Internships end days later and classes resume.
Everyone talks about their experiences, and inevitably, the conversation turns to us.
Myself, Iida, and Midoriya.
They talk about the Hero Killer, especially that controversial video that the media keeps taking down but gets re-uploaded just as fast.
And yet, my focus drifts to the impending dinner tonight between my father and Hanada-chan's father. I hadn't realized when the New Year's almost arrived. What with all the rush of events recently, I nearly forgot.
I notice that Hanada-chan pointedly keeps to her novel, avoiding any conversation that may be directed at her. That doesn't mean she's not listening to every word. Respectful of her wishes, I don't interact with her during that time. At least, until it's Lunchtime.
"Midoriya and Iida invited me to join them at the cafeteria table. Come with?" I ask her.
"Thank you, but I'm fine. I want to sit by the pools," she replies.
"But the weather. It's cold, and the first snowfall is supposed to occur today. You'll have to wear a winter jacket and wool gloves. Even change out of your shoes," I gesture at her loafers. "All that trouble is not worth it, Hanada-chan. Just eat in the cafeteria with me."
But she refused again. "I don't like being around many people. You know that by now. If it's a compromise between the cold and my anxiety, I choose the cold. Don't let me stop you, Todoroki-kun. Go and enjoy your meal."
I don't fight her this time. As I watch her turn around and walk through the glass doors leading outside, I whisper to no one, "You're too stubborn sometimes, Hanada-chan." Her agoraphobia is only one reason. I know there are more that she's hiding. "And too secretive."
After some time, I turn in the opposite direction and approach Midoriya and Iida.
Hours later, when the sun has long set, I get out of the car and stare at the opulent mansion in front of me.
With wrought iron gates that the car just passed through, a mosaic tile driveway leading from it, and gardens and fountains in the front of the mansion, there is no other word to describe the scene other than opulent. The center section consists of an elaborate zen garden with stones ranging from chalky white to sandy beige to volcanic black. Dispersed between the concentric rings of stones are frozen ponds and inactivated fountains. The side sections have paths leading to gardens around and behind the mansion. All in all, the home has a very rich earthy scent to it. My dad and siblings come out and take in the view as well.
My eyes trace a stepping stone path leading up to the main entrance. The mansion itself is enormous. It has the traditional Japanese structure: large and spacious, three floors, irimoya roofs, intricate pillars, wood porches. We step inside, and I see numerous shōji screens and fusuma doors. Shōji consists of white translucent paper supported by wooden frames, allowing light to shine through. Fusuma is similar but with opaque paper, thus not allowing light to penetrate. A butler leads us through a genkan, where we remove our shoes, to a common room, where the floor is covered in tatami mats. It essentially looks like my home, but bigger, more detailed, and fragrant. I stroll toward a window which looks out at botanical gardens, a frozen lake, and a dense forest beyond. It's a supermoon tonight.
My siblings whisper in awe, and my dad looks at everything with a cynical eye. Everything is beautiful, I'm probably never going to see such a pretty house in person every again, I admit. But I simply can't take the time to take it all in. I just want to see Hanada-chan. All of a sudden, I hear footsteps descending the stairs. I whip my head around, hoping it's her. Instead, an older man appears. He is tall, muscular, and has olive skin, straight black hair with wisps of grey, slight wrinkles around his eyes and on his forehead, a long nose, and a warm smile. His cologne wafts in my direction … musk and cedar. He would appear utterly welcoming and benevolent if it were not for his eyes. His eyes, which are a piercing frigid blue, are devoid of feeling. Hanada-chan is a cold person at times, but this … this is not just coldness because even coldness has a sensation. This man just has none. He's like an abyss. The word 'psychopath' comes to mind, but that's too small of a word to describe what I see. I want to dismiss it as simply my imagination, but my gut instinct tells me that it's not.
The man introduces himself. "Greetings, everyone. I am Hanada Asahi. We spoke over the phone, Endeavor-san. Please take a seat. My children will be here soon." So this is her father … As unnerving as he is, I can tell that this from whom Hanada-chan gets her etiquette from.
We exchange names and pleasantries, too. When I introduce myself, he shakes my hand a second longer than normal and gives me a scrutinizing look. As we sit down on the plush sofas, the butler from before sets a tray of tea and cookies on the center coffee table. Three more men arrive soon after. His sons. They sit across from us. The first is the oldest, a few years older than my sister, sharing the same dark, straight hair, eyes, and build. The second and third have wavy, auburn hair, are about my brother's age, twins I learn, and have chocolate brown eyes and a lean figure. I assume the twins go off their mother. The four of them wear a tuxedo, all in shades of cream. At last, she descends.
