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Risa was locked into her own world again. Separate and much like a ghost herself, she floated around the house like a dead thing. And her brother, Ritsu, had no idea what to do. It had only been a week, their mama said, so he had to give her time. Time was bullshit and stupid; he wanted her bright smiles back, that gentleness he could only associate with his twin. He never thought he’d say it, but he missed that gullible, innocent light—now it was diminished, gone.
And…And she was being stupid!
The little boy’s face grew flushed the more he thought—sulked, though he’d really never admit to that—about what happened. Risa’s door remained firmly closed and the girl rarely showed her face when she was home, but the few times she did…
She looked so lost.
“Risa?” a small voice asked, green eyes blinking in confusion as the little girl abruptly froze in the center of the room.
Ritsu closed his eyes and tightly clenched the dining table in a painful, white-knuckled grip.
One of her frail hands caught on the edge of a ruined wall. Suddenly sickly pale, a ghastly rattling nose in the back of her throat. Old motes of dust floated between them and caught the sun in brief glimmers of illumination. Like a warning of what was there.
He should have known. Risa hadn’t even wanted to go there, but he pushed her. Called her a crybaby because what kind of big kid was scared of the dark? He was older than her, not by a lot, but still, he should have known better. What kind of big brother bullied his sister into an obviously haunted ruined house? With her quirk being what it was?
“No. No. Get away!”
Those words were stuck in his head, playing over and over again. She was scared. Risa was scared. “I should be the one protecting you, you idiot,” he mumbled, finally opening his eyes to the cheerfully bright kitchen. “It’s not supposed to be the other way ‘round.”
The little boy groaned, burying his head in his arms, his voice garbled and unclear as he cursed his sister. And himself for being so stupid.
“Ritsu!”
He jumped. “Y-Yes, mama?” She didn’t hear him, did she? He wasn’t supposed to be saying those words.
The white-haired woman entered the kitchen and blinked before narrowing her eyes at her shuffling-in-place son who looked decidedly guilty about something. “Just wanted to let you know your friend, Midoriya, is here.”
“Ah! Thank you, mama!”
Before Ritsu could run, she grabbed onto his shoulder without a word, and he gulped. “Ritsu,” she started before falling silent, searching his face. He blinked up at her with a tense, awkward smile. One of his eyes starts twitching uncontrollably. Finally, she sighed and let him go. “Nothing. You go have fun.”
Ritsu was already running away before she finished, maneuvering rapidly past his papa in the hallway. Before he got far, he heard a soft—amused—“Letting him off for that, Charlotte?” and an answering scoff from his mama.
He shook himself from the mortification of being caught cursing when he reached the front door. Midoriya Izuku nervously fidgeted with a vivid pink cast on his left arm, shuffling in place and mumbling under his breath.
“Hey, Izuku.”
The green-haired boy grinned. “Ritsu!”
It was silent. Ritsu didn’t know what to say now. “Um, how are you?” he tried weakly and cringed.
“I’m fine! How is Risa doing? How are you doing?” he asked quickly, his uninjured hand clutched in front of him.
“’m fine. Risa is…”
Always apologizing to him with a plate of baked goods even though he was the one who needed to apologize.
Izuku nodded as though he heard what Ritsu couldn’t quite say. Suddenly his eyes widened, and he turned around to rummage in his book bag.
“What are you doin’?”
The freckled boy didn’t answer but instead pulled out a DVD and raised it in the air like he struck gold. His smile when he finally faced Ritsu was like looking straight at the sun, excitement trembling through his hands.
He held it out, again, proudly. This time Ritsu was able to read the title. The Incredibles, some animated movie about superheroes before quirks, and he smiled half-heartedly while his friend bounced in place. Typically, he would have made a joke but…the last time he made a joke it hurt someone. It hurt his sister because it wasn’t really a joke, was it? He realized—nearly violently—that some biting remark about the boy being quirkless and his obsession with heroes was already on his tongue.
That wasn’t…fair, right? It wasn’t so he shouldn’t say it. A joke? It wasn’t a joke, he realized, not a joke at all.
Slowly, he sounded out his words, afraid they’d come out wrong, “You were able to find it?”
“Yeah! Mom was able to! Do…Do you want to watch it with me?” Abruptly, Izuku continued before the other boy could respond, “You don’t have to, though! I just thought it’d be nice for all of us to watch together. Well, just the two of us since Risa isn’t feeling well which is perfectly fine even though it wasn’t her fault or anything. N-Not that it was your fault! I mean—”
Ritsu turned around and left the boy scrambling to follow him, fading into mumbles nearly no one could understand.
He froze after a few steps. Risa’s door was open.
A frail brunette girl peered around the door.
Her eyes were dead, pale white, her lips pulled back into a painfully stretched grin as she brought back the board and—
Ritsu shuddered, swallowing back that guilt. It burned in his chest; he made his sister experience that again, worse than usual, because he didn’t see the fear in her eyes as it really was. When she woke up at home afterward, she cried harder than he’d ever seen as papa rocked her side-to-side.
Izuku saw her next. “Risa! We were going to—”
“I’m so sorry!” Risa interrupted uncharacteristically, bowing deeply in front of Izuku with her hands clutching her sundress. Her shoulders trembled and, even though her hair was obscuring her face, Ritsu just knew she had them closed tightly so she wouldn’t cry in front of them.
The smaller, freckled boy held up a hand and tried to shake his head firmly. It only looked like a puppy rapidly shaking his fur. “You didn’t do anything.”
“But my quirk—”
Izuku’s eyes seemed to burn from the sunlight entering through the window. “Not you. Your quirk doesn’t mean you’re bad. Remember? You warned us! You’re a hero, Risa.”
Her eyes shone with unshed tears and her mouth quivered.
“Yeah! So, you shouldn’t be feeling so bad,” Ritsu cut in, shoving gently against the shorter Izuku to push him aside. He wanted to say more—you’re braver than I am, It’s not your fault, I’m sorry—but it felt like his throat was closing up at those words, his body rejecting them before they were even real.
Maybe he’d say them another day?
Izuku nervously rubbed the back of his head, that same bright, confident smile never slipping. “We were going to watch a pre-quirk movie. Do you want to join us?”
“I…” she hesitated briefly, familiar blue eyes flickering to her bedroom door like a skittish animal. Finally, she clenched her jaw and breathed out. “Yes. I-I would like that.” She didn’t look fully sure and like she would bolt at any second, but it was a start.
Ritsu grinned and forced that small ball of anxiety rattling around in his chest to settle. He had his sister back; his mission to see her smile again was just starting. As they gathered in the living room, Risa whispered as she passed him, “It wasn’t your fault either.”
“Idiot,” he mumbled back, voice breaking in odd places. If either one saw him swiping at his eyes roughly, they never said anything.
