Attic in the Forest @atticintheforest - Tumblr Blog

The other side of the Bond - part 3

part 1 / part 2

Also cross-posted on my AO3

Pairings: Todoroki x femReader

Genre: ~Soulmate AU – As soon as a child’s Quirk awakens, so does the Soulmate Bond, which consists in feeling their Soulmate’s emotion. When both Soulmates meet each other for the first time, a red thread connecting each other will briefly show only to themselves before vanishing.

~ Angst (with happy ending)

~ Hurt / Comfort

Summary: As far as you could remember, your Soulmate Bond only brought you crushing, relentless pain. And the day you finally discovered your destined partner at the other end of the red thread, it didn’t bring you the respite you were hoping for….

Warnings: ~ Though there would be nothing graphic concerning the pain Reader-chan endures, there would still be mentions of physical and mental suffering.

~ There will be some spoilers from the latest manga chapters concerning the Todoroki family epilogue.

Word count: 13 384 words.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Bnha nor the story’s characters, just sharing my love for this series and the characters.

However, my writing belongs to me, so DO NOT repost, steal or translate any of my work.

A/N note: This is such a loooong chapter… I’m sorry, I really got a bit too carried away. A lot is happening in this chapter, emotionally speaking.

There was some catching-up to do from Shoto’s side, with the five-year time lapse… and it ended up taking over my brain, haha.

(I hope I didn’t make him too OOC… I hc him as an anxious overthinker and as a side effect of writing him, I ended up in very intense overthinking mode as well lol)

The awaited meeting too, ended up long and slightly out of my control…

Dear readers, sorry again…

Please, find a nice and comfortable spot, treat yourself to your fav snacks and I hope you’ll enjoy this loooong read…

STORY NOTES: ~ Noren are traditional Japanese curtains or fabric dividers. They can be found in homes, onsen, and also restaurants to indicate if they’re open.

~ Mizu Yokan is a summery version of the traditional Japanese jelly delicacy Yokan, made with agar-agar, sugar and red bean paste. Mizu Yokan have a higher concentration of water and less sugar, thus delivering a refreshing taste perfect for summer.

~ There seemed to has been a bit of a confusion around the name of Reader-chan’s shop… I’m sorry if it wasn’t clear. The shop is called “Atelier Plume”, and Plume means Feather. It’s a little nod to Risa and Natsuo’s last name Haneda, Hane meaning Feather as well (Natsuo having taken his wife’s last name in this story).

I hope this helped clear away the confusion.

Tag list: @rinbeeyum, @peyingbills, @marsbars09, @sunflowertroupe, @emmmeoo, @alnitakstarsky03, @csmbrainrot, @sun-flower-seed,

@seraph-hello, @darling-eos, @tomiokasecretlover

~ If you want to be added to the tag list, no problem, I will happily do so.

Also, don’t feel nervous to ask being removed from it too, it’s totally fine, don’t worry.

~ To the dear readers who had asked to be added in the tag list after reading chapter 1, please, tell me if you still want to be part of the list for the next chapters as well.

The rain and a cat were the first to greet Shoto as he stepped out of his car.

It was just a quick hide-and-seek game between soaked clouds and sun, though. Nothing unusual for June’s rainy season and its moody downpours. He glanced back at the folded umbrella his sister had insisted to shove on the backseat earlier this morning with a warning to use it, arguing she would not have her little brother spending one of his rare days-off sick with a cold, in bed (and testing her patience), sneezing shards of ice all over the room while setting fire to his pillow.

People still wouldn’t acknowledge the fact that possessing ice and fire Quirks didn’t make pro-Hero Shoto cold proof. And at times, he seemed to be as dense and oblivious to that too.

He sighed.

Fine, fine.

He grabbed the umbrella, opened it and locked the car.

Perched on the branch of a nearby tree, conveniently sheltered from the rain thanks to the lush foliage, the cat watched him fix his cap with mild interest and a lazily swinging tail. His tabby fur was thick and well-cared, his laid-back, slightly smug expression told he was the true ruler of the neighborhood.

As he passed by the tree on his way out of the small parking lot, Shoto nodded a greeting to the feline – although he wasn’t a crazy cat lover as his former classmate Shinso, he enjoyed crossing paths with strays on his Patrols or day-off strolls. The tabby yawned and ignored him. Apparently, the unexpected presence of Shoto Todoroki in his territory left him unfazed. It stirred a small, brief smile from the pro Hero.

It wouldn’t be bad, from time to time, to get as peacefully ignored, he thought.

The smile recoiled. His serious, stoic expression was back.

Especially on this day-off and the special occasion he was heading off to.

A cautious, well-trained scanning of the surroundings while walking, another thorough pull of his cap over his too recognizable signature features. With the correct angle, a nice shadowing, and the added help of his umbrella, Shoto could fool passers-by, though he had to move swiftly and it worked better from a little bit of a distance.

Caps had become part of his “off-duty pro Hero arsenal”. There were wigs and contacts too but he rarely used them, rather adapting to the place and situation. He seldom applied concealer to hide his scar either, the unnatural layer of make-up over his marred skin triggered an icky, eerie mixed feeling of uneasiness and unwanted memories. Days-off weren’t critical, undercover missions, and he could handle a bit of attention.

Even if, to be honest, he was still a bit struggling with his social skills and sometimes longed for places and walks where he’d simply cross paths with people as a stranger, maybe exchanging polite, greeting nods with each other before going back to everyone’s own businesses. Just like he did with stray cats.

It didn’t mean he was complaining or regretting his life choices, though.

Five years from his graduation and into pro Hero life had confirmed his successes and growth into a capable Hero. Yet, they also mirrored a popularity Shoto wasn’t always sure to want nor knew how to deal with.

It wasn’t like he disliked being recognized or approached. Hearing grateful words and sincere praises always felt comforting, they were proofs he was doing his job right, growing the way he was wishing for as “Shoto”, both pro-Hero and man, without any dividing line between them. He tried to do his best at treating his fans with respect despite his still socially awkward self. According to his friends, those interactions were always funny and endearing to watch – though Shoto would usually feel overly focused and stressed about messing it up, which he often did, but it only added to his charm.

Most of the time, people were nice to him.

However it wasn’t always the case. It still wasn’t always the case.

Sometimes, fans and haters looked all alike with their intensity, their obsession. His blunt honesty, social awkwardness and poker face were both cooed over and lashed at on forums.

Interviews could occasionally compare to a battlefield full of treacherous spots and traps, with some journalists trying to corner him with an amiable façade hiding almost Villain-like intents. The good ol’ “Todoroki’s family drama” topic was still a favorite among people and media – Tv sets suddenly turning into a public therapist session, an attempt to pull some intimate, emotional confessions from his stoic self… and possibly get some juicy gossip as well.

But Shoto had already learned and acknowledged this lesson from his UA years, and post-Last War. One cannot please everyone.

And while he didn’t mind talking about what type of soba he preferred or adding some comments to a teammate’s anecdote he shared an interview with, he also drew a strict line to protect everything related to his siblings and mom. He didn’t possess the misdirection abilities of some of his former classmates, nor the compelling talk of his friend Midoriya or the calculated repelling gruffness of Bakugo. But he knew how to manifest himself as a metaphorical block of ice, thick, unmovable, unpierceable, and cold as hell when he needed to.

It usually worked pretty well on nosy journalists.

But there were also the times when the assault on his private, family life wasn’t enough and would redirect at his intimate, love life.

His Soulmate, and all the speculations, crazy rumors and fake news around his “still unknown, mysterious fated partner”.

And Shoto hated it all.

The joking around of the journalists, their sick curiosity, taking opportunity to try and obtain from him personal opinions on “what his ideal someone would be like, what was his type, did he already date before”, inquiries getting nastier and nastier, and once again, drooling over some possible past or present relationships he would be in. The speculations on the forums and those pretending to be his destined someone.

And Shoto dreaded it all.

Because, as much as he could deal with and would willingly shoulder all the overbearing, unwanted attention from his family drama… the word “Soulmate” would yank him back to that train platform, five years ago, to the other side of his Bond, and show him again the despair on your face, your eyes, and the wild struggle of your body rejecting him.

And pain would hit him again.

A pain triggering still aching memories of his childhood, with his mother, damages that he firmly believed to have rendered him inapt – and undeserving - to a close, loving and trustful relationship.

A pain that the following aftermath and years slowly had mixed with worried questioning and agitated overthinking sessions about your reasons for rejecting him and your response to this encounter.

