Chapter Text
The walk home from the train station is always the longest part of Fuyumi’s day. It’s only fifteen minutes, but between the weight of her school bag, her laptop and textbooks weighing so heavily on whichever shoulder carries them that she has no choice but to give in and carry it two-handed, and the exhaustion that sits on her shoulders just as heavily, she often finds herself stumbling and dead on her feet by the time she reaches the apartment.
It’s a beautiful day, really, one of the last warm days before autumn gives way to winter’s icy grip, but her stomach twists with nerves and that sick, tired feeling that’s become something of a staple recently. She keeps her eyes down and counts each crack in the sidewalk to keep herself steady.
She had hoped, in those first few months of university, that she would feel more secure as time went on. Or at least that she would be sure of her plans. But instead, the dread has risen every day, any confidence she may have had chipping slowly away as the clock counts down to her inevitable graduation.
Her fingers stumble over her key when she unlocks the apartment’s door, and when she finally gets in, the door closing gently behind her, she starts to move toward her bedroom. It’s the weekend, and she probably has enough time to put off some work. A nap before dinner will do her good, and she wants nothing more than to change into a pair of sweatpants and faceplant.
Her mother is standing in the kitchen.
Fuyumi is nearly the same height as her mother, only a few centimeters taller, with the same small build and slim limbs. Their posture is the same as well, straight-backed and proud when left alone, then as small as they can the moment someone gets just a little too close. She remembers, distantly, hugging her mother’s knees, looking up at a face blurred by memory, and thinking here is someone big who never hurts, who will love her and protect her, no matter what happens.
Fuyumi can never explain how her mother always seems so small to her now.
Rei doesn’t look up when Fuyumi walks in, setting her bag on the couch and making her way carefully to stand beside the stove her mother stares at. The kettle is sitting on one of the burners, the heat still on, though all the water has boiled away.
Rei does not look at the burner, red hot, or the empty kettle. Her gaze is fixed, steady and unshifting, on her left hand, where a blistering burn is rising, red and angry against her porcelain skin. Fuyumi reaches slowly past her mother to turn off the burner, then shifts to the sink to run cool water. There is no way to know how long her mother has been standing here, lost in memories and years-old terror, but the water won’t hurt either way, and if she’s grounded enough, Fuyumi may be able to convince her to lay down before Shouto and Natsuo get home.
Rei makes a pained little noise when Fuyumi guides her hand under the water, but otherwise makes no protest, and leaves it there while Fuyumi gets the first aid kit and moves aside the tea her mother must have been making.
“Mom?” She guides Rei’s hand back out from under the water again, patting it dry as gently as she can. “Are you with me?”
Rei makes a vague noise, wincing as Fuyumi pushes just a little too hard with the towel.
“Sorry.” She turns back to the kit. The burn cream is on top, which is strange, because Fuyumi can’t remember the last time one of her brothers burned himself. Maybe the kit had just been shaken up. She unscrews the cap, wincing at the too-familiar smell.
“Can you count with me, Mom?” She squirts a little of the cream onto her finger and emphasizes the number when she starts her count. “ One .”
Rei is silent, looking vaguely confused. Fuyumi rubs the cream on the burn.
“ One ,” Fuyumi repeats again, then pauses, waiting.
“...two,” Rei says finally, uncertain.
“Good.” She keeps her tone light. “Three…”
“Four…”
They’re almost out of bandages, she realizes, wrapping her mother’s hand and gently as she can. She’ll have to get some more next time she goes shopping. “Five.”
“Six.” Rei sounds a bit more present now, though her eyes are still fogged. Fuyumi wonders what she’s seeing.
“Seven.” Fuyumi finishes wrapping the burn and keeps her grip on her mother’s hand for a moment. She’s been getting worse lately, and Fuyumi isn’t sure which of them needs the comfort more.
“Eight,” Rei says, and she takes a deep breath. She looks tired, blinking slowly at her daughter.
“Nine.” She glances quickly at the clock. Shouto and Midoriya will be home any minute, and Natsuo will be here soon after.
“Ten.”
They count together for a few minutes more, each second seeming to drag on in the face of Fuyumi’s increasing urgency. Finally, Rei seems to be grounded enough for Fuyumi to ask, “Do you want to lie down for a minute, mom?”
Rei blinks at her, then nods slowly. “What time is it? Shouto…”
“It’s after three, Mom. I’ll handle Shouto and Natsuo, don’t worry about them.”
“Oh…” Rei looks disoriented, like she knows she should be doing something else, but she can’t remember what. “Was I… making tea?”
Fuyumi nods. “You burned yourself on the kettle. We bandaged it, see?”
Her mother blinks, then stares at the injury for a moment. “I… I burned myself?”
“Mm-hm.” She packs away the burn cream, then the few bandages they have left. On a whim, she puts the burn cream at the bottom of the case. It’s very likely she’s worried over nothing, but… something feels off. “But you’re alright now, Mom. Would you like to lay down? I'll bring you some tea.”
Rei hesitates for a moment, and then. “Yes. Yes, thank you, Fuyumi. I’ll just…”
Her mother wanders slowly back to her bedroom, the door closing behind her.
She’s just refilling the kettle when Shouto and Midoriya come in. Neither of them gives her a second glance- Shouto smiles in his vague, distracted way, and Midoriya says “Good afternoon, Todoroki!”- so she must not look as harried as she feels.
She turns the kettle off when it starts to whistle and pours the water for her mother’s tea. She checks to make sure that Shouto and Midoriya are out of sight, then leans on the counter, head in her hands.
She’s dizzy, a bit, and she digs the heels of her palms into her eyes, watching the patterns it makes until the spell goes away.
She waits until the tea has shifted from hot to warm, then carries it to her mother’s bedside, setting it quietly on the end table. Rei does not stir.
She’s not sure how long she stands there, hovering over where her mother sleeps and trying not to think. She only blinks back to herself when she hears the front door slam- Natsuo is home, then.
She slips out of the room, nearly running into Natsuo as she does. He edges past her quickly, then disappears into his room. She almost follows. Something seems off with everyone today, but Natsuo especially.
Instead, she goes back to the kitchen. Someone has to get dinner started.