She is the moon incarnate. Her pearlescent white hair in a plaited and weaved chignon bun, adorned with white roses, matched with white satin gloves, choker, and slippers, accompanied by silver faerie ear shells and a silver empire waist gown, complete with a circle neckline and trumpet sleeves, and studded with pearls. Her silver eyes only accentuate the effect. Even her sandalwood perfume is ethereal. Moon goddess in her full moon phase … This is the phrase that comes to mind this time, and again it's not enough to encompass what I'm seeing. I wouldn't be able to capture the sight on paper if I put my life on the line. But my gut doesn't tell me that it's wrong.
Suddenly, I'm conscious of the charcoal suit I'm wearing. I had remembered to wear a waistcoat, tie, and keep the lapels out, but my hand subconsciously rises to flatten them all the same. She slips in a gentle smile at me before flashing my dad and siblings an elegant one. I guess it's a dad thing to scrutinize their children's friends because my dad's cynical glare is directed at her. He scans her up and down, but to her credit and my satisfaction, she doesn't flinch. She ignores his blatant survey and introduces herself to Fuyumi and Natsuo.
"So you're the girl that got Shouto to get out his reclusive, people-avoidant shell," jokes Natsuo. "Our brother has always been a hermit crab."
"I've heard so much about you. Only good things, I promise," smiles Fuyumi.
To my amusement, she's caught off guard as Fuyumi clasps her hands in her own, and Natsuo slings an arm across her shoulder.
"Woah! Your hair really does change color. You're pretty and polite. Are you like this because we're here, or do you always behave so nicely even when you're just with Shouto?" Natsuo speaks again.
"W-Welcome to our home. P-please make yourself comfortable," she stutters, desperately trying to regain control. "W-would you like some sugar with your tea?"
"Hey! No formalities between us, alright! You're our little brother's best friend."
I watch her try to subtly extricate herself from their grasps. She answers their flurry of questions as quickly as she can, but her gaze keeps alternating between them and her father. I follow it. Strangely, her father's face is impassive. Regardless, I open my mouth to tell them to stop overwhelming her, but Endeavor beats me to it. "Sit down, you two. You can ask questions later." Natsuo immediately frowns and quietly takes his seat, while Fuyumi squeezes her hands one last time before letting go. His next words are addressed toward Hanada-chan's father. "My reason for coming here is that my son has taken a liking to your daughter. As my children have said shamelessly, your daughter is the first person Shouto has befriended."
"I understand," her father replies. "The same can be said about my daughter: your son is the first person she has befriended since returning to Japan."
Hanada-chan and I take a simultaneous nervous sip. I had thought my father was going to use her to get me to become the Pro-Hero he wants me to be - it's still likely he will - but it seems her father is going to do the same: use me to influence her. Our bond … it has caught their attention, and I don't like it at all.
"So we're on the same page, then."
"Indeed." Her father dismisses us children once we've finished our tea. The oldest brother strikes up a conversation with Fuyumi; the twins engage with Natsuo; Hanada-chan and I are left to our own devices; Dad and Hanada-san retreat to his home office. "Our butlers will inform you once dinner is ready."
The common room empties, save for us. She gets up and walks the short distance toward me. "Would you like a tour of the mansion?" I accept and rise. She guides me throughout the various rooms, starting from the west wing to the east wing. Out of courtesy for her brothers and father, she simply points out their chambers, but does not open them. I pass by the home office, where I can hear two male voices and the sounds of glasses clinking, liquid sloshing, behind closed doors. All the while, I observe Hanada-chan from the corner of my eye. She's agitated. Has been since morning, since I stepped foot in the mansion. I want to change that.
An idea pops up in my mind. "Hey! Can I see your room?" I ask her, once we return to the common room. That's the one area she has avoided taking me to.
She hesitates. "Are you sure? It's nothing noteworthy."
"Why? Do you have clothes lying around?" I chuckle. "It's your room, meaning that it's a representation of you. And I want to get to know you better. I want to know if what I've imagined your room to look like actually matches the real thing."
She looks away and clenches her hands together. There really is something on her mind. "If you wish," she murmurs. "Follow me."
