The eleventh of January.

The birthday of the love of my life.

I am exhilarated that I get to be there for Shouto on this day.

More excitingly, I wake up for before him.

For the first time, I am the early riser.

Stretching, I get up just enough to rest my elbows on the pillow. I observe his room with a new perspective. Now I know where the inspiration for his room came from. I love it even more. Then I shift my gaze toward Shouto. And I love you more.

He looks at peace with messy bed hair, rumpled shirt, and slightly parted mouth. Confidence from defeating him at a one-sided competition compels me to reach over and whisper, "Happy birthday, love." He stirs slightly. Eyes squinting and body shifting to lie on his back. Smiling at his little behaviors, I continue. "Sweet seventeen. One more year, and you will be legally an adult. After all, Japan mandated lowering the age of adulthood from 20 to 18 more than a decade ago."

"One more year, and we'll be third years," a sleep-ridden voice groans.

Hmm? That was Shouto's voice.

As soon as I make that realization, a pair of arms wrap around me and pull me toward its owner. Shouto. He's awake. And he is grinning at me.

Flabbergasted, I have nothing to say. He pulls me closer to him, and I realize the intimate position we are in. I am lying on top of him. His arms rest against my waist. Our faces are only centimeters apart and feet are tangled together. There is no gap between our bodies.

"You're speechless!" he chuckles. "This is not such a bad way to wake up, is it?" He moves one arm to thread his fingers into my hair. "Especially when you are the first thing I see when I open my eyes and the first thing I hear."

"H-H-How long were you awake?"

"Half an hour before you. You tried beating me at who would get up earliest? Sorry, darling. But that title goes to me." Embarrassed, I bury my face into the slope of his shoulder. He laughs harder. "If this is the reaction I get, then my revenge was totally worth it!"

That is enough to make me rise up just enough to meet his eyes. "Revenge? What for?"

"Last night, you pushed me to the floor. When I reached for you, you pinned my arms down. Admittedly, I liked that, but I thought that after having your way with me, you would let me hug you like this. Instead, you pulled me up and denied me of that little moment of bliss. So, a little sweet vengeance!"

Frowning in mock annoyance, I complain, "And I cannot do anything about it because it is your birthday."

He holds me tighter. "No. Birthday privileges. For today, the birthday boy gets all his wishes fulfilled."

It is my turn to laugh. "And what does said birthday boy want?"

He pretends to be in deep consternation, which elicits another snort from me. "You know, tens of embraces, hundreds of kisses, and thousands of adorations and affections."

Grinning at his silly cuteness, I tell him that he will receive all that and more.

Then, "Oh, and bunking school today!"

"No," I refuse immediately.

"Should have known you would say that! Fine, no playing hooky. But after class, promise me that you will spend the rest of the day with me."

"That I can do."

We have time to spare before getting ready for class, so we continue lying in bed. We shift, so I am resting my head above his heart, while he cradles mine with his. I feel soft kisses press into my hair. Spending time like this, I can forget about the worries of the world. His presence means safety, his caresses mean comfort. I have no doubt that he would go to any lengths to keep me safe. What preoccupies me is what may happen to him if he does.

I am of the-ends-justify-the-means mentality. And that thinking has made me make many harsh and questionable decisions to achieve my goals. The costs were equally severe. I do not want you to go through the same dilemmas I did.

But for today, I want to be selfish. I want to forget about Hanada-sama, his list of conditions, the Paranormal Liberation Army, my deals with them, and every other item of stress. Just for today. Tomorrow, I will work.

Shouto deserves a day of joy, too, before the shadows of my past envelop him. He said that he did not feel guilty of developing a relationship with me. I don't want to think that he might start to feel just that the more he learns about me.

So, I swallow down my fears and dredge up happiness. "I have a gift for you," I tell him.

He releases me so I can retrieve it. The loss of his warmth is physical, but I remind myself that we will be cuddling many more times today. I climb out of bed and move toward the table where my night necessities lie. Among them, placed a little separately from the rest, is a box. Made of the same sandalwood as the fountain pen I gave him for his last birthday, it carries a subtle aroma of the tree.

