Mitsuki woke up that morning feeling aggravatingly disoriented.
Her mind was fuzzy, a distorted mess of shapes and colors whirling around her head in a cyclone of faint images and ideas that barely connected to each other. There was a slight sheen on her skin, a layer of glycerin sweat coating her and leaving her nightgown damp. Squeezing her eyes shut, Mitsuki swallowed the curses on the tip of her tongue and rolled over in bed.
She couldn't remember where the images came from, so she could only assume that she'd had some weird ass dream last night that she couldn't quite remember. Normally, she wouldn't give a shit about some bizarre happenstance that her messed-up brain conjured up, but the sounds of morning were being overpowered by a powerful pumping in her chest. Pulling herself up into a seated position, she discovered that she was breathless, gulping down air as if she'd just resurfaced from underwater.
It frustrated her, to say the least.
"Fuck..." she groaned, clumsily rubbing at her face. It was probably better that she couldn't remember whatever she'd dreamed. It's not like it mattered, anyway.
Shaking her head, Mitsuki glanced over at the other side of the bed, finding herself alone. Strange, she'd never woken up when Masaru left the bed. Did he wake up early?
Sighing, a twitch in her brow and a vein popping in her forehead, she shot a side-eye at the nightstand, where the alarm clock silently sat with bright red numbers flashing back at her.
11:49AM
WHAT THE FUCK-!?
Throwing herself out of bed with the ferocity of a rampaging rhinoceros, Mitsuki stumbled to her feet and tore through her bedroom, ripping her wardrobe apart and fumbling with her brushes and cosmetics. She practically roared as she violently chucked her toothbrush back in the general direction of its place holder and flew out of the bathroom. Time was a jumbled mess in her mind, like a word on the tip of her tongue that she just couldn't spit out, and she suddenly realized with hesitant confusion that she couldn't even remember what day it was today.
It angered her, how muddled her thoughts and memories were as she trudged down the stairs, the smell of spicy curry wafting through the air as she went. The house was depressingly quiet, but Mitsuki didn't think anything of it, reminding herself that she literally owned the damn place as she marched into the kitchen.
It was almost picturesque, finding her husband scooping rice out of the rice cooker as curry bubbled in a pot on the stove. He was humming something, a Vivaldi piece if she remembered correctly, as he fixed two portions of rice with relaxed shoulders and oddly graceful steps. With only a quick glance of his profile, she found a small, soft smile on his face, as if the sun itself had peeked through the clouds and stung her eyes. It was days like this that Mitsuki suddenly remembered why she'd pursued him so aggressively.
Even if she was pissed at him for not waking her up that morning.
He jolted when he noticed her, bits of rice spilling onto the floor in a flurry of white grains as he flailed in surprise. Mitsuki had to fight not to snort as he collected himself, giving her a wobbly grin. "Good morning, honey."
"It's almost noon." she snapped.
Masaru rubbed at his neck nervously. "I mean... Technically, it's morning for a few more minutes."
Mitsuki frowned, crossing her arms and precariously raising a brow above her hairline. Masaru had the decency to look sheepish. "Right... Sorry, dear. I just didn't have the heart to wake you."
"Oh?" Mitsuki questioned somewhat heatedly, plopping into a chair at the table as she glanced over at a nearby calendar. It was the weekend, so no jobs for a few days. Masaru better thank his lucky stars that she wasn't late for anything that morning.
Masaru sighed. "I'm sorry, Mitsuki. I just... Last night freaked me out. I wanted you to rest."
That peaked Mitsuki's interest, blurry images flying through her mind with little to no recognition. "Something happened?"
"You don't remember?" Masaru questioned worriedly, placing a plate of hot curry in front of her. "You really scared me last night. You were thrashing in your sleep and I wasn't sure what to do. I was worried that you would hurt yourself."
Mitsuki bit her lip, glaring into her curry hard enough to set the plate on fire. The flurry of images was a mess of colors and movement in the back of her mind, like a smudged slideshow where she couldn't make out the pictures. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't remember anything of it, just the faint skip of her heart and the feeling of sweat dampening her sheets.
There was a restlessness coursing through her system, her leg bouncing and finger drumming in foreign nervous ticks. She was vaguely aware of the silence that had fallen over them, Masaru watching her warily as she glared daggers at her food.
"Are you okay?" Masaru asked carefully, testing the waters.
Mitsuki snorted. "Of course I am." she scoffed. "It's just a dream, whatever it was."
"But... But you were-"
"Masaru," she hissed, startling him. "It was just a dream. It doesn't matter."
Masaru didn't look convinced, biting the inside of his cheek, but he relented, curling into himself as he reached for his spoon. "Katsuki's coming home for the weekend, by the way. Just so you remember."
She hadn't remembered. Blinking stupidly, she suddenly realized that she actually hadn't heard anything of this. What did the brat do this time? If he started another fight with poor Izuku, she was really gonna tear into him when she saw him.
Scarfing down her food with the aggression of a lion that hadn't eaten in days, she barely noticed the way Masaru quietly watched her, a certain level of apprehension in his posture as he inconspicuously leaned away. She shot a look at him, eyebrow back up as he quickly looked away, eating in silence.
"What?" she questioned. Masaru's shoulders tensed in response, but he ignored her, simply continuing to eat.
A sharp pang of agitation slammed into her, her fist tight enough to bend the handle of her spoon as she grit her teeth hard enough to crack. Her skin felt hot, boiling at the pinch of nerves still festering in the back of her mind from those blurry images. "What?" she yelled, slamming her fist against the table.
Masaru jumped, the plates and silverware jolting dangerously upon impact. Mitsuki bristled at the wide-eyed look on Masaru's face, like a dear in the headlights, as if he was a half-decent child being scolded by their half-decent parent. It angered her, how her husband would sooner cower in fear than stand up for himself and speak his mind. He should have a say in things in this household, too. He just doesn't say anything.
And it drives her nuts.
"You looked nervous." she spat. "If you have something to say, then say it."
Masaru wrung his hands, eyes darting around the room. "...No." he sighed. "It's nothing."
The silence that fell over them was heated, Mitsuki shaking as she continued to glare, foreign emotions and strange feelings roiling in her stomach every time a flash of light from outside sent strange shapes and movements crawling over the walls.
She forced herself to breathe, shoving the rest of her food down her throat before marching over to the sink and scrubbing her plate raw. Masaru didn't say a word the entire time, sending shivers running up and down her spine.
"Thanks for the meal, dear." she huffed, storming out of the kitchen and stomping up the stairs towards their shared bedroom.
She never saw Masaru's shaking hands.
Something wasn't right and Mitsuki couldn't piece together what it was.
The dull throb of strange feelings only grew throughout the day, leaving her pacing around the house seething with safe, familiar rage. All of these other emotions were suddenly appearing unannounced, no rhyme or reason to the coils of frustration and paranoia she was feeling over nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
When she tried to sit back and relax, she felt as if she might actually explode. When she tried to read a book to distract herself, she soon discovered that she was barely comprehending any of the words on the pages. When she sat down to do her makeup, her hands were so uncoordinated that she kept smearing and smudging it until she finally lost her temper and screamed, hurling her nail polish into the bathroom wall. She barely flinched as the little bottle shattered, a pastel pink splatter covering the wall and dripping down to the tiled floor.
"Fuck." she breathed, carding her fingers through her hair. She didn't care about ripping the knots out, simply tossing the fallen hair into a trashcan before leaving her room, kicking a small stand over on the way out.
This was beyond irritating. She'd never felt so out of control in her life, and she couldn't even pinpoint what was wrong in the first place. The atmosphere in the house was all wrong, almost gloomy and thick like smog, but she couldn't figure out how to fix it. It was infuriating.