Even if Shoto had vowed to leave the other side of his Bond alone, in peace, to never seek nor interact, to not even think about it, wishing for both ending sides to forget about each other, about that day…

Despite all of his efforts, this memory of you was still haunting him.

He just couldn’t help it.

And no matter how much he ended up pondering over and over again on your reasons, how much he would rake his brain for hours, searching for evidence or explanation, he wasn’t able to come up with a valid, satisfying answer. How could he? He didn’t know a thing about you, about your circumstances, not even your name, while he was a too well recognizable public figure.

Thinking about it, it was a bit unfair.

However there was something with him that had triggered that incredibly intense rejection, and while having undergone through similar reactions towards him in the past, those reasons could have been figured out quite clearly and easily, and the issues could have been solved. And now, he was finding himself at a loss because you were the only one able to provide this answer and you were impossibly out of reach.

And God, it was leaving him more and more upset, worried and so fucking frustrated.

Shoto didn’t like underlying, uneasy, untold subtexts, actions and words unclear, as well as misled beliefs : he wanted honesty even if it would hurt, honesty of your reasons and feelings, honesty he’d not hesitate to spill out to fix any distorted statement that could have wrongly influenced you. He wanted to understand.

He knew oh so well the impact of misbeliefs could have on a person. And he too had been down this road.

It wasn’t like he was trying to hope for a connection. Right?

He just aimed for clearing any possible misunderstanding. He didn’t want to force any emotion on you, even less wishing for a relationship, hell no – you had the right to keep your resent, disgust, and still reject him.

Even though your face bearing the same expression of rejection as his mother had become a usual, uninvited guest in his already established nightmares.

Yet, Shoto was feeling so damn conflicted about the mere idea of meeting you again.

Worried to mess things up and worsen the situation. Worried to trigger an even more painful response from you. He was blunt and straightforward, though he was trying his best at being considerate, and never meant to be mean. And though he didn’t really show it, his emotions could quickly get all over the place inside him whenever he felt too involved or overwhelmed, sometimes triggering impulsive reactions. He needed time and calm to figure them out.

It probably wasn’t a good idea at all to toy with the thought of another fateful meeting.

Shoto had accepted a long time ago to not claim his Soulmate Bond, even before meeting you, that no fated relationship should be treated as a given, and that he would never bring something good to your other side of the Bond. He had accepted your rejection, right? – although he wanted to know why, for there was nothing wrong in wishing for explanations, right?… But just like you didn’t owe any to him as well.

God, it all felt so damn nerve-wracking, so complicated !

And it didn’t help Natsuo and Risa’s relationship proved Soulmates could love, respect and care for each other in a sincere and healthy way, without feeling forced at all.

And Shoto couldn’t help but envying them a bit, secretly. It wasn’t jealousy, no, not that icky feeling wrapped in resent. He was truly happy for his brother, for him to both experiment and bring to their chaotic havoc of a family, at last, some warming normalcy and goodness.

But somehow… a small, unexpected, disturbing longing was born from it. A frail and shapeless feeling that Shoto didn’t dare dwell upon nor name it, lest acknowledge it. And it contributed to make his inner struggles with his Bond even more exasperating and confusing.

Ignoring wasn’t as easy as he thought it would be. However, he was still determined to not break his vow.

Indeed, Shoto was living the life he had aspired for, both as a pro-Hero and the man he was aiming to become. It wasn’t an easy road but he was fully committed to his goal, working hard day and night to help, rescue and protect, no matter the danger or the pain – he knew how to endure it so well, right?

But truth was pain had never really left Shoto’s life. Whether as a physical side effect from his pro-Hero job, his family issues, and his Soulmate Bond.

That was why moments like this special day-off were so important, why he was so in need for these. They were a respite, a reminder of his meaningful goals, things and persons. They pulled him out of his head, out of the pain and frustration, and had him ready to defeat and surpass any challenge ahead.

Today, he wanted to firmly believe everything was going to be alright and push anything else in the back of his brain.

As he walked through the streets, he noticed the area seemed calm and cleared from crowds. Was it the choice of the day, in the middle of the week, the morning hour, start of work already over but not nearing lunch rush yet…? The streets looked peaceful as Shoto made his way following the simple and precise directions his sister had provided him with – an emergency errand from her boss having prevented her to join him, although she promised to meet with everyone on the due rendezvous time.

After so many brainstorming around all of their hellish schedules, all the siblings plus their sister-in-law were eager and determined to make that special event happen.

Today, the letter to Natsuo and Risa’s soon-to-be-born baby was to be delivered.

Though at first, Shoto had to admit this peculiar writing service and the couple’s request had much puzzled him when the topic had been discussed among them at a Sunday family lunch, at his mother’s home.

Honestly, back then, he had been kinda wary about it.

Could they really trust this person? What if it was a fraud? Or some evil intent to pry into his family’s privacy?

The news of Natsuo and Risa having a child had made Shoto happy, and all he wanted was to be sure nothing and no one was trying to hurt them. Call it “professional habit”, he was still nevertheless a pro Hero.

Fuyumi had been quick to certify there was nothing to be worried about. According to her boss, the calligrapher who provided that letter writing service was a trusty person they personally knew and had worked with for years.

This helped to only partly ease down his worries though. And he hadn’t been entirely satisfied until asking a double-checking from Hawks - who had access to Civilians’ Security files and antecedents thanks for being the head of the Public Security Commission – and hearing from him the reassuring same confirmation. Shoto trusted him enough to not even ask for a look at the files or profile picture that came with.

From then on, Shoto’s curiosity had been piqued.

As much as trends and social mundanities still tended to fly over his head, even him could say this letter service wasn’t very common, especially in their modern Quirk era. It reminded a bit of the public writers from the ancient times.

As for his brother and sister-in-law’s request…

Shoto wasn’t unfamiliar with letter writing, having corresponded with his mom in his high school years as a way to rekindle their family connection. However, the whole concept of this special letter seemed kinda weird to him, a bit confusing to grasp, though he didn’t mean to hurt nor criticize the couple’s choice.

After all, he was a firm believer of “actions over words”, or at least, that words should be paired with actions otherwise they would fail to properly convey their message or reach out for people.

“What’s the point of writing a letter to a baby? They wouldn’t get one single word out of it. You’d have to wait until they could properly read it. Unless… well, you wish to write some kind of testament letter…? But isn’t it a bit depressing?” he had wondered aloud with his usual bluntness. “Also, wouldn’t it feel more sincere to write it yourselves…?”

But it wasn’t until hearing Natsuo and Risa talk about the reasons behind their request that some realization dawned upon him, that something resonated within himself.

The wish to connect.

It had him thinking back on his letters, how the ink, words and paper had provided the space, time and material he had needed to build up that bridge to his mom. He had always felt more comfortable at writing his emotions than speaking them out. In a way, all those years apart and piled up layers of pain and guilt had converted mother and son into strangers, and their letters had brought back the feeling of closeness they had been deprived of. There had been both reflection and action through those letters.

Of course, Natsuo and Risa’s situation was far different from his at that time. Their child was wanted and was very much awaited for by all of them, not to fulfill a scheme but simply out of love. Not yet born but already treasured and loved.

And it was their visit to the calligrapher which truly clicked everything into place.

“…just like pen pals, you still haven’t met, and you’re eager and curious, thrilled and nervous to know each other… right?”

Not that he ever had some experience with pen pals, but… it was as if the calligrapher’s words had helped him feel the meaning of such interaction, and how important it was for Natsuo and Risa.

“Weird but accurate.” had been Shoto’s comment upon hearing the quoted phrase from Natsuo’s thorough and enthusiastic recap of the visit.

Those were the exact feelings that wished to be conveyed and remembered for a lifetime. The calligrapher’s comment had perfectly nailed it with a heartwarming simplicity and honesty that proved she had carefully reflected upon it, that she was taking seriously their request. He liked how dedicated she seemed to be with her job.

And Shoto’s interest kept growing as his brother and Risa shared more and more details about their meeting.

Never his brother had opened up so quickly to a stranger. The ever straightforward and perceptive Risa, far from being a people’s pleaser and never hesitating on her opinions, likes and dislikes, had been conquered. All of this in the span of an afternoon.

Shoto had to admit he was quite taken aback.

Their excitement, praises and matching grins sketched a meaningful session with a welcoming, thoughtful, caring person.

