That Sunday, you woke up at around seven in the morning to prepare for Todoroki to come and pick you up. You showered first thing, ate a light breakfast, then proceeded to stuff your hair into a wrap-around bun with a few loose strands framing your face–those of which you curled. If someone caught a picture of you with this hairstyle, you knew you would be filming a DipDop tutorial.

Your lips were stained a muted red, your eyes dusted with a little bit of a cool brown, matching with some brown eyeliner and mascara.

You walked downstairs with your white, long sleeve, veil blouse with small peach flower prints scattered on it tucked into a shin-length pair of white culottes. You thought this would be appropriate for the weather and the occasion. And the white complimented your silver ring. You grabbed a dark jean jacket to wear with it.

Your mother was cooking for the kids, Fumiko sounding especially moody today. You walked up to her and reached down to where she was sitting in her chair, waiting to catch her attention.

When she looked up at you, she stopped fussing and yelled, "Red!" and reached for you to hold her.

You picked her up and walked to the stove, where Mother was stirring something.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" you asked quietly, your blue heels clicking on the tile.

"Can you put the sausage on the table and cut some up for Shigeru?" she asked gently.

"Of course," you said, taking the hot pan of cooked sausage links and transferring them to a cool plate, setting Fumiko on the counter.

You set the sausage on the table and Kenta immediately snatched four of them from the plate.

"Kenta, leave some for everyone else," you reminded gently, handing Fumiko a piece to snack on while you got Shigeru's portion.

"There's plenty, Mom," he sassed, snatching another one and shoving it in his mouth.

Your expression hardened. "Not if you keep that up," you replied. "That's all you get."

He made a face at you and you took a very deep breath in, then back out. You shook your head as you set down your sister and began cutting Shigeru's sausage into smaller pieces. It was insignificant. It didn't matter. Let it go.

You set the bowl in his high chair for him and he started snacking on it straightaway, the other kids following him soon after.

You took three links and sat down next to Fumiko, making sure she didn't choke. It seemed her fussing was due to her only being hungry, so it was good that she was easily appeased.

Mother turned quickly and set a steaming frying pan of scrambled eggs in front of you all, and Shina put a stack of paper plates next to it.

You started dishing out the food to the kids, making sure they knew it was hot.

Mother sat down with a plop into her chair, and you turned your attention to her.

"How much do you want?" you asked.

She waved you off with a small smile. "Oh, I'll make my own thing when you're all done. I can't eat these."

"I can make you something," you said, making the move to stand up.

"No," she said, "You eat, Hanae, and get ready to go on your date."

"I am ready, Mother, and he's not coming to pick me up until eleven," you argued, standing from your seat fully. You snagged an apron from its hanger and donned it. "What would you like to eat, Mother?"

"Oh, Hanae, don't ruin your pretty outfit," she said. "I can make my food, I just need a break."

"Mother."

Your tone was gentle, yet firm as you looked at your mother. Her wavy auburn hair was cut short, but wasn't pulled up. In fact, the way it fell in her face, over her eyes, it almost made her look older. More tired. You clenched your jaw. This woman wasn't even 33. It was tragic you thought your mother looked almost ten years older than her biological age.

Mother folded. "Can you make some oatmeal? With apples?"

You nodded. "Coming right up."

You went to cooking, and were happy to do so.

.o0o.

Everyone had finished cooking, eating, and cleaning by ten, and Mother took you all to the living room to read the weekly Devotionals. Father had left early for work and to meet with some people–he would be home in the afternoon.

You had Fumiko on your lap, Shigeru on Mother's, both diligently silent as she read from the Ancient Texts.

You played with Fumiko's growing hair, trying to get her to become sleepy for her and Shigeru's nap before you had to leave. They normally went to bed at eleven, but you were praying that if you stuffed the babies with lots of food and brushed their hair and kept the atmosphere calm, they would sleep sooner.

Indeed, they did. Just before eleven, Mother finished, and you and she carried the youngest babies to their respective rooms to let them nap.

"He's here!" whisper-shouted the twins up the stairs.