A part of her wished that she could remember her dream, but no matter how long she waited, no matter how hard she thought back, she couldn't remember a single thing about what she'd seen.
And it shouldn't even matter. Since when could she be conquered by some stupid sequence of make-believe events that her brain decided to dish out to freak her out for no good reason? She was stronger than this.
How annoying.
Masaru had gone completely silent since lunch, holing up in his office and not making a single peep. He was practically a cryptid, only appearing to use the bathroom or grab a snack and disappearing just as quickly. Mitsuki never saw him, but she could hear him moving around in other areas of the house, so she knew he was still there, likely waiting around just so he could greet Katsuki when he got home. Then, he might probably try to hide out at his office complex.
She didn't even know what she did. Was she really that much more irritable that day that she was completely scaring him off? She honestly couldn't tell, but there was a nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach that there was something else going on. Something that she needed to know, to figure out before she could do anything about it.
Considering how the day had gone, she was hoping that she'd get a chance to make sense of things once Katsuki got home and brought a little bit of normalcy in with him.
Frankly, it was wishful thinking on her part and she wasn't even sure why she'd bothered to hope.
Roaming around the house late that evening, she finally caught a glimpse of her husband's workplace, scrutinizing the mess of food wrappers, paper, pencil shavings, and wires that littered the floor. It looked especially messy, paper balls scattered along the walls and caught on desks and drawers as if they'd been thrown across the room. Upon closer inspection, Mitsuki felt her stomach drop as she noticed one of the drawers had tipped over, broken glass glistening on the floor at the far end of the room. Along with it was a frame, face down on the ground and completely forgotten.
That stirring, nagging emotion came back, almost like a coherent voice whispering in her ear and making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She swallowed it down, stepping away from the open door and leaning her head against the cool wall. Maybe she was feverish? She wasn't sure how the hell she'd have gotten sick, but that would explain just how weird she'd felt.
Of course. That was it. As if some stupid dream could really affect her this much.
A familiarly indignant shout entered her awareness, Mitsuki's head shooting up from where it had been resting, and before she knew what was happening, she was stumbling out into the living room, peering over towards the entrance where Masaru was lovingly ruffling their son's hair. Katsuki looked less than pleased, spitting death threats and screaming obscenities as his father let out the most tired sigh that Mitsuki had ever heard.
She didn't even bother noticing the contemplative look on Katsuki's face. "Well, brat? Not even a simple hello?"
The snarl he shot at her could have turned any weakling to ash, but Mitsuki just snarled back, the festering frustration boiling into aggravation as she swallowed the lethal, poisonous words trying to flood her mouth.
"Shut up, hag!" he shouted, pushing past Masaru and storming off towards the kitchen. Mitsuki latched onto the anger that followed like a safety net, marching after him as her husband fretted behind her. She leaned into the normalcy, reveling in it as she burst into the kitchen, growling as Katsuki sent her a withering look as he slammed pantry doors open, searching.
"Be careful! Don't slam the doors like that!" she yelled. "If you break any of them again, I swear to fuck, you'll be grounded for your entire fucking stay! You understand me?!" Thinking back, she wasn't even sure why he was here, but frankly, she didn't really care.
Maybe she should have, in hindsight.
"Fuck off, hag! I'm plenty careful!" he shot back, jolting forward as she smacked him in the back of the head.
"Guys..." Masaru tried, hands up and sweat beading down his forehead.
"That fucking hurt!"
"Watch your fucking language!"
And as per usual, the two continued to scream and yell and shout, complaining about the most random things from sweaty clothes to a B+ scored on a history test and fighting about every little thing they could think of. The rage was easy, something that both of them could always communicate well, even as something shone in Katsuki's eyes that Mitsuki couldn't quite place.
Not that Mitsuki particularly liked fighting with her son all the time. It was just...easy.
That, and he really could be an annoying brat, sometimes.
"Ugly hag! Get off my back!"
Smack! "Don't talk to your mother like that!"
"Guys..."
Mitsuki barreled on. "You're such a brat! You're always such a brat! Can't you just fucking behave for once in your life!?"
"Can you not be a bitch for once in your fucking life!?" Smack!
"Guys..."
"It's always like this with you!" Mitsuki shrieked. "Learn some damn respect before I really beat it into you!"
"Why do I even bother coming back!? Ever!? Not like you'd give a damn if I just fucked off somewhere else!"
"So ungrateful! Fine, then! Go live on the streets for all I care! See how long it takes for you to come crawling back!"
"GUYS!"
It was quiet compared to them, their voices naturally loud and piercing, but the raised voice in that choked plea was enough to have both mother and son freezing, staring wide-eyed at the third occupant in the room, completely forgotten in their rampage. For a moment, Mitsuki wasn't even sure how she was supposed to react.
Because Masaru was crying.
"Stop it!" he sobbed. "Just stop it! It's always like this!"
He gasped for air, tears streaming down his face as he bowed his head, his face contorted in pain and hands balled into fists. "It's always like this, and I hate it! I hate it so much! I can't take it!" He nearly collapsed under the weight on his shoulders, burying his head in his hands as he cried. "I can't take it..."
Both blondes watched slack-jawed as Masaru stepped away, sobbing into his hands as his shoulders shook, and disappeared down the hall. The slam of a door was the only sound for what felt like an eternity, the silence sending shivers running through Mitsuki's body and leaving her feeling strangely twitchy. She could have heard a pin drop in that room, it was so quiet.
Too quiet. Far too quiet.
It made her ache, made her bounce with pent-up energy and twitch with nerves.
Nerves. She was nervous.
She didn't do nervous.
She needed the noise right now.
So, she turned to the first source of noise she could think of. "Now look what you did, you selfish little fuck-up!"
Katsuki's eyes, wide and uncertain just a moment ago, lit back up like a blazing inferno, rage etching his face like a mask. "Me?! Stupid bitch, how is this my fault!?"
He didn't even flinch when her hand cracked across his face like a whip, and they continued to scream at each other well into the night, as if Masaru had never even been there at all.
Mitsuki went to bed alone that night.
The images are fuzzy.
It's broad daylight, on a busy street in the middle of the city. There's a wisp of green next to her that she vaguely identifies as another person.
"Mitsuki?" a feminine voice calls distantly.
There's a ringing in her ears, as if a bomb had gone off next to her, and for a second, she's instinctively ready to yell at Katsuki for waving his quirk around again.
Except he isn't here right now. She doesn't know how or why she knows this.
"Mitsuki?" That voice again, muffled by the sound of her own pounding heart. She knows this person, the person with wispy green hair.
Somewhere far away, there's a wall of sound roaring towards them, a sea of voices crying out in terror like a siren's call. There's a heavy atmosphere holding her in place, tying her down and leaving her stranded, and she can only watch in mute horror as a wave of darkness races down the streets, eating away at everything in its path and charging towards her like a hungry beast.
It swallows her whole before she can even think to scream.
Mitsuki woke up that morning in a cold sweat.
Clutching her sheets like a lifeline, it took her an eternity to regain her bearings, the world around her twisting and swirling and rippling like a raindrop in a lake. Air entered her lungs in short, rapid spurts, and the room was so hot that it was practically smothering her.
Unlike her last nightmare, which was just a vague mesh of shapes and sounds that didn't fit together, this dream was fresh in her mind. Other than faces, she could remember every detail, from the busy streets to the wave of...something that came crashing down on top of her. She hated, absolutely loathed the position she'd found herself in, curled up and hiding as if she was actually in danger. It was humiliating, allowing herself to panic over something that wasn't even real. If she was going to try to get that through Katsuki's head, then it must apply to her, too. She may be many things, but a hypocrite wasn't one of them.