And there was still a bit of that emotion Natsuo had felt back then, when he quoted again the calligrapher’s reply to his painful regrets for not having reached to and valued his siblings earlier:

“Maybe when it comes to relationships, what matters the most is what you can do here and now. Isn’t it what you’re trying your best to do? Your brother and sister wishing to be by your side today, and your enthusiasm at the thought of getting everyone together here, next time we’ll meet, is a proof of how close you are and how much you care for each other.”

Words and feelings converting into action, connection.

Shoto wasn’t expecting it but he felt pleasantly warmed and comforted. Strangely connected. Maybe a bit moved too.

He was still a bit mixed about how the sincerity of Natsuo and Risa’s message and feelings would be preserved and transmitted through another person’s filter… however, he was willing to let the calligrapher has her chance to perform it, and curious – maybe a bit excited - to see the results.

He really wanted to see what kind of letter would be crafted out of it all, what the old dagashiya shop looked like, what type of traditional Japanese confectionary and tea would be served, and the matching scenery of the “secret garden” in the beginning of summer.

He wanted to visit the second-hand bookshop his brother had bragged about, maybe find some interesting novel or pre-Quirk era manga title, hop to the old confectionary shop and get some tasty traditional and seasonal sweet for his mom.

And he wanted to meet the person who owned such peculiar, intriguing, comforting haven and could deliver such thoughtful and accurate insights.

A quick peek at his phone, to check the directions to the shop. Just a few more streets ahead.

The raindrops grew briefly heavier, drumming hard all over his plastic umbrella, blurring the transparent fabric with ragged, liquid trails. The concrete darkened, ephemeral puddles filling the cracks and potholes of the uneven ground.

People would usually entitle rain to a weatherly hindrance, melancholia, gloom, and many depressing emotions. But right now, Shoto didn’t mind the unexpected downpour, nor felt like it was disrupting his plans. While keeping an eye on his watch, he was taking time to note and appreciate the old buildings and quaint streets he passed by.

Albeit having lived his whole life in traditional Japanese homes, it was far from comparing with a town that seemed coming out of a pre-Quirk era history book or period drama. Most of the shops radiated the sturdy, hardwork confidence and competence of a specialty patiently brewed, mastered and proudly transmitted throughout decades and centuries. Shoto was baffled at how well preserved and authentic the neighborhood looked.

It felt nostalgic, even if he had never experienced those old times.

He was glad none of the Last War battles had ruined the area.

It must feel nice, living peacefully here, he thought.

Somehow, it seemed to him it fitted the calligrapher and her letter writing service.

A sudden burst of enthusiastic voices snapped him from his musings.

“Ah! Look who’s coming!”

“Over here, over here!”

Standing on the sidewalk, two women were calling out for attention. Judging from their attire, Shoto assumed they might be employees of the nearby traditional confectionary shop. Maybe the same shop which sold the dangos Risa had been bragging about…?

He sighed. So long for his cover and his peaceful stroll. But just as he resigned himself to an impromptu fan meeting session, he felt something swiftly brush past him.

The tabby cat from the parking lot.

“There you are, Tama-chan!”

“You must be hungry, here, eat up, eat up!”

The two women gathered around the cat under the shop’s awning, cooing and plating a large portion of canned tuna. The purring feline accepted it as a due offering from his humans’ worshippers.

Left to the side, Shoto blinked then stifled a quiet chuckle.

So you’re kind of a local celebrity, huh…? he thought, resuming to his walk. Like the neighborhood number one pro-Hero… Seems like you’ve outranked me, then.

He was already picturing his family’s and friends’ reaction to this anecdote, pro-Hero Shoto ghosted for a cat. Fuyumi and their mom would find it adorable, while Natsuo would probably tease the hell out of him and Risa’d end up hiccupping from too much laughing. As for his friends, he could foresee lots of running jokes and cats memes spamming his phone – on second thought, maybe he wouldn’t tell all of them.

A final check of directions with lighthearted steps. Just one more street and a corner to turn.

Shoto hurried forward. An indigo colored noren of a soba restaurant caught up his eyes and tentatively slowed his pace though. The kind of place only locals and gourmets would go, in a mutual vow of keeping it a special and mass preserved spot. Just as he wondered where the menu was being displayed and when the shop would open for lunch, the front door slid open and a short old man stepped outside, a bowl in one hand and a piece of paper in the other. His working attire was the same color as the noren. His sharp, severe face lit up.

“ Right on time, heh, you lil’ brat!”

This time, Shoto could tell the gruff welcoming wasn’t addressed to him. The tabby had materialized again like a Cheshire cat, smug smile and waiting to be served. The old man grunted a laugh at the diligent way the feline honored the bowl’s contents as soon as he set it down, under the shelter of the shop’s front porch.

Shoto marveled at the cat’s appetite, who just had downed a whole can of tuna not even five minutes before.

As if sensing his puzzlement, the old man turned to him and retorted, while tapping the piece of paper on the shop’s paneled door:

“That lil’ devil tours the whole neighborhood every day, just to get pampered and some nice tasty food, right, Tora?”

The old man’s eyes and smile crinkled even more wrinkles over his face, affectionate and proud.

“Ya really got us human lot whipped for you, ha!”

Well, this proved Shoto’s theory: the tabby was indeed the local celebrity, deity, a bit of a mafia boss too, perhaps…? He wondered if Tama-Tora had as many names as he counted of human admirers.

That kind of attention and care was both funny and endearing to watch.

“But don’t expect him to let his tummy being scratched, ha!” the old man playfully scolded the unimpressed cat. “ You won’t let anyone pet you, heh? Anyone but (y/n)-san, ya smug lil’ punk! She got ya whipped for her, he he!”

Shoto immediately perked up. This was the calligrapher’s name.

The cat turned away from the emptied bowl as if pouting and glared an irked “hell no” – a bit bakugo-esque, Shoto noticed, amused - before making his leave as swiftly as he came, sauntering through the rain towards another treat human provider. Shoto’s gaze followed the tabby to the corner of the street. Maybe he’d get to see him again in the calligrapher’s garden…?

He nodded a polite goodbye to the old man and was ready to resume to his walk when he heard him calling him back.

“Lunch starts at noon ‘til we serve the last bite of today’s dishes. Today, we have cold soba served with shrimp and vegetable tempuras, Sobagaki with homemade dashi flavored soy sauce, and Juwari soba with a walnut dipping sauce.”

All of these sounded equally tempting for the “crazy soba worshipper” Shoto was. He bowed a thank you to the old man, who added a half serious, half playful warning:

“First arrived, first served. No reserving and no jumping the queue. And “Enjoy your meal”, that’s my restaurant’s number one rule. So don’t worry, no one here’s gonna pester ya, Shoto-san.”

A brief moment of blinking eyes before his features relaxed. Not that he felt surprised or annoyed at being recognized, no. But it felt good to be acknowledged without making a fuss over it, with words both casual and thoughtful.

The old man grinned a “maybe see ya later!” and stepped back inside the shop. Shoto inhaled the salty waft of seasoned, grilled meat and the fragrant tickle of spices coming from the slightly left ajar door panel.

Yeah, it must really feel nice, living peacefully here, he couldn’t help thinking again, as he moved away and turned around the street corner.

A soft, wordless longing, for living in this nostalgic, endearing neighborhood. Not really a serious vow, like him setting immediately into house hunting, no – right now, he was putting money aside to start his own Hero agency while providing for his mother and helping his siblings. But maybe, once he’d look for his own place, he’d put on his list this neighborhood…

And perhaps he’d even end up as one of Tama-Tora’s humans fans and treat provider. Shoto kinda liked this idea.

The rain softened, from a boisterous drumming session to a feather like bounce on his umbrella. When he finally arrived at destination, the puddles and wet sidewalk were glistening and warming under the sun light.

He closed his umbrella and stared at the building. Quietly gazing at the old yet sturdy and trusty structure, the dark wood panels framing impeccable glass and light curtains inside, the old-fashioned but spotless awning, the rustic bench nestled in-between lush potted greenery and the shop’s wooden sign.

Unconsciously, Shoto took a deep, refreshing breath.

The ancient, almost two centuries-old building as amiable and casual as a friendly elderly sitting outside and enjoying the sun. Simple and welcoming. Perfectly preserved but willingly embracing and fitting inside his long history the changes of his most recent owner.

He glanced at the shop’s sign.

The words “Atelier Plume” had been handwritten in western style. He found them charming, because the lettering didn’t look cute or calculated or even perfect, but it felt warm and inviting, honest and graceful.

