Chapter Text
When Todoroki Fuyumi turned twenty-two, she got her first boyfriend.
Iida Tensei is everything the perfect boyfriend needs to be. Caring, generous, understanding. She thinks she loves him for a bit, but then again, it’s only been a month since her birthday and her father had arranged this date for her. He'd opened the car door for her, waited for her outside the rest room, gave her his jacket, held her purse. He was everything a girl could wish for in a relationship.
Over the next two years, Fuyumi thinks she might actually be able to fall in love with him. With his matching blue eyes and hair, his hero job. But when he kissed her, it repulsed her. Somehow, even more than she'd been hurt when Rumi kissed her. His lips were smooth with chapstick, but Fuyumi couldn't herself to enjoy it. Which is why they never did anything beyond that other than hug or hold hands.
He never stayed the night, and they rarely went over to each other's houses. For a relationship, they felt completely estranged. It was all outside, for show. Tensei tried his best to be a good boyfriend for her, but Fuyumi thinks it was really just because he felt bad about it being a relationship of convenience. What he didn't know was that Fuyumi was grateful for the way it was.
She could say she was normal, that she liked boys, even if crimson eyes haunted her in her dreams.
They'd been together for two years, two years of awkward kisses and sweaty handholding. With his growing hero career, Fuyumi saw him less and less. He kind of faded into an obscurity in the back of her mind, save for the rare occasion he'd take her out to hero galas or fancy restaurants. She'd been having lunch with her grandparents when they'd asked her the fateful question.
"Do you have any idea when he's going to ask you to marry you?"
If that hadn't been a shock to her system, then Fuyumi didn't know what would've been. She called Tensei that night and asked to meet up with him.
"You look beautiful," Tensei says, hand reaching across the table for hers. Fuyumi forces the smile on her face, cold fingers dusting over his knuckles. There's a bottle of white wine shared between them, and Fuyumi takes a couple sips from her glass for some liquid confidence. There had been many times in her life where Fuyumi had just laid down and let things happen, even if she stood vehemently against them.
Mostly that was with her family. This? This was different. She wasn't going to give her grandparents false hope. Tensei was bound to find someone stronger, someone prettier, someone he'd actually want to marry instead of toting Fuyumi around on his arm. Fuyumi couldn't hurt someone else's life like that. She'd be able to find someone who could actually love her, and she could at the least stand them.
Tensei, as lovely as he was, just wasn't that someone.
"I wanted to talk to you about something," she starts, before pausing to rephrase, "about us."
Tensei doesn't look upset, if anything, he looks relieved. His hand doesn't leave hers, but his grip is a little more relaxed. He nods for her to go one, and Fuyumi swallows thickly. Her father was bound to be disappointed, yes, but he'd have to understand. He's been getting better at that.
"I don't think we're right for each other," she blurts out. It's like she could finally breathe once she does say it, a weight having fallen off her chest. After that, it all kind of just word-vomits out of her. "You're wonderful, really, and you've been nothing but a good boyfriend but...neither of us are happy, Tensei. You should find someone who really does love you as much as you love them and I'm just not that someone. I'm..." she trails off, but her words hang between them.
"I'm not happy."
His face is fully relaxed, a soft little smile on his face. His head tilts to the side, and Fuyumi feels her own head tilt with it. The clatter of silverware fills the space around them, people talking and enjoying themselves. She's sure there are also a handful of people peeking over at them, eavesdropping on Fuyumi's heavy confession. It didn't help that Tensei was becoming a fairly prolific hero.
Still, he doesn't respond. Fuyumi's heart panics a little in her chest.
"I'm really sorry. We just aren't compatible. We should be friends, yes, but...I don't like you like that. I like....um, I just...we aren't good together because of me."
She feels a familiar pressure behind her eyes, and her hand slips from his to press the round of her palm against her eye, glasses pushed against her forehead. Tensei stays quiet for a thick moment.
"Please, just say something."