She remembered them well, those first few nights after the kidnapping. Above the remains of soul-crushing terror and the sheer mind-numbing relief that he was alive and safe, she'd been absolutely livid that he would allow himself to end up in that situation. It had terrified her, the idea that he just wasn't coming home, snuffed out before he could ever realize that crazy ambition of his, and the anger that he would dare to put her through that had sent her off the rails.
Despite that anger, she'd been understanding the first few nights that Katsuki had woken up screaming. She understood that he'd been scared too, even if he'd cuss her out for ever even insinuating such a thing.
But then it didn't stop. He kept waking up screaming, even months after, and it was starting to get old.
It was frustrating. They were just dreams. It wasn't real.
So why was her heart trying to beat out of her chest right now?
Stupid, stupid, all of this was so stupid.
With a groan, Mitsuki pulled herself out of bed and was trudging towards the bathroom when she noticed.
One of the pictures on their wall was missing.
It was one of Masaru's first completed sketches, the fashion line that put him on the map. That damn thing was probably worth millions of yen.
Mitsuki felt something resembling dread and fury slam into her. There was no way.
Whirling around, she realized belatedly that Masaru's phone and watch were missing.
Were they robbed!?
And where the fuck was Masaru?!
Throwing her bedroom door open, she barely took the time to take in the few missing family pictures. Mitsuki screamed for Masaru as she ran down the stairs, searching through the house frantically. A part of her was terrified that the intruder had found him first, left him bleeding in his office or dead on the floor somewhere. Why else would he be nowhere to be seen?
Swallowing her terror, Mitsuki sprinted down the hall towards his office, calling his name and begging for an answer as she burst through the entrance, the door slamming against the wall and nearly breaking off of its hinges. Catching her breath, Mitsuki, for the first time in her life, found herself left speechless.
Masaru's office was barren.
His cintiq was gone, his art table stripped clean. All of his art utensils and electronics were missing and several pictures had been ripped off the walls. All that was left was the mess of balls of paper, glass littering the floor, and the empty drawing tables. Mitsuki shook with rage, disbelief leaving her blinded with something akin to hatred.
For a moment, all she could do was stand there and stare, her jaw clenching as she slowly wandered into the empty room. In the haze of nothingness that surrounded her, the crumpled yellow piece of paper sitting on Masaru's desk stood out like a sore thumb, beckoning her like a hypnotic spell. She hated that her hands were shaking, as if she already knew the severity of what she was seeing. Was this a threat? Was someone targeting them? A crazy coworker that was jealous? The league returning to take her son? Some sick fucker that just wanted to screw with them?
Grabbing the piece of paper and looking it over, perhaps what she found was even worse than any of those possibilities. She could handle the fear of the unknown. She could handle that terror. They could get through that. Her heart could take it.
Nothing else could have shredded her heart until it was nothing but dust. Nothing but the note in her hands.
I've been sitting here trying to figure out how to say what I need to say, but since you've always preferred straightforwardness, I won't bother sugarcoating things.
I'm leaving the house for an indefinite amount of time. Honestly, I don't know if I'll ever return at all. I just can't take all the fighting. It hurts seeing my family constantly rip itself apart and the two of you are so violent and aggressive that I just can't help but feel insignificant and threatened. I'm so sorry that I wasn't strong enough.
I love you both so much. That hasn't changed, even if you might not still reciprocate. I hope that one day, I'll have the courage to face you both again, and maybe even be a family again. Until then, this is goodbye.
Please tell Katsuki that I love him and to never give up on being a hero. I expect to see him at the top someday.
With love,
Masaru
Her hands were shaking, drops of water smudging the words and soaking into the paper.
This can't be real.
She felt herself chipping away, unable to comprehend what was in front of her until the wave of anger hit, her vision going red as she viciously tore the note in half, ripping it to pieces until it resembled the state her heart was left in.
This can't be real.
This is some sick joke, right?
Like a howling beast, she rampaged through the house. "MASARU!"
She checked their bedroom. She checked the kitchen. She checked the bathrooms, the backyard, the attic. "MASARU! MASARU!"
Something was cracking. Something was breaking and chipping away like cheap ceramic. Something hurt and she didn't like it.
"GET BACK HERE, YOU SON OF A BITCH!" she shrieked into the open air. "YOU FUCKING COWARD!"
She didn't even bother to hide her tears as she burst through the front door, stumbling out into the front lawn and whipping around to search the streets. They were all disturbingly empty, not a single soul in sight.
"MASARU!" she screeched, her throat raw and aching. Her voice echoed through the aether. "MASARU!"
Silence was her only response.
She was sure she was hyperventilating, foreign liquid burning her eyes and staining her face as the wind whipped through her unkempt hair. Dropping to her knees, for that single moment, she was the only person left in the entire world, even as bare feet padded out onto the porch behind her.
So, she felt no shame as she raised her head towards the sky and screamed.
The smell of food made her want to vomit.
She didn't know how long she'd been lying there, curled up on the sofa with her face pressed into the cushions. Frankly, she didn't know what to do with herself at all. It aggravated her that she was just letting this eat away at her instead of kicking herself into gear and getting on with her day, as she should, but she just felt empty, like half of her soul was ripped out of her body.
She distantly wondered how many times she'd told him that she loved him.
Because she did. So, so much.
How sickening, that she'd only realized that once he was gone.
The smell grew stronger, and Mitsuki suddenly recognized it as leftover curry from yesterday. Curry that Masaru had made for them.
Sweet, caring, loving Masaru.
"Speak properly!"
Did she ever deserve such a sweetheart?
She grimaced when something cold poked at her face, whining as she buried herself further into the couch cushions. The poking only grew more incessant, Mitsuki swatting at her face as it dug into her cheek. The smell of curry was overwhelming as she opened her eyes, eying the dish sitting on the coffee table with disdain.
The spoon was digging into her face again, Mitsuki finally batting it out of her son's hand as she looked up at him with a withering glare, ignoring the way his face was contorted with emotions that she couldn't even identify.
"Eat." he ordered curtly, picking up the spoon and jabbing the handle against her cheek.
He's a smart kid. She was sure he'd figured out what happened by now.
With a low growl, Mitsuki tore the spoon from his grasp and threw it across the room, cringing at the resounding crash that followed. Katsuki fell silent at that, but Mitsuki didn't bother looking at his face, instead returning to burying herself into the sofa.
With a loud huff, Katsuki finally left her alone, and Mitsuki couldn't help but be grateful. She didn't think she could deal with the brat right now, with her emotions frayed and left raw and bare. Fighting to not cry again, especially directly in front of the punk, she forced herself to sleep, willing the scent of curry to leave her the fuck alone and let her wallow in her misery in peace.
Of course, she would never be so lucky, as the sound of a spoon being set on the coffee table made her freeze up, the following silence leaving her tense and angry. "Hag."
She clenched her teeth at that, a low hissing sound escaping her throat as her son stood over her. "Hag, you need to eat."
She could see his face now, frustrated and bored as he stared down at her. He must be having quite the laugh right now, huh? Seeing his tyrannical mother reduced to this in a matter of minutes must be a fucking field day for him.
Damn punk ass brat.
"Hey," Katsuki growled, shaking her shoulder. "You'd be giving me so much shit right now if this were me. Get the fuck up."
Such a brat... Always such a brat.
"Old hag. Oi."
If he wasn't such a brat, then maybe...
Maybe...
"Fucking hell, just get up alr-"
Even she wasn't sure how she moved so fast, her body up and the back of her hand throbbing. The sound of her hand solidly connecting with his face still echoed through the air, his eyes wide, head turned to the side from the force of the hit.
