Chapter Text
Himiko trails behind the Midoriyas as they shuffle into the apartment. Miss Midoriya wrings her hands nervously and rubs away her tears. A blue apron is wrapped loosely around her waist.
Himiko ogles at the homely decor. Tossing his shoes off carelessly, Izuku pulls Himiko out of her daze and into the kitchen. His mother had already gone back to fixing up the meal she had been preparing before they arrived.
“So, Toga, was it?” Breaking the silence, Miss Midoriya stirred the contents of a pot sitting on the stove.
“Yes ma’am,” Himiko murmured.
“No need to be so formal, dear. Call me Inko!” Himiko remained silent.
As she draws lines on the wooden table, they continue their aimless chatter, and Midoriya retreats to his room. Himiko notes the way he stuffs the nameplate hanging from his doorway into his pockets. The smell of the food tingles her nose, and Himiko feels the tension that has been in her posture fall away. Leaning back in her chair, she snaps to attention when Inko shuts off the stove and mutters something under her breath. Guess that’s where he gets it from…
Midoriya returns with more casual clothes, and she has to stifle a giggle at the ‘socks’ inscription on his T-shirt.
“Do you have any hobbies?” Their conversation had turned into a casual interrogation, where Inko battered Himiko with questions as a fast-paced way to get to know her better.
“Not really. I don’t do much.” Himiko’s day-to-day life had amounted to schoolwork, dodging uncomfortable questions from her parents, dreams about blood and all the things she could never have, and eating and sleeping. Her days were shrouded in a fog that she never really found herself leaving. “I guess that’s one thing me and Midoriya have in common.”
Inko sashays across the kitchen tile and begins chopping a head of cabbage. She carelessly casts glances toward Himiko, with traces of perplexity clouding her eyes.
“Hm? I had thought that writing notes on heroes and such counted as a hobby…” She sets down her very sharp knife on the cutting board. Despite his speechlessness for most of the conversation, Midoriya interjects defensively at the comment.
“I stopped a few weeks ago, actually,” He bites. She recalls him bringing this same topic up when she had badgered him with questions the previous night. Himiko shifts her view between the two of them with renewed tension in the air and spots Inko’s silent realization. Realization of what, however, she had no clue. What about a harmless hobby that had made the mood in the room take a sudden downturn? Himiko was unsure he had been telling the truth when he said he had simply gotten bored of it.
Himiko tries rectifying whatever has gone wrong by asking a few more harmless questions, but they all fall flat.
Raking her fingers through the tangles in her hair, she offers Inko a helping hand at cooking in a desperate attempt to lessen the awkwardness.
“Ah, of course, dear.” Inko shares a tight-lipped smile. Himiko takes a final peek at Midoriya’s downtrodden composure and shuffles to Inko’s side.
“Would you mind slicing this for me?” Inko asks politely. Her hands clench the base of her skirt and does her best to return the tone in response.
“I’m not allowed to handle knives.” Hopefully, she doesn't notice the way her voice and legs tremble.
“Clumsy one, are you?” Inko either ignores her panic or passes it off as something else. She nods fervently. “Alright then. Watch the pot until it boils, and then…” Holding back a sigh of relief, she follows her fairly simple instructions. The food is prepared in no time at all, and Midoriya shakes himself out of his moody state and grabs the dishes out of the cupboards. Inko tugs Himiko to a spare seat by the table, and the three of them gorge on dinner. Despite his bout of silence before, Midoriya is the first person to initiate chatter. He asks Inko about her job, and Himiko learns that she's a nurse. Between bites, she adds small anecdotes and has to ignore the urge to shrink back whenever their eyes land on her own. The conversation is light, and she's overcome with a feeling that she doesn't recognize. Inko doesn't ask her about her fangs, and Himiko doesn't ask about the fork that floats into her hand. Every sip of water she swallows feels like ash in her throat. The clock ticks by, and she wonders if her parents are worried about the empty seat at the dining table at dinner. After a particularly embarrassing story revolving around Midoriya and his childhood antics, they clear the table and scarf down the leftovers. Inko goes to wash the dishes as the two of them relax on the couch. They unanimously decide to work on homework and lapse into a comfortable silence. For a little while, the only noise in the apartment is the rush of water pouring out of the kitchen sink and the scratching noises of pencils on paper. After about ten minutes, she checked her phone to see if her parents had texted her.
15 new messages from Mommy
6 new messages from Daddy
Ah, shit.
Mommy:
Where are you?