"Fuyumi," he eventually settles on, voice soft in a way she didn't deserve, "I know. I was waiting for you to say something."
Her head snaps up, eyes wet and pink. "What?" she chokes a little, feeling entirely too small under his gaze. "I know you...don't like me because....well, I guess I just knew. Though, I have had a wonderful time with you, I do agree that we should part ways."
She really didn't deserve him. Not one bit.
The smile worms its way onto her face, and she settles her glasses back down on her nose.
"Thank you, Tensei. Really."
"Of course. I...understand a little more than you may think I do."
Unfortunately for her, Fuyumi still has to attend the annual hero gala as Tensei's plus one.
She grew up rich, after all, her father was the number two hero for most of her life and with All Might's decline in health, he's a shoo-in for the first spot. But this? It felt like a whole other level of rich. The Hero Public Safety Commission was probably the largest governing body in Japan, and easily the richest. After all, they produced fine heroes like Hawks. It just made Fuyumi wonder where the rest of that money went.
Her dress was fairly simple. A sparkling navy-blue halter dress that dragged on the ground only a little. Her gloves went to her elbows, white and pristine with her hair pulled into a bun. The last time Fuyumi had been to one of these was when she was very little and had attended with Touya and her mother as her father's guests. Back then, it hadn't really mattered to her what she wore.
Tensei didn't compliment her this time when she stepped out of the car, only extended his arm for her to loop with and made their way inside. She can't tell if she was thankful for it or not.
The place was huge, with large chandeliers and spiraling staircases. It was probably the biggest place Fuyumi had ever been in, the elementary school she worked at being a far from close second. Around her were so many heroes, ones she knew and ones she didn't. Her and Tensei had managed to escape the paparazzi outside of the building, entering elsewhere through a side door. As thankful as she was for it, she also was now hit with the reality of it all.
Even as Endeavor's daughter, she'd never been surrounded by this many famous and powerful people. Her father was bound to be here somewhere, potentially held up and lashing out at the flashing cameras by the main door. This marked Fuyumi as someone of semi-importance, which was a little weird. She'd truly thought she'd escaped all the light and fame when she'd slowly migrated herself out of her dad's fame.
Now it felt like she stepped right back into the looming shadow of another famous figure.
If she was grateful for anything though, it was the fact she took manners classes as a kid so she wouldn't make a complete fool of herself on camera or to the other heroes.
Appearances mattered.
Her and Tensei got seated at a round table, where a few other heroes were sitting. Surrounding them were Midnight, Miss Joke, Snatch, and Gang Orca. It seemed like an odd bunch with Tensei, seeing as they usually paired heroes with similar rankings or quirk types, but she wasn't complaining. They were pretty mellow compared to some of the other heroes here.
Midnight immediately went to complimenting her dress and then began eyeing Tensei next to her like he was a meal before seemingly reminding herself that he was a "taken" man. Fuyumi wanted to laugh a little, but kept it hidden behind a small smile. The night went on smoothly after that, Tensei occasionally getting up and making her walk around as he did some networking.
Fuyumi was his pretty little eyepiece as he did so, batting her eyelashes behind her glasses. He'd never word it like that to her, but she knew that was essentially what he was there for. It was always good for a hero's publicity to make them seem more human to people, show that they had someone waiting at home for them. So, Fuyumi briefly recalled what her mom used to do at these events for her father and did her best to copy it.
Speaking of her father, he'd walked in a couple minutes before the first meal was served, looking peeved to have to be there. His hair was its usual mess of spikes, just like his sons, and Fuyumi had spent an hour ironing the suit he was wearing that morning. He finds her easily, towering over most of the crowd and making his way through the masses.
When he approaches the table, the silence that covers it is harsh and heavy.
Miss Joke eyes him, lips pressed together like she's trying to decide if he'd the right person to laugh around. Tensei's eyes slide to her, slightly alarmed. Fuyumi sighs a little, before standing and turning to him. They move a couple of feet away, but she can feel the eyes on her right now. Not only from her table, but seemingly from the rest of the room as well.
