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Emerald trees flashed past blacked-out limousine windows. The motor roared barely any louder than a whisper – a stark contrast to the way the train Inko took to work screeched against the train tracks. She itched for her phone that had been stowed away safely by the production team. Of course, she trusted Mitsuki to look after Izuku and all – it was just that not being available for her son at every waking moment left Inko with a tingling in her chest.
Drawing circles on the backs of her palm, Inko grounded herself in the knowledge that while on the set of the Bachelor that she would still be able to write Izuku letters regardless of the strict policy on not bringing any technology.
Biting her lower lip, Inko readjusted her maxi skirt so that the fabric did not bunch as firmly around her hips. With a sigh, Inko shut her eyes and tried to tune out the images of sequined gowns flashing through her mind.
With a frown, Inko prodded at the fat bulging ever so slightly beneath the waistband of her skirt. As she hid her curves underneath a loose blouse, Inko couldn’t help but think of how the other contestants on the Bachelor were younger, prettier, skinnier.
Sinking against the backseat, Inko dragged a hand across her face. How was a middle-aged housewife supposed to compete? Though she supposed that chasing after someone’s heart wasn’t a competition per se – regardless of all the catfights producers instigated at the edge of a pool. Sometimes people were on the same wavelength. Other times not so much. It was sort of impossible to control when you… just clicked.
Inko fidgeted with her ring finger, running her palms along the spot where a silver band used to rest. Emptiness swirled inside her chest as she hopelessly reached out for the memory of what it felt like to click with someone. But all the butterflies in Inko’s chest had flown away with a plane jet set for America the second Izuku’s diagnosis had come back.
Trying to steady her breathing, Inko pulled a hair tie off her wrist. She let the hair tie fall before pulling it back with her quirk just before it hit the ground. The cinching in her chest subsided with the repetitive motion.
As she listened to the hum of the limousine’s air conditioner, Inko couldn’t help but wonder whether Izuku had encouraged her to go on the Bachelor when she had gotten the offer to appear on the show. Inko picked at the skin between her knuckles.
Her dear boy didn’t need to buckle beneath the weight of guilt that wasn’t his to bear. Hisashi’s love had been hollow. It didn’t matter how many of Inko’s favorite flowers he had left in Inko’s office. It didn’t matter how he had pressed kisses on Inko’s forehead, telling her she was his whole world.
But all it had taken was a single x-ray scan from the doctor’s office for Hisashi to run away to the cheapest airline and leave nothing but divorce papers behind in what had once been their shared apartment. And honestly, Inko was glad Hisashi had shown his true colors. Besides, he at least paid his child support payments. Not that the bare minimum was worthy of immense praise.
Inko stared at the smudged eyeliner in her reflection in the mirror. She couldn’t even remember when the last time she had worn a full face of makeup had been. Her pores felt almost like they were suffocating beneath the thick layer of makeup intended to smooth out Inko’s wrinkles even a little bit.
She could still picture the waterworks pouring from Izuku’s eyes as he asked her to give love a chance again – regardless of how much of a longshot a reality TV show seemed. Because regardless of the odds and drama, sometimes the lovestruck glances on the Bachelor were undeniable. And well she’d already let her son down once by telling him to be more realistic about his career aspirations. So at least Inko could try and make a concerted effort so she wouldn’t disappoint Izuku when it came to his request that Inko pursue her own happiness.
At last, the wheels rolled to a halt. As the door of the limousine opened, one of Inko’s shoes caught on her skirt, sending her toppling toward the ground. Flushing red with embarrassment, Inko could already picture how her kneecaps would swell red once she hit the ground. But just in the knick of time a wiry arm halted her fall.
With stars in her eyes, Inko stared at the sort of dazzling bubbles she had only ever seen on billboards or the back of one of the pro-hero-themed laundry detergent boxes she’d bought a couple of years ago when it was on sale.
When the agent who’d recruited Inko had inferred that the Bachelor this season would be someone special, Inko had not expected the figure standing in front of her. Sunlight refracted off a glossy exterior. Bright wide eyes flashed back at her.
Inko’s jaw fell agape at the sight of the top ten hero. He wasn’t Izuku’s favorite hero by any means. (After all, who could possibly surpass All Might in Izuku’s eyes?) But it was certainly a hero Izuku had seen enough times on television screens to fill an entire page of his notebook.
Heat flushing to her face, Inko stumbled to her feet and brushed the wrinkles out of her skirt. “I would’ve worn something fancier if I had known I’d be meeting a pro hero.”
“Not at all. You look great as is.” Bubbles formed around his eyes, glistening like marbles. As Wash leaned over to kiss the back of Inko’s hand, Inko flushed bright red. If memory served, even her ex hadn’t been this gentlemanly. Maybe chivalry wasn’t dead after all.
Wash let out a satisfied hum as he briefly brushed a fingertip along the fabric of Inko’s skirt. “A gentle detergent and fabric softener? Color me impressed.”
“It’s hardly anything novel. I just want my clothes to be comfortable and last.”
“Well, I am charmed either way.”
While Wash beamed in Inko’s direction before turning to face the limousine for the next arrival, Inko tried to search for the fluttering in her chest. But her heartbeat was as steady as ever. Or maybe it had just been so long that she didn’t know how to tell if there were butterflies in her stomach anymore.
Maybe Wash didn’t make Inko’s heart race the way the only guy she’d ever hated did. But with the way a bright smile flashed across his face, Inko figured he’d be nice to be around. Looking over her shoulder, Inko noted how the lid above Wash’s head bobbed up and down with every step. He seemed kind. Like someone who’d be good to fall in love with.
Clenching her fists with determination, Inko made her way down the walkway toward the mansion. Sooner or later her heart would get the memo. Honestly, it had to unless Inko wanted to remain forever alone. (And no thanks, Inko wasn’t interested in becoming some sort of spinster cat lady once Izuku moved out.)
As Inko reached the end of the walkway, a new limousine rolled in and Inko caught a glimpse of the next contestant. Brilliant blue eyes flickered in the sunlight and were only outshone by a confident smile. Even when wearing a tailored pantsuit rather than a bustier, Midnight was unmistakable.
A stone dropped in Inko’s gut as she stared at deep purple hair shining beneath the evening sun. Finding love on the Bachelor was likely out of the question with the newest turn of events. How was she supposed to compete with crystal blue eyes flashing behind red-rimmed glasses?
