrowed my brows. "Is something the matter, Iida-kun? You're usually so enthusiastic…"

I then remembered seeing on the news what happened to Ingenium— Iida's older brother— and how it was entirely possible he was beyond recovery due to a villain attack. And something like that, I just knew that wasn't something one could get over so easily. My stomach tied itself into knots. I couldn't imagine what was going through Iida's head, what he must've been feeling right now.

"I'm just a bit tired," he told me. I could hear the lie between his teeth. "Please, do not worry about me. Everything is fine!"

Despite my concerns, I didn't think it would be right to prod into what was bothering him. If Iida wanted to tell me, I'm sure he would've, like how Ochako told me her concerns about her reasoning to be a hero, or how Todoroki told me about his issues with his father. People, as I've come to find out, knew when they were ready to open up. If they wanted to, then they would. And if they didn't, then there was a reason, and forcing them to regardless of that reason wouldn't be fair in the slightest.

But not getting involved, I thought, is how my father slipped so far. Could I let that happen to Iida?

Stuck at another crossroads, I bit my lip and clutched the umbrella handle until I felt a sharp pain on my palm and I was forced to ease my grip. I had to calm myself down. Taking a few deep breaths, I looked at Iida and, between trying to figure out what was right as a friend and what was right as an outsider, I did the only thing, the best thing I could do in this moment.

"Iida-kun," I said. "If something is bothering you— if there's someone you need to talk to— I'm here. I, and nineteen other people called your classmates," I smiled. "You aren't alone, you know?"

There was an instant where Iida's shoulders relaxed and he truly looked like he was about to reveal what was getting under him, but then he pursed his lips and returned his gaze. That's what told me he wasn't ready. And if he wasn't— there wasn't anything I could do or say against that.

"Thank you, Fukurota-kun," he responded. "I appreciate your concern, but as I said, there's nothing wrong."

Again, I smiled. I'd just have to let it be. "Alright. The offer still stands, though."

"If I ever need to speak to you about my troubles, you're the first person I'll go to."

"I'll be here." Something didn't feel quite right about this, but I forced myself to ignore it. "Always."

"By the way, Fukurota-kun, have your feathers been falling this entire time?" Iida asked. I huffed quietly.

"Unfortunately, it's my molting period right around now," I explained. My wings ruffled as if responding to my statement directly.

"I see. You'll be shedding them over a few months?" he continued. I nodded.

"It's a hassle, and it tends to be messy, but—" I chuckled. "That's nature."

Iida pushed up his glasses. "I've always wondered, do you consider yourself more to be like a bird, or a human?"

I had to stop and think about his question, one that came as unexpectedly as this rain. I've always somewhat seen myself as a bird— I have wings, after all. I can fly. I have powerful eyes that allow me to see in the dark, I can keep my lungs filled with fresh air for longer periods of time, and I have a hollow skeleton— all of the same things birds possess. But, like a human, I smile and laugh and cry. I wear clothes and go to school and enjoy things like any other human does. I wasn't quite sure. Any answer I thought of didn't sound quite satisfying enough

"I don't really know, Iida-kun," I said. "I don't think I ever feel more like one or the other. There are some days where I feel like both. And there are some days where I relate more to the air molecules dancing around, unsure of what I am other than alive. Questions like that— of whether I'm a bird or a human— why can't I just respond with 'I'm me'?"

Iida seemed to ponder deeply at my words, as did I, his question repeating continuously in my head.

"I suppose it doesn't matter in the end," Iida said. "Birds or humans— both have an innate desire to fly."

"Freedom, Iida-kun," I hummed. "It's what we all want in the end."

"From the world?"

Softly, I smiled.

"From ourselves."

As soon as my eyes landed on Midoriya, I stormed up to him with the intention of scolding him for using his arms until they were lacerated and bleeding and broken, but then I remembered how I told him it was okay to be reckless, and I also remembered it was the sports festival, and going all out was the only option, but—

"Did you have to damage your arms like that?" I asked, examining the bandages that were wrapped around his hands. Midoriya blinked at me and looked down.

"Sorry," he said quietly. "It… happened in the heat of the moment."

"Heat of the moment…" I parroted. I just sighed and shook my head.

"Um— did you do something different with your hair, by the way?" Midoriya asked. I laughed a bit.

"I let it down," I responded. I finally decided to take my seat, brushing some strands out of my face as I did so.

"It looks nice," he said. I smiled a bit. In my peripheral, I saw the classroom door slid open, and my heart nearly burst when I saw Bakugo walk inside. I tried not to make eye contact, but his eyes met mine before I could tear them away, and like so many times before the entire world melted away until it was just me and him. The closer he walked towards his desk, the faster my heart beat until I was left wondering, rather morbidly, how I didn't go into cardiac arrest.

"G-Good morning," I stammered, suddenly sheepish as I twirled my hair around my finger.

"Hey," he responded as he sat down. I took deep breaths as I tried to calm my racing heart, and when a distraction came in the form of Aizawa-sensei entering the room, I silently thanked no one in particular. His lack of bandages was more than a good sign that he had made a full recovery, although there was a distinct scar now underneath his eye.

"Hero Internships," he said. "Some of you caught the eye of the pros, and will have a chance to choose who you'd like to intern with. Whoever you choose, you'll spend a week with them in various agencies around Japan."