Sure enough, your phone buzzed in your pocket, and Todoroki had texted you that he had arrived.

You hustled down the stairs, hugging Shina and the twins. Kenta was back in his room by this time, studying.

You turned to Mother. "Tell Kenta I love him for me, please? I'll see you all later today. I'll text you when I'm on my way back home."

"Of course. Don't stay out too late, and watch out for villains, okay?"

The mood turned much grimmer. After revealing you were marrying Todoroki, there was a lot of tension both online and in your every-day life. This was your first time going out in public after the Gala, and you weren't sure how the basic public was going to react to you. Father had spoken with the police yesterday, concerning some of the threats that had come into your social media Friday evening into…well, today.

You, as well as the tags #cancelhanazmae and #haNOzmae had been trending for almost 24 hours after the 'grand reveal.' You knew that media attention was inevitable, and you told Todoroki that already, but that feedback in-person was likely to be more positive than the online activity whirring around you.

The police were tentative. They cautioned you from going anywhere or doing anything other than going to and from school during the day. And you would follow that–after you met Todoroki's mother and went on your first date with him. You wouldn't see him at all for the next week, so you felt no obligation to him after today, naturally, but you felt you needed to say goodbye to him properly, as he asked, and also as his fiancee. He deserved it, even if he didn't view it that way, which he likely didn't.

You grabbed your purse and turned to the door–

The doorbell rang. You waited three seconds to greet him so you looked like a sane human being and not someone who was waiting obsessively by the door for his arrival (even if you were).

He, indeed, was standing there, wearing a white t-shirt under a bleached jean jacket. He wore jeans and his typical white shoes with a watch on his left wrist.

"Hello," he greeted, looking up at your mother and sister behind you and nodding to them as well.

"Hello," you said. "Are we ready?"

"I am if you are," he said.

"You matched again!" The twins exclaimed.

You and he looked at the other's outfits, and you chuckled. "I suppose we did. Now go in and help Mother clean, alright?"

"Okayyy…" they said, scurrying away.

"Have fun, Hanae," your sister murmured to you.

You smiled and stepped outside, the door closing.

He opened the door of the vehicle for you, and you slid in. It was a limo, much like your own, but newer.

You liked your limo better, you thought. Its age gave it a certain kind of charm. This one was prettier in many ways–less used was a better term–but the one your family owned was still very well maintained, so it kept its older look while still being nice. You liked it.

Todoroki sat next to you and the driver began driving away. You scooted over a bit more to give him more room.

"Is there anywhere you would like to go?" he asked as the hulking man in the driver's seat began his drive through the neighborhood. "Like a cafe or a restaurant? We can't get in to visit until around one, but I always just head straight there. I've never been on a…date before."

You blushed at how he worded it, but didn't know why. It was a date, after all. You'd been on one before, but just one, with a chaperone. And you didn't marry that person.

"Well," you replied, "Where…where is your mother? Where in town, that is."

"Not far from here–it's on this side of town."

"Is Kihoro Street within walking distance?"

He thought for a moment. "I believe it is."

"Oh, perfect," you said. "There's a cafe on Kihoro street, on the corner of Kihoro and Mezu. If you wouldn't mind, that place has amazing options for tea and boba, among a few other things."

"That's fine with me," he said, leaning up to the driver. "Can you drop us off on the corner of Kihoro and Mezu? I think we can walk back. If not, we'll call."

"Sure thing," he said as he turned the corner.

Todoroki sat back down and looked at you. You gave him a smile and looked out the window.

"Do you like your ring?" he asked.

You looked at him suddenly, then at your left hand.

"Oh," you said. "Yes, I do. It's…it's truly very beautiful. Thank you."

"Well, you picked it," he said. "And it's only natural that you would pick something that reflects you."

You were dumbstruck. Those words were like a hit…but not to your face, or your stomach or anywhere else where it hurt.

But to your heart. And…it wasn't painful. It…it was one of the nicest things you had ever heard.

He called you beautiful.

You didn't know what to do.

"I–" you started, then looked away, your cheeks flushed. "Thank you," you muttered.