Again, it made Shoto think how much a handwriting was both filled with and reflected feelings.

And if those were the feelings the calligrapher had wished to convey to open the shop’s door, then, he’d more than willingly oblige.

He carefully shook off the umbrella’s last drops of lingering rain. Then slid open the wooden panel.

***

You heard the call, a polite “Sorry to intrude” in a deep voice, from the back kitchen.

You quickly gathered on your tray the last piece of the Mizu Yokan treat you had purchased earlier, this morning, from the neighborhood’s old confectionary shop and were planning on serving as a welcoming snack, secured the whole in a firm grasp, then made your way across the engawa porch connecting the back rooms to the shop’s front room with hasty, light-hearted steps.

You were a bit nervous but also excited and eager for today’s main event. Today, you were going to deliver to the Haneda the letter to their soon-to-be-born baby you had written. And you wanted to ensure everything – your hard work, preps, place, tea time, atmosphere – would bring happiness and satisfaction to your guests. You were also looking forward meeting with Natsuo’s siblings.

Before stepping through the open double doors to the shop, you sneaked a last, swift peek at the garden, at the contents of your tray. The moist, vivid green of the bushes and foliage, the bright touches of color from the flowers, sketched an enticing, refreshing palette that would have pleased an Impressionist painter. The translucent plum-colored little squares of Mizu Yokan – five of them – each disposed on a shiso leaf on top of a white plate, looked plump and delicious. There was cold green tea you had brewed beforehand and a hot version too waiting to be served. The tea cups were already disposed on the low table.

A light nod to yourself. Preparations were complete.

A smile on your lips, you entered the room, both happy and eager for this meeting.

“Welcome! Sorry for the wait. Please, do…”

Your greeting words died right in the middle of your sentence as abruptly as a heart attack. You froze on the threshold.

No.

Your breath caught in your throat.

No.

Your feet instinctively backed a retreat. Out of shock, of dismay, of panic.

No, no, no.

Yanked again on that cursed train car, five years ago, forced to look, to acknowledge the other side of your Bond in an unwanted fateful meeting. The Universe pulling the same moves in a wicked, cruel little plot twist.

Shoto Todoroki standing in the entrance of your shop, the beloved, safe place you had worked so hard, while enduring his pain, to build up.

Out of how many billions of chances this detestable scenario could have happened? And worse of all, happening now, just when you were about to hold that special session that had taken so much time to plan, that everyone was so much looking forward, included yourself.

NO!

A rush of protectiveness, of anger, like an inner gush of fiery wind coursed through your body.

How dare he!

You tightened your grip on the tray.

You had no idea why Shoto Todoroki had ended up in your shop – lest some dirty trick from your Soulmate Bond – but suddenly, you felt the urge to protect this place and your meeting with the Haneda and Natsuo’s siblings, at all costs.

And maybe, there was also a buried, bitter need to retaliate. But you held back that seething, squirming feeling inside yourself with a firm hold. Lashing at a visitor, more so a popular pro Hero, wasn’t the image you wanted to convey of yourself and your shop.

You hated him even more for putting you in such a tricky situation, feeling another rush of irritation when you noticed with reluctance his usually stoic face was going through some emotional reaction. As if he had recognized yourself from that cursed day.

Your stomach churned, briefly queasy.

However, you chose to straighten up and step inside as if that faltering moment had never happened. Decided to regain your territory.

To say Shoto was surprised at this unexpected plot twist would have been a serious understatement.

He was shocked and stunned, absolutely thunderstruck. And for once, his bewilderment was showing on his face.

The last thing he was expecting was having his conflicted, unsure wish of another fateful meeting being granted to him right here, right now… and through such an ironic plot twist. He could almost hear the Universe snickering at him like a mean, perverse middle school bully.

Even though it had been for a very short moment, at that time, on that train platform, even after five years, he was nonetheless perfectly able to tell.

You. It was you.

The image of you, five years ago, wildly struggling and desperate to tear away from your shared Bond… The vision of the calligrapher his brother and sister-in-law had sketched to him, so appealing and heartwarming…

And the sight of you, right now, holding your tray and a grudge against him from the way your amiable features had alarmed then hardened, the way your body had reacted as if instinctively repulsed by backing away, just two tiny steps but the proof was here, you were still rejecting him just like five years ago - no, it had even worsened, for there was resent now, added to your past emotions.

That sight of you hurt. Shoto felt the frustration building up again.

It was a mess of miss-matched pieces from different jigsaws, a brutal epiphany lacking explanations or meanings, you, your reaction, his emotions, confusing, overwhelming, craving for a damn answer. All of these gathering into a wild chaos, pulling away from his control and pushing out loud, crammed inside the same three little words also pulsing in his mind:

“It’s you.” he blurted, unable to tell if he was accusing, demanding, explaining, stating, trying for a connection.

You froze again. He watched your surprised features briefly scrunch into an irked, sour frown as if he had just slapped your face. The next moment though, it was all gone, as you proceeded to kneel and set down your tray on the low table and finally address him:

“I’m sorry sir, but the shop is currently closed for a special event.”

Your voice was polite but impossibly distant, all sharp, snarling emotions dulled, probably contained. You didn’t look at him.

The building up frustration within him strained Shoto’s breath, narrowed his eyes. He didn’t avert them from you though.

Even saying it out loud, to your face, even when both of you had let escape proofs of having recognized each other as the other side of your shared Bond…

You would not acknowledge it.

He was right in front of you and you deliberately ignored him.

In the quiet of the room, the discreet clinking of the little plates holding a sweet treat nonetheless sounded clear and sharp, as you carefully disposed each in front of a tea cup. It felt as final as a last sentence to an unwanted conversation with a despised someone.

You were absolutely, impossibly out of reach.

Shoto bit his lip.

He should just accept it. He had already made up his mind many years ago about it, about you, right? Just accept it, your resent, the unwanted Bond, maybe he should just withdraw, text Fuyumi and Natsuo he couldn’t make it, had to leave. And never ever see you again, now that he knew who you were.

The last thing Shoto wanted was to inflict pain. More so to the other side of his Bond.

For a flashing second, he wondered how Midoriya, Iida or Bakugo would handle such situation.

Or maybe he didn’t want to give up still.

Then he just acted out of impulse again, out of an urge he couldn’t explain nor control, born out of all those years of questioning, anxious overthinking, pent up frustration. His vow of letting in peace his other side of the Bond, of not forcing any acknowledgement upon you, clashing with his own stubbornness, a fierce need to understand, to make you see him.

“I know.”

He stared right at your face, took in your light startle while still obstinately evading him.

That’s why I’m here for, the words he was about to spill out next, maybe together with a blunt inquiry about your reasons for hating him so intently, want it or not, but a loud, cheerful cry interrupted him from behind.

“Already there? Can’t believe your brother made it first, Natsu!”

Risa’s lively voice innocently hitting you with a brutal introduction and realization.

Brother…?

Heartbeat and lungs on hold. You raised your head.

Feeling aghast, word on repeat inside your mind until its meaning finally sunk in. You slowly blinked.

Fragments of Natsuo’s confessions about his family flashing inside your mind.

An “always busy” father…

A mother with health issues…

The shape of Natsuo’s pain, siblings he regretted growing up apart from…

The Todoroki family’s drama crudely exposed through their oldest son’s footage, just before the start of the Last War. Albeit at that time you had stayed away from it all, not caring to memorize passing by pictures revealing names and faces of the Todoroki family members…

Natsuo’s last name obviously coming from his wife…

You slowly released in a tremble the breath you were unconsciously holding.

Oh God. You had been so naïve. So stupidly oblivious.

Sure, all of these hints couldn’t have clicked right away, back to your first meeting. But still, you couldn’t help but feeling like an idiot, couldn’t help feeling like someone had just pushed you off of a cliff, out of the blue. Helpless. Betrayed. Hurt.

Still kneeling at the low table, once again, you couldn’t move, unable to greet the people you were so eager to meet with – that is to say, until Shoto Todoroki set foot inside your shop and wreaked havoc in tow. Thinking everything was ruined, now, he had ruined everything, just like his pain did with your life. The bitterness, unfairness of it all balling inside your throat, a menace of an outburst you desperately kept contained.

Though your shocked musings only took a brief instant, your lingering silence triggered an uneasy, worried exchange of glances between Natsuo and Risa.

However, Natsuo was quick to react, not wanting to let any tension settle down.