I bring the box to him. He sits up and takes it from me. "What is it?" he asks.

"Your birthday present. First of many."

Confused but intrigued, he opens the latch.

The clockwork mechanism activates, the contraption unlocks, revealing all its secrets. In tiers, series of drawers and shelves open.

"An art kit," Shouto breathes, astonished. "An expensive one at that." He is right. Filled with all sorts of pencils, pastels, and sticks, it is an artist's dream come true. His awe at the riot of color that greets his eyes brings immense relief to me. He liked it. He liked my gift. I had not even realized that was something I had been concerning myself with until now. He inspects one drawer. "There are tubes of paint in here, too. Are these …" He picks up one tube. "Oil paints?"

"Yes."

"But these are so costly. Most artists don't even buy them because of the price."

I smirk, "Money is not a problem for me. The important thing is that you like it. In November, I began gift hunting. For your last birthday, I took you ice skating, so for this one, I wanted to give you another pleasant memory. You mentioned that you had a passion for drawing, so I searched for a suitable present relating to art. That was when I came upon this. Excellent quality and a variety of materials, I thought it was perfect. The paints were an added bonus. So I placed an order, and I got the shipment in late December during winter break."

For a long time, he does not say anything. I resist the urge to think that I have offended him and apologize. Clenching the sides of my nightgown instead of my hands helps with that. He told me that when he is silent like this, it means he is amazed by me. I hope that is what he is thinking right now.

He puts the paint tube back. A press of a button inside the box initiates the whirring of the clockwork mechanism to close the box. He sets it aside and tells me to come to him. I do just that. As smooth as fluid, he pulls me into his lap. "Thank you for the wonderful gift, Selene. I love it. Though I do not do it nearly as much as drawing, I do know how to paint."

"That's good to hear. I had been hopeful that you would."

"Why wouldn't I be? Especially when you started looking a whole two months before the actual day. But there is one thing I like more than the gift." I glance at him, puzzled. He gives me a cheeky grin. "You."

The playful shove I give him is an excuse to hide my own shy tug of the lips.

Hours later, a different kind of shyness overwhelms me. The kind where one dreads the situation at hand.

"Are you sure about this, Shouto?"

"For the umpteenth time, yes. Don't be afraid."

I swallow. "It's just … we've never … what if …" Sentences left unfinished belay my increasing anxiety.

Shouto turns me toward him. He rests his hands lightly on my face. After classes had ended for the day, he told me that he wanted to pay a visit to his mother. It would be the first birthday he spent with her after more than a decade. I was ecstatic for him. But when he told me that he wished to introduce me to her, my heart dropped. All kinds of thoughts spiralled inside me. Shouto has already told her about me. What sort of opinion does she have of me? Does she approve of me? What if I leave such a bad impression, she tells Shouto to avoid me from now on? I expressed my concerns to Shouto. Since then, he has been doing his best to put me at ease. I'm grateful for how patient he has been with me, but still …

"Selene, stop overthinking. I told my mom that you were the first friend I had made since coming to U.A. You have no idea how happy she was for me. She is a really kind woman. Just be the polite, courteous self that you usually are. She will adore you. Believe me.

"Could you wait out here for a bit? I'll introduce you once I greet her."

I agree to his request. While he steps inside, I study the lobby. Twice I have been to this hospital. Both times as a patient and never a visitor. The switch in perspective is stark. It feels strange, thinking at two points in time, Shouto's mother and I were in the same place but never crossed paths. And she knows more about me than I do about her.

That only increases the pressure of living up to what Shouto has said about me. I am honored that he wishes for me to meet such an important person in his life, and admittedly, I was curious about her, too. I cannot afford to mess this up.

Before coming here, Shouto described some of her features to me. If the red and turquoise were traits he inherited from his father, then the grey and white were the genes he received from his mother. So she has white hair and grey eyes. A cool color scheme. I hope her personality is just as gentle as her features.