"Fuyumi," he greets stiffly, sparing a glance to the other members at the table. "How has your night been?"
He's trying, she supposed.
"It's been going well, Father. How has yours been?"
He grunts, annoyance playing on his face as he swirled a delicate-looking champagne flute. "I got caught by paparazzi, and you know I hate these things." as the Number Two hero it's basically a requirement for him to go to these things and he complains about it every single time. "I don't enjoy networking."
"I know," is all she says, for lack of anything better. "Are you going to leave early?"
Enji grunts for the second time and doesn't speak again as if that was a suitable answer. Knowing her father, it meant probably. The only way he'd stay the whole thing was if something held him up. Either way, he was bound to get into his annual one-sided heated conversation with All Might at some point. She'd watched multiple of them from the house, cringing the whole time.
Now she'll get to see it in person.
They both stand there, feeling awkward and out of place. Fuyumi was easily the most sociable of her family, but even she clammed up in situations like this. Her father was probably the worst of them all, which led for a pretty horrible combination. He clearly won't move, probably the most comfortable whilst hovering around his uncomfortable daughter.
The night had quickly gone from well to getting worse.
It wasn't that she disliked her father's company. Far from it, actually. She just wished they weren't in public, with so many eyes on them. His already tense nature grew tenfold, and she found herself talking to a brick wall when he was around. It didn't help that he just loomed silently, so it wasn't like she could talk to other people without intimidating them.
Surprisingly enough though, her form of a saving grace comes as the Number Three hero, Hawks.
He flies over, dressed in a black suit that doesn't look comfortable with his large wings. He's all smiling and happy as he pops up by Enji's side, brushing into her father and making him grumble.
"Hey big guy," he starts off, and Fuyumi watches the irritation grow on her father's face, "You feelin' the party? I think it's pretty nice, though I'm sure you've been to dozens of these things with how old you are, y'know?"
He doesn't seem to realize that was rude. His head swivels over to her, eyes widening like the cat who got the creme as he realizes who she is.
"Oh, this is your daughter, right?" he extends a thin hand, bowing slightly, "It's a pleasure to meet you miss..."
"Fuyumi," she says lightly, shaking his hand. "You and my father are...friends?"
It comes out as more of a question than she had intended, but the very idea of it baffles her. Hawks laughs and spares a glance to the taller brooding man. "I mean, I'd like to say we are. I've been trying to get this guy to like me for years, but he won't budge. I hope you aren't as stubborn as he is."
She's sure it's some form of flattery, or flirting, neither which she cares much for. Fuyumi just got out of one hassle of a relationship, and she certainly doesn't want to worm her way into another.
There was something...wrong with her.
She couldn't curse someone else with the miserable truth of being her boyfriend.
It was also a little weird. The idea of getting with Hawks. She couldn't picture herself with him. She'd thought she was imagining it when Tensei asked her to date him, because really? Her? There wasn't anything particularly special about her to catch a hero's attention. She wasn't pretty and soft-spoken like her mother, and she rarely ever told people what she was really thinking.
She was too difficult.
That's when Rumi pops up.
The stronger woman is grabbing onto Hawks' bicep and whirling him around. Her expression is mildly aggravated, as she grumbles out, "Leave the poor old man alone," to him before her eyes shift and catch on Fuyumi.
In that moment it's like time had stopped.
All over again, Fuyumi feels like she's seventeen. She feels lost and confused and can feel the phantom ghosting of Rumi's lips on her neck and jaw. Feel them on her lips. Soft and sweet just like she'd remembered on late hot nights. Fuyumi feels the familiar sensation of panic she'd felt then, and she has to remind herself that the woman hadn't done anything but look at her.
But now she wasn't just Usagiyama Rumi. She was Miruko, the Number Five hero.
And she was impossibly beautiful.
