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Todoroki Fuyumi didn’t get out much, and she was hoping it didn’t show too obviously.
If it hadn’t damaged all of them so deeply, she would find it fascinating how broadly she and her siblings had been affected by their upbringing. Natsuo, very literally repulsed by it all, tended to keep a physical distance, despite being more than open about his feelings. Technically, Shouto was always physically close to them, even more now that their father had stopped enforcing their isolation from each other. But he was quiet, and emotionally withdrawn.
And Touya...she didn’t know whether she was ready to think about Touya yet.
As for Fuyumi, she was painfully aware of what a late start she had in figuring herself out. Her career she was proud of, but while she had studied the ins and outs of psychology and social interaction, that hadn’t equated to close relationships with others. Nor did it mean she considered herself good at parsing through and expressing her own feelings; the latter in particular had never exactly been encouraged in their household.
As such, Usagiyama Rumi was a considerable step out of her comfort zone.
Truthfully, she’d toyed with the idea of going somewhere in Tokyo for their first date, to better suit the exciting tastes that Miruko was rumored to have. But she had easily agreed to Fuyumi’s preferences for something local — something familiar. So it was here on one of the main streets of Musutafu that she caught sight of the hero, waiting on the corner.
A trio of fans had already recognized Miruko in casual clothing and eagerly requested autographs. She’d found Miruko in the midst of indulging them, so she slowed her pace, to wait until they were all done. However, noticing her approach out of the corner of her eye, Miruko jumped, breaking into a grin, and finished signing her name in the proffered notebooks as quickly as she could. Fuyumi wasn’t close enough to hear, but it sounded like she then darted away from them without much of a goodbye.
She would have given the startled and indignant fans an apologetic look, at the very least. But Miruko was there in front of her, having closed the distance down the sidewalk blindingly fast, and all of a sudden she filled Fuyumi’s vision.
“Fuyumi-chan!”
She had addressed Fuyumi so familiarly from their very first meeting, and it still made Fuyumi’s heart leap to hear it. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Miruko-san.”
Fuyumi didn’t find anything strange about the way she chose to speak; her father made it clear he identified with his hero name far more than his given name, and Shouto’s given name and hero name were one and the same. Endeavor had never been eager to let his unimportant children interact with anyone from the hero world, so she didn’t know for sure, but simply assumed that that was how heroes preferred their naming conventions, that it was typical and, more importantly, polite, to address Miruko this way.
But Miruko was laughing. “Oh, darling. Go ahead and call me Rumi, I don’t mind.”
“O-Okay, Rumi-san—”
“Rumi,” she insisted, and before Fuyumi had the chance to recover from that bit of unexpected intimacy, Miruko had given her a quick kiss on the forehead. “So! I’m up for anything, we’ve got the whole day. Was there anything you had in mind?”
“Umm...”
It took Fuyumi’s brain a long moment to move focus to that from the way that Miruko — Rumi — was holding her hand.
“There’s a park in the western side of the city. It’s not the biggest, but it has a lovely garden. Its spring flowers are very beautiful.”
She didn’t know why she immediately expected rejection. But she found herself surprised when Rumi’s face lit up instead. “Sounds great! Lead the way, Fuyumi-chan.”
“Sure, we just need to keep heading this way...”
It was Fuyumi’s favorite time of year: that moment in early spring when the final winds of winter had already blown and gone, and for the first time they could shed heavy coats and feel the sun warming their skins. Suddenly the streets were full again, and there was a lighter and freer feeling in the air, as if the whole world were coming back to life again.
“Yeah, I get what you mean,” Rumi said when Fuyumi tentatively voiced this thought. “My senses are a good bit sharper than the average person’s — the whole rabbit thing, you know? — and there’s even a different scent in the air? Like, something sweet? Do you ever catch that?”
“Huh?” Fuyumi lifted her nose towards the headwind, trying to get an idea of what Rumi was experiencing. “Maybe, but I think I might just be starting to smell the flowers.”
“You know,” Rumi began as they stepped from the sidewalk to the dirt pathway of the park. “I used to get hay fever all spring and summer when I was a little kid. I’m so glad I grew out of it!”
“Yeah, I can’t imagine not being able to look forward to this season.” With all the time she’d spent in her family home, the coming of warm weather and the sight of a beautiful earth had always been something that made her feel hopeful. “I’m not sure if it’s the exact right word, but I’ve always thought it’s a little ironic that my favorite season is spring when it’s ‘winter’ that’s in my name. I only noticed it when my brother Natsuo said he hated summer.”
Fuyumi wondered whether it was just anxiety talking, but Rumi’s laugh at that seemed half-hearted, and she thought she could see a spark of curiosity in her eyes. Or was it concern? “Hey, Fuyumi-chan? How many brothers do you have?”
All these years, and she still choked on the reflexive answer of three. She managed the rest clearly enough, and hoped that Rumi didn’t notice the slip: “Just two. Natsuo and Shouto, they’re both younger. I’m the oldest.”
“That must be nice! I’m an only child, and you know what they say: onlies are lonely.” Rumi might have said something more, but something else caught her attention, and her ears twitched towards it. “Fuyumi-chan! Look, the flower garden’s right over there!”