Fidgeting with the bouquet of purple peonies, I struggle to maintain my composure. Shouto had told me that his mother's favorite flowers were autumn bellflowers. Those were the blossoms he brought to her everytime he went to visit her, so it felt improper for me to do the same, as a stranger. Instead, I brought these blooms. Representing respect and admiration, I felt it was the more suitable choice. I hope she likes them. I hope she likes me.

A long time passes like this. I am so lost in my thoughts that it is only until Shouto gently touches my shoulder do I break out of my reverie.

"Come on in," he tells me. "She wants to see you."

He appears as though he thinks everything will go smoothly. I try to summon some confidence from that.

Shouto opens the door for me and once I step inside, he walks right behind me and holds my arms. "This is Selene, Mom." Though I cannot see him, I can imagine the beaming smile pulling at his lips. His tone is proof: he is jubilant about this.

I bow. "Good afternoon Oba-san. My name is Hanada Selene." When I rise again, I pass the bouquet to her. She accepts it, and I get a proper look at Shouto's mother. Though middle-aged, she appears a few years younger. Straight, shoulder-length hair with bangs covering part of her forehead. Her eyes are a darker shade of grey than Shouto's. When she stands up and returns the gesture, I notice that she has a similar height to mine.

"A pleasure to meet you Selene-san," she greets as she accepts the peonies. "I am Todoroki Rei." If her smile is anything to go by, she is a kind woman. Despite having trauma inflicted by her husband, she is able to remain sweet. That is admirable.

But I cannot drop my guard down just yet. I still have to make a memorable first impression.

Todoroki Oba-san beckons for the two of us to take a seat. While she sits on the edge of the bed, Shouto and I occupy the two couches. Oba-san inhales a whiff of the peonies before loosening the thread holding them together. One by one, she puts the violet flowers with the blue bellflowers in a vase.

"Shouto has told me much about you," she begins. "I've seen you a few times on television, too, but you are much prettier in person."

"Thank you very much. They say that simplicity is beauty. You are also a lovely woman, Oba-san." It is true. None of her features are strong or bold, but that is part of her charm.

Shouto speaks up. He tells us how for a long time, he wanted to organize a meeting between us. Since we had only heard about each other from him, he decided that sooner or later, we would become curious. We confirm that we were. "I want both of you to know that you guys are important people in my life. So I don't want to keep you in the dark any longer. My birthday wish is to grow some relationships between the people I care about. I hope you guys can understand each other."

He has noble intentions. I respect that. Oba-san appears willing to give me a chance, so why should I not do the same?

The conversation begins with general topics. As we dine on snacks and drinks, Todoroki Oba-san inquires about school, classes, teachers, grades, ambitions, career goals, etcetera. In turn, I learn about her. Her hobbies include gardening and cooking. While she was living with her children, she taught them the basics of the kitchen. Then they must have been the ones to pass down the knowledge to Shouto. That would explain the scrumptious meal I had last night.

"What do you like to grow, Oba-san?" I ask her.

"Fruits and vegetables, mostly. It reduces grocery costs and is healthier for the body. However, I like planting flowers, too. You were at our home, weren't you? Did you see the arches of wisteria? I cultivated those. They take years to bear flowers."

When I shake my head, Shouto clarifies that it was night when I arrived, and he did not want me to catch a cold as we toured the house. Though, the small brush against the back of his neck belays the truth: he forgot.

Oba-san does not see it. "Is that so? That's fine, though. At this time of year, the branches are devoid of leaves and petals. You should come in mid-spring. That is when the vines are in full bloom."

I look at Shouto and give him a sly smirk. "Then I will be sure to ask for an invitation."

As time passes on, I stop being so wary. Had Todoroki Oba-san found any shortcoming with me, she would have displayed some sort of sign by now. Rather, she enjoys my company. The same way I like hers. Like Aunt Ahearn, she has a maternal presence. In fact, I see much of Aunt Ahearn in her. Although she is not a police officer who has fought tooth and nail for custody of her children, Oba-san possesses her own kind of strength. A softer, quiet willpower.