Fuyumi had seen her on TV and online, but she'd always scrolled past or skipped it. She couldn't bring herself to look at her then, but now? Now she couldn't tear her eyes away.
Rumi truly had become the hero she told Fuyumi about being, and still remained utterly true to herself. Her long glistening white hair rained down her back, small braids littering through them with silver thread. Her ears were straight at attention, as her entire being gave Fuyumi her all. She wore a black suit jacket with nothing underneath, buttoned up thankfully.
Still, her muscles bulged from the fabric, her legs an even bigger sight to see as they strained against the black fabric of her pants. On top of that, she wore small red kitten heels.
Rumi was confident, gorgeous, and strong. Everything she was when she was eighteen.
Fuyumi's lip wobbled as those crimson eyes set on her, wide and long eyelashes fluttering.
That familiar feeling of nauseous feeling rise up in her, and all those sinful thoughts rushed back to her.
She wanted to kiss Rumi. Desperately. She wanted to taste her and find out what flavor. She feels dirty and wrong, but in this moment she's forgetting all about it. Fuyumi wanted Rumi to love her like she did when they were kids.
Fuyumi wants her forever.
And that feeling of want, of need, was utterly humiliating.
"'Yumi," Rumi breathes out, like her name was something delicate.
At this point, Fuyumi was delicate. She felt like she was going to crack and break any second now.
Turning on her heel, she feels dizzy as she pinpoints the nearest exit. She makes a break for it, ignoring the strangled call from her father, and Tensei's concerned voice floating over.
She didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve their pity for her disease.
She emerges through the main glass doors, the cold air hitting her like a wall. She gasps, choking a little as her hair begins to fall loose from it's bun. Immediately cameras are flashing, not caring that she isn't a hero because paparazzi can sniff drama like nobody else.
The tears aren't a surprise to her, beginning to streak down her face and off her cheeks. Her chest heaves a little, as she contemplates her options. Go inside and face Rumi and everyone else like a mess, or let these pictures circulate.
It's really too late for either option, because someone is thrown against her back and nearly knocks her down the many stone stairs.
Her body flinches, and she stumbles a little before finding her footing again. Her head snaps around, only to find Rumi staring at her helplessly.
"'Yumi, please...I'm not good at this," she hisses, almost desperate as she eyes the cameras. She reaches out, and Fuyumi looks at her arm like it might hit her. Rumi only winces and tries to wrap it around her waist. She succeeds, trying to tug her back inside through the glass doors where heroes are starting to pool around with interest at her spectacle.
Fuyumi fights her way out of her grasp, only barely slipping past the hero's firm grasp by turning at the waste in an action that makes her head spin.
"Don't!" she shouts, her voice rising beyond her control, "Don't call me that!"
She's being emotional. Being stupid. She's being too much like her mother, when she used to flinch and act out at public functions because the mere idea of being touched scared her.
Fuyumi feels fragile.
Rumi looks lost, her arms stretched out like she isn't sure what to do with them.
"Todoroki," she says instead, which cuts deep into Fuyumi like a knife. Anger bursts hot in her, and she feels a scowl form on her face.
Now she's less like her mother, and more like her father.
"You don't get to call me that---no, you don't get to talk to me at all! You don't have that right!" she's shouting, voice far too loud and the cameras flash even more. She's vaguely aware of a video camera pining on her, and heat washes over the area to signal her father's wrath. "I can't do this. Not with you."
Long eyelashes flutter, eyes growing suspiciously wet before Rumi's head tilts away from the cameras. Her long curtain of hair shields her from everyone but Fuyumi.
"Please, just...come inside. We can talk about...this. About what happened. I'm not mad--"
"Well, I am!"
Fuyumi feels herself crack, just like she feared. Her hands move without meaning to, finding Rumi's shoulders and shoving her back with all her might. Caught off guard, the hero actually stumbles, but thankfully doesn't fall. "You did something to me---and I haven't been the same. You...you made me dirty and I---I can't just forgive that. You're horrible."