We traverse the hallways and climb up two sets of stairs. For a moment, I worry. She needs a cane. Why is her room on the highest floor? But she walks with practiced ease. After a while, we stop before a door. This hallway appears like all the others, with lavish carpeting and sconces, but why does it feel different? Like it's witnessed dark things and absorbed dark emotions. Hanada-chan hesitates again as her hand hovers above the door knob. I don't know what tempest of thoughts is storming in her mind, but she swallows and pushes the door open. Before she can change her mind, I step in. She follows and turns on the light switch.
Instantly, the room floods with light. It's an enormous room. There's a king-size bed with indigo coverlets and pillows, complete with a diaphanous white mosquito net hanging above. A body-length mirror and a black vanity table across the room. The walls are painted a midnight blue with white trimming. There's a corridor offshoot from the bedroom, leading to a large bathroom in one direction and a walk-in closet in the other. Against another wall is another corridor leading to a small library. There are series of bookshelves. One of those that line from floor to ceiling and take up the entire wall, and it's stocked with novels and mangas. Her birthday present must be amongst those books. I find myself smiling at that. In the center of the library is an ebony piano. Returning to the main bedroom, I spot a desk with a hutch. When I walk over to it, it's scattered with assignments, pens, and notebooks. A laptop and computer are shut off. My grin widens. Seeing this messiness amongst everything pristine is out of place, but feels natural at the same time. Beyond the desk are large glass balcony doors. The curtains have been pulled aside, so I see the same view as I saw below: the full supermoon, frost-laden gardens, a frozen lake, and the silhouette of a forest.
Hanada-chan hasn't moved from her place by the door. Her hands are clenched together again, and she stares at the ground. "Do you … do you like it?" she whispers.
"No, I don't like it," I respond. That gets her attention. She raises her head instantly and looks at me with concerned eyes. An apology is forming on her lips, I just know it. "I love it," I say, cutting her off before she can speak. "It's so you."
She looks away again and murmurs, "You enjoy teasing me a lot, don't you?"
"Yeah, I do. It's cute when you blush. And even cuter when I'm the one responsible for it." As if to emphasize my point, her cheeks darken. I saunder toward her slowly. When we're only a third of a meter away, I lean over and press the light switch beside her head, turning the lights off. Hyperaware of me, she resolutely doesn't meet my eyes. I'm close enough that I can hear the hitch in her breath when I inch forward and the exhalation when I move back. "Join me on the veranda, Selene," I whisper back. Calling her by her first name was intentional, and she notices it, too. Still never looking into my eyes, she slips out to unlock the glass doors.
There is a chill in the wind when we step onto the veranda. Two outdoor chairs and table lie in the center, but we do not sit. Along the edges are a few flowerpots, holding only snow. Hanada-chan sets her cane aside and leans against the railing, facing the mansion, and I do the same, but facing the view beyond. The moon shines on her just right, making her glow. For a moment, I forget what I wanted to talk to her about. I take in the beauty of the sight, until I remember. This is my chance. "I've been noticing all day that something is bothering you. What's wrong, Hanada-chan?"
"Nothing important," she lies with a weak smile and looks away immediately.
"If it was nothing important, then you wouldn't be tightening your hands or avoiding eye contact with me," I counter. As if on instinct, her grasp tightens on the railing. I sigh, "Is this about our fathers? The reason for this meeting?" She nods after a long moment. "I'm afraid, too. You and I share a very special bond, and I don't want either of them misusing that against us." She turns her head in the other direction to hide her tears, and this time, I can't take it. She'll have to look at me. I reach over to hold her wrists. Her body slowly turns to face me, but her head is bowed down. "Hanada-chan, look at me, please."
She shakes her head. "I can't."
"Please?" I ask again. When she doesn't acquiesce, I lift her chin myself. Very slowly, she lifts her eyes to meet mine. They shimmer with unshed tears. Oh, how I wish I vanish them. My grip drops from her chin to her forearms. "My father gave me a long talk before coming here, and I assume your father did the same. It's obvious they're intrigued by our friendship and want to manipulate it for their own gain. But they don't know that we know that. I will never become a hindrance to you, and I know you will never not support me. I don't want our relationship to be corrupted any more than you do, Hanada-chan." To prove my point, I slip my hands down her forearms to her hands and entwine mine with hers. "Had it just been my dad plotting this, I would have told him off. But because it's not so simple as that … because he's not the only conspirator … I can't. Shitty dads, am I right?"