Swallowing hard, Inko decided that she could count her lucky stars if she wasn’t sent home the first night.
A couple dozen women anxiously clustered by the poolside patio. Nestled on one of the stools by a bar counter devoid of a bartender, Inko tried to close her eyes and drown out the chatter. The crisp contour lines on other women’s faces only reminded Inko of how subpar her makeup skills were. And gray hair and wrinkles didn’t weave their way through the rest of the crowd. Only Inko.
Biting on her lip, Inko picked at the skin surrounding her nail beds. Everyone was supposed to have a few minutes to talk with Wash. Some pretty new reporter with blue skin and lavender hair had been conversing with Wash for the past thirty minutes. Kizuki Chitose had made a career of asking hard-hitting questions; no wonder she could hold the attention of a top hero with ease.
So with the route the night had taken a lot of the contestants likely weren’t going to get any one-on-one time with Wash before the rose ceremony on the first night. And Inko was probably in the same boat.
Inko dragged her hands across her face. She was just too ordinary. A plain Jane with a quirk to match. (Yes, Inko was well aware that technically her quirk was more versatile thanks to the detailed presentation Izuku had given her at the kitchen table. But just because eyeballs technically counted as a small object that she could attract did not mean that she wanted to use her quirk like that.) Plus ultra hadn’t ever really been Inko’s motto.
Sure, she did the best with what she was given. She sewed Izuku’s Halloween costumes when official All Might was out of her budget. But Inko wasn’t trying to reinvent the wheel.
A tall figure settled down beside Inko on a barstool. Inko inhaled deeply as she stared at dark hair falling down Midnight’s back like a waterfall. Adrenaline briefly coursed through Inko’s veins as she recalled how Midnight’s debut hero costume had consisted of little more than leather straps.
Turning away from Midnight, Inko hoped that the dirty thoughts on her mind didn’t read plainly on her face. But regardless, Midnight was most definitely the type of person to reinvent the wheel. After all, hero costume policies had been changed because of her.
Besides, who would understand Wash better than a fellow pro hero?
Worse yet, Midnight wasn’t even the only hero. Inko’s gaze drifted toward Uwabami sitting by the edge of the pool. Snakes protruded from blonde beach waves cascading around her shoulders. Inko numbly reached toward her own hair, wishing that it had just a little more dimension or volume – after all, Izuku most definitely had not inherited his curls from Inko.
With the presence of nearby heroes weighing down on her, Inko’s cheeks stretched into a smile – plastered like All Might’s. She bit on the inside of her mouth, hoping that would keep the waterworks at bay. Because she’d known that finding love on the Bachelor was a longshot from the get-go.
There was no fathomable reason to act all surprised.
And if for nothing else at least Inko had at least gotten to ride in a car that cost more than she made in a year.
A perfectly manicured red nail tapped against Inko’s shoulder. “Nervous?”
Inko swallowed hard. “Is it that obvious?”
“Yeah. You look like you’re worried everyone here is going to pounce on you,” Midnight chuckled. “Don’t worry. I don’t bite.”
“And I’m supposed to take your word for it?”
“Well, I’d tank in the hero popularity polls if I did something like bite someone out of the blue.”
Midnight shrugged, earning a laugh from Inko. There were always rumors that celebrities weren’t nearly as nice behind the scenes as they were in public. But Midnight’s warm smile made the tension in Inko’s shoulders subside.
Glancing at how Uwabami flipped her hair over her shoulder, Inko bit on her lip. She’d never spent much time watching reality TV but she suspected that most seasons of the Bachelor didn’t feature multiple pro heroes. Inko hesitated to open her mouth as she faced Midnight with a burning question lying on her tongue.
But well, it wasn’t like Inko had anything to lose.
“Why are there so many heroes here? Is it a publicity stunt?”
“For some. But I think it’s mostly because it’s hard to date as a hero. Hard to be seen as a person rather than a pillar. Having a controlled environment like this helps a little.”
Inko slowly nodded in hopes that the weight of Midnight’s statement would grow just a little bit lighter. As Midnight stepped behind the bar counter to pour scotch into a shot glass, Inko took in how Midnight’s hand wobbled ever so slightly. Imperfect and human. Because for all the glamor surrounding her, Midnight was just as much a person as anyone else.
Midnight adjusted her glasses and that’s when it hit Inko that the mask the hero wore for her costume might have built-in lenses. Or did Midnight wear contacts while fighting heroes? Not that Inko was obsessed with Midnight’s eyes or anything. Her eyes were just such a startling blue that Inko just couldn’t get her mind off of them.
As Midnight slid a second shot glass in Inko’s direction, she froze. Looking at the scotch shining in the glass like molten amber, memories flooded into Inko’s mind. She could still smell the scotch lingering on her ex’s breath as he hurled a million insults her way. For being weak. For being why Izuku didn’t have a quirk.
Inko dug her nails into her palms at the memory. He just didn’t understand. Quirk or no quirk, nothing else could match the way Izuku’s eyes shone when he talked about heroes. All the wedding vows and promises of forever were as empty as Inko’s bank account had been way too often over the past decade.
Midnight grabbed the shot glass and set it aside. “Sorry, I should have asked. How’s a water?”
“Yeah. Uh… water’s good.”
Accepting a glass of water from Midnight, Inko let a long wistful gulp wash the knots in her stomach away before she spoke up again. “Funny that the mother of a hero fan is surrounded by heroes on the Bachelor.”
“Your kid is a hero fan? I take it that your kid has some particular merchandise for me?”
“No! I’m certain he doesn’t,” Inko blurted out. “Not because you aren’t gorgeous or anything. Just objectification and all that doesn’t seem like him at all.”
“Hmm. I don’t know. Trust me, boys have a talent for hiding naughty magazines and posters from their parents.”
“No – it’s more that my Izuku just really loves heroes. He writes about heroes’ quirks in his notebook. Analyzes their strengths and weaknesses.”
Whistling, Midnight batted her eyelashes. “Oh, then do you know what my weakness is? Pray tell.”
“I think he wrote something about how opponents with enhanced lung capacity or brute force are your biggest weaknesses.”
“Wow, smart kid.”
“He really is.” Inko grinned. “And you’re lucky that the page on you is the one I happened to remember.”
“I doubt it’s just luck, darling. I’m simply that memorable.” Midnight swallowed her scotch in one gulp. “Well, I hope you manage to stick around for a while.”