He didn't say anything.

You were left reeling after what he said, trying to calm your pounding heart and try and get your thoughts and emotions pinned in one place.

And that didn't happen until you made it to your destination.

.o0o.

He helped you out of the car, your hands brushing against each other when you stood upright. You snatched it away, only out of politeness if anything.

"I'll pay for everything," he said off-handedly.

"Oh," you said, "I can pay for my stuff. I'm going to get something for my sister anyway–I want to pay for that."

"Okay. Will your sister's drink last that long?"

"Oh, yes," you implored. "I'll order it hot, so it's cool by the time I get back home. Then I'll ice it at my house."

"Hm," he contemplated. "Smart."

You smiled. Indeed.

He opened the door for you–which was something you equally expected and were surprised about–and you smiled, greeting the attending employee at the moment.

He stood next to you and you looked at him. He was reading the menu.

"I've never been to a place like this before," he said.

"Really?"

He shook his head no. "I've never had the chance–never really felt curious either."

"Huh," you hummed.

"But I don't mind being here," he said. "It's…interesting."

"I'm glad," you said.

He was looking at the menu, the options and flavors. You had your order, you were waiting on him so the employee wasn't waiting too long between the two orders.

"What's an americano?" he asked.

"It's coffee with water. You can get it with cream if you want to dull down the taste. It's really strong, and espresso is pretty bitter–if you want to try coffee for the first time, I recommend a latte. It's not as intense."

"Can't be as bitter as my dad was when I got second place in the Sports Festival," he muttered. "Do you have your order?"

"Mhm. Would you like to go first, or should I?"

"You can."

You stepped up with a nod, smiling at the barista. "May I get a sixteen ounce pomegranate tea with blueberry boba, and a twenty ounce hot decaf latte with vanilla and almond milk–no ice."

"Alright, coming right up."

The employee turned to Todoroki. "And for you?"

"Erm," he started, "Can I get a twelve ounce americano with cream?"

"Any sweetener?"

"No." You tried not to cringe.

"Iced?"

"Uh," he looked at you. You shook your head. In your experience, americanos only tasted good iced when they had a flavor with them.

He looked back up at the barista. "No thank you."

"Alright. Is this together or separate?"

"Separate," you said.

She gave you the total and you paid in cash, tipping the waitress with the change. Todoroki used his card (or his father's card).

You stood to the side with him, waiting for your drinks.

"Do you want indoor or outdoor seating?" he asked.

You looked outside, where there were a few people looking into the windows of the cafe. Hopefully, your publicity would give the cafe some good business.

"Indoor," you said. "You can pick, though."

"Alright."

The drinks for both of you were made relatively quickly, and Todoroki led you to a table where you quickly made yourself comfortable.

"How was your weekend?"

You were surprised he started the conversation, but you weren't opposed to it.

"You know," he added, "other than the…comments and police and everything."

You told him about everything the previous evening, and you were glad he cared enough to bring it up.

"It went relatively well," you said. "This morning Fumiko sat through Devotionals quietly for the first time," she said. "She's young, so being a little restless is natural and excusable, but it's still good for her to learn and listen to these things–get them in her mind and heart, even if she can't understand them."

"Hubai Devotionals, I assume?" he asked.

"Yes," you nodded. "I should have specified. Mother reads them every week as our…well, devotion to Our Mother."

"Okay," he said, looking down. "Can you explain…," he sighed, "like, from the beginning, what….Hubai is, what you believe, because…I'm confused," he confessed.

You blinked three times. "Oh," you said. "A-Alright. Definitely."

You didn't expect him to say that in a million years. But you started, as he requested, from the beginning.

"Well," you said, "There are two main Gods. The Father God, the Husband, and the Mother Goddess, the Wife. We call them Our Father and Our Mother. Father represents success, male maturity and masculinity, power, leadership and dominion, strength, you know, masculine things–but most importantly success, especially in finances. He provides for his Wife, who in turn rules over certain aspects of our lives.

