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She wasn't screaming or crying, she looked at peace. The only moments she could ever be at peace.
Dinner was over. Enji Todoroki's vast figure had left and the room finally exhaled.
The quiet of the night settled over like a blanket, much different from the silence everyone had resigned to much earlier. Shoto assisted Fuyumi with the dishes, or what he could manage, which was not much for his stature. Shoto could barely clear the table. Fuyumi decided not to mention it. When she had finally decided to call it a night, she pulled Shoto into a hug whispering something about homework and a well rested sleep. Shoto nodded along, his eyes and ears drawn elsewhere. His mother.
Rei had not yet moved from the table. Then slowly she did, passing him without a word, opening a cabinet for a small white plate. The drawer was next. A crinkle of a wrapper. Followed by the several soft clinks of pieces being set down.
She returned and slowly sat down.
The room was dark, the only lights coming from the dim lights of the kitchen that she had left on. The room almost sunkissed under the faded lights, part of his mother's face covered in shadow. She wasn't screaming or crying, she looked at peace. The only moments she could ever be at peace.
Shoto drifted beside his mother, he leaned over and peered past her arm.
Chocolate. In small dark pieces arranged in purposely messy rows. Her face turned away from Shoto, staring at the doorway where his father's presence had once been, but at the moment nothing in particular stood there. Her expression had gone somewhere distant and quiet.
Shoto reached his small chubby hand over and took a piece.
He heard her-- a small sound caught behind her hand, barely contained. She pressed her fingers to her mouth and looked away even harder. Shoto studied her for a moment longer, deciding she had been sufficiently distracted.
The chocolate melted the moment it had touched his tongue. It was bitter at first, sharp enough that it caused Shoto to release a noise of protest, only for it to become something much softer underneath, and the bitterness became the point rather than the problem. He chewed slowly, savoring it.
He liked chocolate.
Shoto had forgotten much of his mother's words or even her silence.
The convenience store had been open until very late, all he needed was one small wrapped bar. It was purple in color, he recalled, perhaps with yellow accents. He could remember the bitter taste, and the artificial sweetness that followed almost always a relief. He briefly remembered his mother standing in the kitchen after his father berated her. He briefly remembered her opening and closing cabinets. He remembered a crinkle and some clinks. But those were moments of the past he no longer knew enough to hold close.
He wandered aimlessly, with a bare image in mind hoping for the sweet to show up.
He turned a corner. Reading the small signs before each section. Ready-to-eat, bento, hot foods-- Sweets and Desserts. Finally he found the chocolate aisle, he pushed his arm to the far back of one of the many shelves. His arm almost controlled by a force greater than him. There in his hand stood an aloof chocolate bar, 75% dark chocolate. Shoto decided this was it. Walking toward the register, paying a small fee. He looked at the bar again before pocketing it. He could feel the weight settle as he walked towards the dorms.
Only tomorrow would he perhaps realize the purpose.
Shoto stood outside of the room, holding the chocolate in his right hand. It felt like a ritual, taking that one breath before giving himself space to open the door and step inside. His mother was always seated by the window, face turned away, staring at the blue carnations that Enji had bought her without anyone noticing. She turned to face her son, a smile allowed itself on to her face. Shoto pulled out the extra chair in the room, and sat down. Her voice came out soft, at peace with herself and the loss of autonomy she faced all those years ago. She was a much different woman than Shoto used to remember. Her shrieking wails were only a memento mori of the past.
"Hello, Shoto."
He responded. His voice used to feel rough when speaking, but ever since he entered UA it felt like conversations were being made every day. He felt like a part of a group, with people who enjoyed his company and his presence. His voice began to lose its edge as time passed, that edge he had gained from being around a man who made Shoto's only purpose strife. Only to be replaced by that soft round edge.
But he had first learned that softness from her.
"You do still want to be a hero, right, Shoto?"
He held out the chocolate bar.
Her soft hands wrapped around the bar, taking it from his blistered ones. She opened it slowly, the crinkle of the wrapper enveloping the room's warm silence. She turned around and pulled a napkin out. Shoto could see her breaking apart the pieces of chocolate and placing them into those purposefully messy lines on the tissue. She took 3 pieces and placed them into Shoto's left palm. She smiled and ate a piece for herself. They sat in the silence of the melted bittersweet moment.
"You thought I didn't notice--"
He wouldn't say anything.
"I noticed."
He would later think: there it is. There's where it came from.