I know school ended for you Himiko
If you're out finding animal corpses again I swear
Himiko Toga if you don't respond soon you won't get breakfast for a week
Answer your phone young lady
You're not getting dinner either at this rate
Call me right this instant
The rest of the messages had her repeating herself. Himiko leaves her on read, not even bothering to check Daddy’s messages. With a roll of her eyes, she goes back to working on her paper. Midoriya notices her annoyance and stops working to voice his concern.
“You alright? You seem frustrated.”
“S’okay.” she brings her face next to Midoriya’s ear, which visibly reddens. “Remember when I said my parents were probably pissed I didn't tell them I was coming here? I was right on the money,” she says under her breath. Midoriya mouths an ‘ Oh ’.
“I wish you had told them. I hate lying to my mom,” he admits.
“Too late now. Besides, your mom is way too nice to lie to,” she says with a grin. Midoriya turns slightly blue.
“The first thing you said to her was a lie! I didn't help you from some drunkard, he was going to kill you! And me too, if things had gone poorly,” he whisper-shouts.
“That’s different! I was helping you by lying, not me!” she says in rebuttal. Their squabble continues, and it's possibly the quietest argument she has ever been in.
“Ouch!” Inko’s sharp cry switches their attention to herself.
“Mom? You okay?” Midoriya clambered his way to her side, Himiko too shell-shocked to move.
“It's alright, Izuku, just a scratch from cleaning the knife. No need to worry,” she says reassuringly. He does not in fact stop worrying, rushing to the bathroom to grab some band-aids. Himiko digs her nails into the couch cushion.
She can smell it.
Blood.
It dribbles down Inko’s pointer finger, the small gash providing an opening to the sweet and tantalizing liquid.
If only she could get a taste.
She's overcome with hunger, despite just eating.
Inching away from the couch, she makes her way back to the kitchen for another meal.
The glass cracks.
Her hand and throat burn.
The fog is back.
Her hand grips an imaginary pocket knife.
The pink sweater clings to her neck uncomfortably.
Phantom shouts cloud her hearing.
She's so thirsty.
“I have returned with the band-aids!” Midoriya says triumphantly.
Himiko shuts down.
“Hooray for my hero,” Inko chuckles.
Himiko is pulled back to reality by his entrance. Inko, with a newly wrapped band-aid around her finger, catches her gaze with an uneasy look.
“Toga? Are you feeling well? You're breathing quite heavily.” She rests a comforting hand on her shoulder. Everything is Normal. It's fine. She is definitely not holding back a blood-curdling scream.
The feeling of ash in her throat bubbles up, and it overflows.
“I think I'm gonna be sick.” she stumbles backward, and Midoriya swiftly catches her. She tears away from his touch and makes a getaway in the direction she saw Midoriya go before. Crashing into the bathroom tile, she positions herself over the toilet bowl. Gagging, the ash begins to pour out of her throat, and she’s vaguely aware of the presence holding her hair back and rubbing circles in her back. Tears wash down her cheekbones, mixing in with the bile being excreted from her mouth. Everything she had been holding in since the previous night barrels into her ribcage, sending shock waves throughout her lungs. Inko coos gentle words to make her feel better. It doesn't help. The one thing she wants at this moment is being held back by a single band-aid and her dignity. Dry heaving, she focuses on Midoriya’s rapid pacing out in the hall and shakily rises to her feet. Shutting the lid, Inko flushes away her shame and grips her hand tightly.
“M’sorry Inko.” Her eyes water and Inko hands her a handkerchief from the sink to dry them.
“Nonsense. You have nothing to apologize for.” she trills. “Do you need anything else? Would you like to lie down?” the offer nearly makes Himiko cry again, but she nods her head and is led to the couch. It feels strange to be cared for.
Flopping on the couch, she folds her suitcoat and places it on the coffee table. Inko brings her a quilt blanket.
“Thank goodness I found a spare in the closet,” she shudders. Warmth floods her bones as she wraps it around her shoulders. Overhearing the conversation between the two Midoriyas, Himiko snuggles into the quilt.
“…it might’ve been the ice cream we had earlier. There likely wasn't anything bad about your cooking.” Midoriya analyzes. Inko tsks .
“You know better than to have dessert before a meal,” she chastises.
“I know, I’m sorry. She seemed so excited to go…” Himiko can practically hear Midoriya’s fidgeting. Eyes fluttering shut, she tunes out the rest of their words.
She imagines her insides becoming outsides and prays that these dreams will be enough.
It's not enough.
It's never enough.