He pointed a remote at a screen and several names appeared— Todoroki, Bakugo, Iida, Uraraka, amongst others—

And mine, as well. I squinted at the number that was posted beside my name. Four hundred offers. I considered that an astonishing amount, especially since I had only made it in the top sixteen. I then considered the fact most of these offers were because of my father— and suddenly I felt a bit less impressed with myself.

"Wow, Todoroki-san received the most offers…" Momo gasped. I looked back at him as he clicked his tongue.

"Bakugo got a lot, too," Denki pointed out. "Less than Todoroki, though. I guess the pros are afraid of ya!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Bakugo growled.

"Enough," Aizawa-sensei warned, his eyes glowing red. Immediately, the clamor died down. He blinked and sighed, then ran a hand through his hair. "We'll also be choosing hero names. These are the identities people will know you by when you debut. There's someone who will come and help you choose these names—"

The door slammed open again, Midnight standing in the doorway, hands rested behind her head. She hummed as she sashayed inside and winked at us, though I could only sigh in exasperation.

"Like Aizawa said, your hero names should be something that you think represents you. We'll take a few minutes so you can think about it, and then you'll present your names to the class!" she announced. I froze. Did we really have to reveal our names to the entire class? What if someone thought it was dumb? Or silly? What if it wasn't good?

As we were handed whiteboards and markers, I groaned and planted my forehead on my desk. This wasn't going to be easy. I never took the time to consider what I'd want people to see me as. I was always just Yukiko or the girl with wings— neither of which could work as hero names— but Midnight said a hero name should be what we think represents us. Should it be less about how I want other people to view me, and more of how I view myself?

"Are any of you ready?" Midnight asked. I looked at the clock and was shocked to see fifteen minutes had already passed. Time really does go by when you spend all of it thinking, I suppose.

"I'd like to go!" Tsuyu called, gripping her board as she scurried to the front of the room. I smiled. I appreciated her eagerness.

"Ever since elementary school, I've wanted to be—" she turned her board to us. "Rainy Season Hero: Froppy!"

Ah.

More and more ideas started coming to my head— slowly, but surely. My other classmates started coming up, revealing their names, our courage and confidence in our names and ourselves bouncing off each other. Red Riot. Earphone Jack. Cellophane. Tentacole. It was staring to come together. Let these names reflect who you are. Be the person you want to be. Be the person you love.

As I closed the cap on the marker, I stared at my writing on the whiteboard and inhaled deeply, then exhaled. I can't say for sure this was who I am. But I know it's what felt the most right. It's what felt the most true to me. In that case, I suppose, maybe this does represent who I am.

I stood up and my chair scraped against the floor, all eyes suddenly landing on me. I strode to the front of the room, leaving behind a trail of feathers, and when I reached the front I tried my best to remain calm as everyone kept their expectant gazes on me.

"Um…" I started. "When people hear this name, I want to them to think they can fly. I want them to spread their own wings and take off. But I also want people to take the time to understand what this earth has to offer. And to understand that in the grand scheme of the universe, wings or not, we're all undoubtedly, infinitely—"

I smiled and flipped my board over.

"And perhaps regretfully—"

The Empyrean Hero.

"Human."

Valkyrie.

My hands were trembling, obviously so, as I waited for a response from my class.

They clapped.

I breathed out a sigh of relief and fluttered my wings slightly, then promptly returned to my seat. Midoriya turned to me and smiled.

"Valkyrie?" he asked. "I like the way it sounds."

"Ah, thank you," I chuckled. As I looked up, I saw Bakugo looking back at me, and I cleared my throat.

"It does suit you," he said. Then he turned back around. I blushed and looked at Midoriya's board, noticing, in messy handwriting, the name 'Deku'. I furrowed my brows in mild confusion. That was the name Bakugo called him as an insult.

"I didn't originally like the meaning of this, but someone changed it for me, and that meant a lot to me," he explained. "Because of that, I was able to make this name my own."

To find the light in something dark— not many people could do that. I suddenly found myself feeling immense pride for Midoriya, someone who has torn up his body just to get to the top, to prove himself. I found something about that beautiful, and incredibly inspiring. Midoriya continues to impress me.

Before long, we were handed papers to accept the offers extended towards us. I looked through the list of people who wanted to intern me, but I already knew who I wanted to intern with. Without a single doubt in my mind, I scribbled down the name and looked at it in satisfaction.

"Oi, Yukiko. Who're you choosing?"

I looked at Bakugo as he stood up and moved to my desk. I quickly slammed my hand over my paper.

"None of your business," I hummed. He frowned.

"Just show me—!"

"Nope." I smirked.

"Quit fucking with me!"

"Why's it so important to you, anyway?"

Bakugo's cheeks turned a light tint of pink, and I just let out a laugh as he returned to his desk and plopped in his seat. Eventually, I moved my hand away and fluttered my wings as a few more feathers fell.

It all starts from here.

a/n

a little nod to the original summary of this story ;^)

anyway i wanted to go a bit more in depth with yukiko's relationship with her dad. jiyuu really isn't a bad person, but since this story is told from yukiko's pov her perception of him is a bit skewed. a series of poor communication and mistakes on both ends has led to their relationship deteriorating but it's about time they turned over a new leaf and start rebuilding what they had!

also thank you all so much for the continued support it means so much to me *heart emoji* love u guys mwah