"Our Mother also represents success and maturity, but of the feminine form. So, she represents fertility, good leadership and jurisdiction, hard work, compassion, keeping of the heart and home and whatnot. She uplifts her Husband in everything He does, and follows His lead because He has more experience in the world they abide in because He is the Provider.

"They had eight children. When those children wanted to go out and start families of their own, when they were old enough, they created this Earth. They lived here and got married and had children. But, with this newfound freedom they had, away from their home, they rebelled and made the world full of sin. There were two families, though, that didn't rebel and kept their Parents' will and followed their advice, and they were successful in their lives and families, and were able to return to their home world–where their parents lived.

"The goal of the Hubai people is to mimic not only the family dynamic of Our Father and Mother, but to follow the Gods' advice and be successful, so we can live with them when we die."

"So, if you're successful in life…you get to move back in with your parents?" Todoroki asked.

"N…No," you said. "We return back to Our Father and Mother…the Gods. Not our biological parents."

"Oh," he said. "Okay. You just call your mom and dad Father and Mother, like…the Gods."

You chuckled. "Yeah. A good indicator of which I'm talking about is the Our. If I'm talking about my mother or father, I'll say my, even when I'm in a conversation with my siblings. If I'm talking about the Gods, I'll say Our Father and Mother."

"Okay," he said. "Thank you."

"Not a problem," you said.

"So," he said next, picking up his americano, "What happened to the other kids? Who are they?"

"I…" you started. You paused. "I…don't know," you realized. "I haven't really thought about that–They have books on it, if you're curious. I just…haven't read them yet."

"I'm okay," he said. "I was just wondering if you knew." He took a sip of his americano. You were surprised that he didn't recoil at the bitter taste it must have had. He just made a face at the brown cup.

"I have sweetener for it," you suggested lightly, "If you need it."

He nodded. "Maybe that would be good."

You took the cup from him and popped open the cap, sprinkling the packet of sweetener you picked out from the tray before you sat down into the drink. You stirred it with the straw and he capped it after a second or two.

"Try that," you said.

He did and nodded after contemplating the taste.

"Better."

"Does it need more?"

"No, I think it's fine."

"Okay. If you want this drink in the future, just order what you got but say to add one stevia. It'll have the same flavor."

"Okay," he said, taking another sip of the drink.

You stabbed your straw into the boba lid, near the rim rather in the center. It was something Shina taught you.

"So…" he said after a second, "How does this apply to…your life, and the…engagement ritual and…whatnot? And what about homosexuals who can't have kids? Or infertile women? What does that mean for them?"

"Well, for men and women who 'can't,' or 'won't'," you put quotations with your fingers around the words, "serve their respective God in the way that seems best fit, they then turn to try and please the other God. For example, women who can't or won't have children or get married for one reason or another, instead of pleasing Our Mother with Devotionals and having children, she will become more productive or business oriented and successful to try and please Our Father.

"That…that's kind of why I do what I do," you said. "I…I discovered a year ago that I have endometriosis, which could make it difficult for me to have children, so I am doing what I can to gain favor with both Gods, in the hopes that in my success, I please Our Father enough that Our Mother blesses me with the ability to conceive quickly.

"But," she sighed, "I was given this for a reason. I won't…fight it. It's not deadly, just painful, and I take some medications to keep the pain minimal without hurting my body further."

"What is Endo…metrisis or whatever it's called?" He asked.

"Oh," you said, "it's where the tissue that normally grows inside the uterus also grows outside the uterus. It's painful and my quirk inflames it a lot, so I also take Quirk suppressants to prevent it from inflaming any more than it already does."

"And that can…prevent you from having kids? Not that it matters to me," he asked quietly, tentatively.

"It's just more difficult for me to get pregnant, yes," you said, forcing down the blush that was creeping up your neck at the fact you were discussing this with him at all. "I can still have children, but it would be more difficult than the average woman. It runs in the family—My grandmother on my father's side had it, and it was the reason she only had one child, who was my father."

"Huh," he said, thinking about it. "Interesting. Anyway, as you were saying." He took a sip of his drink.