“This might come as a bit of a surprise, cause I actually took my wife’s last name, but… yeah, Shoto is my brother.”

His honesty didn’t beat around the bush. And so did the following apology to you. The hand he brought to his nape was a bit sheepish. However, his gray eyes were serious and his stare didn’t sway.

“Sorry for not telling you about it. There’s still some pretty annoying drama about the family, and… I guess that seeing you so welcoming and nice, and caring for our project, well, it felt like this could disturb the vibe and even have you cancelling it all. That was selfish of me. And dishonest too. So if you want us to leave…”

“Ah, no! Not at all!” you cried, tearing from your inner bitter crisis, raising yourself up upon the impulse Natsuo’s words inspired to you.

The thought he had been worrying about the effects of his family name might have impacted your decision to help the couple, and furthermore, the complicated feelings he was still carrying from it, had both guilt and sorrow squeeze your heart. You had gotten to witness and understand a bit of the shape of the pain that had escaped him on your previous meeting.

It helped clearing up your emotional turmoil and had you grounded again.

“I don’t feel hurt or mad. I… was a bit taken aback, it’s true, but please, don’t apologize, you don’t have anything to blame yourselves for! There is nothing wrong with it, with any of you.”

Your eyes and your voice were firm again, earnest to reassure.

You couldn’t let Natsuo and Risa think they were the cause of your current, inner turmoil. The true culprit was still standing beside them, though, silent yet watching you intently. But you decided to ignore him with all of your might, focusing on the couple instead.

You reminded yourself again this was your territory, and you were going to regain it back.

“I’ve already said it before and I will not change my mind, Natsuo-san, Risa-san, I want to fully fulfill your request. And I’m glad you’ve entrusted me with it.”

You would not let them down.

You stepped down the elevated floor and approached them.

“The letter to your baby is ready to be delivered, and so it will be. So please, welcome, and do come in.”

With a smile and a graceful gesture of your hand, you motioned them to step in.

The presence of Shoto Todoroki was an irking, loathsome nuisance. However, you chose to do your best to endure it for the sake of Natsuo and Risa. The couple’s looks of gratitude and relief were rewarding enough to motivate you.

“You have no idea how much we were looking forward for that letter and meeting you again!” Risa beamed while following you up the elevated tatami floor.

You noticed Natsuo’s hands were even more careful and protective over his wife’s silhouette, as they settled on the same spots from last time the floor cushions marked, and that Risa’s stomach bump was rounder than the last time you saw them. That sight and the enthusiasm from her voice endeared your smile.

“So do I.” you replied.

You heard a shuffling on your left side, just Shoto quietly sitting down at the table’s corner. The nearness of you both briefly tensed you, you hadn’t been so close to your side of the Bond ever and you had to fight the urge to back off again.

You realized there was still one person missing and was about to inquire on it when the front door to your shop slid open and gave you the answer in the shape of a slightly out of breath young woman.

“Ah! Sorry for the delay! Is it already started? Am I interrupting…?”

The woman pushed back in place her glasses, up her nose. She had the same white hair as Natsuo, tied in a updo. On a second look, you noted touches of red speckling her locks. She hurriedly smoothed a few messy strands.

“Not at all. Welcome. Please, do come in.” you immediately stood up and went to her.

A couple of small patches of burned skin marred her face. It didn’t disturb the amiable beauty of her features.

“I’m Fuyumi Todoroki.” She bowed. “Please, no need for formalities, you can call me Fuyumi.”

You nodded and introduced yourself. Her gray eyes lit up, her smile widened.

“I’m so glad to finally meet you. Morino-san speaks highly of you.” she went on, mentioning her boss. “And the way you calligraphed the title of the latest re-edition of The Secret Garden and The house of the Lost in the cape… it was beautiful and meaningful. I couldn’t help thinking both authors would have loved it as well.”

You weren’t prepared for her praise, nevertheless, you welcomed it with an embarrassed yet pleased smile and the little mannerism you absent-mindedly performed whenever flustered, a graceful tucking of a lock of hair behind your ear.

Despite the Universe’s sick, wicked plot twist, you felt as pleased as her to meet each other. No matter her last name, Fuyumi was the person who read your sincere reasons through your calligraphy of the books’ titles you did, and the one who connected you all and contributed to make this event happen.

You were even more motivated to make this session a meaningful one, even with the unwanted presence of Shoto Todoroki. You were determined to not let him ruin it.

“Ah! Sorry! I got carried away, please don’t mind my fangirling…” Fuyumi apologized with a chuckle.

You assured her the feeling was shared before bowing and thanking her for her role in having connected you all and bringing everyone together. She was flustered, in a pleasant way though. Her steps were light-hearted as she followed you to the tatami display and settled down on the table corner, at your right side.

More cheerful and lively comments and praises ensued, as Fuyumi admired the lovely scenery of your garden in tow with her sister-in-law.

Shoto gave in to a lingering gaze at it as well. The lasting smell of after rain and wet earth was fragrant and refreshing. The old cherry tree was all leafy and whispery foliage. For a few seconds, he felt soothed and welcomed.

“I think we must celebrate the fact this family finally got to reunite without any last minute disrupting hellish schedule.” Risa claimed, clapping her hands together before giving a pointed look to her brother-in-law. “Shoto, you’d better have your phone turned off. Today, any world menace is strictly prohibited.” She lightly nudged her snickering husband and warned him too. “Same goes for you, Natsu. Today, no one is allowed to die, break a bone, or whatever injury else.”

“Fine, fine. Risa-sama’s words are today’s Universe rule.” Natsuo playfully huffed.

“And shall bend every Laws of Physics and repel Villains away.” Fuyumi played along as well.

“Exactly.” Risa nodded, with a smug expression.

In any other situation – away from his Soulmate Bond, from your grudge, and all the pent up ache and frustration you were stirring within him – Shoto would have participated in that little family banter.

But he merely nodded and hummed, uncomfortably aware of his unwelcomed presence to you, despite you showing a serene, friendly demeanor… at least, to anyone else here but him.

You watched the siblings shenanigans with Risa, letting out a light chuckle, before gently moving on with the session, offering first some tea. Without much of a surprise, the three Todoroki siblings chose the cold version, while you and Risa settled for the hot one.

As hoped, the treat you had prepared made its little impression.

“Oh! It’s Mizu Yokan, right?” Risa already sounded enthusiastic about savoring it. “Feels like summer’s already here… Is it from the same dango shop from last time?”

You nodded and smiled.

“I thought you would perhaps enjoy a light, seasonal specialty again.”

“Yeah, but the challenge is tough, cause this girl here spent the last month only bragging about dangos.” Natsuo smirked.

His wife shrugged with a pout and attacked the snack, the siblings following her lead.

The first bite of the translucent, red bean flavored jelly perked up their face, lit up their eyes and echoed surprised and pleased approvals and praises. The treat melted on the tongue, leaving a refreshing aftertaste with no overbearing sweetness. The Kyobancha green tea you had served paired well, with its elegant, roasted flavor.

Everything was perfectly balanced.

For a moment, Shoto even forgot the tensed situation he was in, just enjoying the taste, the texture and the shape of his little square of Mizu Yokan. The memories from his stroll around the neighborhood, from earlier, came back to his mind, he wondered if these had been bought at the confectionary shop he passed by.

A place, a neighborhood he couldn’t think about settling in anymore, not even enjoying as a day-off stroll.

The little thought was sudden and stung. It spoiled in a second the last bite of the treat. He almost missed his brother calling him.

“Heh… seems like you’re enjoying your meal. I’ve never seen you so focused on any other food apart soba.” Natsuo teased him.

“I think this Mizu Yokan was the best version I’ve ever had, even the one from our cook Kaya-san wasn’t as good. Don’t you think so, Shoto?” Fuyumi beamed.

Shoto felt cornered as in one of these tricky interviews he hated the most.

He carefully glanced at you.

Again, if only this situation, the situation of the both of you had been different – the vague, disturbing longing feeling briefly squirmed within him, uninvited, before he almost immediately shoved it away.

But this was the reality of your Bond.

“It was good.” he replied in his monochord tone.

His siblings sighed in unison. Risa snorted.

“Thank god you never applied for a gourmet critique job.” Natsuo jokingly lamented.

Shoto watched you address a polite nod and smile at his laconic praise. However, your smile didn’t reach your eyes. And your gaze slid across his features like water over a duck’s feathers.

Then you turned your attention back to his siblings and Risa, and he noted the change in your smile, how it sincerely warmed up to them.

