Chapter Text
~~~
You truly despised the rain.
Whenever the clouds gathered to create a dark curtain over the sky, your mood immediately turned gloomy.
You believed that rain brought along misfortune. Your mother always told you it was the gods above crying. How sad, you always thought.
Dismal drops of water hit the road and washed away the grime of the city as you walked out of your school grounds. You had stayed late for an art project you were working on for your portfolio.
You popped a clear umbrella open to protect yourself from getting drenched. One that you bought for cheap at a convenience store some time back. One of the metal pins had broken, so it flopped down on one corner. It didn’t infringe on the use, but it was still quite annoying. You couldn’t afford a new one, so you dealt with it, spinning the damaged part behind you so it wasn’t mocking your poverty.
The walk home was quiet and dreary. Only the unmistakable sound of pitters of rain hitting your umbrella entertained your ears like music. Even though worry for the future lay in your mind, you still found peace in the gentle lullaby.
When you finally reached your home after a ten-minute walk, you checked the mailbox tucked into the wall beside your gate. After filtering through coupons, bills, and ads accumulated over the last few days, a blue envelope caught your attention. Your breath hitched at the sight. It couldn’t possibly be…
Nerves consumed you when you flipped it over to see the sender. You let out a short gasp and closed your eyes, still unbelieving. You opened them again and looked at the envelope.
‘Admissions Office’. The words were clearly written, along with an address to the University you applied to. You used your nails to cut and carefully peel it open, trying not to get your hopes up. But how could you not? It’s been months since you applied to your dream school. The art school you secretly wanted to go to.
Your mom wasn’t fond of you going so far away. It was in a different city, about five hours away. But you assured her you would visit as often as possible. You boasted about Japan’s intricate subway system since you had no car.
You took a deep breath, slowly pulled the letter out, and unfolded it with one hand. Your eyes traced over the letters of your name at the top, then skimmed the contents.
“Congratulations L/N Y/N,
We would like to kindly welcome you to our University…”
It was hard to read the rest as tears dripped onto the page and blurred your vision. Was this real? Did you really get accepted to your dream art school?
You had worked so hard for this. Put extra hours in at school to maintain your grades.
Put up with teachers constantly asking if you had a backup plan or advising you to apply for a less competitive or expensive school. You would major in art. Mom always said your paintings were terrific.
You already started thinking about scholarships and ways to pay for classes. You might have to get a job to pay for the train. What were the part-time jobs like in Tokyo, you wonder.
You did this. All by yourself. You could finally leave this tiny town and grow. You could escape this poverty-stricken life and start the journey of making money for yourself and your family. You could—
“Hey, Kid.”
The voice broke you out of your cheerful daydream. It was familiar, so you turned to look at the man. Shaggy black hair framed his tired face. A scar sat under one of his eyes, proof of his past. He held a lit cigarette in his mouth as his hand held onto a black umbrella. It matched the black suit he had on.
“Aizawa.” you greeted.
“Your mom in? She ain’t answerin’ the phone, so I came in person.”
“I don’t know.” You said, uninterested, and turned to check if you missed anything in the mailbox.
He stared at you boredly and scratched his temple with his thumb. He took a puff of his cigarette and slowly blew out the chemical-infested air. You hated him. A thorn in the side of your family for years. Since your dad died so long ago, it became hard for your housewife mom to support three kids. She took on multiple jobs, and despite your disagreement, began to take out loans to pay for the food on your table.
But the price was this. Your household has a bit of stability now, but the presence of loan sharks that come to collect their payments is high.
“Check for me, will ya. Payment is due tomorrow.”
“Then she’ll pay it tomorrow. She’s always on time.” You say with a frown.
Just slightly, you see his gaze turn into annoyance. He was starting to get frustrated. Not that you cared.
“Not the last few months, kiddo. She’s been payin’ later and later. Last month she only paid half. Told me she’d pay the extra today.”