"Where was I? Oh, yes. As far as homosexuals, I grew up in the temple with three families whose parents were homosexual. Two of them adopted to create families and raise their kids to be Hubai and please whichever God they can. But as far as these specific cases are concerned, they just…please Our Father because they are both men. Lesbian couples also turn to serve Our Father, unless they adopt, then one takes he role of the 'Father' of the home and provides, and the other takes the role of the mother and whatnot.

"It's very case-by-case in any circumstance when it comes to people and who they should aim to please. If you please one, in some ways, you please both. It's…It's strange, but it allows freedom of expression, which I appreciate about Hubai. Success isn't one number or one path to take."

"What about divorce?" He asked. "I know some religions are strictly against it."

"Men can go before a court with the Priest and plead for divorce on the basis that his wife is either unfaithful or rebellious. If she's infertile, it's not a valid reason to divorce, even though many men try to use it. In the eyes of Our Father, you don't have to have many children to be successful—alone. The number of children you have doesn't determine how successful you are, once again, case by case, but it also matters how well they are raised and how they turn out later in life, and, especially for men, financial success and a successful image is more important than how many children you have. So, infidelity and not following the customs of following and respecting her husband's wishes are the only basis a man can divorce his wife. Both of which, the man must have substantial evidence. If he doesn't, then he can't."

"I see," he said. "Can women get divorced?"

"No," she said. "They can't. Even if the man is cheating, she has to stay with him, because essentially, she chose him, so she must be faithful and loyal to him. Which is why if she is not, then the man can file for divorce."

"That seems pretty patriarchal," he said. "Even if she's being subject to abuse, she can't get a divorce? What happens to the woman if she's falsely accused? Will she ever be able to marry again? What about the children?"

He was getting heated about this. It made you nervous, but more in how you were going to argue it. You knew he wasn't mad at you, per se, but you still had to take a calming breath before continuing.

You shrugged. "The idea is that the woman and her family chose the man that she was going to marry, so she has to live with the consequences of her actions—even if he's unfaithful. It's her fault he married an unfaithful man. She should have figured out the red flags before then. I happen to agree."

"So, if you married someone, hypothetically," he said, "and he decided to cheat on you, you wouldn't do anything about it?"

"No, because I wouldn't marry anyone who would do that to me if it were my choice," you defended, perhaps a bit more fiery than you intended. "Men aren't supposed to cheat on their wives anyway—it's seen as an abomination against Our Father."

"But if a woman cheats with another man, then he can divorce her, but not the other way around?"

"Yes," you said, "Because in theory, in theory," you repeated, "the woman chose her husband. She was the one who chose her husband for who he was, his flaws and all. She has to live with what she chose. He didn't choose her, so he has the right to come to court if she is unfaithful and call her out.

"That's part of the ritual and engagement ceremony. You were called The Chosen because in theory, I chose you to be my husband. We both knew about it beforehand, which is very rare, honestly."

"Even though it was our—yours and my—parents who….arranged us," he said, almost like asking for clarification. You nodded. "How often are these marriages arranged?"

"Often enough," you said.

"So now the woman not only has to pay for her actions of marrying the man, but also the choices of her parents? What if her parents do what yours almost did, and marry you to a total douche?"

"I," you said, "…I…I've never thought of it that way, I…" you looked down, thinking. "I was always under the impression that in…most cases the arrangement was at the encouragement of the woman, and the engagement was part of her choice, and that my case and only a few others were the exception. There aren't any laws in place for cases like that because of that. It must happen more often than I think, but I never hear of it," you said. "It's…definitely something to consider, though."

He nodded, taking in every word you said. "To give women without a choice a way out, at least."

You smiled. "Of course, the future Hero would think that way," you said.

You watched his cheeks dust just a little pink, a small smile on his features. You let yourself chuckle, then took another sip of your boba.

"As far as your other questions," you suddenly remembered, "it's…almost never that the woman is falsely accused. In the cases where the man calls for divorce that I've witnessed, I've never seen one falsely accused going through. My father has, though, when she gathered the evidence against her husband and called for reparations. She gained full custody of her children, and her reputation was restored, and his was destroyed. It's very hard to accuse a woman of infidelity, however. The amount of evidence required is…. Immense.