A warm hand finds her back and pulls her closer.
She only registers that it's her father when she smells smoke on the edges of his suit jacket, her face buried in the fabric. It's one of the rare times he's ever made an effort to comfort her, and it only serves to upset her more.
Her tears soak into his jacket, and he feels his back between her shoulder blades as he says something she can't quite register.
"Fuyumi, we're leaving now," he says, voice clipped as he guides her down the stairs, still shaking with her sobs. The flashes only grow from there on, loud voices shouting at her relentlessly. Her gloved hands raise to cover her ears as her father opens the door to his car and slides in next to her. The chauffeur has no questions and takes off speedily.
She sobs, and sobs, and sobs. They feel like they can't stop, bubbling up and burning in her throat. Her hands cup her face, her makeup smearing over her white gloves. She should've never gone to the stupid gala. She should've known.
Enji doesn't comfort her more.
He doesn't know how.
ENDEAVOR'S DAUGHTER CAUSES A SCENE AT ANNUAL HERO GALA...
BY: AIKO MURA
At this years annual hero gala, the daughter of our Number Two Hero Endeavor threw a dramatic scene at the front door of the gala...read more.
TENSION AT THE JAPANESE HERO GALA...
BY: NANA YAKUMOTO
The Japanese hero gala is a way for heroes to get along and find friends in the place of work, but this year some dramatics have gone on...read more.
TODOROKI FUYUMI RUINS THE HERO GALA...
BY: ALISA SAWAMURA
As the plus one of hero Ingenium, Todoroki Fuyumi has thrown a fit and effectively ruined the one night off of all these respectable heroes...read more.
MIRUKO VS THE TODOROKIS...
BY: HIN MOTOYA
At the annual hero gala, Miruko has found herself in deep waters with two members of the Todoroki Family, the family line of the hero Endeavor...read more.
MIRUKO AND TODOROKI FUYUMI...
BY: KAITO NAMI
Japanese Pro-Hero Miruko was spotted engaging in an argument with the daughter of Endeavor, Todoroki Fuyumi, at this years annual hero gala...read more.
All sites have been blocked.
Shouto comes home that weekend.
It's one of those rare occasions, even rarer considering he came home despite the fact their father wasn't away on business like he usually does. He gives no warning this time either, just waltzes in while Fuyumi's grading papers on the sofa.
"Oh, Shouto! I didn't know you were coming--I would've prepared something..." she stumbles to get up, pushing her papers to the side of the coffee table and nearly knocking over her coffee in the process. He stares at her for a belated moment, before dropping his bags into one of the arm chairs and taking her frantic arm.
"Fuyumi," he says, voice soft, "Just sit. You shouldn't have to prepare something--this is my house too."
Right. Shouto also lived here.
Fuyumi didn't need to act right now.
Breathing out a long sigh, she settles back down on the couch. Her elbows brace on her knees, two fingers pressed to her temple.
"I'm sorry, I know. I'm just a little stressed right now. I guess my head's all over the place," she gives a light laugh that she doesn't really feel, switching the channel to some old re-runs of pre-quirk age shows. Shouto hums, sitting down beside her. He sits for a moment, taking her in.
She knows she looked like a mess. She hadn't really been bothered to try since the incident at the hero gala. She gets ready for school, and that's about it. Now that it's a Friday afternoon, she's sitting in a dark green crewneck and some of Natsuo's old sweatpants. In the past few years, Shouto has really only seen her when she was expecting him.
Now, she isn't sure what he's thinking.
Probably that his big sister is a hot mess.
Though, he's probably already seen all the articles to prove that.
Then, Shouto does what surprises her most.
He hugs her.
It's strong, and tight. His hands are cold where they wrap around her waist, his face smushed into her shoulder. It was a little too tight, and he was at an awkward angle like he didn't really know what he was trying to do. Fuyumi froze up for a moment, uncertain and a little alarmed. Slowly though, she looped her arms around his back and shifted a little, so his head was at her neck instead of being pressed into her solid shoulder.