The two found themselves frozen in place as they slowly began to comprehend what had just happened, even though it had happened so fast that neither of them had seen it coming. Katsuki was the first to recover. "What the fuck!?"
Mitsuki was shooting up to her feet before she knew what she was doing, her body thrumming with wild rage and righteous fury. Her voice was low, a vicious snarl on her lips as her burning eyes bore into him. "You."
It took Katsuki a moment to understand, but when he did, his face twisted into a snarl just as threatening. "Oh, no. Don't you dare put this on me."
"Don't give me that shit!" She roared. "If you would just behave! If you would just listen!"
"As if you're any fucking better!" he yelled right back. "You don't just yell at me! You gave him shit all the time for just being himself! Yeah, he's a damn doormat, but at least I wasn't always giving him a hard time over it!"
"Speak properly!"
"Shut up!" she screamed, grabbing the collar of his shirt. His hands flinched, but his expression only hardened as she yanked him closer. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!" she screamed in his face. "When will you learn to keep your fucking mouth shut!"
The air had grown thinner, leaving her gasping as her hands shook. "Ungrateful, selfish, rude, unkind, awful little punk ass brat! Do you know how overjoyed I was when you were born?! When I held you for the first time?! My happy little family, only for it to be ripped apart by the most uncontrollable demon child to ever walk the planet! Do you enjoy it?! Watching me suffer?! Is it all a game to you?! Do you get a kick out of making my life hell!?"
Her grip tightened. "You ruin everything! My life! My relationships! My fucking self! You drive me nuts, kid! My life was fan-fucking-tastic until you entered the picture and fucked it all up! Are you happy, huh?! Are you happy?!"
She was startled by Katsuki grabbing her wrist, his grip firm and eyes piercing. "I ruined yours?! Are you fucking kidding me?! Neither of us are fucking saints, bitch! Don't act like you aren't the worst fucking person, you hear me!? The worst!"
"Fucking brat!" she shrieked. "I should have never given you life! Then everything would be just fucking dandy! Then we could have been happy!"
"Well, too bad, asshole! I didn't make myself pop into existence! And it's not my fucking fault that dad doesn't love you anym-!"
She'd never punched him before.
A smack on the wrist, a whack over his head, the occasional slap across the face when she was really pissed, but not once had she ever punched him.
Now that she thought about it, she doesn't think she ever backhanded him before, either, but here they were.
Katsuki seemed just as stunned as she was, back to staring off to the side as his cheek began to bruise. Time seemed to stop when she saw blood drip from his nostril.
She'd drawn blood.
Both of them remained silent, even as Katsuki wrenched himself out of her lax grip. The glare he shot at her was murderous, his eyes glassy as he violently kicked the coffee table, flipping it over and spilling all of its contents onto the floor. Mitsuki didn't say anything about it.
What was left to say?
She barely heard him run up the stairs, his bedroom door slamming shut with a thunderous crack as she found herself once again curled up on the sofa, the smell of leftover curry still wafting through the air as she screamed into the couch cushion.
Even if he rarely ever stopped their fights, Masaru would have never let it escalate that far.
And bad things always happen when they escalate that far.
This wouldn't do at all. She was no weakling. She couldn't let this destroy her.
So, more so out of spite than anything else, she forced herself off the couch, spending the rest of the day obsessively cleaning the house, hiding or throwing away any lasting reminders that Masaru had ever been there, practicing random hobbies that she would call wastes of time any other day, anything to distract her from the sharp ache in her chest. She worked herself to the point of exhaustion, terrified that stopping for a single second would pull her back into that state of motionlessness, silent, brooding, drowning in guilt and regret.
Defeated.
Before she could even comprehend it, it was nightfall. It still took all of her willpower to trudge up to her room and crawl into bed.
She's trapped.
She can't move. Why can't she move?
Everything is too bright, a nauseating stream of light leaving her eyes burning, as if someone had set them on fire. She opens her mouth to scream, but no sound comes out.
The only thing she can hear is her own rapid heartbeat.
There are figures above her, silently watching as she writhes, fighting against the invisible bonds holding her down. She searches for her voice, willing it to come back, just so she can cuss these f u ckers out for whatever they're doing to her.
"Mitsuki?" a voice called her again, masculine this time, and for whatever reason, she found herself latching onto it like a lifeline.
If only her heartbeat wasn't drowning it out, even as the voice called out desperately, sounding as if it should be louder than the white noise. Instead, it was quickly drowned out by something not unlike a taiko drum at a summer festival.
Masaru, where the f u ck are you?
"Mitsuki?"
The figures are too close, and the air is suffocating her. She tries to move, to free herself from this d a mn horror show, but to no avail.
No one is coming to save her.
The bright lights assaulting her vision explode in a spray of sparks and glass, and she's plunged into darkness.
Mitsuki woke up to complete darkness and an incessant shaking motion.
"Stupid hag, wake the fuck up."
She squinted dangerously at her clock, the massive AM sign staring back at her giving her the urge to strangle the kid, but the lingering feelings of disorientation from her dreams and the pit in her stomach from their fight that day held her in place. The phantom sensation of jumping from moment to moment was giving her whiplash, as if she was running on autopilot to the point of literally not realizing that hours upon hours were passing between one moment and the next, like scenes in a movie or pictures in a slideshow. Did she randomly develop a new time-travel quirk? Was she still dreaming? Was she dissociating? Was she just losing her mind?
Either way, she was not ready for this conversation, especially at ass o'clock in the morning.
Groaning loudly, she hoped that the death glare she shot at him through the dark was enough to convey this. Shoving her face back into her pillow, she tried to will Katsuki to leave her the fuck alone as he continued to shake her, her own hands vibrating with energy. She shot him another look, her eyes now adjusted to the blackness as they locked with Katsuki's, practically glowing in the nearly impenetrable darkness.
"Fuck off, Katsuki..." she mumbled. "We can talk about it later..."
"Hag-"
"Katsuki-"
"There's someone in the house."
Mitsuki jack-knifed up at that, suddenly wide awake as the darkness of the room seemed to close in on them. That feeling of whiplash was back, like a slap to the face.
A taste of her own medicine, in a way.
"What?!"
Katsuki's hand was up instantly, a silent warning as he held his finger to his lips and skeptically eyed the bedroom door, somehow left ajar. For this once, Mitsuki held her tongue.
Her brat was a hero-in-training, after all. Danger was his bread and butter.
That did beg the question, though. "And you're here instead of kicking their ass, why?"
His eyes narrowed as he glared at her, moonlight glinting off his clenched teeth. "They got a long-range quirk and you're in my fucking way. I want you out of the house."
Mitsuki raised an eyebrow, a silent order for an explanation. Katsuki huffed. "I saw 'em... They ain't just a petty burglar. There's no way."
It was fascinating, how a single sentence could send pins and needles running up a grown woman's spine. She schooled her face well, holding an expression between annoyance and skepticism, but she couldn't ignore how her heart was beating just a little bit faster, how her glycerin sweat was shimmering in the moonlight. Her son was an annoying, outspoken, cocky little prick, but more often than not, whatever he spouted, he could back up.
He was a little shit, but he was a tough little shit who's taken part in some of the most infamous battles in Japan's recent history as a mere teenager. She would never admit it out loud, lest she inflates the kid's ego to an impossible degree, but as far as Mitsuki is concerned, her son could take on the entire world and come out of it still standing.
And he always remained confident. He didn't show weakness. He didn't do nervous.
But Katsuki was nervous.
And if Katsuki was nervous, that made her nervous.
Mitsuki hid her apprehension behind a snarl. "You can just say you ain't as tough a shit as you say you are and had to come crying to mommy."