"If she's proven guilty, then no, she's not allowed to marry again, because she disgraced herself by proving herself unfaithful. She gets…I think half-custody or three quarters custody of her children, depending on how many there are and how old they are. She moves in with her parents—her biological parents—until she can find a home for herself and make a living on her own. Sometimes, that's never."

"Is there redemption for these people?" He said. "I know they're normally raised in an environment where infidelity isn't okay across the board, but people still make mistakes."

"There is," you said. "You….you do what you can with what you have. Repentance is option one, and that's between yourself, the Priest, and the Gods. From there, you do what you can to please Our Father and Mother—following the customs set in place, respecting your parents– since you no longer belong to your husband, you belong to your parents once more, so you act as if you were unmarried."

"Hm," he said. "And men?"

You shrugged. "I'm not sure. I would assume it's between the man, his wife, and the Gods. I've never known anyone—or no one's told me—whose husband has cheated, so I'm not sure. I'm sure it's in a book somewhere."

He nodded. "Most likely. It…I won't say it's dumb, or stupid. It….It doesn't add up for me," he said. "Especially how men can divorce but women can't. That's just wrong to me."

"I can understand that, and I don't mind women outside the religion doing so—But I think that this makes women think more about who they marry and who they hang around with, and what kind of life they want. I think it's a good thing."

"If that's the case, then men shouldn't be able to divorce either," he said. "If one can't, the other shouldn't be able to either."

You didn't necessarily agree, but chose to pick your battles. Your argument died on your tongue, and another one came up.

"The man can say no," you said, "if he doesn't know he's The Chosen. If he doesn't want to marry her, but she wants to marry him, he can walk away unscathed, at any point before the wedding."

"In which case the same argument can be used," he said.

You tilted your head in question.

He took another sip before beginning to speak. "The argument could be had that if she cheated on him, he could have walked away and not married a woman like this, therefore he has to accept the responsibility as the husband, who married an unfaithful woman, and therefore has to deal with his consequences."

You didn't know what to think about this. You weren't sure if your whole ideology was just flipped on its head or you were given a new perspective on life. Or both. "But the woman chose the man," you said. "Not the other way around."

"You said that he could choose to walk away from it if he wanted to, though, correct?"

That's exactly what you said. And that's exactly what your religion believed.

"By definition," Todoroki said next, "That's a double standard."

You knew it was. You knew it was a double standard, it was hypocrisy…you knew that every religion and belief and person had its faults but this was so….

So…

"I…" you were speechless. "You're right," you said. "I…I dont know what to think…"

You were quiet for a few moments, trying to process what was going through your head. You weren't angry at him, you weren't…upset with him. You…you had half the mind to thank him for enlightening you to that fact. But….you were….

Confused?

Shocked? That something so obvious slipped by you—you, the most critically thinking and curious person you know?

Afraid?

Would you let yourself….learn from him, Hanae?

Or are you too afraid?

"My whole world," you started, "was just flipped on its head, " you laughed. "I have no idea how to take that," you said, smiling at him. You did think it was funny, but you still had some serious research to do. Something…something must have been wrong on your end. You must not have read the texts correctly, or something.

He chuckled. "No problem," he said. "On another note, how difficult is it to get started on social media?"

You paused again, looking at him, at his eyes that still shocked you with their beauty and mesmerized you.

"Why do you ask?" You inquired, a sly smile on your lips.

He shrugged. "I figured I'd give it a go," he said. "Maybe defend you from trolls on the internet if I have to."

You laughed. "It's not that hard. Do you have a personal email?"

"I have a school email," he replied. "Would that work?"

"No," you said. "I can help you make one—get you started— oh, what time is it?"

"It's noon."

"Okay, we have time. I can help you get started on everything, if you would like."

"I would appreciate that," he said. "Thank you."

"Mhm," you said, scooting your chair and drink closer to him. "Here. So, go to Moogle and click My-Mail. It'll take you to this site…"

.o0o.