Trigger Warnings:
- suicide
Once we have stopped crying, we leave to find a spare training uniform shirt.
My second match is about to start soon, against Iida-san, but before Todoroki-kun and I part ways, he stops me.
He hasn't let go of my hand all this time, and now he cradles my free one, turning me to face him.
"I feel guilty asking this - in fact, I have no right to ask you this - but I don't want to be alone. My thoughts ... they terrify me. Please stay. Please don't go. Stay for a bit longer," he whispers, eyes trained on the ground, entire body trembling.
I clench his hands. "I can't. I'm sorry. But I can promise you this: I'll come to you as soon as the match is over. My joints can endure that much. And until then, you may take a flower."
His gaze rises to meet mine, scared and shimmering. When he sees the conviction in them, he asks tentatively, "Which one?"
"Your choice," I reply.
He releases his grasp on one of my hands to lift it and inspect the blooms. I feel his fingers stroke the petals and my hair. It feels ... nice. Without ill intent. And that scares me. Finally, he pulls back, holding four nasturtiums: red, orange, yellow, and maroon. "I couldn't decide because all of them were beautiful. Is that all right?" I tell him that it is and free my other hand from his, turning back to enter the arena. "All the best," he susurrates. "I know you'll do amazing."
Pressing his hands one last time, I let go. I step onto the concrete field, directly facing Iida-san. He is wearing his signature frown, so he doesn't appear menacing. He doesn't see me as much of a threat either, an unfortunately misguided notion I am going to exploit.
The instant Midnight-sensei orders the match to begin, he dashes toward me, intending to finish this match swiftly. I sidestep when he is only meters away, and he misses. At the same time, a barely visible puddle of water rests above the concrete, just touching the edges of the chalk-drawn rectangular boundary. He charges again, and this time I levitate myself to create some distance between us. The water level rises.
From what I've seen, his quirk is not long-lasting. Sprinting is fast but quick. The runner tires soon. Iida-san is the same. I just need to wear him down and victory is mine.
We repeat this dance for a little longer, the water having now reached his ankles. It's like water accumulating in an invisible aquarium tank. At this point, he has noticed it, and changes his strategy. Instead of rushing headfirst, he takes a more roundabout approach. He circles me, and I circle him, waiting for the other to make a move. All the while, more water accumulates. It is about to touch the lowest of his exhaust pipes on his hamstrings. When I am close to the white boundary line, he pounces, covering the distance, hoping to push me back. But I have a different idea. I summon a pillar of obsidian just under my feet, towering approximately five meters. He cannot scale that height, for the pillar is smooth with no handholds or footholds. He almost crashes into the hard rock, but stops just short. I sit down, feet dangling over the edge, and open my thermos bottle to, of course, drink some milk.
He grits his teeth, much to my amusement, and berates me. "You're very disrespectful. This is an event of prestige. Renowned heroes are here to watch and select their protégés, the public is here to watch, our own teachers are present to evaluate us. And you're mocking all of them by having childish fun and drinking."
I chuckle, and to emphasize his point, I swing my feet back and forth and take another sip. "Iida-san. We all have our methods of tackling problems. You like to charge headfirst, like most of our classmates. I prefer to sit back and let things take their course." Now really feeling childish, I bring my cane forward to put my hands over its head and rest my chin on them. "Besides, I am a poor little crippled girl. I can't even walk without it, let alone run. How can I possibly take the offense?"
"You know that is not what I am talking about, Hanada. I'm talking about your twisted sense of entertainment. You like playing with your opponents. You relish their frustration and helplessness. Just as a villain would do."
You have no idea how accurate you are. But I have no regrets. "Lucky for you, then, that I am not on the villain side," I taunt with a lie. "Otherwise, I would have been formidable, no? None of you would have stood a chance." He grits again, affirming what I said. "However, Iida-san, you could have saved this conversation for later. Or better, never had it at all."
He appears bewildered now. "What do you mean?"
I beckon him to look at his feet. His expression of shock is joke-worthy. My summoned puddle has turned into a pool, and the water level is well above all six of his exhaust pipes. He attempts to run, but he can't. He tries wading to find a dry spot, but there are none. After a few moments of his panic rising, I take one last sip and freeze the pool into a massive ice block. Iida-san's legs are trapped, and he is unable to move.