Before Inko could respond one of the crew members called out that it was time for the first rose ceremony. No more one-on-one talks with Wash. Or anyone else.
Shit, time was out. Part of Inko wanted to reach out to grab Midnight’s wrist and ask her to stay at the bar counter a little bit longer. Instead, she found herself gravitating toward the foyer along with everyone else.
As she lined up beside other contestants, for whatever reason Inko wasn’t as bothered as she had expected she’d be over not getting as much one on one time with Wash as everyone else. Rather she wished that she could put her conversation with Midnight in a bottle and preserve it forever. Midnight’s gaze had been so attentive as she ran her nails along the rim of her shot glass and listened to Inko. And heaven knows when the last time was that anyone other than Izuku and Mitsuki looked at her like she was anything other than a divorcee past her prime. If she even had a prime to begin with that is.
Inko’s stomach sank as Wash stepped into the room and plucked the first rose off the tray, calling out Kitsuki’s name. While wiry arms handed out roses, Inko didn’t even register the names being called. What was the point of paying full attention when the odds of her name being called were next to zero? But at least Inko would be able to say she tried.
When Midnight received a rose, Inko managed a weak smile. At least, she’d still have a chance to pursue the sort of romance rarely had the time for. She could picture Wash’s stomach going on high-spin just from Midnight’s presence alone. Shutting her eyelids, Inko imagined Wash’s bubbles glowing brighter to compliment Midnight’s eyes. Perhaps they’d have endless conversations about how both Midnight’s mist and Wash’s bubbles were airborne. Their quirks complimented each other better than Inko’s could in a million years.
But just as Wash clasped the final rose and said Inko’s name, her world was suddenly spinning. Had she misheard? Yet, as Wash placed a flower in Inko’s hand any chance to deny the reality before her faded away. Maybe he was giving the rose to her out of pity. Still, Inko found herself clutching onto the rose like it was an anchor.
Grinning in Inko’s direction, Midnight mouthed you go, girl. Inko stared at the rose in her palm and noticed how the petals were the same shade as the frames of Midnight’s glasses. A sudden fluttering filled Inko’s stomach. Maybe those were the latent butterflies for Wash that she had been waiting for.
The doorbell echoed through the house as Uwabami raced to the door with her stiletto heels. How she could walk that fast in heels was beyond Inko, but she supposed she was impressed nonetheless. As Uwabami cradled a piece of paper that certainly had information about a date, Midnight winked at Inko from the opposite side of the living as if to say maybe it’s you.
Inko shook her head fervently, earning a chuckle from Midnight.
But as Uwabami pulled the letter open calling out a name Inko didn’t recognize a tall woman with fox-like features stepped forward. As Ippan Josei prodded the letter with her grayish ears anxiously curled over her blonde hair, Inko wondered whether her own anxiety was just as blatant.
Still, disappointment curled in Inko’s gut like a snake rearing its ugly head. While Ippan headed upstairs to prepare for her one-on-one date, Inko absent-mindedly made a beeline for the couch. She let all the chatter around her fade to static and picked up a coaster lying on the coffee table. Breathe in. Breathe out. Her nerves steadied as she let the pull of her quirk move the coaster back and forth between her palms.
“No, wonder you’re so attract -ive with a quirk like that.”
Looking over her shoulder, Inko blinked back at Midnight in shock. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard such a cheesy pick-up line. Not that she thought Midnight was trying to hit on her – that’d be ridiculous because Inko wasn’t much to look at. Besides, Inko had no idea if Midnight was even into women. And with how Midnight’s marketing generally appealed to a male demographic first and foremost she was probably straight, right?
Even by the time Midnight settled down on the couch next to Inko, her eyes were still as wide as saucers.
“What? It was too good an opportunity to miss, darling,” Midnight chuckled. “Also, I think I might have been spending too much time around my friend Hizashi and I think he’s rubbing off on me.”
The coaster abruptly fell onto the floor and as Inko watched spin before lying flat against the ground her ex-husband’s name kept rotating in her mind. No matter how much she tried to bury the memory of him – forget the dozens of teardrops she’d left on the divorce papers – he was everywhere. Inko really wished that she had gotten together with someone who had a less common name.
Staring at her loafers that were a far cry from the dark pumps Midnight had on, it dawned on Inko how she and Midnight were a world apart. Inko knew exactly what she looked like – that’s why she always insisted on being the one to take group photos. Because why would someone as plain as her want to ruin a group photo by being in it?
“You were kidding about the attractive part though, right? Because heaven knows I’m not attractive.”
Furrowing her brows, Midnight blinked back at her. “But you are attractive.”
“Yeah, right.” Inko gestured toward her wrinkles. “I have eyes. I know I’m old.”
“Oh please, you don’t look a day over thirty-five.”
“You don’t need to flatter me.” Inko rolled her eyes. “I know I look my age.”
“So what if you do?” As Midnight leaned in closer toward Inko, she noticed how Midnight’s hair smelled of lavender shampoo. “I think you’re beautiful. You look like someone who’s lived a lot of life. Wiser because of your experiences. And I for one find that attractive.”
Blushing, Inko brushed a strand of green hair behind her ear. “Well, my ex certainly didn’t think so. He’d mentioned that he could find someone prettier than me easily.”
“Then he’s delusional, darling,” Midnight said. “Because even in this room full of women gorgeous enough to be picked to be on TV, you’re the only one I have eyes for.”
“You’re probably the only one who thinks that of me."
“I sure hope not! Otherwise, dear old Wash will be doing himself a disservice.” Examining the expression on Inko’s face, Midnight frowned. “Your ex really did a number on you, huh?”
“I guess so. I mean he did hate me and my kid enough to run off to America to get away from us.” Inko processed what she had just said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to vent.”
“No, it’s perfectly okay! Spill your guts all you want. It isn’t like there’s much to do in the mansion anyways.” With a sigh, Midnight tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Your ex sounds like a real piece of work though. I’m glad the trash took itself out.”
“Yeah. Though I probably wouldn’t have phrased it like that myself.”
“That’s all the more proof that you’re a sweetheart. Truly, he didn’t deserve you.”
“Still, I think it says a lot about me to have ended up with someone like that.”
Shaking her head, Midnight swatted at the air. “Nonsense. Because in that case based on all the losers I dated I’d be a terrible person.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Well, one maxed out my credit card without telling me.”
“That’s awful!”