Katsuki scowled harshly. "Well, fuck you too, bitch. Excuse me for not wanting you in the crossfire." Mitsuki winced as he yanked her out of bed, steering her towards the open window. "And you call me ungrateful." he grumbled.
"Katsuki, we're two stories up. Do you really expect me to go out the damn window?"
"You can climb down! It's not impossible!"
"I'm gonna break my fucking neck!"
"I- Fine! Sit on the roof! I don't care, just get out of-!"
The sound of a door slowly creaking open had them both frozen in place, turning their heads like rusty cogwheels as Mitsuki's bedroom door harmlessly swung open.
There was something about the inky blackness that met them that had the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. From here, she couldn't see anything in the darkness. Just a black backdrop with no end in sight. The room itself almost felt darker, as if any sources of light were being smothered by the oppressive atmosphere, and sound itself seemed to cancel out, leaving them in near-perfect silence.
However, if Mitsuki listened hard enough, she could have sworn she could hear the faint sound of breathing.
Katsuki's movements were slow, deliberate as he shifted in front of her, facing the doorway as he clung protectively to her arm. His eyes were almost predatory, animalistic in how they narrowed, zeroing in on the black expanse that seemed to have swallowed up the rest of the house.
There was this nagging, pestering feeling in the pit of Mitsuki's stomach that something was truly, truly wrong, and she wasn't even sure if it was because of the obvious.
"Back up slowly." Katsuki whispered fiercely, forcing Mitsuki to step back as he moved backwards. She wasn't fully behind him, teetering to his right as she too glared menacingly at the pitch-black entryway, the swirling darkness almost writhing before them.
"I'm not stupid." she hissed back, even as her free hand came to rest on his shoulder, clutching his shirt. She was almost grateful that he didn't say anything about it.
It was amazing, how a dangerous enough threat could cancel out any animosity in the face of ensuring survival.
Inching towards the window, Mitsuki almost felt as if the darkness was following them, slowly moving forward and closing in with every step they took. Mitsuki dared to look over her shoulder, cringing at how far the window actually was from them. At this point, she could feel tremors running through her body, fight or flight reflexes fighting against each other and forcing her into a state of frozen silence, her numb legs backpedaling as her son gingerly pushed them towards open air.
Of course, neither of them had noticed the one loose floorboard until it was too late.
Mitsuki was proud to say that she didn't scream, but in the deafening silence, her gasp sounded just as loud as she stumbled backwards, clinging to her son's back as she fought to regain her balance. Katsuki jumped, glancing back at her with wide, startled eyes. "Oi-!"
And that's when it lunged.
It had no form, just a mass of black matter shooting out like bullets, tendrils of an inky dark something twisting through the air like a Lovecraftian nightmare come to life. It was as if all the shadows themselves were moving, reaching towards them at speeds that Mitsuki wouldn't have even comprehended if it wasn't as if time itself had suddenly slowed down on her.
There were many things that she could have focused on. Her own two feet, making a break for the window, switching on a fucking light, anything that would hint at some form of self-preservation.
However, at that moment, when death itself seemed to be descending on them and her body was working faster than her mind could keep up with, there were only two things that she was aware of.
One, Katsuki was in front of her.
Two, Katsuki was looking at her.
At that moment, nothing else mattered.
She vaguely wondered if this was the motherly instinct that she'd always been missing as she lurched forward and rammed into him shoulder-first as hard as she could.
Physically, Mitsuki was not afraid to admit that Katsuki was stronger than her. Even if she was unnaturally strong herself, she was nowhere near his peak level. However, she had the element of surprise on her side, earning a shocked yelp as her son flailed from the sudden impact and toppled to the floor.
It was like slow motion as the tendrils rocketed right over him, Mitsuki feeling conflicted between relief and horror as they coiled around her body, but the overpowering wave of pride was enough to soothe her as she felt herself being tugged forward, the black nothingness enveloping her form as she found herself being violently dragged out of the room.
"MOM!"
And then that pride was smothered by the all-encompassing terror of realizing that she was going to die.
"Hmm. How unexpected."
Mitsuki screamed through her clenched teeth as she slammed into the ground, barely able to see the stairs she'd presumably just been thrown down as she found herself tossed into the darkened living room. From what she could see, it was barren, the couches and coffee table all tossed aside and leaving the center open, almost like a makeshift arena. Mitsuki found herself curling up as the tendrils receded, melting into the sea of black shadows that completely covered the floor. It was like sitting in a puddle of water, the black substance rippling as she slowly and stubbornly forced herself onto all fours.
The room was suffocating, the darkness itself holding a certain weight to it that almost made her feel as if she was underwater. The shadows on the floor swirled and writhed, pooling around her hands and legs like liquid and lapping at her clothes, leaving them feeling heavy and damp. It was as if her living room had been turned into a swamp made entirely out of ink.
From the corner of her eye, Mitsuki could make out the vague shape of a person, a shadow moving along the walls through the darkness, circling her as it blinked in and out of existence. She hated the feeling of vulnerability crawling up her spine as she pulled herself up to her knees, eyes hardened in a deep frown as her eyes darted to follow what little movement she could see beyond the flowing shadows blanketing the room in a haunting ebony.
"You surprised me. How exciting."
Mitsuki's head whipped forward, her piercing eyes boring into the figure peeling itself out of the darkness in front of her. He had no real shape, other than the clear silhouette of a human man. Blackness painted him from head to toe, hiding his face and features to the point of looking like a paper cut-out. There wasn't even a smile to wipe off his face, no nose to break or eyes to gouge out, or even ears to rip off his head. Just a shadowy silhouette as he stood over her.
"Who the hell are you?" she demanded.
The shadow tilted its head. "Is that important?"
"As a matter of fact." she growled. "I said who the hell are you?! And what do you want with us?!"
The shadow stilled at that, considering her for a long moment before it shrugged dismissively. "When have I ever needed reason?"
With a frustrated roar, Mitsuki stumbled to her feet, gritting her teeth tightly as she felt the shadows surge up around her, coating her body and holding her in place. She squeezed her eyes shut, hiding her fear behind a shield of anger as she forced herself to breathe evenly.
"No need to bother." the shadow said. "I know you're afraid. I can feel it."
"Yeah?" Mitsuki grit out. "Well, hate to break it to you, buddy, but you're obviously full of shit."
"A strong front." the shadow mused. "Much more expected of you."
Mitsuki frowned at that, a shiver running down her spine. "The fuck?"
"To save you the trouble of asking," the shadow shrugged. "No, that has nothing to do with my quirk."
He lifted his hand, the darkness and shadows twirling around him like water down a drain. "You're probably curious about it. Perhaps there's no harm in explaining."
"I don't give a shit-"
"It's surprisingly simple, really." he barreled on. "Basically, I can give darkness a physical form, and then control and manipulate it to my whims. Even the smallest shadow can give me unlimited power."
But why is he here?!
"My whims are what they are." he sighed. "I simply do as I please. Nothing more, nothing less."
Mitsuki swallowed harshly, her body twitching violently as the dark tendrils coiled tighter. The shadow watched her, his lack of expression leaving a roiling pit of anxiety and anger in her stomach. She hissed through her teeth, glaring right into where its eyes should be as the room around her seemed to shift and warp as if it wasn't ever even real.
"Hmm. How interesting."
His voice reverberated off the walls in a cacophony of echoes beating against her head as moonlight began to stream through the windows. Within a single moment, liquid shadows coated the glass, blocking the light out.
"You're not trying to hide your weakness there, buddy." Mitsuki spat.
"I suppose." the shadow responded coolly. "Even though light is necessary create shadows, darkness cannot exist in the same space as light, so it is still a hazard. I'm sure you can understand."