“She’ll get it to you.” You huff.
Aizawa sighs and retakes a puff of his cigarette. He holds it in before blowing it out. This time, taking it out of his mouth and tapping on it. The ash fell to the ground, and he returned the bud to his lips.
“How old are you again?” He asked.
What a strange question. Should you even entertain him with an answer? You saw no harm in telling him. Today you were...
“Eighteen...as of today.”
Aizawa looked you up and down, his eyes lingering a little too long on your developing breasts. You hugged your school satchel, trying to cover up from his gaze. His eyes finally found yours before he smirked.
“Legal, huh?” Your face heated from the unwanted attention as he looked over your body. “I know some ways you can help earn some extra money.”
You frowned at the insinuation.
You always felt a sense of discomfort around Aizawa, but this time his words and actions crossed a line. You could feel the rain pouring down harder, matching the heaviness in your chest. You didn’t want to be near him any longer, so you stepped back and spoke firmly.
“I don’t need your help. My mom will pay you what she owes you. Goodbye.”
You turned around and rushed into your house, ignoring Aizawa’s heavy gaze. Once you reached your doorstep, you fumbled with the keys in your pocket, heart racing in anger. You couldn’t shake off the feeling of unease that lingered within you.
As you stepped into the warmth of your home, you couldn’t help but think about how the rain seemed to have washed away any excitement you had about the acceptance letter. The joy was replaced with worry, fear, and disgust toward Aizawa. You hoped your mother would come home soon so you could tell her the good news and forget about the encounter with that rotten loan shark.
You toed off your shoes at the door before walking in and closed your umbrella, leaving it on the shoe rack, and placed your bag down. Today was the last day of classes for you. Your younger sister, Hana, still had a week left, and your brother, Shinzo, is probably out with friends.
You walked further in and fell face-first into the couch of the tiny home. You lift your head slightly to look around the tiny apartment. The small family apartment was spartanly furnished. Everything seemed a bit beaten up, but other than that, it was clean and welcoming. There were two small bedrooms off the living area, which held a plain wooden table surrounded by four chairs and a cushioned bench along one wall opposite the front window. A worn rug covered much of the floor, except for where an ancient television sat in its far corner on top of an old chest.
You lay down again and blink slowly once. And then again. And once more, before the thoughts in your head slow down and the next time you close your eyes, they don’t open again while you drift into sleep.
~
Your eyes peel your eyes open as you awaken from your nap. The evening sky was just beginning to take shape and the house is still empty.
‘I should probably shower.’ you think, so you force yourself up with a push and get ready to use the one bathroom in the house. You grab a towel out the laundry and pajamas from the room you and your siblings share.
As you stretch your back while walking down the small hall, something catches your eye that causes you to stop dead in your tracks.
Your mind begins to race as you take in what’s in front of you. You try to rationalize the disturbing scene slowly, but fail.
A pool of red liquid, thick and ominous, slowly seeped from beneath the bathroom door. At first, your mind struggled to process it. “Did someone dye their hair?” you tried to convince yourself, desperately searching for a mundane explanation. “Someone came home and is eating strawberries in the bath,” you thought, anything to avoid the chilling truth that was becoming increasingly evident.
Despite your attempts to dismiss the dreadful thought, the metallic smell that hung in the air as you got closer and the sticky texture of the liquid were undeniable. It was the very image of blood, and no amount of creative thinking could change that.
Your heartbeat quickened as you walked to the door slowly. This wasn’t what it looked like. Surely not. You braced yourself and creaked open the door, eyes closed, dreading what you might find inside. You mustered up the courage and took a look when the door to the bathroom was fully opened.
The sight in front of you horrified you. You felt your heart drop to your stomach and a cold feeling took over your body as you became dizzy. Your throat was dry, but you still attempted to call out in hopes this wasn’t what it looked like.