Midnight nodded. “Sure is. And what’s worse is that he tried to make excuses by saying that heroes make a lot of money. But just because I’m comfortable financially doesn’t mean I should be living beyond my means. Anyways, you live and learn.”
“I’m glad that you cut him off at least.”
“Me too.” Grinning at Inko, Midnight proceeded to hold out her hand. “Since we’ve vented about our exes and all that I think a formal introduction is love overdue. I’m Kamaya Nemuri.”
Kayama Nemuri. Inko found herself entranced by every syllable. Taking in Kayama’s confident demeanor and her relaxed smile, Inko entrenched herself in the reality that behind all the glitz and glamor of heroics, Kamaya was as much of a person as anyone else.
Smiling, Inko shook her hand. “Midoriya Inko.”
“Your name suits you.”
“Because it’s plain?”
Gasping, Kayama gently swatted at Inko’s arm. “Of course not, darling. I was just going to say what a beautiful name for a beautiful woman… And I suppose your green hair fits your name as well.”
Inko snorted as she twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “Yeah, I guess it is a little on the nose.”
Kayama stared at Inko’s eyes with awe as if she were admiring emeralds rather than a wallflower. “Doesn’t make your name any less pretty.”
Before Inko could protest, she spotted Ippan hurry toward the front door all while dressed in some freshly ironed slacks and a plaid button-down. Clutching the collar of her own shirt, Inko wondered what it would be like to be in Ippan’s place and sit across from Wash for a candlelit dinner. Would he smile at her like she was his whole world? Would the competition of the TV set fade away as Inko got caught up in his bright eyes?
That’s what Inko was supposed to want, right? Someone to fill the void Hisashi had left behind. To finally be rid of the pitying glances that trailed after her at the supermarket because her husband left her. After all, Izuku’s quirk status made him ostracized enough as it was – the last thing he needed was a mother who couldn’t quite fit the mold.
As Ippan stepped through the front door, Inko hoped that if she had a chance for one-on-one time with Wash her chest would feel as light as it did every time she talked with Kayama.
Jeans hugging her thighs, Inko wished she had worn different attire to the group date. To be fair Inko hadn’t quite managed to piece together what the “on a roll” pun was referring to when the group date invite had arrived at the mansion. Honestly, she was just honored that Wash had given her a chance to get to know him better by even inviting her at all. A perfect opportunity for Inko to confirm that he would be a good person to fall in love with.
Still, Inko found herself trembling as he strapped on the roller skates she’d been handed. Her stomach twisted as she recalled Izuku mentioning the roller blades were a thousand times more difficult to skate in than inline skates. Worse yet a bound of roller derby awaited in the rink.
A shudder went up Inko’s spine at the thought of elbows impacting her sides, sending her spiraling across the polished floor. Red-hot embarrassment crept across her cheeks at the thought of falling face-first. There was no way she’d receive a rose once Wash saw how humiliating it would be to be in Inko’s presence.
Tension tugged at Inko’s frame as she stumbled to her feet and tugged herself into the rink using the bars along the side of it. All the while she felt Wash’s gaze lingering on her jeans.
But it didn’t seem like he was ogling the way the fabric hugged her skin. His eyes seemed to be drilling into the fabric itself. Inko wondered whether he was trying to decipher what laundry products she’d used – however, he’d already found that out with ease the first time they had met.
Instead, Wash’s bubbles seemed to dim the longer he stared at the jeans. Inko couldn’t fathom why her jeans caused Wash’s face to droop. After all, she had followed the suggested washing and drying instructions. And they were just a pair of name-brand Best Jeanist jeans. Sure, the jeans had cost Inko a lot – but she thought it’d be cheaper to buy a couple of sturdier pairs that would last her much longer than cheaper ones.
Pulling her lips taunt, Inko took a few slow steps in the rink only to topple over almost instantly. The wheels on her skates still spun even when they disconnected from the floor. Inko bit down a yell as her kneecaps impacted the ground – she could already picture purple bruises on her kneecaps.
Still, Inko rose to her feet again. Because she was done being a quitter. She was done just giving up like she had when she’d apologized to Izuku rather than telling him that he could be a hero even without a quirk.
But as she kept stumbling and had a dozen of bruises by the time she hadn’t even progressed across an eight of the rink, Inko couldn’t find the resolve to stand up again. How would she be able to thrive in the roller derby bound if she couldn’t even skate properly?
If anything the group date was bound to make it perfectly clear to Wash that Inko was the wrong person to choose. She was too unathletic, too dull, too old to try something as new and adventurous as rollerblading.
Breaths grew uneven. Tears stung at the corners of Inko’s eyes. The rink blurred before her, turning all the contestants skating around with more ease into blobs. Grasping for air, Inko dug her fingers into her face. Great, now the waterworks in public were about to start. No one in their right mind would want to associate with a crybaby like her.
A firm hand settled on Inko’s back, grounding her. Inko craned her neck toward Kayama – her face devoid of the glasses she had set down outside the rink so they wouldn’t get shattered during roller derby.
“Hey.” Kayama stroked Inko’s hair out of the way beneath her helmet.
Choked up, Inko steadied her breathing before finally answering in a whispered tone. “Hey.”
Taking Inko by the hands, Kayama pulled Inko to her feet. A sense of balance cultivated from years of heroics made Kayama one of the few contestants in the rink who didn’t look like she was about to topple over like dominoes.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. The learning curve for skating is huge.”
“But if this is the kind of stuff that Wash likes to do and I’m not capable of it, what kind of future could we possibly have together?”
Looping an arm around Inko’s elbow, Kayama held her steady on her feet. “I think you’re really brave for trying something new, Midoriya. But you don’t need to do this on your own. I can help; I’m not just a pro when it comes to heroics.”
“I wouldn’t want to drag you down –”
“You won’t. And trust me, once I show you the ropes you’ll find a rhythm for skating and I promise it’ll be a whole lot easier.”
“That’s a pretty big promise,” Inko chuckled as she clung to Kayama’s arm for dear life.
“What can I say? I like to go big or go home.”
The sound of stumbles and wheels creaking against the floor echoed through the hall. As an energetic beat drummed from a speaker in a corner, Kayama slowly swung her right foot forward. Inko matched the movement, trying to become a perfect reflection of Kayama’s smooth steps.