She snorts lightly. "How did you know?"
"He doesn't even hide how cruel he really is. I thought my luck was terrible for having a bastard of a father, but it's not like you're faring any better." I start to play with her fingers like it's the most natural thing in the world. But my words don't match my playful behavior. "Tell me something, Hanada-chan. Was he the reason that pushed you to death's door?"
She freezes before whispering, "No. He was not responsible. My attempts at suicide were my own mistakes. I was weak and believed that death would set me free." The lie is spoken so smoothly that if I weren't touching her right now, I wouldn't even notice the sudden stillness in her posture. Her lie reveals the truth. Her father did hurt her. Maybe still is. That was the explanation behind the resonance I felt when I saw her. Both of us were products of neglect and abuse our parents inflicted on us when we were little children. Fate was never kind on us, but it must have taken pity because through its rare, merciful thread, we met and sought comfort in each other's presence. Her words, my touch … they are like a balm on our wounds. Like the moon bestowing its radiance on a blossom alone in the dark.
My moon. Instinctively, I bring her hands to my face and rub circles on their backs. A deep fire of resentment simmers inside me. It's different from the one I feel toward my father. Hotter. Brighter. Deadlier. It burns for Hanada-chan's father. He adopted a child, just to torture her?! I detest that there's nothing I can do to help her when she's at home, but I can do my best to comfort her in school. I gaze at her. Tears flow freely and silently from her eyes. No crinkles, no twist of the lips. Save for the occasional sniffle, she weeps openly. I'm so sorry, Hanada-chan. I make a move to wipe them away, but she breaks out of her trance and pulls away.
"Pardon me. I'm a terrible hostess. You're the guest, and instead of welcoming you properly, I'm making you tend to me. I apologize for overreacting like this," she says, trying to muster her confidence. She hastily goes inside and dabs her eyes with a handkerchief.
I follow her in, shutting the glass doors behind me. "Is the piano just for show, or can you actually play it?" It's an obvious change in conversation, not smoothly done. I'm not finished talking about the former topic, but I can tell that she doesn't want to talk any more about her trauma, and I don't want to force her to either.
"I can play. In fact, I practice once a week. Would you like to hear some?"
"Of course."
There's a folder on the piano music desk containing sheet music, but she doesn't open it. Instead, she sits down on the stool and plays "Merry Go Round of Life" by memory. She plays beautifully, fingers waltzing on the cords. A few notes into the piece and her eyes droop into serenity and her lip quirks to the side. She's stopped crying, which gives me immense relief. Enchanted in the music, I lean against the piano. Every crescendo and decrescendo becomes acute when I close my eyes. The piece finishes on a high cord, and I open them again. "You play wonderfully. When did you learn?"
"I had a tutor instruct me for a few years when I was in England. Alongside piano, she taught me the violin, viola, cello, lyre, harp, trumpet, and the flute. She showed the beauty in music."
I sit beside her on the stool, fingers brushing the finished black and white keys. "I get that. Reading and writing music is a form of literacy in itself. The way an entire story can be told with the pitch, loudness, scales, rests, and rhythms is an art that deserves plenty of appreciation."
"Todoroki-kun, you mentioned that you enjoy drawing. What other arts do you like to do?" Hanada-chan asks me.
I think about the question for some time. "Ice skating. Like you, I had a private instructor give me skating lessons for many years before I came to U.A. Dad thought it would be good training for the ice aspect of my quirk. She said that if I didn't want to be a Pro-Hero, I had a solid chance at qualifying as one of Japan's representative figure skaters in the Olympics. That may have been true, but I enjoyed skating just for the sake of it. It was fun. It made me happy. With every spin and jump, I could forget a little about my life at home and simply live in the moment."
"That is artistic. Graceful, even. I've watched figure skaters perform on television. The way their bodies glide, and the way their blades shave the ice … they're so smooth in their act. It's sort of like drawing, if you really think about it."
Our eyes meet and lips widen into matching smiles. I don't know how to play an instrument, and she doesn't know how to skate, and yet we understand what our interests mean to us.
A butler knocks on the bedroom door, calling us downstairs for dinner.
A sadness settles in as we exit quietly.
But that doesn't stop me from embracing her hand.
Resonance …
A phenomenon where one object vibrates at the natural frequency of another object, therefore stirring the other to vibrate at the same frequency.
That's what I felt.
Although, I think we've always been at the same frequency.
And together, our frequencies amplified into a symphony.