“...mom?” You choked out as you held the towel in your hand to your chest. The grip turning your knuckles red. The only thing you could hear was the ringing in your ears, the dripping of blood and the harsh beat of rain on the window.
You hated the rain.
Bad things always seemed to happen when it rained.
~~~
Five years had passed since then.
“Y/N, happy birthday!” your sister exclaimed with joy, seated on the floor across from you at the table. For the occasion, the small table in the living room was adorned with vibrant crepe paper, while streamers cascaded from the ceiling and lively balloons danced on the chairs. The warm glow of a dozen candles graced an ice cream-speckled cake, casting a gentle light upon your face.
“Thanks, Hana.”
Your fingertip grazed the cake’s surface before playfully bringing a smear of vanilla frosting to your lips.
“No! Y/N, don’t eat it yet!,” Hana stammered out. “We didn’t sing happy birthday yet.”
With a mischievous grin, you quickly tasted the sweet confection and reassured her, “I’m not, i’m not.”
“Blow out the candles, and let the gift-unwrapping commence,” Shinzo chimed in, seated from the couch. He was busy with a game on his switch. Ignoring the two of you.
You saved up for 7 months for that thing. You’re glad he’s enjoying it instead of celebrating the person who bought it. You rolled your eyes dramatically and sighed loudly.
“My own brother doesn’t even care it’s my birthday.” You exasperate with the back of your hand to your forehead.
Hana gasps and stands. She walks over to her brother and swipes the console out of his hands.
“Hey! Give that back you brat!” Shinzo exclaims. He reaches for the device, but Hana backs away and puffs out her cheeks.
“Make me.” She says and sticks out her tongue.
You watch from the floor as the two bicker. It was always lively when the three of you were together. It almost made you forget how fucked your lives were.
After your mother’s death, you were left to look after your siblings. Thank God you were of legal age or else the three of you could have been separated. You took on the responsibilities of paying bills, putting food on the table and everything else a guardian should be doing.
Unfortunately, that meant giving up your dream of going to an art school or any school for that matter. You sigh and lean on the table with your head in your hands. Well, if your siblings are happy and healthy, then it’s ok.
Amidst the discussions, a knock on the door diverted your attention. You rose from your seat to answer the summons, and upon doing so, you found yourself enveloped in a warm embrace. Green curls block your vision and the smell of mint fills your nose.
Izuku’s enthusiastic hug envelops you tightly, his excitement palpable in the way he squeezes you in his arms.
“Izu, loosen your grip,” you tease with an affectionate grin, your voice carrying a light-hearted undertone. As you gently pat his back, your touch serves as a signal of surrender to his exuberance.
His eyes sparkle with delight as he finally releases you from his tight hug, his hands finding their place on your shoulders as if he can’t quite bear to let go completely.
“Happy birthday, Y/N!” he exclaims, his voice filled with heartfelt sincerity.
Izuku Midoriya. He’s been in your life since childhood. You still remember the innocent days of playing hide and seek on the playground. Or sneaking into your neighbor’s yard to play with her dog.
Sometimes you wonder why he still came around. Even though he was raised by a single mom, she still had a good job, a good house and good image. You don’t want to drag him down every time he visits your side of town.
The corners of your lips quirk up into a soft smile as you respond, your words carrying a light, self-deprecating humor. “Haha, I just feel old.” It’s a playful comment, laced with a touch of nostalgia for the passing years.
Izuku’s eyes crinkle with affectionate amusement as he gazes at you, his understanding of your sentiment evident in his expression. There’s a sense of camaraderie in his response, since you share your age. “Hey, age is just a number,” he quips, his tone light and encouraging. “But you’ll always be young at heart.”
You laugh as he finally lets go and you finally notice the bag he’s carrying and mention it.
“I brought you a gift.” He says. He pulls a box out of the bag and passes it to you.
Your heart warms at the present. It’s an art set. An expensive one that you’ve always wanted. “Thank you,” you whisper. “But you didn’t have to.”