In a way, it was even worse than being ignored. Shoto could almost feel in his throat the weight and texture of the words demanding an explanation to your rejection, crowding, pressuring to be released in his blunt way. He clenched his jaws though. He wouldn’t ruin his brother and Risa’s special moment. And he realized you were doing just the same as him. As weirdly as it seemed, the fact you were intent on keeping your resent aside for the sake of them, truly treating them as nicely and thoughtfully as welcomed guests, proved to him you were a serious, good person. He was the one forcing you into this painful set of bitter emotions. Just like he did to his mother.

Shoto blinked, immediately snapping himself out of the dangerous musings that were cradling like storm clouds inside his head.

This was no good.

Not now. Not here.

He took a sip of his tea. The rugged flanks of the cup fitting his hand and the delicate coolness of the Kyobansha tea helped calming him down.

Fortunately, it seemed the time had come to finally have the long-awaited letter delivered. You had cleared up the table of the emptied little plates, only leaving the tea cups. And the envelope you were holding in your hands had everyone around the table perk up and intently focused.

“Natsuo-san, Risa-san, if you please.”

You gently laid the envelope on the table and slid it towards the couple. There was a quick eye exchange between the two, filled with overflowing expectation, a bit of excitement. A silent understanding seemed to happen as well between Fuyumi and Shoto, who both remained awaiting: this first read belonged to Natsuo and Risa.

Risa carefully took the envelope and opened it – it wasn’t sealed, for this was a letter meant to be immediately read and shared before secured away.

There were two sheets inside. And as the couple started their quiet reading, you thought back of all the decisions and efforts you had put on that special message. The choice of the paper, the ink and the pen, the size of the envelope and the best material to protect its content over the years and manipulations. The intents, the feelings, how you could properly convey two voices through your hand.

Hidden under the table, your fingers in your lap nervously twisted a small inch of your skirt fabric.

You did your best. You hoped so.

And to your relief, Natsuo and Risa’s earnest reactions told you their request had been successfully fulfilled, as promised.

The emotions openly played over their faces while reading, eyes crinkling with amusement, lips tightening in a shaky line, shared lively grins as in “that’s it, that’s exactly what I meant to say!”, a tear drop rolling down Risa’s cheek, bouncy chuckles, Natsuo’s hand squeezing hers while he tried to casually blink away his watery eyes – and completely failed.

A second reading, pointing out their already favorites parts, enjoying the feelings, theirs and those the words unfolded and were going to be preserved.

With a lively invite, they beckoned the two other siblings to join in. They swiftly gathered, and for a second, you were reminded of the past winters you had spent in this room when it was still the old lady’s dagashiya shop, when you and your friends grouped around the old steaming stove: they looked the same, like a flock of sparrows warming up together.

For a very short moment, you forgot Shoto Todoroki was in that endearing gathering as well. But it didn’t last, your grudge was quickly back.

Eyes fixed on the letter, Shoto’s reading was thorough and quiet. Yet, his internal reaction was as intense and emotional as his other family members.

He was in awe.

At how the words’ heartwarming simplicity went straight to the heart and connected the readers, at how beautifully, sincerely Natsuo and Risa’s both separate and shared feelings, intents, stories, were conveyed, respecting each other voices and at the same time, weaving them together in the already undivided love they held for their soon-to-be-born baby.

And there was the same care, reflection and purpose in the handwriting: those hiraganas and kanjis weren’t an imitation of the couple’s style, but rather, what their voices would feel like on the paper.

This was truly a teamwork you all had done together.

You had shaped, crafted and relayed what was needed, wished and longed for.

The specks of doubts Shoto had had beforehand about your ability to do so vanished for good.

He felt happy at the thought his future nephew or niece would one day read such meaningful and loving words.

He wished someone would have gifted him those words, instead of an unwanted legacy of toxic ambition and pain.

And the more he read and mused upon the letter, the more he wanted to tell you about his thoughts on it, wanted to praise you in his awkward, blunt yet earnest way.

But he couldn’t. You wouldn’t accept it, wouldn’t accept him.

God, how it hurt. How all of this, all of you, of him, felt so damn frustrating and painful altogether. As though this was the cursed shape of your Bond.

Beside him, Fuyumi, Risa and Natsuo were all enthusiastic and moved.

Between heartfelt praises and comments, you expressed your relief and happiness to have satisfied their request.

And then, as if your Soulmate Bond took upon Shoto’s unspoken words and decided it was time to reveal what connected the both of you to each other…

Risa’s hand bumped with her cup, which you just had filled up again, knocking it over, hot, steaming tea spilling towards her. It didn’t touch her though, for both Natsuo and Shoto instantly reacted, her husband pulling her away while her brother-in-law blocked the liquid with his forearm. He didn’t use his freezing Quirk – Risa was too near him and he wouldn’t take the risk of harming both her and the baby albeit he did master his Quirk abilities. Hot tea was a mere burn he could perfectly endure without even thinking about it. Shoto had experienced much, much worser.

A muffled, discreet gasp.

Shoto could have easily missed it if it hadn’t been for years of past training his hearing upon forecasting his father’s imminent, impromptu arrivals, coming for him and another excruciating “teaching” session.

He immediately turned his head towards the little noise.

The brief sight of you holding your forearm with a surprised, painful wince.

Your bare forearm bearing no trace of bruise, blood, burn. Yet, the hand you had wrapped around it tightening, knuckles turning white.

Shoto frowned.

Your unharmed forearm. Your face scrunching in a painful expression you immediately tried to fight off.

One missed heartbeat as if Shoto had trip down a step, falling, crashing to the ground.

You, holding the same side as his when he had blocked the hot tea from spilling over Risa.

Both of you catching each other’s eyes. Panic in yours, just like that day, five years ago, before letting go of your arm with a jolt, pulling yourself away from his stunned, wide eyed stare, as you stood up and inquired about Risa as if nothing had happened to you.

“Ah… I’m fine, I’m fine. Don’t worry!” she assured. “Baby’s good too. We’re a tough bunch, right? Especially with a pro-Hero uncle as guardian angel.”

“Hey! What about me?” Natsuo pouted.

“You’re a very efficient sidekick.” Risa pinched his cheek and smirked to his vexed huff.

“Shoto, are you o…” Fuyumi asked.

She didn’t get to end her sentence though.

In one swift motion, Shoto was up and next to you, reaching out not with his hands but with a strangled, anxious voice and eyes full of mingled alarm and concern.

“Are you okay?”

You almost jump scared at his reaction, once again backing off from his closeness.

“Me? Why are you asking? I’m perfectly fine.”

You blinked, playing surprise. Pretending your forearm didn’t ache. Rejecting his concern, rejecting his realization, rejecting anything coming from him.

“No, you’re not.”

Shoto’s blank face, monochord tone, all gone. There wasn’t simple worry in those words, nor pro-Hero acting upon protecting instincts. Not at all. There was exasperation and stubbornness, pain and despair, cold shock and searing guilt.

Lies, he thought, upon hearing your false reassurance.

“You must be mistaken. Really, I’m all fine and dandy.” you insisted, your politeness slightly tensing.

Lies, lies, lies.

Shoto gritted his teeth, wanting to shake his head at each of your fake words. You, who just had proved how sincerely you could write, convey and preserve other ones’ feelings and messages.

How could you be alright, how could you be fine, with his pain on your body, inside and out? How could… how could you even had endured, oh God, oh God…

That thought.

Shoto felt a queasy dizziness, in the pit of his stomach, in the back of his mind, his surroundings, room, people, voices, suppressed, world’s sounds and images suddenly reduced to a silent replaying of his past pains.

No. No, no, no.

That thought, of you enduring his pain. Each blow, each bruise, each burn. Broken or sprained limbs, dislocated bones, muscles strained beyond their limits. Countless headaches, nausea, collateral damage injuries. From his father, then from his UA days, and now, from his pro-Hero job.

And the pain from that day, the day his mother burned him, gave him this scar.

Shoto felt sick.

Now he had his answer. To your panic, your despair, your animosity, your rejection.

Of course, you’d be mad, of course, you’d be filled with resent, rancor, hate, fear, towards him. You had every reasons to reject him.

Since the very beginning, he had been right. He would only bring Hell and pain to his other side of the Bond. Because that was the true shape of it.

You evaded him, to go fetch a cloth in the kitchen to clean up the mess. Cutting short any other attempt of interaction between the two of you. Shoto slowly sunk back to his seat, under the shock. Stoic look on his face again, crushed, aching self in the inside.

