Chapter Text
Three days.
That was all that remained.
Three days until Italy.
Three days until Ferrari.
Three days until summer stopped being an idea and became reality.
The realization hung over the entire Todoroki household like a storm cloud made entirely of travel plans and misplaced documents.
Mostly because nobody could stop talking about it.
"Did you pack a swimsuit?"
Fuyumi's voice carried down the hallway before she appeared in Shouto's doorway.
Shouto looked up from where she sat beside her suitcase.
"...Yes."
"Did you pack more than one?"
Silence.
Fuyumi sighed immediately.
"Shouto."
"What."
"You're spending almost three months in Italy."
"I know."
"You packed one swimsuit."
"It's a good swimsuit."
"That's not the point."
Before Shouto could argue further, a second swimsuit landed neatly on top of the suitcase.
She stared at it.
Then at Fuyumi.
Then back at the swimsuit.
"...Fine, but you do know I have some at the estate right?-."
Somewhere downstairs, Touya cheered.
Nobody knew why.
Neither did they want to know.
---
The house had entered full travel mode.
Suitcases lined the hallway walls. Travel documents covered the dining room table. Flight information occupied every available surface, and Endeavor had somehow created three separate folders for the same trip.
Nobody was brave enough to ask when or why.
Natsuo had taken one look at the dining room that morning, announced he would be eating elsewhere, and immediately disappeared.
Nobody blamed him.
Every room seemed occupied. Every hallway seemed busy. The house felt alive in a way it only did before major trips chaotic, excited, and somehow aware that something important was approaching.
Every now and then, Shouto caught glimpses of her mother moving quietly through it all.
Watering plants, folding laundry, checking travel documents, making notes nobody else understood.
Small things all ordinary.
The kind of things that somehow made departures feel real.
----
Shouto sat cross-legged beside her suitcase and looked over everything she'd packed.
Summer clothes filled one side Ferrari uniforms occupied the other.
Beside them sat passports, credentials, and travel paperwork.
The usual. At least for her.
Italy had always existed in her life. The estate, the Ferrari grounds, the endless summer heat, the workshop, the collection garage, the pool, the winding roads surrounding Maranello, they had become so normal that she sometimes forgot other people didn't grow up that way.
This year felt different.
For reasons she preferred not to examine too closely.
----
Her phone vibrated the sound immediately pulled her attention away from packing.
Which was annoying.
Because she already knew who it would be.
Bakugou.
The message contained exactly one thing.
A photo.
Shouto opened it.
Immediately regretted it.
Chaos.
Complete chaos.
A suitcase sat open on a bed. Clothes had been thrown inside with absolutely no organization whatsoever. Several shirts appeared to be losing a fight. A passport rested somewhere near the center like the lone survivor of a disaster.
She stared at it for three full seconds.
Then laughed.
'Did a tornado pack that?'
'Shut up.'
The response arrived almost instantly.
'That's not a no.'
Three dots appeared.
'I know where everything is.'
'That's terrifying.'
'You're terrifying.'
Fair.
Another photo followed a moment later. This one showed paperwork.
Ferrari logos.
Flight schedules, program information.
The reality of the trip.
Then another message appeared.
'Three days.'
Shouto stared at the words.
Then at the suitcase beside her bed, then back at the screen.
Three days.
For some reason it felt more real seeing someone else say it.
---
She lifted her phone and took a picture of her room.
Suitcases, travel folders, summer clothes.
And a very judgmental cat currently sitting inside one of the bags.
Sent.
The reply arrived less than a minute later.
'Your cat looks angry.'
'She always looks angry.'
'Fair.'
A pause.
'Your packing is weird.'
'My packing is organized.'
'Your socks are literally color coded.'
'Because I'm not a psychopath.'
The response took slightly longer this time.
'Pretty sure that's exactly what a psychopath would say.'
The smile appeared before she could stop it.
A knock sounded against her open door. Natsuo leaned inside.
Looked at the smile.
Looked at the phone.
Looked back at the smile.
"...Tell Bakugou to wear sunscreen."
Shouto blinked.
"How do you know it's Bakugou?"
Natsuo immediately turned around.
"I've met you!"
Then he left.
No explanation. No elaboration.
Nothing.
Shouto stared after him.
"Rude!"
From somewhere down the hallway:
"I learned from Touya."
"THAT'S NOT A COMPLIMENT."
Touya shouted back instantly.
The house descended into chaos again.
Normal.
Very normal.
Another message appeared.
'Do I need anything specific?'
The question was simple.
Yet somehow she knew exactly what he meant.
Italy.
Ferrari.
The heat.
Everything.
Without hesitation she typed
'Sunscreen.'
Three dots appeared.
'I'm not six.'
'Sunscreen.'
'...'
'Sunscreen.'
Nearly a full minute passed.
'Fine.'
Victory. Again.
----
The room grew quieter as evening settled over the house.
Shouto reached toward a nearby shelf where an old photo album rested. She'd looked through it countless times over the years, usually before summer trips.
Italy.
Ferrari.
Family.
Memories.
She flipped through it absentmindedly.
Pools.
Race weekends.
Workshops.
Old photos with Touya, Fuyumi, and Natsuo.
Her parents.
The estate.
Years of summers pressed between pages.
Then she paused.
A neatly folded cardigan sat on the corner of her bed.
Shouto hadn't put it there.
She knew exactly who had.
A small smile appeared.
Without a word, she added it to the suitcase.
Turning another page, she found a photograph of the collection garage.
Rows of Ferrari history stretched across the image.
Old race cars.
Championship cars.
Projects.
Machines worth more money than most people would ever see.
The thought arrived unexpectedly.
What was Bakugou's reaction going to be?
The question lingered longer than it should have.
Not because she wanted to impress him, not because she needed his approval.
She was simply curious.
Italy had always belonged to her memories.
For the first time, she found herself looking forward to seeing it through someone else's eyes.
----
Her phone vibrated one final time.
'Don't forget your passport.'
She rolled her eyes.
'I won't.'
Several seconds passed.
'Good.'
Simple.
Normal.
Nothing important.
And yet, as she returned to packing and the last light of evening settled across her room, it somehow felt important anyway.
Italy was three days away.
And for the first time all week, she found herself genuinely impatient for it to arrive.