stop... talking about it...

september 23 | evening

Momo’s been in France for nearly a month now. Today is her birthday, and if her grandfather hadn’t surprised her with a sudden visit, she wonders if she would have forgotten. He’s brought with him an assortment of gifts that had apparently been left for her, as well as some personal ones he had chosen for himself. And when he looks at her, his eyes beam with a certain degree of pride that she doesn’t think she’s seen in ages; he laughs at the sight of her, remarks at how much she’s grown, how much honor she’s brought to her family, what her current actions mean for the current status of the Yaoyorozu legacy... 

And there’s a piece of her that has to hold back tears at his praise because it all feels so, so wrong.

That part of her has grown smaller now though. Nearly nonexistent. In a country far away from her closest friends and family, with only the support of the Hero Commission and her distant relatives to give her any solace, that part of her has whittled away into scarcely anything at all. She wonders if that thought should sadden her.

Touma looks a little uncomfortable for a moment and excuses himself to the bathroom.

When he returns with a noticeable lump in his pocket, there’s a curiosity sparkling in his eyes and he looks at her. Really looks at her. Momo wonders when was the last time someone actually had.

“Sweetheart… Is there something you’re not telling me?”

august 12 | evening.

It’s an awkward situation to say the least.

Mayumi and Ichirou sit at opposite ends of the dining table, doing everything they can to avoid looking one another in the eye. They’ve made it a point to continue acting as though everything’s okay—for Momo’s sake, they continue to insist, though at this point its more for their own than her’s. Appearances have always been their everything and that much shouldn’t have to change. So they continue to play the respective roles of loving husband and wife, doting mother and father, with masks of carefully painted porcelain and smiles that never truly reach their eyes. It’s been fairly easy to do; Ichirou had already been spending nights at the office even before their big fight, and Momo had planned to stay in Musutafu to be closer to her internship. Their interactions have been minimal at best.

Which is what makes this whole thing feel even worse.

august 16 | morning

It’s been three days since Momo arrived back home. She hasn’t left her room and she hasn’t said a word since her return. Her parents are forced to leave food outside her doorstep in the hopes that she’ll at least eat something, but their hopes are always dashed.

Until that fateful morning.

august 12 | evening.

It’s an awkward situation to say the least.

Mayumi and Ichirou sit at opposite ends of the dining table, doing everything they can to avoid looking one another in the eye. They’ve made it a point to continue acting as though everything’s okay—for Momo’s sake, they continue to insist, though at this point its more for their own than her’s. Appearances have always been their everything and that much shouldn’t have to change. So they continue to play the respective roles of loving husband and wife, doting mother and father, with masks of carefully painted porcelain and smiles that never truly reach their eyes. It’s been fairly easy to do; Ichirou had already been spending nights at the office even before their big fight, and Momo had planned to stay in Musutafu to be closer to her internship. Their interactions have been minimal at best.

Which is what makes this whole thing feel even worse.

august 12 | afternoon.

Touma doesn’t like to involve himself in the particulars anymore; as a retired CEO, he likes to imagine that such tasks are his son’s responsibilities.

But he’s always believed that if you ever want something done properly that you have to do it yourself.

august 7 | evening.

After Momo’s turned in for the night and Ichirou’s left to cancel their daughter’s trip to France, Mayumi—for the first time in a long time—finds herself kneeling at her bedside, praying. She’s not entirely sure if there’s even a point, if she’s even doing it right. She just wants some sort of validation that she’s doing the right thing, that she’s not damning her family to a fate worse than the one they had been following.

Mayumi doesn’t move when the door opens, even though the sound of its opening and shutting is enough to stop the beating of her heart. The silence remains for a few moments, and she keeps her eyes shut as she continues to hurriedly mouth the words from muscle memory alone, hoping that the prayer will still work as long as she pretends, even if she doesn’t remember.

She’s pulled from her thoughts at the sudden presence on the bed in front of her, and when she opens her eyes, she finds herself kneeling between Ichirou’s legs as he glares down. He doesn’t look at her face—not directly—and instead seems to be focused on the hands she has clasped in front of her. “Who are you praying to? We both know you don’t believe in God.”

august 7 | late afternoon.

Mayumi does a lot for her family. She manages their finances. She makes the important household decisions. She’s kept them together even when it would have been so, so easy to tear them all apart.

But she always does what she knows will be best.

Always.

“Momo, sweetie! It looks like you’ve received a letter.”

At the disruption of silence, Ichirou looks up from his paperwork. There’s suspicion in his eyes that he tries to hide by taking a well-timed sip of his coffee. “She’s packing for her flight tomorrow. Who’s the letter from? It can probably wait.”

They’re the first words he’s directly said to her since their fight at the parent-teacher conferences. Mayumi’s well-aware that the only reason he’s returned to living in the house is because Momo’s returned home for the summer; once she leaves on this experiential learning trip, Ichirou’s simply just going to disappear again.

Mayumi knows this. And that’s fine. She doesn’t… She doesn’t want him anyway, she doesn’t need him…

She doesn’t...

“The Hero Commission.”