From there on, the rest of the session came in a blur to him.

Following his outburst, you had been quick to reassure everyone’s inquiries on you.

There had been a moment of panic, when Risa and Natsuo found out the letter had been drenched with the spilled tea. However, you promptly saved the day, mentioning the paper and ink had been specifically selected to endure and last through such incidents.

“This paper comes from an old, traditional paper-making workshop. However, instead of coming from vegetal, the fibers used here are secreted by a Spider Quirk user. As a result, the paper is incredibly strong and almost all fluids repellent and can endure fire as well.” you explained, adding you had chosen an archival ink for possessing nearly the same proprieties. “So no matter what, don’t worry, this letter should be time-proof.” you smiled.

And indeed, to Natsuo and Risa’s relief, the letter quickly dried and returned to its previous, spotless state, as if no incident had happened.

You acted the same. Just as if Shoto Todoroki hadn’t finally come to realize the true nature of your Bond and almost made a fuss over it. You held everything back, as you were heartily thanked by Natsuo and Risa and praised by Fuyumi, and as the session came to its end and you walked the family to the entrance of your shop.

You were doing so well. Just a little bit more.

Until Risa’s impromptu demand.

“How about making this a tradition? I mean…” She glanced at her husband, who lifted an inquiring eyebrow, before turning back to you again. “… just like we did now, how about writing a letter to our kid, every year until their majority…? This time, with the whole family, with Fuyumi, Shoto, Rei, my parents. Would you be okay to do it again?”

Both you and Natsuo were taken aback by the request, though perhaps not for the same reasons.

The young man frowned and protested.

“Risa… That’s some bigger, kinda life-time project you’re talking about.” he huffed. “And a lot more people involved in it too. We can’t force it on (y/n)-san. Besides, don’t you think we must discuss it first between us?”

But Risa was very much driven by some internal certainty, thus insisting.

“But you liked the letter, right?”

“Well yeah, but…”

“So the question here is…” she faced you with her straightforward stare and voice. “… is it possible to do it, and would you be in with us to do it.”

Now it was your turn to feel cornered.

As much as you found this new project exciting, inspiring, and would have loved to be a part of it… Yet, you couldn’t bear the idea of having to share it as well with Shoto Todoroki.

You swallowed hard, throat suddenly tightening.

No, you couldn’t, wouldn’t bear it at all. And it enraged you, deep inside. For you were growing fond of the Haneda couple, and you had truly enjoyed working on their letter, and you wished to befriend with Fuyumi too.

Slowly, as if gathering your voice like a twine you assembled in a ball, you tried to ease your refusal.

“I had never been tasked with such request before, so I can’t say it’s not doable. However…”

Their eyes. You could tell even Natsuo had a glint of hope, outweighing his protests. Their faces on hold, filled with expectation – except you couldn’t tell for Shoto’s, who you still firmly avoided to look at.

Your words faltered. You faltered.

“However… I might need a bit of time to think about it. Will it be okay if I give you my reply later?”

You knew you were only delaying your “no, can’t do”. But you couldn’t bring yourself to plainly refuse right here, right now, standing on the threshold of your shop’s entrance, you believed it would have felt cold and disrespectful.

Had them sensed it or not? Risa’s smile and Natsuo’s gratefulness were still nonetheless genuine, as the couple assured you to take your time thinking about it. Fuyumi insisted upon exchanging business cards with you, expressing her wish to meet you again.

Shoto remained to himself, to the side. You couldn’t care less, feeling more than resentful about the person who had ruined your day and your future interactions with lovely people.

You parted ways on your hidden, mixed, bitter feelings.

***

But not for long, though.

It only took Shoto a few steps along the street, trailing behind the lively chatting group of his family, to come into a conclusion, a decision, and to act upon it.

“I’m going back.” he declared before turning heels and retreating back to the shop.

To the surprised inquiries, he shouted back a laconic “forgot something, don’t wait for me.”

The siblings and Risa shared a curious glance, then shrugged it off. Rendezvous had been taken while chatting between them to have lunch at that soba restaurant in the next street. Shoto would meet them there.

***

The door to your shop slid open on your back, slightly startling you.

Standing still in the middle of the room, your gaze had been fixed on the old cherry tree without seeing it. Your mind achingly pulsing with the gathering raw emotions, throbbing rancor and resent this meeting left you as a bitter aftertaste, bordering a splitting headache.

Right now, you just wanted to collapse in a corner and cry out all of your pent up anger, pain, despair.

But you forgot to hang up the little “closed” sign as you normally did after each request session. So you were doomed with enduring this unexpected customer with a smile.

Taking a hasty, deep breath, you turned around.

“Welcome…”

“Listen.” Shoto cut you off, wasting no time on language subtilities, time consuming formalities, revelations that had been more than plainly obvious to the both of you, and intent on keeping up the pace his impulse had settled for him.

You were still rejecting him, even more deeply than five years ago. And after having finally found out why, Shoto could only agree to your reasons. To be honest, he was still undergoing the aftershock tremors of this all. And right now, processing it felt to him confusing and damn overwhelming, like a hand squeezing his throat in a steel-like grip.

But at the same time…

There was that urge, something deep inside of him that wouldn’t have him give up yet.

He was going to reach out for you.

Even if he had to squeeze out his words, to rip them from his awkward throat, even if this was probably going to be a total mess… He would speak up his honest thoughts and feelings. He had to. He wanted to. He needed to.

“Listen.” he repeated to your hardened features, the sour look in your eyes, the tight line of your lips and your balled fists. “I don’t want to bring you anymore pain in your life. And I’m sorry you had to endure it for so long. You… you didn’t deserve it. You didn’t do anything wrong. I was the one pouring my own pain on you. But you must understand I didn’t know this was the shape of our Bond. I… wasn’t even sure there was an other side to it. There was only me and nothing else, nothing different to be felt, to be noticed, from your side.”

Shoto paused, gauging your reaction, looking back at his words, did he choose them right, did he hurt you, what if there was unfixable misunderstanding, but he had to be honest, but he didn’t want to ruin that frail chance to reach out for you either…

His quick, anxious overthinking moment left a brief, tiny breach for your snort, cold, harsh, devoid of any humor.

“I doubt you would ever feel any kind of pain coming from my side, Todoroki-san. Just like a rhino wouldn’t notice the sting of a mosquito on its butt. Would you like me to apologize as well, for the lack of painful response, for not pestering you with my daily little mundane scratches and twinges?”

The sarcasm was laced with clear despise and rancor.

Shoto frowned. Sarcasms used to fly right over his head as a teen, however, he was now better at reading them. He had to admit the rhino metaphor was quite fitting… and heartbreaking too. It proved how much his pain had overwritten your own emotional responses, had truly taken over your life, your own pain.

“That wasn’t what I was meaning.”

“Then please, do tell me what exactly your true purpose is, Todoroki-san. Because your impromptu little speech blurted from the heart, on a whim, make it hard to figure it out. Is it to apologize? To make excuses for yourself? To show off how much guilty you’re feeling? To ease out your guilt? To display concern? Or maybe, is it an emotional introduction to a list of redeeming actions from yourself to make it up for all those past painful years…?”

There was a threatening tension edging your calm voice, a flashing glare to your eyes.

Just because you weren’t the “raging fit” type of person didn’t mean you weren’t enraging inside or that couldn’t bare snarling fangs either.

To your uttermost irritation, Shoto stood his ground.

“Then I’m gonna make myself clear.”

His piercing eyes locked with your reluctant ones.

“I had no control at all over the pain, my life, my future as a child. So I can’t say I’m feeling guilty over it. This… has been my father’s doing, his fault. This pain was his doing. And thinking it had impacted your life as well…” A brief faltering. Shoto lowered his head. “… it hurts. I’m really sorry.”

Had you been a little less blinded with anger and enraged inner turmoil, maybe you could have admitted this sounded logical.

But you didn’t accept it. You would not, would never accept it.

No matter how many times this hateful Bond would try to connect you both to each other, you would never, ever accept it. You would always reject Shoto Todoroki with all your body, mind and soul.

Your nostrils flared around a searing, barely contained irked exhale. You didn’t try to interrupt him, didn’t quip either, though.

“However,” Shoto continued, lifting his head again. “the pain that happened once I started UA, up to now, on my current Hero career, those were my doing. My fault. I didn’t hold back, I still don’t, whether on training or missions. That’s how I had decided to envision myself, my work, as the person I want to be. So I can’t say I’m sorry about it. But I wish I could have known about the shape of our Bond, and I feel guilty about the pain I had forced upon you. That was… that was unfair, brutal, violent.”