Slowly but surely, Inko got lost in the rhythm. Standing so close beside Kayama, Inko could feel their hips brushing together. Only a few layers of fabric separated them. And for whatever reason Inko found herself forcing her eyes to pull away from looking at how Kayama’s biker shorts hugged her hips.
As Inko moved to the beat, her grip loosened a little. Pressing her brows together in determination, Inko let go of Kayama and managed to make it several meters across the rink before falling on her knees again. A small bit of progress. But progress nonetheless.
Kayama held out a hand for Inko to grab and Inko got lost in the way her wind-tousled hair shone in the dim lighting of the rink.
“Thank you, Kayama.”
“Please, darling. Just call me Nemuri.”
“If you insist.” Sporadic tingling bubbled in Inko’s nerves. When was the last time she’d made a new friend comfortable enough to be on a first-name basis with her? Speaking of which, maybe she should figure out Wash’s civilian name too at some point. After all, being on a dating show for his heart but still referring to him by his hero name was probably a little wrong.
“And you can call me Inko if you want.”
“Fantastic.” Smiling, Nemuri helped Inko to her feet. “And don’t worry. That doesn’t mean I’ll stop the pet names, babe.”
But before Inko and Nemuri could skate arm in arm again, the sound of cracking bone echoed across the rink. Inko went pale as she watched the set medic hurry over toward the collapsed form of a girl with mouse ears who had blood dripping from her chin. Wash raced to the medic’s side and held the girl’s hand, probably whispering all the calming words he used when helping civilians caught in the rubble left behind from a villain attack.
Dizziness spun in Inko’s head over the droplets of blood now sprinkled across the glossy floor. How was she going to make it through the actual roller derby bound if skating without the element of competition had such a high risk for injury? Nausea crawled up Inko’s throat as she picked at the knuckles and hoped that the injured contestant would be alright.
By the time an ambulance had whisked the injured girl away, the remaining contestants clustered around where Wash was standing by the edge of the rink. The water in his stomach wasn’t spinning as quickly as it had been earlier on in the group date. And his eyes were a little more sudden as he made an announcement.
“We’ll just end the date with a round of free skate instead.”
Relief pooled into Inko’s lungs. Thank goodness. Hopefully, that would decrease the odds of Inko not being given a rose.
But the way Wash’s wiry arms hung limply by his sides. He looked like he wanted someone on his level. Someone who could keep up with heart-pounding activities. Someone who was a hero too. Someone who was everything that Inko wasn’t.
Exhaustion had hit Inko like a tidal wave by the time everyone had returned to the mansion. She couldn’t believe that not even a full week had passed on the set of the Bachelor – but maybe that meant that Inko would get to spend more time with Nemuri before she inevitably would have to return home by the time the next rose ceremony came around.
Collapsing onto the couch, Inko stared at the ceiling. But the sound of chatter by the poolside drilled into her skull. Her roommate in the shared room she’d been assigned was likely sitting on the floor and painting her nails, filling the room with the sharp smell of acetone and nail polish. From the corner of her eyes, Inko looked at the cameras littered on the ceiling of the common area.
Inko dragged her hands across her face and wished that she could have even an ounce of privacy. But for as long as she was on the Bachelor, Inko figured that was out of the cards for her.
A soft thump sounded from the other end of the sofa as Nemuri set down. Inko found her eyes lingering on how the flowy fabric of Nemuri’s blouse complimented her curves. Swallowing hard, Inko recalled how Nemuri’s hero costume hugged her, leaving little to the imagination. Still, as Inko’s hand was about to drift toward Nemuri’s chest, she firmly anchored herself in place. It didn’t matter how intoxicatingly beautiful Nemuri’s body was. That would’ve just been outright rude.
Not that being enamored meant anything of course. Nemuri was just objectively attractive – and she had plenty of magazine photoshoots to prove it. The fact that Inko was tempted to bury her face in Nemuri’s chest was probably just some fleeting random thought. Maybe being cooped up with a bunch of fellow contestants vying for romance had just left Inko craving to fulfill her more… carnal desires.
Studying Inko’s face, Nemuri took her by the wrist and slowly pulled Inko upright. Electricity coursed beneath Inko’s skin as Nemuri’s hand grazed against her. But it was probably in her head. After all, Mitsuki was one of Inko’s few female friends – so maybe Inko had simply forgotten what the spark of starting new friendships felt like.
“Kind of loud here, huh?” Nemuri said. “Follow me, darling.”
“Why?”
“I know a place where we can take a bit of a breather.”
“But we’re not supposed to leave the mansion?”
Patting Inko on the shoulder, Nemuri beamed back at her. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Technically we’ll still be on set.”
Inko raised her brows in curiosity as she trailed after Nemuri on her teck up the stairs. At last, when the pair reached the top of the staircase Nemuri gestured to a nearby window. As Nemuri stepped out of the window and onto the roof tiles in one fell swoop, Inko looked at her with stars in her eyes. Every step along the roof was graceful – almost catlike even.
Taking a deep breath, Inko stared at the ground looming beneath the side of the roof. She clenched her fists so hard her knuckles so hard that they went pale. Still, Inko found herself slowly setting her feet down on the roof tiles. Because maybe with Nemuri she could be adventurous. Relive the youth now soured by Hisashi’s memory.
“You’re a natural. Honestly, this kind of makes me want to hire you as a sidekick,” Nemuri called out.
“You exaggerate,” Inko sighed as she sat down beside Nemuri on the rooftop.
Flickers of the setting sun stretched across the horizon, shining brighter than molten lava. Shutting her eyes, Inko let the breeze blow in her face. No sound but her and Nemuri’s breathing echoed across the rooftop. A comfortable silence at last.
A cork popped. Inko’s gaze drifted toward the wine bottle that had seemingly materialized in Nemuri’s hands out of nowhere. Though Inko supposed that Nemuri might have stowed the wine bottle up here that last time she’d snuck out.
Nemuri took a long wistful sip of wine and held out the bottle toward Inko at the last minute. “Oh… sorry I forgot that you don’t drink, darling.”
“No, I do. I doubt I could’ve kept my sanity intact as a single mom without a bit of wine. Scotch just isn’t for me.”
“Fair enough.” Nemuri took one last sip of wine before passing the bottle of wine to Inko. “Well, cheers to us.”
“Don’t you mean cheers to Wash? Since he’s the reason we’re here.”
Nemuri smiled. Not the sort of seductive smile she always had on in photo shoots – though that was nice too – but rather a crooked sort of smile. A smile that was messy and not cultivated for the camera and seemed like it was made just for Inko. “Sure! Cheers to Wash. If not for this show I would’ve never met you.”