"Sure do."
Mitsuki froze at the sound of a third voice as the shadow stiffened, and she instinctively closed her eyes barely a second before light literally exploded into the room. The wave of heat that followed prickled uncomfortably at her skin, stealing the air from her lungs and leaving her blinded as the air blasted against her face and whipped her wild hair in her eyes. Around her, the black substance convulsed, a high shrieking sound piercing through the air as the shadow figure quickly melted into the sludge.
Mitsuki couldn't see Katsuki from where she was, but the shadow's disappearance and the following barrage of small blasts was all the evidence she needed. Even through all the noise, Mitsuki had yet to hear anything break, which did nothing to calm her frazzled nerves. If anything, that only fed into the feeling of being trapped, caged. It made her skin crawl, the tendrils digging into her skin suddenly burning. With a frustrated shout, she twisted herself around, barely wincing as the tendrils only dug deeper.
It was enough though, she realized, as she watched Katsuki fire explosions randomly around the house. The walls, laced with dark tendrils and writhing masses of blackness, didn't budge, held firm by the shadow's quirk, but the furniture left scattered around the room lit up like bonfires, illuminating the darkness in a bright orange hue. The darkness only screeched louder, retreating further into the room as Katsuki made a beeline towards where Mitsuki was trapped.
"Mom!"
"Clever boy. I'm actually impressed."
The black liquid suddenly surged forward, coating the floor as Katsuki raced forward. The mass was deep enough to reach his ankles, washing over them so quickly that he barely had a chance to catch himself from falling right over. Smaller tendrils clung tightly to his lower legs, holding him down, but only for a moment, his eyes glowing brightly against the light of the fire as he forced himself forward with a warcry.
It was a slow process, every step forced and wobbly, ripping himself out of the dark pool over and over again, but his eyes never left Mitsuki's, bright with pumping adrenaline and righteous fury.
She'd always known the kid would become a pro no matter what, but sometimes, even she forgot just how heroic he actually was.
The shadow hummed thoughtfully as more tendrils shot out from the pool, wrapping around his arms and yanking him back. Katsuki snarled, pulling against them firmly and violently. With a roar, he took another step forward, pulling the darkness along with him, and then another, and another, still moving towards her even as the darkness kept trying to tug him back.
"I'm surprised."
Slowly, shakily, Katsuki pulled viciously at the tendrils, stretching his arm out towards Mitsuki, his outstretched hand reaching wildly. "Grab my hand!"
"Is this really how you saw him all along?"
Mitsuki snarled, a wave of determination coursing through her as she too fought her binds, fighting against the tendrils' grips as she stretched her hand forward. Her arm shook from the tension, the screaming shadows leaving her dizzy and disoriented, but her son's bright eyes shone through the darkness, a beacon to steer her as she reached. He took another shaky step forward, his foot slamming into the pool of blackness with ferocity.
"...I see now."
The liquid shadows suddenly felt as cold as ice.
"I guess I misunderstood. I'm sure you'd understand why."
If she didn't know any better, she'd say that the shadow's voice was in her head.
"But that's okay."
"Mom!" Katsuki's voice cut through her foggy mind. "Come on! Fucking reach, you-!"
Now, being the parent of a pro hero was not something for the faint of heart. Even as trainees, she'd learned the hard way more than once that anything can happen. Anything can go wrong, and one day, you could wake up and realized that your baby wasn't there anymore.
Mitsuki wasn't naive. She'd understood this from the beginning, but there had also been this aching hope in the back of her mind that her son was invincible, an unstoppable force. Even when life slapped them all in the face and made it clear that he was just as human as everyone else, she held firm, forced herself to stand tall and be strong, just as she'd taught him to do. She thought she had a hope of moving on if, heaven forbid, that day actually came. The day that she outlived her son.
She didn't want to face that, but she would if she had to. She thought she was ready for the worst-case scenario.
She was not ready.
All sound was canceled out by the sharp, sickening squelch of torn flesh. Blood splattered against the blackness, red droplets dotting the black pool at their feet like a Jackson Pollock painting, and for a moment, suddenly numb to the world around her, Mitsuki didn't even register what had happened.
Katsuki stared back with wide, unseeing eyes, his outstretched hand trembling as he slowly looked down at the tendril protruding from the center of his chest.
"M- Mo-" The utterance set the world back in motion, and belatedly, Mitsuki wondered when the last time he called her mom was.
All at once, the darkness receded, the stray tendril yanking itself out of her son's body as they both crashed onto the floor like puppets with their strings cut. For a long moment, nothing moved, the world frozen and still as if time itself had stopped working. Mitsuki just laid there, any threat or worry for her own life forgotten as her mind caught up with the images playing on repeat in her head.
It took every ounce of strength she had left to look up, her expression blank as her eyes landed on Katsuki. He was motionless, limp on the ground with his hair haphazardly covering his face as blood pooled under him. Swallowing heavily, Mitsuki pushed herself up on shaky limbs, crawling the last few feet forward to reach him.
"Katsuki." she whispered, gingerly shaking his shoulder. Her mind refused to register the gaping hole where his heart should be. "Katsuki."
The shadows were still hovering in the background, but they made no move to stop her as she sat up on her knees. "Katsuki, get the fuck up."
Silence was her answer. Mitsuki seethed, her eyes burning as she rolled him onto his back, his body bonelessly flopping over. His eyes were half-lidded, dim and glazed as she watched the life drain from them as quickly as the blood from his chest and face painting the floor red.
"Katsuki," she rasped, her voice harsh with anger. Her eyes burned. "Get up."
By this point, reality had caught up with her. She wasn't stupid, after all. At this point, she understood what had happened. And yet, there was no recognition in her clouded eyes, her mind hazy from disbelief and denial.
"St- Stupid brat." she breathed, her voice hitching. "Stupid, disobedient brat. Do as I say."
There was no one there to respond to her. "For once in your damn life, ...do as I fucking say."
She was vaguely aware of an unwelcome presence in the corner of the room, but honestly, she didn't care anymore, carefully gathering her son into her arms. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd held him, thinking back to a toddler curled up on her lap, eyes wide and bright as he waved his favorite All Might action figure around and imitated the hero's goofy signature laugh. As a young boy, he wasn't so quick to come to her for those tender moments, already morphing into the nightmarish ball of rage that dominated his early teen years. By that point, he didn't rant to her about his useless elementary school classmates or rave about what villain All Might beat the snot out of that week, only able to experience it through reports from-
Oh fuck, Masaru.
This would ruin him. This would break him.
He would blame himself for not being here, even if he wouldn't have made a difference. Perhaps, he might have even been a hindrance.
He would still blame himself.
And maybe, if Mitsuki was being honest, she blamed him a little bit, too.
Clutching her son's still body to her own, Mitsuki found herself subconsciously rocking back and forth, her face damp and chest constricted, leaving her breathless. He hung limply in her arms, a weight that felt as if it was dragging her down and crushing her against the earth. Even as the shadow stepped out into her line of sight, even though somewhere deep in her broken, stuttering heart, she wished for this man to burn in hell until not even ashes remained of him, she couldn't bring herself to yell or scream. She couldn't find it in her to beg anymore.
What was left to say?
She swallowed thickly.
"I love you..." she suddenly forced out as her voice shook. The words felt like acid on her tongue, but she embraced the pain. "I love you, kiddo."
Darkness was stirring in front of her, barely in her awareness as the shadow stepped back, watching her in silence as the blackness slowly, messily smothered the flames that Katsuki had created. Mitsuki finally looked up at the shadow, the villain, the monster, with a fierce glare so powerful that even he stepped back in surprise.