His hair tickles her jaw, split messily down the middle. Fuyumi buries her nose in it and tries to commit the smell of his shampoo to memory considering that it'll likely be a while before she gets another hug from him. She barely remembers the last time, but she knows that he'd been young. Probably around twelve and he'd latched onto her, crying into her shirt and whispering their mother's name.
Now, it felt real, like she was actually being given this hug.
"What's this for?" she asks through a smile, holding him firmly as his arms loosen a little.
His head peeks out from her neck, mismatched eyes blinking up at her slowly.
"I was told that people need these when they're upset," he said, voice a little dethatched as if he was explaining a fact, "Is it working?"
And despite all that had gone down the past week, Fuyumi finds herself laughing. Head tilted back, smile wide, full belly laughs. Oh god, her brother was clueless.
"Yes," she hums, "It is working."
"Good."
After that, she expects him to move and retreat back to his usual tense and closed off body language. But he doesn't, instead he sinks even deeper against her, as if he could fully melt against her. Fuyumi settles back against the couch, eyes flitting between the TV and her brother, papers fully forgotten about. It seems like she wasn't the only one who could really use a hug.
They stay there for a bit, soaking in the warmth of each other's body heat. The clock ticks by, and normally Fuyumi would be making dinner by now, but she can't seem to unglue herself from her current position. At some point, Enji comes in from his study and gets two equally icy looks that has him making haste for the kitchen and then back to his work.
It's Shouto who speaks first.
"My classmate, Mina, told me about the articles from the gala."
Fuyumi winces, her shoulders tensing a little as Shouto shifts to look up at her again.
"Natsuo also told me about Miruko."
Shit. She was going to kill her brother one day.
To the Todoroki's it really was no secret about what happened. Fuyumi was a horrible secret keeper when it came down to it, and she had too many bruises on her neck afterwards. Natsuo had found her crying in the guest bedroom, calling herself dirty and shaking and had gently taken her to the shower. They never talked about it, about how Fuyumi saw herself and Rumi. But they all knew why the white-haired girl never came up in conversation again.
She just didn't think it would get to Shouto like that. He was still fairly young when it happened.
He goes on though, uncaring for her reaction. Pushing her to be still and take it.
"I'm dating a boy in my class. His name is Hanta, and I really like him. I told Natsuo, but I didn't tell you because I was scared of what'd you say after what happened with Miruko all those years ago. But then, I realized you're just like me."
That hurts. It hurts deep in her chest. Shouto had kept someone he'd loved from her because he'd thought she'd hate them. Fuyumi had nothing against same-sex relationships it was just...she wasn't supposed to have them.
"When I developed a crush on him, I thought I was dirty too because of what Grandpa and Grandma said. But then, we started hanging out and I realized that we clicked, and it felt right. I wasn't dirty for who I loved, and...you aren't either. You don't have to date anyone if you don't want to, but...you shouldn't keep yourself from it either."
Fuyumi felt a spark of anger in her chest. A spark that wanted her to lash out and yell. Instead, she ground her teeth together and stared firmly at her lap instead of his mismatched eyes.
"You don't get it," she said softly, "I can't be gay. I'm--I'm supposed to be straight and be good for the family--"
Shouto frowns, sitting up a little. Immediately, Fuyumi misses the warmth and wants to hold her baby brother once more. A firm hand on her arm keeps her from reaching out.
"I don't get it?" he echoes, a little miffed, "I was told I had to be perfect too and then I liked Hanta and suddenly, I wasn't. It was hard, Fuyumi, but I got through it. Who you like has nothing to do with how good you are as a person. You don't need to have a husband and kids, you're just going to be unhappy. You have to do what's good for you."
"A husband will be good for me," she hisses out.
"No, it won't," he says back with the same amount of conviction.