When Midnight-sensei proclaims me as the winner, instantly I melt the ice into water into mist. He falls to his knees as I raise the mist droplets into the air. The sunlight reflects off the droplets, creating a stunning, vibrant rainbow in the center of the stadium.
Like my previous match, the crowd erupts into cheers and praises. Their phones come out, taking pictures of the breathtaking sight. Meanwhile, I vanish the obsidian pillar and gently float to the ground. Giving a pointed glare at the commentator box before I walk over to Iida-san, I offer him my hand to pull him up. He stares at it with suspicion. I raise an eyebrow in return. This turns into a contest of sorts, neither one willing to retreat, until he accedes and clasps my hand. "I don't like you," he grumbles.
"I assure you that the feeling is mutual," I reply, just as vexed.
"How do you manage to be so rude and polite at the same time?"
"It's a talent."
"You did it again!"
"I've had years of practice."
"My goodness! You're difficult."
"Also a talent."
I leave before he can retort again. He huffs in irritation, amusing me again, and I hear his footsteps become distant as he exits via the other gate. Remembering my promise to Todoroki-kun, I climb excruciating step after excruciating step to the class's reserved seats. Seeing me, Todoroki-kun gets up and helps me into the empty seat beside his.
"That was awesome," he murmurs, never releasing my hands. "You were awesome. That rainbow was beautiful. I've never seen all seven colors so vividly."
"Thank you," I say just as quietly. I'm glad that we're sitting in the back row corner seats, and no one is paying attention to us. It gives me the freedom to ask him what has been on mind during the match: "How are you feeling now?"
He pulls out the handkerchief from his trouser pocket and unfolds it to reveal the four flowers. They're not the least bit pressed, much to my astonishment. He smiles softly at my expression, "I've been doing all right, thanks to your gift. I kept stroking their outlines as I rooted for you." His smile widens as I blush. Perhaps that gives him the courage to ask me something he has never asked before: "Can I put them back?" My cheeks redden so deeply that all I can do is nod. Grinning wholly, he leans forward and parts my hair to insert a nasturtium. But that is easier said than done. He fumbles with the flower, jest replaced with puzzlement.
After some moments, he gives up. "I'm sorry, but I don't know how to. Your hairstyle is ruined, too, because of my clumsiness. How do you do it?" When he says that my hair is ruined, my hand rises to hide the unraveled strands. Desperately, I push them behind my ears. This behavior worries him. "Hanada-chan, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to put your efforts to waste."
"It's all right. I'm not upset with you. It's just ... Excuse me." I get up and exit hastily. He follows immediately after me, understandably concerned. I say nothing all the while. He waits outside when we stand at the entrance of the ladies' restroom, and I enter. For the next few minutes, I stand in front of the mirror, plucking every flower and uncoiling my devil horns. My waist-length dark hair, now uncurled, falls down my back. It's grown a little longer ... Taking a deep breath, I start the process again. Combing, curling, coiling. Once my hair has returned to its pristine condition with flowers intact, I leave the restroom.
Todoroki-kun is standing by the entrance, weeping again. When he sees me, he reaches for me, but retreats his hands after a thought. He apologizes again and again. He thinks he has hurt me, and it is my responsibility to tell him that he has not. I gaze down at his hands hanging by his sides, trembling again. It's my turn to hesitate, as I approach him. When I cradle them in mine, I observe the nasturtium blooms in one and the handkerchief in the other. He opens his palms, silently requesting me to take them back. But I don't. I close his fingers around their cut stems. "Keep them, and please don't blame yourself for my reaction."
He protests, "But I-"
"Let's sit somewhere private, shall we? My feet are hurting," I cut him off. Locating an empty bench just a few meters ahead, I pull him with me. We sit facing each other, so I explain. "You know very well where I come from. I am the ward to one of Japan's renowned business magnates. That means I have an image to maintain in the public eye. I must look impeccable, pristine, and elegant every second of the day. And with my cane, even more so. Every little detail counts, from my posture and expressions to my shoes and clothes to my face and hair. It was not your intention to ruin that image, and I understand that. So please, don't feel guilty."
