Work Text:
Todoroki likes to write his letters in the early morning. The common rooms are still deserted, the morning light strong. He takes his time writing to his mother because he needs it. Every time he writes a letter, he ends up with a bunch of rejects, crumpled up and scribbled. This time is no exception. If face to face conversations make him uneasy at times, snail mail is ten times worse. He can’t adapt his words to the context or assess the situation.
He also doesn’t know how to talk to his mother. Or anyone, really. Well. Except one.
He hears footsteps as he finally writes one that he doesn’t hate. He’s folding it into the envelope just as the second-earliest riser walks into the common room. “Good morning, Todoroki-kun!”
“Good morning, Midoriya.”
“Oh, are you mailing those out today? I can walk with you to the post office.”
Todoroki smiles. “Sure. It’s just this one, actually.” He waves the envelope. “All of these I’m gonna get rid of.”
“Okay! Let me just grab my shoes.”
As he waits for Midoriya, Todoroki gathers up the loose pieces of paper—the rejects. He hovers over the waste bin, stares at the empty can, and decides to put fold them into his pocket instead.
Midoriya comes back, wiggling his red shoes. “Ready?”
Todoroki smiles. “Yes.” He thinks he’ll put these rejects in his room, in a box to save for later. They’re rejects right now, but he’s not one to waste words.
—
Okaasan,
I’ve been training every weekend, which is why I haven’t been visiting. I’ve learned from my mistakes at the provisional exam and I’m making it right. Our daily regimen, starting from eight in the morning, is to
—
Okaasan,
I’m sorry I haven’t been making the time to see you. Our school has been doing a festival, and I’ve been trying to contribute to the team by building the set and assisting rehearsal. We are somehow carrying one person up the whole time, while levitating the audience? I will give you more details when I get them.
I want it to serve the school well, and to carry my weight for the team.
—
Okaasan,
My friends are working really hard. I’m proud to work on this with them. The costumes are really elaborate and different teams wear a different one, although I don’t really understand why we can’t all just wear the same thing. That’s the point of a uniform, right? To build one identity to unify multiple individuals. But I suppose it’s different in the context of a performance. They’re meant to be visually stimulating
I’ll try to send a picture, if I can. You’d be able to see my friends. One of them is especially important to me.
—
Okaasan,
Midoriya Izuku is in my grade and I’d like for you to meet
—
Okaasan,
How do you know if what you feel is more than a friend? How do you know if it’s not normal?
—
Okaasan,
He makes me feel
—
Okaasan,
I’m doing really well. I’m happy. I hope you’re doing well too. Attached is a photo from our school festival performance. I think we accomplished our goal. Hopefully I can finally visit.
Sincerely,
Shouto.
—
From the window of the fifteenth floor, Todoroki Rei can see the front entrance all the way at the bottom. She likes to watch cars pass by, billboards change, and trees grow. Above all, though, she watches for the post service. The post service means mail, and the mail means Shouto. The small stack of envelopes sit idly at the table. She intends on letting it grow as tall as she can.