The glass of the bottle was cool against Inko’s palm, soothing the knots in her stomach. As she set the rim of the bottle to her lips all she could think about was how drinking from the bottle was essentially an indirect kiss. But she supposed that was a silly notion. After all, wasn’t it just a drink between friends?
The sharp taste of alcohol hit her a couple of seconds once the flavor had a chance to settle on her tongue. The wine was drier than the cheap supermarket wine coolers that Inko usually bought. Still, there were sweet undercurrents that reminded Inko of what she imagined ambrosia would taste like. And for whatever reason she couldn’t think of any other drink that felt more like Nemuri. Taking more sips, a buzz gradually started to fill Inko’s head and she thought of how Nemuri’s lips most definitely tasted of wine too.
Setting the bottle aside, Inko collapsed onto the tiles and watched how the sun was sinking along the horizon. Slight dizziness hitting her, Inko muttered under her breath. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to sleep tonight. Just after the group date, there’s a lot on my mind.”
“Hmm, I doubt that I’ll be able to fall asleep either. But for what it’s worth I can help you fall asleep using my quirk?”
“Thank you, but I think I’d rather stay up with you.” Who knew how many days Inko would have left on set? Not many probably considering how lovely her competition was. “Because I don’t think we’ll have time with each other on the Bachelor for much longer.”
“Well, I know a way to make a moment feel like it lasts forever.”
Fingers hardened with callouses after years of heroics cupped around Inko’s cheek. All the breath escaped Inko’s chest as Nemuri pulled her close. Sparks burst across Inko’s lips as Nemuri kissed her. Lips as soft as silk. Inko dared to run her tongue along the corner of Nemuri’s mouth and found herself practically melting as Nemuri rolled her tongue against Inko’s.
But the rush of wind grounded Inko back in reality, yanking her away from Nemuri.
Because it was all wrong. Inko had fractured her world into a thousand tiny fragments painfully digging into her skin. Nemuri made Inko’s heart skip a beat the way Wash was supposed to. Maybe the wine was getting to Inko, making it easy for her emotions to swell. Because she couldn’t suddenly start liking women at forty – after all, she was into men – had dated men – she couldn’t be anything but straight. It didn’t matter that her heart beat louder for Nemuri than it ever had for anyone else. Even Hisashi.
But if Inko was gay wouldn’t she have noticed years ago? Not now. Was she so desperate for love that she was looking for it anywhere she could think of?
Staring at the roof tiles, Inko retched in an attempt to dispel the wine, making her reality turn upside down. Heaven forbid she was having some sort of midlife crisis. Inko turned away from Nemuri as she made a beeline for the open window. Crawling past the window, Inko pushed the memory of how soft Nemuri’s lips were deep down where the thought wouldn’t have to plague her.
Heading pounding, Inko found herself crawling out of bed several hours earlier than usual. Even though she’d drunk in moderation even the light peeking through the blinds of her bedroom was too bright. Tiptoeing out of her room so as not to wake up her assigned roommate, Inko yearned for a cup of coffee. Maybe the caffeine would chase away the hangover – or better yet the lingering sensation of Nemuri’s lips.
Yet the second Inko set foot in the kitchen, she spotted a familiar voluptuous silhouette standing in a nightgown while the coffee machine was brewing. Before Inko had a chance to scurry away, Nemuri ushered her over to sit on a stool by the counter. Mere moments later, a steaming mug of coffee materialized in front of Inko. The drink laden with cream eased the ache in Inko’s skull.
With another cup of coffee in hand, Nemuri sat down beside Inko and cleared her throat. “Hey… so about yesterday –”
“Don’t worry about it. It was nothing. Just the wine.” After all, why would someone who was the epitome of desirability want to kiss Inko of all people? She must have gotten caught up in the wine’s sweet aftertaste and the pastel sunset.
“We didn’t drink that much though.”
Inko looked at her worn-out slippers and muttered. “Well, there’s no way anyone would kiss me randomly while sober.”
“I only had a few sips of wine, Inko. I wasn’t drunk. Is it so unrealistic to believe that I find you hot?”
“Yes! I mean… just look at me.”
Beneath the fluorescent light, every stain on Inko’s pajama shirt was more noticeable than ever. Her hair was matted together since she didn’t manage to get over herself and crawl into the shower after the rooftop incident. Crust clustered in the corners of her eyes. The weight Inko had gained from stress-eating over her guilt for letting Izuku down bulged beneath the waistband of her sweatpants.
Looking at Inko sternly, Nemuri set her coffee aside and held both of Inko’s hands in hers.
“I am. I know my opinion might not mean much when you’ve got it in your head that you’re not desirable but you are desirable. I wouldn’t want anyone else. Because you look at me like a human being, not just some object to ogle at.”
“That’s just basic human decency.”
“And yet so many people forget that,” Nemuri sighed. “I know that what you went through with your ex was awful – but you are still kind in spite of it. And I think there isn’t anything more beautiful.”
Silence filled the kitchen which was empty save for Inko and Nemuri. The coffee machine whistled a little as it brewed yet another drink. Her eyes drifted toward the coffee Nemuri had brewed for her. Doused with sugar and cream while Nemuri just had a plain black coffee. Mulling over the care Nemuri put into something as trivial as coffee, part of Inko wanted to hold Nemuri and never let go.
But it was just an infatuation over being wanted for the first time in forever. Nothing more.
“So can we talk about what happened on the rooftop?” Nemuri asked.
“It was nothing. Let’s just forget it ever happened.”
Leaning in, Nemuri batted her thick eyelashes that left Inko mesmerized. “Are you sure it’s really nothing?”
The taste of iron coated Inko’s tongue as she bit down on the inside of her mouth. Nemuri was so close that Inko could easily brush her lips against Nemuri’s. Her lips had a slight tint to them, making Inko wonder what chapstick Nemuri used. Did she taste like cherries? Yet, Inko remained anchored firmly in place and suppressed the urge to throw all caution to the wind.
Because back when she and Mitsuki had practiced kissing as kids there was nothing there. Wouldn’t Inko have had her gay awakening back then?
“I can’t suddenly be into women. That’s not how it works. I feel like that’s something I should’ve known from the start deep down.”
“Think of it this way. You didn’t fundamentally change who you are. You just learned more about yourself.” Nemuri swatted at the air. “Same trailer, different park.”