His tears form two streaks that take no name of drying. With his hand still holding my handkerchief, I lift it to wipe them away. "Somewhere my vanity became a matter of my pride. If anything, I should apologize to you because my wounded pride hurt you after you let yourself be vulnerable with me. That is something I should respect - and I do - but I should have done better. You deserve better than how I treated you, so I'm asking for your forgiveness. How can I make it up to you?" His tears run more quickly, making me laugh nervously. "I'm trying to stop your tears, but they take no name of ending."
That makes him sob harder. "Please, can we stay like this for a little longer?" he chokes. Evidently, his pain runs deeper than supposedly hurting me. I know why.
"Of course. Just a moment." I withdraw the handkerchief to put the flowers back in them and fold it. "Nasturtiums. They have many meanings. My favorite is victory in battle. Consider them a beacon. You will be better than your father, Todoroki-kun. You will not succumb to your trauma. You will live and be a phenomenal Pro-Hero. In a battle between relief by death and agony in life, you will prevail over both to be happy. That is my wish for you."
There is no other way to put this, but he cracks. I can see it in his eyes, all the agony and all the suffering. The diminishing light of hope and his beliefs. "Do I deserve to be happy? Even if I do become a better person than Endeavor, will I have really deserved it? He wants me to redeem myself in his eyes; I want to redeem myself in my mother's eyes. But redemption means I made mistakes, right? If I was obedient to him, would my life be different? Better? Endeavor would have gotten the prodigal son he wanted, and I would still have my mom. We both would get what we wanted. Maybe-"
"Todoroki-kun, look at me. Listen to me very carefully," I interrupt. "You are your father's victim. You are not responsible for his actions. It is not your fault that he stole your mother, your childhood, from you. If you had not defied him, then all these years later I never would have gotten to meet this version of you. And I like the boy I have met. He is a strong boy who cries. He is a smart classmate who has his moments of doubt. He is a confident hero who can be afraid. The boy I have met can be angry and petty one moment but caring and thoughtful the next, and I am proud to call him my friend. My best friend."
He shatters completely. All walls broken into dust and rubble, he buries his face into his hands. Just before my match I did this, after the match, I do it again. Taking relief in the ribbons and fabric barring us from touching skin to skin, I place my hands over his own and pull them away. He stares at me. I interlink our fingers together and whisper to him, "I see you, Todoroki-kun. Your strengths. Your flaws. Your hopes. Your anguish. Your aspirations. Your fears. And I embrace them. I embrace you for who you are. You're a good person, Todoroki-kun, much better than I am. You are enough. You're the master of your own life. I'll be rooting for you."
He holds my hands close to his face, pulling me closer to him. We are quiet for a long time, him seeking refuge in my presence and I, providing him just that. We are in mutual, peaceful solitude for a long time, so it surprises me when he breaks it.
"If you accept me as I am, then know that I have granted you the same courtesy. All the quirky things about you are endearing. Even your pet peeves are cute. I like how the first thing you do when you wake up is scream about death, how red your cheeks turn when you blush, and how a light shines in your eyes when you're reading and writing. They're adorable. And, although I'm glad I've never been on the receiving end, I like your glare of murder when some pervert tries to make a move on you. I like the girl I've met, too. So, I have to say this: I want you to make one more promise to me.
"If I have to keep on living, so do you. If I'm going to overcome my trauma, so do you. We'll do it together. I don't want you to be my therapist or my confidante because our bond runs deeper than that. I don't know if there is a name to this relationship, but I want to be there when you need someone, and I hope you'll be there when I need you. I trust you, and I hope you feel the same. Hanada-chan, you attempted suicide so many times. I don't know why, but I hope that one day you'll trust me enough to tell me. So for my sake, promise me that you'll keep living. You said it's all right to be selfish, so let me make this selfish request once more. Please stay. Please don't go. You're my best friend, too, and I've lost so much that I can't lose you. I don't want to lose you."
It's a big promise.
All this time I have known that my father and his sons would not grieve over my death.
I did not expect to live very long myself.
But this boy is asking me to keep living, no matter how difficult each day may be.
No matter how much I may wish to be free.
No words can encompass how I feel.
If he knew all the things you've done, then he would feel very differently, two insidious voices speak in unison unbidden in my head.
The voice is of my guilt and shame.
I refuse to listen to them.
"All right," I whisper tentatively.
His tear-filled gaze meets my own teary eyes.
"I'll try."
And for the second time today, we weep to our hearts' content.