Izuku huffs and crosses his arms. “You always say that.” He pouts. “You deserve it all. We’re best friends.”
You let out a chuckle with your eyes closed. He never let’s this go. Your friendship being the excuse to do numerous things for you. When you open your eyes, you find him staring at you. You freeze, unable to read what’s going on inside his head. You hold each other’s eyes for a moment. It’s silent as your gazes are soft for each other. You almost wish it could be more than that. More than friends, but you know you’d never be good enough for him. He’s in college, studying to be a doctor. You’re basically a single mom with no set future.
"Y/n." Your name spills from his lips like a song you never want to end.
“Yes?” You answer. Hoping he doesn’t catch your breathlessness.
“I–”
“Y/n! Shinzo is eating the cake!” The yell from your sister takes you out of your daydream. You breathe out like you’ve been holding it in and you and Izuku look over to see your brother cutting the cake. A bite already in his mouth.
“You were taking too long,” he says boredly.
~~
“Ok! Time for cleanup,” you instructed your siblings with a clap. They whined, but dutifully began to wash the plates and take down the decorations.
They engaged in their usual banter as you exchanged a meaningful glance with Midoriya. He got your message and subtly gestured toward the door, and you silently concurred. Slipping into a jacket, you joined him outside.
The cool air gently kissed your skin as you inhaled deeply. The exhaled breath lingered, an embodiment of the somberness this time of year seemed to bear. You sat on the stairs leading up to your home.
Midoriya joined you shortly, two canned beers in hand. He settled beside you with a casual plop.
“How are you holding up?” Izuku’s voice was gentle, laced with a genuine concern. With a contemplative hum, you popped the tab off your can and observed the fizzy contents before responding. Patiently, Izuku awaited your words as he opened his own beverage.
A sigh escaped your lips as you grappled with the task of translating your complex emotions into words. They always seemed to evade you, swirling within like a tempest, leaving you feeling both burdened and powerless. But today, amidst the whirlwind, one emotion stood out, demanding to be acknowledged. “Angry, I suppose,” you confessed, your voice carrying the weight of the admission. “Today just stirs up those emotions, ya know?”
Izuku contemplated his own can. The silence that followed was comfortable, a shared understanding between you and Izuku that words need not rush forth. His presence was enough—a steady presence that allowed you to unravel your thoughts at your own pace. This annual conversation had become a ritual—about how you felt, especially on this day. Five years have elapsed since your mother’s tragic decision to end her life. Five years since you had discovered her lifeless form laying in the bathtub and a razor in her hand.
The burden of her debt fell upon your shoulders, leaving you working tirelessly to make ends meet, while also caring for your younger siblings.
You took another measured sip, your gaze distant as you contemplated the contents of your drink. “I find myself wondering why she chose this particular day,” you mused, your voice tinged with frustration. “Out of all the days in the year, why did she decide on today to... to do what she did on my birthday?”
Izuku could only lend his ear, fully aware of the depth of your trauma. How could he possibly console someone who carried such anguish? He longed to envelop you in a comforting embrace and assure you that everything would be alright, but he understood the harsh reality—you were far from alright. Setting your beer down, you reclined, your arms providing support as you gazed upward at the moon.
In that vulnerable moment, Izuku found himself transfixed by your strength. Despite the weight you carried, you continued to move forward, to confront the darkness within you. He wanted to hold you, to offer a comfort that defied words, but he respected the boundaries of your grief. Your resilience, your ability to face your emotions head-on, was a testament to your inner fortitude.
As moonlight caressed your features, casting a soft glow over your face, Izuku couldn’t help but marvel at your beauty.
He found himself wishing he could love you properly instead of keeping his feelings in the dark. However, he didn’t want to ruin this. Didn’t want to ruin this dynamic of friendship that he’s held onto for so long.
So for now, he’ll stay by your side and bury these thoughts.