Just like the blows he had to endure from his father.

The realization hit Shoto hard as he spelled it out. Another quake to add to his aftershock tremors. But he didn’t let it take over him. Right here, right now, wasn’t the time to brood over it or collapse.

He huffed, briefly shaking his head, before speaking up again.

“This is not about redemption. It’s all about you.” His honesty was mingling with a curious intensity he deemed issuing from his determination to not give up. “I want to help you. I want to make sure from now on that my pain would not disrupt your life, would not hurt you anymore.”

“Is that so?”

Your quiet voice seemed almost casual, almost unconcerned. For a second, your lack of emotion had Shoto slightly puzzled.

“Then, will you resign? Quit your pro-Hero activities?”

The question took Shoto aback.

“I can’t.” he narrowed his eyes, his answer shooting out of instinct and strong resolve. “I won’t.”

You shrugged. Eyes half lidded with disdain, the line of your lips twisting in a sarcastic pout.

“As expected from you.”

Shoto immediately bounced back, like he would have in the middle of a fight, a mission. Keen on still not letting go an inch of his goal, on not giving up.

“I can’t promise you I’ll go easy as a pro-Hero. But I promise you I will tend to my pain and injuries as quickly and effectively as possible. And I will be careful when I’m off-duty too. Also… I won’t take part on Natsuo and Risa’s letters project. You don’t have to worry. They… were so excited for that first letter, and you took care of it, of them, so nicely. So please, give it a good thinking.”

The glare you shot at him upon hearing those last words was of pure hatred. It didn’t last more than a second though, but it left Shoto uneasy, confused and questioning over his words and actions again.

What did he do wrong…?

“Are you done?”

He snapped out of his worried musings, blinking. You took it as your cue to follow through.

“Good. Now listen to me.”

For this time and only, you sought for his gaze, planted your eyes in his, and locked you both in that connection.

“Todoroki-san. I don’t need any of your conflicted, selfish concerns and apologies, and even less your to-do list of promises and the background story of your struggles and sufferings. I didn’t ask for your pity, your excuses, your apologies, your explanations, a complete essay on your life and your character analysis, your petty solutions, and your obnoxious honesty.”

Your voice was calm and steady, but your words weren’t planning to go easy on Shoto, rather, you wanted it all to hurt, to crush and crumble, to backfire at him every ounce of his disgusting, loathsome concern, apology, honesty.

“I built everything that I am, everything that I own – this shop, my work, my life, who I am – out of myself, out of every time I collapsed and had to scramble back up again, out of all the meaningful support of the people I truly care for, all of this despite of that cursed Bond, your cursed side and your blissful ignorance. I have never expected, never counted on your help. And I expect it to remain the same as it is. I don’t need anything coming from you. I don’t need you. So please, keep on sticking to your successful life and heroing principles, and don’t bother anymore with my side of the Bond. Your pain will not bring me down, nor have me begging for you diligently take your pain killer tabs after each fight.”

In tow with your last word, you pulled your eyes away from Shoto’s. Not caring to witness the aftermath of your speech over his face, definitely not wishing to hear anything more coming from him and even less endure his presence for another minute, you reached for the door to your shop, slid open the panel he had closed when he entered, and concluded:

“Now, if you please, I have business to attend to and another request session to prepare.”

There was a few seconds of silence. Face deliberately turned away from him, you couldn’t tell if Shoto was debating on protesting and insisting again with that infuriating bluntness of him.

Then at last, you heard the shuffling of his feet, caught the color of his shirt as he passed by you and stepped outside of the shop.

Gripping the side of the door panel, you delivered your last blow.

“You might be a Hero, but I’ve never asked to be saved, never asked for you to save me. Unless you die, I don’t see any other effective way to bring me peace and respite.”

You slid closed the wooden panel and locked it.

It was over.

You took a few backing steps, eyes on the door. Slowly, a small tremor started to climb up your limbs, gather through your insides.

You bit your lip.

That obnoxious, self-conceited bastard…

Fragments of Shoto’s speech darted at you. You gripped your blouse, gritted your teeth in a mute, enraged snarl.

Thinking he could make himself important, needed, indispensable, in my life…

Thinking I need to be patched up and fixed to feel better, with a few pain killer tabs from his side, for everything to be forgiven and forgotten…

Your chest constricted. Your breath trembled and heaved.

To think he had the damn nerves to not assume his responsibility on going all out for his training and missions, and planning to continue on doing so even after knowing about the shape of the Bond…

Well I hope he’ll break his neck while breaking through a building!

Your furious gaze fell upon the leftover cups on the table. An instant burst of lava-like burn jolted through you.

To think he tried to convince me to reconsider Natsuo-san and Risa-san’s new request, as if he was granting me some kinda benevolent permission through his “selfless” decision to not participate…

That thought.

You weren’t the kind of person to yell, go mad or blow a fuse out of your emotions. Furthermore, outbursts would usually increase pain, a lesson you had quickly learned early on.

But right now, that thought tipped you over the edge of your anger.

Because, if you agreed to that request, it would be out of Shoto Todoroki’s promise to not interfere, and if you were to refuse, then you’d feel guilty and mad as hell because that’d be out of petty revenge on him and feeling like lashing out on good people you estimated.

Your eyes glared at Shoto’s cup.

Without thinking further, only propelled by an overwhelming rage, you reached for it, stormed out through the engawa porch to the kitchen, and with a ferocious impulse, you smashed the dish into the sink.

The clattering sound dispersed like shrieking birds, loud, dissonant. It felt far from satisfying or relieving. It was frustrating, nasty, and heart-breaking, it made you sink down on the floor and sob, face buried in your knees and shoulders quaking.

In the back of your nape, a splitting headache was crawling and pulsing his way. You hoped with all your guts that for once your pain would reach for Shoto Todoroki and wreck his day.

***

Everything was over.

Shote stared at the closed panel, quiet and still. Inside, your words were wreaking havoc.

Despite all of his efforts, despite not giving up… he realized you didn’t, you wouldn’t give up either on your rejection. You were absolutely, deeply ingrained in your resent, out of reach. You misread and threw back at him each of his attempts at clearing the situation, at baring his feelings and thoughts on it, at providing help to you. Whether it was deliberate or out of your own misbeliefs or anger, he couldn’t tell.

One thing he was sure, this was a complete, utmost fail. Exactly what he had been dreading whenever the idea of another fated meeting with you crossed his mind.

He had fucked it all up.

Even if it wasn’t a first, that there were still times where Shoto would be confronted with failure, in a mission, while training, in his interactions… him, failing on you, was painful in a way he hadn’t experimented yet before.

A small, almost easy to miss detail hit him. You didn’t use “our” when speaking about your shared Bond, not even once. And somehow, this little word difference suddenly confirmed to him that the damage to your Bond was beyond any repair.

Everything was really, truly over.

Insisting, not giving up, felt to Shoto as an aggression to yourself, like his father forcing out on him his Quirks, forcing out on his mother a life that nearly drew her insane, forcing out on his siblings traumas.

Your last words before parting echoed in his mind. They reminded him of his mother’s reaction, when she threw the boiling water on his face.

A brutal rush of angst, a bitter, nasty aftertaste. Shoto pulled away from his spot, turned his back to your shop.

He would not have you going through the same terrible, toxic path. You deserved a happy, peaceful life. And although you had rejected any help from him, despite your resent, he was intent on keeping his promise. He would do his best to soothe and treat every shard of pain that would be passed through your Bond to you.

He took one last look to your shop, to the sign and the name that had him charmed and welcomed when he first arrived. Strangely enough, though not so surprisingly, he found the feelings were still intact. Then, he set off. Sending a text to Natsuo apologizing for not joining them to lunch. He tried to spot a glimpse of Tora-Tama, but the tabby seemed as invisible as the Cheshire cat.

While making his way back to his car through your peaceful, nostalgic neighborhood, Shoto vowed again to never interfere in your life, never seek for a fateful meeting with you again, while quietly taking care of you through himself, from his other side of your Bond.

He didn’t realize he really did have forgotten something behind.

The umbrella he had left to dry outside of your shop, carefully leaned between the bench and one of the lush potted plant.

As soon as Shoto left, the tabby made his appearance and thoroughly sniffed the plastic fabric, before brushing his head over it.

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