“What does that even mean?”
“I think I heard an American singer say it once. She was getting at that even as things change you’re still you.”
Hope swelled in Inko’s chest, making it lighter for just a split second before the walls were built back up again. The thought of change left Inko quaking in her seat – after all, the last major change of her last venture into romance had turned her entire life upside down.
“I’m sorry, Nemuri. But we’re nothing. What happened up there was nothing.”
“Don’t say that, Inko. I know you felt something between us.” Nemuri’s perfect posture slumped over. “Besides, isn’t finding love the point of being on the Bachelor?”
“Not for the wrong reasons, not with the wrong person.”
Steeling her breath, Nemuri faced Inko and stared her directly in the eye. “Inko, do you really genuinely think you can be happy with Wash?”
Maybe. Probably. Yes. Wash was a hero. (But so was Nemuri.) He’d been kind in every limited interaction she’d had with him. (But Nemuri had been kind in even more interactions.) He was the sort of person who could help Inko fit better into the fabric of society in a way she otherwise couldn’t.
“If I stand a chance of getting a rose, yes.”
“Alright.” Yet the way Nemuri’s eyes furrowed ever so slightly told a different story. Sighing, Nemuri clasped her hands together. “But I don’t think chasing after someone you can’t fully love back is going to fill that void. I’d hate to say I told you so.”
“You won’t have to. I know what I’m doing.”
Avoiding direct eye contact with Inko, Nemuri stood up and grabbed a note. “Well, either way, I’m leaving the show. Less competition for you to win Wash’s heart.”
She scribbled on the note and slid it over to Inko. “Here’s my number in case you change your mind. Good luck, babe. I hope he makes you happy.”
Even as Nemuri stomped a little while she hurried out of the room that didn’t change how genuine her words had felt. Inko stared into her coffee cup, unable to take another sip. On paper, she should’ve been happy about a contestant leaving. And she’d known from the start that her time with Nemuri was always going to be limited.
So why did it feel like her chest was being torn in two?
The covers lay glued to Inko’s skin as she awoke in the middle of the night. For a while, Inko just remained silent and still beneath her blankets, unwilling to open her eyes. Still, she found herself sitting up to glance at the alarm clock and get a sense of what time it was.
As she opened her eyes, Inko saw that Wash was lying beside her in bed, gurling a little with every snore. Inko stared at the photo on the nightstand, showing her in a wedding dress standing beside Wash in a suit with a cutout at the front to showcase his swirling stomach. A plastered smile stretched across Inko’s face. Finally, Inko had everything she thought she wanted. Something akin to a nuclear family that would give Izuku the stability he deserved. And the stares that followed Inko at the supermarket or anywhere she went in public would finally stop.
Still, hollowness clawed inside her chest as inside clutched the fabric of her ratty pajama shirt. It didn’t matter how serenely bubbles framed Wash’s sleeping form. He wasn’t Nemuri.
Staring at the gold wedding band wrapped around her finger – not the same as the silver one Hisashi had given her all those years ago – all Inko could think about was how Nemuri had “told her so”. Even sitting beside Wash at night as his wife didn’t chase away the loneliness. It didn’t make her feel like she could be more than a wallflower the way that Nemuri did.
Wash couldn’t make Inko feel like she could just exist as herself fully the way that Nemuri did.
Inko’s stupid fickle heart couldn’t stop craving the taste of Nemuri’s lips. Burying her face in her hands as she turned away from Wash, Inko wondered whether stopping the world would be the only way to stop the feeling –
Sitting up against her bed frame in a cold sweat, Inko stared at her hand. No wedding band. Wash’s sleeping form wasn’t lying beside her. Instead, she was still in a cramped twin bed with her suitcase scattered by the window.
Clutching onto her bed covers, Inko steadied her breathing. Thank God that had just been a dream. But as birdsong resounded outside her bedroom within the Bachelor mansion, Inko found herself biting her lip. Wasn’t it the dream she ultimately wanted though? Having Wash look at her the way Nemuri looked at her? A chance to finally be normal. A chance to stop feeling like a shell of a person because she was just a divorcee who hadn’t done anything with her life.
The morning light poured into the room, shining on the empty twin bed across from Inko. Mattress and dresser devoid of the belongings of Inko’s assigned roommate who hadn’t received a rose during the second rose ceremony. Maybe that’s why there was an empty space in Inko’s chest. Maybe it wasn’t because Nemuri had left the mansion of her own volition before the first week was even over, before the second rose ceremony had even happened.
Falling onto her back again, Inko stared at the ceiling fan. The same monotonous motion over and over again. The same sort of monotony Inko was bound to be stuck with if she didn’t have Nemuri’s smile in her life. As the fan spun, Inko tried to find the right words to describe the feeling burning between her ribs like acid.
It couldn’t be heartache. After all, she wasn’t supposed to fall in love with Nemuri. And Nemuri wasn’t supposed to fall in love with her. Not when both of them had gone on the same dating show in the name of pursuing the same man.
Inko pushed the covers aside and started making her way to the kitchen. Part of her longed for the creamy concoction Nemuri had made just for Inko. Inko internally chastised herself for craving Nemuri’s coffee. After all, she was more than perfectly capable of making coffee herself.
Nemuri had been like a comet. A bright flash of light that would only pass the earth for a moment. Though weren’t comets cyclical? Didn’t they return eventually?
Biting down on her tongue, Inko cast that thought aside.
Once she stepped through the kitchen’s door frame, the girl with mouse ears who now had a bandage around her chin came racing toward Inko with a letter in hand. Inko read the invitaton to a one-on-one date with stars in her eyes. This was her chance. An opportunity to stop the unwanted feeling from brewing in her chest. The only route Inko knew to finally be normal.
Sitting at an Italian restaurant, Inko stared at the folds of her blue dress. Her ribs cinched at the realization that it was the same shade of blue as Nemuri’s eyes. Sighing, Inko clutched onto her spoon and stared at her bowl of minestrone like it had all the answers. Why did she always end up reminded of all the little things about the people she wanted to forget the most?
Across the table, Wash lifted a wine glass to his lips. Objectively, the way his fingers flexed beneath his yellow gloves was undeniably attractive. But the shine against his box-like exterior just couldn’t compare to the glow of Nemuri’s smile. Yet perhaps Inko could just pretend.