“Huh?” Fuyumi followed her gaze, and her eyes landed on a large, bright spot of pink and white. “Oh! How beautiful!”
Rumi’s hand squeezed hers tighter, as she picked up the pace. “Come on, Fuyumi-chan!”
Fuyumi had seen on TV how fast Rumi could actually move if she wanted to, and knew that she was slowing herself down considerably for her sake. She appreciated that, and didn't mind at all being led along like this. The novelty of Rumi’s hand still hadn’t worn off on her — its affectionate warmth, a strong grip that conveyed security and safety instead of control and contempt — and far more quickly than she had expected, she was caught up in the beauty of the moment.
The garden seemed to Fuyumi to be bigger and more beautiful than it ever had been before. For her part, Rumi was much more invested in the whole thing than Fuyumi realized she would be, having assumed that her own idea of entertainment would be dull at best, especially to someone who lived as exciting a life as Rumi did.
The hero was as happy as...well, as a rabbit in a field. The sweet scents were what she commented on the most, her sharp nose able to discern the subtle differences between the ones each blossom emitted. She adored the rich colors of the flowers — her favorites were the rainbow of chrysanthemums and the startlingly red crop of tulips — but didn’t have much specific knowledge of names or terms, which turned out to be where Fuyumi came in.
She’d had a phase in middle school of reading books on the subject, thinking then that she might go into botany or gardening. To her surprise, she was able to remember enough to answer most of Rumi’s questions about the plants that drew their eyes: what their names were, where and when they were usually found blooming, what they needed to flourish. Of course Fuyumi was, if not used to, then familiar with a look of interest in the eyes; her students did not always love her, but she was sure they never found her lectures boring.
But the gleam in Rumi’s crimson eyes was far different. It was deeper, brighter, and tinged heavily with affection. She was eager to hear Fuyumi’s voice, Fuyumi realized with a small start, and fully interested in what she had to say: about the myriad patterns of the dahlias, the delicately deepening shades of the lotuses, and the meanings behind each different color of rose. It made her feel warm from the inside out, and strangely lighter on her feet, too.
At the end of the garden was a small rest area with gift and food stands. Rumi insisted on treating her, so Fuyumi examined the bulletin board by the entrance, hoping to glean some ideas for their next date if all went well, until she came back with strawberry crepes.
“Come on,” she said, inclining her head. “Let’s find a spot.”
The path that led further into the park was not part of the garden proper, but it was lined with sakura trees in new bloom. Their pink petals blew in the air and scattered on the cobblestones and grass around them. It struck Fuyumi that the sky she saw through their branches was just as perfect, soft and cloudless blue.
They found a bench in a comparatively quiet spot where they could eat. Fuyumi caught herself digging into the snack with more vigor than she’d meant: both the strawberries and vanilla ice cream were wonderfully fresh and sweet.
Noticing, Rumi smiled. “Like it? I’m vegetarian, so I’ve always liked snacks with fruit the best.”
“It’s one of the best I’ve ever had,” Fuyumi said honestly, though she couldn’t tell whether it was strictly the taste or the sight of Rumi’s smile that made her feel so good. “I’ve been cooking for my brothers and father for so long, I don’t usually think to get treats like this for myself!”
She’d meant it as a good thing, and was surprised to see Rumi’s face fall.
“...You don’t get out much, do you, Fuyumi-chan?”
Fuyumi tensed, not sure what to say. So it really was that obvious.
“I don’t mean it as an insult or anything!” Rumi quickly clarified. “Of course not, it’s just...I figured I shouldn’t bring up your family again. It seemed like a sore subject.”
“...Oh. It’s not...sore, exactly, it’s just...” Fuyumi sighed. “Complicated.”
“Yeah. No offense, but I’ve worked with your old man before. He’s...a lot, isn’t he?”
That was one way to explain the knot that twisted Fuyumi’s stomach, every time she thought of her father in and of himself. “Yes.”
“Well, I won’t pry. But I want you to know that whatever your home situation is like, you can talk to me about it whenever. I won’t judge or anything. I should — I want to be somebody you’re safe with. That you don’t have to worry about anything with, if you’ll have me...”
She trailed off when she noticed Fuyumi break into a smile even brighter than before.
“Of course I’ll have you, Rumi. Just spending today with you is the happiest I’ve been in a long time!”
“So...you’d want to do it again?”
Fuyumi was surprised to hear her sound uncertain. “Absolutely! As soon as we can.”
“Awesome! In that case, I’ve got something you could wear then...” Rumi dug into her pocket and pulled out a flower-shaped hair clip, painted in shiny pink, white, and yellow. “I remembered what you said about the lotus back there. How it represents goodness coming from difficult ground. So I bought this too while I was getting the food. I know it’s not that big a surprise, but — oh!”
Fuyumi accepted the clip from Rumi’s hand at the same time she kissed her cheek, soft and quick. Right away, she fixed it into her hair and tilted her head quizzically.
“I think it’s lovely. What do you think?”
There it was again: that gleam in Rumi’s eyes. “I think you’re beautiful, Fuyumi-chan.”