“Marcus, gli scrittori sono esseri così fragili perché possono subire due tipi di dispiaceri sentimentali, ossia il doppio rispetto alle persone normali: le pene d’amore e quelle artistiche. Scrivere un libro è come amare qualcuno: può diventare molto doloroso.”
prompt: kouda is freaking out because there is a bug so tsu eats it
ooh this was a fun one to write!!
its cross-posted to ao3!
She says yes, and the next day Kouta is dropped on 1-A’s doorstep.
Mina perks up at the doorbell. “Who’s that?”
“Aizawa-sensei,” Tsuyu responds as she opens the door. “Hello, Kouta.”
“Hi,” he says sullenly.
“I’ll be back at five,” Aizawa says, then walks off, hands in his pockets. Tsuyu doesn’t bother to watch him leave, instead directing her attention to Kouta.
“Want to come play Mario Kart?” she asks.
“Sure,” he says reluctantly.
Inside the common room, all commotion comes to a standstill. For a moment, all is silent.
Then, Kirishima exclaims, “Tsuyu! You have a kid?!”
Bakugou whacks him over the head. “He’s not hers, shitty hair!”
“Language,” Mina singsongs.
Bakugou ignores her. “He’s that kid from the training camp.” At Kirishima’s blank look he adds, smirking, “He’s the kid who punched Deku in the balls.”
“Oh!” he exclaims, his eyes lighting up. He smiles at Kouta, who’s been watching this exchange with relative disinterest. “Nice to see ya again, kid!”
“Uh huh,” Kouta says, unimpressed.
“Heya!” Kaminari exclaims, waving briefly before his hand darts back to the controller. “What’s up?”
“Nothing interesting,” Kouta says, with a pointed glance around the common room.
“Hey!” Sero objects. “We’re plenty interesting.”
“Sure,” Tsuyu says, then says to Kouta, “We’ve got snacks in the kitchen, if you want.
“I guess I am kinda hungry,” Kouta says. Tsuyu nods, and leads him away as Mina makes a vaguely disappointed sound.
She lets Kouta have his pick of Bakugou’s secret food stash— she knows Bakugou’s more of a softy than he lets on, and if he’s really mad she’ll take the blame— and she grabs a juice box for each of them.
“Do you want to go hang out more with them, or find something else?” Tsuyu asks. “I could raid Iida’s room for books, or Kirishima’s for board games.”
Kouta shrugs. “I dunno.”
“You don’t have to decide right now,” Tsuyu says calmly. She takes a sip of her own juice box, and waits. Her own siblings have trouble deciding, too, and she’s learned it’s better to give them time to think than to pick something they aren’t in the mood for.
After a minute of deliberation, Kouta asks hesitantly, “Could we go outside?”
“Sure,” Tsuyu says. “Do you want to bring any frisbees or chalk or anything, or just hang out?”
“Chalk could be fun,” he decides.
Tsuyu nods. “I’ll be right back.”
She runs to her room to grab the spare chalk she keeps up there, then heads down to meet Kouta again.
There’s a small courtyard between the two buildings comprising the first year hero classes, below the bridge that connects them. There are benches and flowers surrounding the perimeter, and a bubbling fountain in the middle. It’s peaceful, and Tsuyu has studied here with Izuku on more than one occasion. Kouta is equally as enamored with it, if his wide eyes are any indication. He wanders around for a few minutes, familiarizing himself with the miniature landmarks, before he returns to Tsuyu for the chalk.
“Want me to color with you?” she asks curiously, when he doesn’t run off for the sidewalk.
“Only if you wanna,” he says sullenly, which is kid-speak for yes.
She settles into the sidewalk beside him, and watches as he dumps the bucket of chalk on the ground. “What do you want to draw first?”
“I’m going to draw Deku,” he answers. “You can draw whatever you want.”
“I look forward to seeing it,” Tsuyu says. “I’ll draw my friend, Ochako-chan.”
“Okay,” he says quietly. They each grab a starter piece of chalk and begin to draw. Kouta starts with harsh, bold strokes that start at Izuku-chan’s shoes. It’s then that Tsuyu notices Kouta’s own shoes, which are the same terrible shade of red.
For a while they keep on like that, each drawing their own hero. Then Kouta shrieks, and Tsuyu immediately looks up, assessing the area for danger.
“What’s wrong, Kouta-chan?” she asks urgently.
“There’s a spider on my drawing!” he exclaims, distressed.
Before he finishes his sentence, Tsuyu flicks out her tongue and eats the arachnid in one bite. “Not anymore,” she says.
“You just— you just ate a bug!” Kouta exclaims. “Right off the sidewalk!”
“Yes, and?” Tsuyu asks, an eyebrow raised.
Kouta wrings his hands together, then says quietly, “Thank you, miss Asui.”
“No problem, kid,” she says. “And please. Call me Tsuyu.”