It would be interesting for both women to meet. I wonder which views of life they would impart.

The thought also leaves the pungent tang of jealousy in my mouth. I've never had a mother figure until Aunt Ahearn. And even the beginnings of that relationship is marked with spilled blood. Shouto, however, has had the luxury of growing up with one in his initial years. I guess what I feel is the happy sort of jealousy. I envy Shouto for possessing something I never had, but I am glad that at least in this respect, he had a better life than me. I do not wish for harm to befall him.

Shouto excuses himself to use the restroom.

It is then that Todoroki Oba-san surprises me.

"I can see why my son bonds with you."

"Could you please repeat that?"

Oba-san smiles to herself. "You have heard about the red string of fate, haven't you?"

I nod. It is a common East Asian belief. Originating in China, it spread to Japan and Korea. "The red string of fate brings soulmates together. The string may tangle, stretch, or knot, but it never breaks."

"That is right. But I believe that not everyone finds their soulmate. Most of us will go our lives without ever meeting that someone who is our destiny. I think that is all right because sometimes not knowing is better than remaining in despair. If we can find a partner who makes us content, that is good enough." I can agree with her words. After all, the string is a manifestation of fate. And fate does not shine brightly on everyone, so sometimes we must do the best with what we are bestowed.

"You and Shouto, however," she continues. "Both of you are not like that. It is a romantic notion, but the two of you remind me of kindred spirits. Every time Shouto has talked about you, a liveliness appears in his countenance that neither I nor anyone else in the family can bring out. And seeing you now, I can tell that his vivacity is not unreciprocated."

I can explain that. "You are right, Oba-san. We are kindred spirits. Because our friendship was forged in pain and sorrow. I don't know if he has told you this, but I am a victim of abuse. So one soul in pain called out to the other, and we sought comfort from each other."

"I'm not surprised to hear that. It is easier to get along with someone who has been through similar things as you. But you should realize. Red is the color of passion. Of blood, of anger, but also of love and adventure. You don't look at him the way a friend would."

Am I that easy to read? Though I would like to escape, there is no point in denying the obvious. She already knows, so I might as well go along with it. "It is one-sided, and I have never confessed to him."

"I can only imagine why," she responds. "But I think I understand." After that, we say nothing. I am grateful for that reprieve because I have nothing to justify my actions. Just the occasional smile is the only form of communication between us as we wait for Shouto to return. I ponder her words.

Maybe she sees something of herself inside me. Her words implied that she was speaking from personal experience. Most likely from her frail marriage. If Endeavor-san and her are really soulmates, then there are so many knots in their joint threads that must be unraveled for both to live together again. If they are not, then both of them simply have to do their best to be a good partner to the other. Particularly, Endeavor-san.

Much like myself.

Perhaps Shouto and I do have a string of fate connecting us. Otherwise, of everyone in Japan, why did I enter his dreams that first night? Why did I meet him the next day at the entrance exam? We even joined the same class and crossed paths with each other again and again? Three times is not a coincidence, it is a pattern.

And I am making a pattern of convoluting our relationship with each secret I hide.

I don't deserve you, Shouto …

Shouto comes back. It is time for us to take our leave. He hugs his mother goodbye, and I bow in farewell.

She imparts some advice to me. Low enough for only me to hear.

"To love is nothing. To be loved is something. But to love and be loved is everything. Love and a cough cannot be hidden. Sooner or later, he will realize what you feel for him. It is up to you to decide how he comprehends the knowledge."

I gulp audibly. "Have a wonderful evening, Oba-san."

When we return, her words still echo in my head.

Things are not so simple where I can tell him that he is whom my heart desires most and get a happy ending.

The consequences make me afraid.

I had promised myself not to get lost in such morose thoughts today, but it is so hard not to.

In fact, I get so caught up in myself that I almost miss Shouto's question.

"Can I draw you?" he requests.

I ask him to repeat.

"I would like to draw a portrait of you.

"Will you be my muse?"