"...I see."
The darkness roiled and rose around them, swallowing everything in its path until Mitsuki couldn't even see her own hand in front of her face. It almost felt as if she was underwater, a groggy, floating feeling that made her feel as if she was suspended in nothingness. Somewhere far away, a siren sounded, an incessant high pitch beat pounding against her skull until she wasn't aware of anything at all.
"Perhaps we both learned something from this."
She doesn't know where she is.
Her heart is pounding, shrieking, banging against her ribcage like a hammer and fighting to rip itself out of her chest.
There's a part of her that wishes it would.
"Mitsuki?"
Her face is wet. When did she start crying? This wasn't like her at all.
Images of a barren bedroom and the phantom feeling of blood soaking her blouse kindly remind her.
"Mitsuki?"
The figures are back, staring down at her with their condescending gazes from behind blinding lights. The taiko drum in her chest is still beating wildly, her rapid breathing leaving her limbs numb and shaky.
It's with a sudden gasp that she realizes that she can move.
She flails, her voice returning to her in a torrent of cracks and high-pitched screeching that doesn't even sound like her own voice anymore. There's a commotion around her, the figures swarming her in a frenzy of movement that leaves her dizzy and nauseous.
There's a thrill in her heart when her hand solidly connects with where one of the figures' faces should be, the silhouette stumbling back as she continues to cry out.
Where did her husband go? Did he leave her for good? Did he not care that she was suffering right now?
What happened to her son? Where was his body? Was that taken away too?
They weren't coming back, were they?
She would never see them again, would she?
The broken drum in her chest falls to a dull throb, and it's here, in this moment, screaming in fear and agony, drowning in her own tears and despair, that she realizes that she's alone.
"Mitsuki?" a familiar voice echoes.
There's a faint ache in her arm just as a hand cards through her hair, a loving hand that sets her at ease and pulls her away from the abyss. She realizes that she's no longer screaming, gasping for air as her eyes continue to leak.
She's never felt so weak in her life.
"Mitsuki." the voice is so close to her, muffled by distant ringing. Somehow, a glint catches her eye as a new figure appears above her, warm and soft and loving. "I'm here, Mitsuki."
I'm here.
I'm here.
I'm here.
When the world around her fades away, she finds herself engulfed by a sea of white.
Mitsuki woke up that morning feeling aggravatingly disoriented.
Her mind was fuzzy, a distorted mess of shapes and colors whirling around her head in a cyclone of faint images and ideas that barely connected to each other. There was a slight sheen on her skin, a layer of glycerin sweat coating her and leaving her nightgown damp. Squeezing her eyes shut, Mitsuki swallowed the curses on the tip of her tongue and rolled over in bed.
Her body protested the movement, her back throbbing and thoughts fuzzy as broken images came rushing back so quickly and so suddenly that her head felt as if it was going to explode. Through her hazy vision, all she could make out was white. Bright white lights.
White walls, white ceiling, white bed.
Did she die?
Glancing up, she noticed machines next to her bed, the annoying high-pitched beeping noise breaking into her awareness uninvited. She cringed at the sound, looking up a bit further to find what she suddenly realized was an IV drip.
A hospital. She's in a hospital.
What the h e ll happened?
Where did her husband go? Did he leave her for good? Did he not care that she was suffering right now?
What happened to her son? Where was his body? Was that taken away too?
The sudden rush of memories knocked the wind out of her.
They weren't coming back, were they?
"Katsuki!?" She struggled to sit up, her body fatigued and sore as she squirmed, but her voice echoed just as loudly as it always had, even as it cracked harshly, even if somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew it was pointless. "Katsuki!?"
There was a hand tightly gripping hers as she flailed, her unseeing eyes darting around the hospital room as she struggled. There were muddled memories of a siren. Had someone realized something was wrong? Had they heard Katsuki's explosions and called for help?
Of course he still saved her.
There was a voice calling to her as she struggled, her name sweet on their lips as soft but firm hands clutched her shoulders and pushed her back against the bed. She shrieked, thrashing against the stranger's grip, but they held tightly, not enough to hurt, but not enough to wriggle herself away, either.
"FUCK OFF!" she screamed, weakly beating her fist against their arm as she fought against them. "KATSUKI!? KATSUKI!?"
"Mitsuki!"
She froze at the sound of his voice, her arms shaking from exertion as she searched, her hands reaching out blindly. She found a face, padding and searching as her hands knocked off his glasses and slipped against the wetness on his face.
She grew still, eyes wide as her vision cleared, the shaking traveling through the rest of her body as recognition finally hit her. As suddenly as it came, her voice left her, nothing but choked cries escaping her lips.
Masaru's breath shook as violently as his arms. "I-I-It's okay, Mitsuki. It's okay. I- I'm right here."
For a moment, she just stared at him in stunned silence, watching as he reached down to pick up his fallen glasses and rubbed at his reddened, watery eyes. There were dark bags under them, as if he hadn't slept in days. Mitsuki still fought for words, lost in a wave of emotions that shook her to her very core until she felt as if she didn't feel anything at all.
And then, she felt everything. "You..."
Masaru watched her sadly as she felt her face twist viciously into hateful rage. "You ASSHOLE!"
Masaru jumped at the volume, panic crossing his face as she clumsily forced herself up. "Where the FUCK did you go!?" she screamed. "You left us, you dickhead! What did you expect me to do!? What was I supposed to do!? I needed you, you fucking imbecile! And you think that it's a-okay to just waltz right back in after dropping us like hot cakes!? Just leaving us to go die in a ditch somewhere!? Fuck! Fuck, Katsuki, he-!"
"Mitsuki!" Masaru cried, his voice wet. "Mitsuki, listen to me! Everything's fine, okay? It wasn't real!"
"The fuck it wasn't-!"
"There was an accident!" Masaru cried. "A quirk accident! You and Inko were out shopping, remember? And then those villains, they-! I was always here! I-!"
Masaru broke down into hysterics, sobbing as he clung to Mitsuki's hand, and Mitsuki found herself at a loss. Her head ached, spinning and sore as faint images of a busy street and wispy green hair flashed through her mind. Everything was becoming a jumbled mess, a collage of memories barely stitched together like puzzle pieces that didn't fit being forced into the shapes. Somewhere in the mix, there was a feeling of panic, a sinking feeling as if she was falling into an abyss as a woman screamed her name, and suddenly, she found herself clinging to it.
Because she was too tired to be skeptical. All she cared about was holding onto the hope that was being offered to her as if her very life depended on it.
"You..." her voice rasped. "...Never left?"
"I've been here the whole time." Masaru smiled, tears flowing from his eyes freely. "You've been out for a couple days now. I was-... I was so scared... I can't have both of you giving me heart attacks like this, dear."
"And... And Katsuki?"
Masaru huffed softly. "At U.A., honey. He hasn't been feeling well, so they haven't let him leave campus yet, but he's definitely been clamoring to come see you."
Mitsuki stared up at him blankly as a door was swung open, nurses pouring in after all the commotion from earlier. "He's okay...?"
"Yes, Mitsuki. He's okay, and I'm right here. Everything's going to be fine."
Mitsuki found herself not fully comprehending everything that was being said, confused and disoriented from all the noise and movement and the absolute mess that her mind was at the moment. Masaru's face became blurry as she continued to stare up at him, his eyes sparkling under the light of her hospital room.
"It's four in the morning right now." Masaru whispered. "You need to sleep, okay? I'll be here when you wake up."
A part of Mitsuki didn't believe him, but she was out like a light before she could say so.
It had been two brothers. Convenience store robbers, apparently.