Wash set his wine glass down. “I forgot to mention something the other day at the roller skate rink. Your jeans. I thought they were nice.”
Perplexed, Inko noted that Wash’s smile seemed a little more plastered than usual. “I thought you hated them. You looked at them like they had personally offended you.”
“I just have… complicated feelings about the brand’s owner.”
“Oh dear, two top ten heroes hate each other?”
Wash shook his head solemnly. “No, not hate. It’s a little more complicated than that.”
While Wash looked down at his spaghetti and absent-mindedly twirled noodles around his fork, Inko noticed a curl to his lips that seemed oddly familiar. The sort of sorrow Inko had seen in the mirror ever since Nemuri had left was mirrored in Wash’s expression. Inko’s spoon clattered onto the table as realization struck her.
“You already have someone you like.”
Bearing a brief glance at the camera crew sending him sympathetic looks, Wash nodded. “Yes. But he’s not on the show.”
Surprised, Inko noted the camera team’s knowing glances. Was the production team aware that Wash was trying to outrun his feelings? Did they not mind because having a pro hero as the Bachelor was bound to get the show more views?
“Well, does he feel the same as you?” Inko asked.
“Yes? No? Maybe?” Wash dragged a gloved hand across his lid. “He does say that no one gets him better than I do. After all, denim and washing machines go well together. But he’s in a higher ranking than me and I don’t want our relationship to derail his career.”
“What if you’re more important to him than his career?”
“He says I am – but he saves so many lives. He does so much good. I can’t just take that away. Especially because feelings are such a fickle thing.”
While Wash sullenly prodded as his meal, images flashed through Inko’s mind. Of a wedding band from the person she had convinced herself she thought she wanted. Of photographs lacking the person Inko wanted beside her the most.
Inko inhaled deeply before speaking up. “I had a dream the other night. Of being married to you.”
Wide-eyed, Wash blinked back at her. “Wow. That’s quite forward of you to mention.”
“But I wasn’t happy being married to you in that dream. And don’t get me wrong, you’re a good guy. I guess there's already someone else I want.” Craning her neck toward the ceiling, Inko pushed down the tears that threatened to spill. “And ending up with someone else just won’t fill that hollowness.”
Wash opened his mouth – only to shut it and turn away from Inko. After a few more minutes of pensively looking at his meal, Wash finally spoke up again. “Maybe I should step down as the Bachelor. It isn’t working.”
“If that’s what you feel is right.” Inko nodded slowly. And to her surprise, she didn’t feel tense over the thought of Wash’s season ending earlier than expected. Considering how the second week wasn’t even over yet, meaning that only one episode had aired, an abrupt ending would be even more comical.
Wash’s lid lifted to fully display his eyes. “And maybe once we’re off the show we can finally stop running away from the people we love.”
Upon her return from the Bachelor, Inko hadn’t even needed to wipe down the dust off the cabinets in her apartment. After all, the debris hadn’t really accumulated given that Inko had barely been absent longer than a week. Still, the quiet of the apartment left Inko’s skin crawling – it was a world away from the Bachelor mansion always bustling with chatter.
Pulling down the cuff of one of her pant legs, Inko stared at one of the bruises that had formed from her falls while roller skating. The bruise was starting to fade from purple to yellow – fading like the way Inko’s memory was of what it felt like to have Nemuri’s hips brush against hers.
With her head buried in her hands, Inko didn't even hear Izuku’s duffle bag fall onto the floor as he stepped through the front door, returning from his stay at the Bakugou residence. Freckles looked back at Inko as concern wove its way through Izuku’s brows. Gulping, Izuku sat down across Inko’s perch at the kitchen table.
“What’s wrong, Mom? Did the apartment rent get raised? Did something really bad happen?”
“No, it’s nothing like that. I just found something out about myself on the Bachelor.” Inko groaned and dragged a hand across her face. “I should probably tell you.”
“Okay, I’m all ears. But if you aren’t ready to tell me, that’s okay too.”
Inko stared at her son’s warm expression, wondering what it would for that warmth to fade. What if Izuku resented her for having a midlife sexuality crisis? But with how he held no ill will for how Inko had apologized for his quirkless all those years ago… maybe he’d still love her even if her heart danced to a different beat.
“I fell in love on set.”
“With Wash?” Telltale teardrops had already formed in the corners of Izuku’s eyes. “Oh no, I’m so sorry it didn’t work out then.”
“Uh… no… I fell for one of the other contestants. I’m not straight.”
Standing up, Izuku raced over to hug Inko. Breathless, Inko returned her son’s embrace. His hugs were still as warm as ever. Her revelation hadn’t changed that.
Clearing his throat, Izuku muttered into Inko’s shoulder. “Well, I guess that means we just have one more thing in common then.”
Nervous trembling, Inko stepped out of Izuku’s embrace and clasped her hand around his. “Two coming outs in one go?”
“I know right? What a way to start the afternoon.” He pressed Inko’s hand. “The other contestant… does she feel the same way?”
“Yes, but I don’t know if I should reach out. Especially since I pushed her away.” Inko scratched herself behind her ear. “I do have her phone number though.”
Izuku’s expression went soft as he stood up, grabbed the landline phone, and handed it to Inko. “Give her a call, Mom. Please. As a favor to me. I want you to be happy.”
“Well, I guess I can’t say no to you,” Inko snorted.
Returning to the living room to pick up his duffle back, Izuku left Inko to it. Inko glanced at the phone in her palm like it was a viper. But she just bit the bullet and dialed the number she had memorized after staring at Nemuri’s Post-it again and again. The phone stopped ringing after about a minute.
“Hi, Nemuri. It’s me. Inko.”
The few seconds of silence on the other end of the line seemed to stretch on forever. “You changed your mind?”
“I did. And I promise that I’m not reaching out just because Wash ended his season early –”
“I know. I heard from the pro hero grapevine that a certain someone convinced him to find love somewhere other than the show.”
Plopping herself back on a kitchen chair, Inko allowed herself a mischievous smile. “I wonder who that could have been.”
A laugh echoed through the earpiece of the landline phone before Nemuri’s voice shifted into a more serious tone. “So what now?”
“Well, I was thinking… maybe a coffee date.”
“That sounds perfect, babe. I’d like that a lot.”
And there it was. One of Nemuri’s nicknames again. Reveling in the sound of Nemuri’s voice, it dawned on Inko that maybe she was finally ready to stop running away from her own chances at happiness.