Mitsuki frowned heavily as she drank her water. After she'd woken up that morning, Masaru had gone home to eat and wash up just after Inko had arrived to visit her. The plump little woman looked just as frazzled and tired as Masaru did as she nursed her own drink.
"Civilians were ordered to take cover until the villains were apprehended. The two of us were grocery shopping at the time."
She bit her lip, her eyes watering. "One of them had a quirk that allowed him to turn darkness, like shadows or the darkness in a dimly lit room, into a physical substance that he could control."
Mitsuki sucked a breath in harshly. The image of a man in shadow came to mind.
"The other had a nightmare quirk." Inko explained. "Whoever he touches with all five fingers falls into a deep sleep, a-and then for a couple days, they shift between comatose and fitful dreams of their worst fears."
Worst fears, huh?
Like a barren office and a blood-soaked floor.
"The villain with the darkness quirk was arrested first." said Inko. "The other one... The brother, he escaped, and...h-he hid in the grocery store we were in."
Inko's hands gripped her cup so tightly that Mitsuki wondered if she might actually break it. "You noticed him before I did. He... He was scared, and was looking to take a hostage. I don't think he meant to use his quirk on anyone."
Mitsuki bit her lip as tears fell from Inko's eyes. "He... He went for me... He went to grab me and you punched him. It startled him so badly that he grabbed your arm on reflex. He looked absolutely horrified when you collapsed."
Mitsuki was quiet for a long moment, a wave of anger shooting through her system as the memories of her dreams festered in the back of her mind. She couldn't help but think that those would be there for a long time.
And it was frustrating, because they never actually happened. They were fake memories, events that her mind made up under the influence of someone else's quirk. It wasn't real. None of it was real.
But it terrified her.
She couldn't help but think of all the nights after Kamino that Katsuki woke up screaming.
She frowned deeply, glaring at her cup with enough ferocity to set it on fire. "...At least I got a good hit in."
Before Inko could respond, Masaru walked in, bags of take-out food in his hands as he smiled at the two women. "I brought breakfast. You two can go ahead and dig in if you want. I'll be right back."
Mitsuki nodded numbly as he disappeared from sight again, anxiety slamming into her so harshly that she flinched. Inko smiled sadly. "I know it's not my place to say, but..."
Mitsuki watched her quietly, Inko staring off towards the door with a soft smile. "When you get the chance, you should tell him how much he means to you. Both of them, actually. They've been worried."
Masaru returned a moment later, and the three of them ate in silence.
Her afternoon nap was interrupted by irate screaming.
Still groggy and somewhat frazzled from everything that's happened, it took Mitsuki an embarrassingly long time to recognize the voice down the hall, raw and cracking from the force behind every howl of fury. Masaru was on his feet before Mitsuki could comprehend what was happening, nervously rushing towards the door as the noise outside grew louder. Inko, who had been silently reading a book next to her bedside, startled at the loud crash just outside the room as the door flew open.
Masaru already had his hands up in a placating manner, worry etching his face. "Katsuki, please-!"
A blur of ash blonde and rage barreled right past him, almost as if he wasn't even there at all. A familiar spike of anger shot through Mitsuki's system as matching red eyes accusingly glared down at her, but it was easily smothered by the wave of nothing and everything that left her reeling.
"Bitch, what the fuck!?" was the first thing out of Katsuki's mouth, an octave too high and loud enough to leave even her ears ringing. "After all the shit you've given me about getting into trouble, you turn right the fuck around and let this happen!? I was literally sick for days because of your stupid bitchy ass! What the fuck!? What the fuck!?"
"Katsuki, stop it." Masaru pleaded, his voice watery. "You're causing a ruckus. They'll kick you out."
Masaru's words effectively fell on deaf ears, but frankly, Mitsuki heard nothing else of her son's manic ranting. All she could hear was the sound of his voice grating against her ears. All she could see was the raging inferno behind his eyes and the way his chest heaved as he screamed obscenities in her face.
All she could register was that he was here.
"Auntie Mitsuki?" Mitsuki blinked at the new voice, craning her neck to see Izuku peering through the doorway. He looked relieved, to say the least, his eyes just as shiny with emotion as his mother's. "How are you feeling? We heard about a quirk accident and got worried."
Katsuki paused his tirade as Mitsuki let out a tired huff, forcing herself to put on a brave face despite how she felt like she might pass out any second now. "Eh, I'll be fine, Izuku. It takes more than that to get rid of this old hag."
Katsuki snorted at that, grumbling something under his breath that had Masaru going pale as Inko pulled herself to her feet, a knowing smile on her face. "Izuku, why don't we go have lunch together? I've missed you, you know, and I'm sure the Bakugou's would like some privacy."
"Oh, um, sure, mom." Izuku stammered, holding the door open as Inko stepped out. "I'll be back soon, Kacchan!"
"I don't give a damn!"
"Don't leave without me, or else Aizawa-sensei will get mad!"
"I know! Just fuck off, already!"
With one last cheerful wave, Izuku left, shutting the door behind him and leaving the three of them completely alone. Mitsuki swallowed, biting her lip as she glared down at her tight fists. Masaru already looked defensive, hands up as Katsuki's anger was aimed back towards his mother. She wasn't looking at him, but she could feel his glare, a white-hot fury that threatened to burn the whole damn hospital down. She reveled in how much the fire burned, in the relief of feeling something after she'd been left completely numb.
"When you get the chance, you should tell him how much he means to you. Both of them, actually. They've been worried."
She blamed it on her frayed nerves, but that didn't make her feel any better for letting herself sob.
Both her husband and son jumped, frozen in shock from the sound that had just escaped her mouth, and for a long, almost comical moment, nobody was sure what to do. Masaru moved first, reaching out to card a hand through her hair and lovingly rub her arm with the other. Katsuki, as strange as it sounded, was a bit more hesitant, approaching her bedside with a relatively neutral expression, barely marred by confusion and concern. The untrained eye would have missed it, but it was there.
Mitsuki dared to look up at them, eyes red and face twisted as she waged war with her emotions and forced herself to not cry. She had to be strong, after all. Always strong.
Always...
"Mitsuki?"
Always...
"Mom?"
Mitsuki broke.
She surged forward, wrapping one arm around each of their heads and shoving them against her shoulders as she cried. What she was crying over, she had no clue, but at this stage, she had no way of taking it back, so she just clung to them, pressing them against her as if they might disappear all over again if she let them go.
Once again, Masaru recovered first, looping an arm around her and rubbing her back soothingly, whispering soft nothings into her ear. Katsuki was more awkward in her grip, completely lost as to what he was supposed to be doing with himself before he finally, hesitantly rested his head against the crook of her neck. He made no move to try anything else, but that was fine by Mitsuki.
"I fucking love you, shitheads." she choked out, the foreign words, even laced with profanity, feeling strange and maybe even humiliating as they left her mouth. "I love you sons of bitches so much."
The two of them were quiet, not a peep from either of them, and Mitsuki wondered if they'd even heard her, or if they were so shocked that she'd truly left them speechless.
Surprisingly, after what felt like an eternity of silence, it was Katsuki who spoke first. "Yeah, I'm a son of a bitch, alright."
"Katsuki." Masaru chastised, but Mitsuki could do nothing but bark out a laugh and awkwardly ruffle his hair, the sense of normalcy that followed leaving her feeling lighter than she could even remember. She sighed as she pulled away, giving her son a watery smile as he smirked back, an almost rabid look on his face that only made her smile more.
What a little shit.
Her smile softened as she settled back, a contemplative look in her eyes. "By the way, Katsuki, if I ever give you shit about nightmares ever again after this, feel free to smack me over the head right back. Hard enough so that I choke on my own damn words."
Perhaps we both learned something from this.