"You don't know that!" she cries, head hanging low, "You're going to be a hero, Sho. You're the model child regardless of who you like. Me? I'm just a school teacher, I'm not somebody to be proud of. I...I have to be the kind of person our family will like and that means who I marry does matter."
Shouto just stares at her for a heavy moment before he stands. His gaze is scrutinizing, like he's facing a problem he can't quite understand fully. Then his back is turned to her as he gathers his bags, pulling them on over his shoulder.
"I tried," he declares, as if he's trying to prove something to someone. Then, he's heading back for the front door.
Fuyumi's brain slows for a moment, wetness clinging to her eyelashes before she jumps from the couch and grabs him by the backpack. He's not expecting it, and stumbles back into her as she yanks it off his shoulders before running to block the front door.
"No, you're not leaving!" she shouts, voice strained as she tries to hold back tears, "I--I can't lose you too!"
He narrows his eyes at her.
"You're going to be just like Mom," he whispers into the silence, as if he was just now realizing. Fuyumi had resigned herself to that fate long ago, but it stung now to hear it.
"Take it back," she grits out.
Shouto only shakes his head belatedly, staring at her with an expression she can't quite place.
"I'm sorry, Fuyumi. I really am."
Her knees buckle, colliding with the ground in a harsh moment that has pain blossoming through her legs. Shouto startles and runs forward, as if she's finally done something he didn't expect. He kneels in front of her, hands bracing her arms as her entire face falls as she fails to keep back another round of tears. It seems like she can't stop crying.
What happens next startles even her.
"I--I don't want to be like this. It's terrifying. I don't want my whole life to change."
Shouto's silent.
Fuyumi wants to scream.
Her voice breaks and hiccups on each sob, until she's gasping so hard she can barely breathe. A cold hand cups the back of her neck, keeping her cool as Shouto presses their foreheads together.
"I feel--" she gasps, finding his soft eyes, "like there's something wrong with me. I wasn't---I wasn't like this before her."
"Fuyumi," he mumbles, squeezing the back of her neck, "There is nothing wrong with you. You're so strong--and...I'm proud of you for telling someone."
She crumbles. It feels like there's been a weight lifted off her chest, hard and heavy and burning. Meanwhile, Shouto sits there and holds her to keep her grounded the whole time.
Sexuality is hard.
Fuyumi researched it, Shouto and Natsuo at her side as they all sit on one of the couches in the Endeavor Agency office. They debate over her sexuality till it gets to a point her stomach is twisting uncomfortably, and she decides to change the topic to Shouto's boyfriend instead. She'd much rather discuss that.
She knows she loved Rumi. She knows she probably still does.
Todoroki Fuyumi likes women, and she's starting to come to terms that it might be okay.
Deep down, she fears there may always be that hope that she'll connect with a man like she connected with her best friend. Even deeper, a part of her knows she won't.
Their father doesn't say anything, but definitely heard Fuyumi's explosive coming out because when her and Natsuo visit Shouto during his internship, there's a little pride flag hanging from his pen holder. Silent support is better than none.
Natsuo was elated when he found out that she'd finally cracked, which had almost made her want to immediately turn back and hide again. But he'd wrapped her up in a hug so tight, it eased away her worries and concerns. Now they all sat on a plush red couch, laughing about one thing or another and supplying conversation that kept the feed going. It felt nice, natural. Felt like Fuyumi finally had the family she always wanted.
That's when her father returns with his sidekicks from an operation, his three interns having been left behind on an mission they deemed too dangerous. Fuyumi knew it was really just because he wanted Shouto to stay with his siblings, and she was grateful for it.
He enters the office quietly, his sidekicks following behind him and flopping down on the couch across from theirs as Enji went to his desk. Fuyumi didn't pay much attention to his sidekicks often, but now? It was a little different.
She was noticing things she hadn't really noticed before on any girl but Rumi. Things she told herself she couldn't appreciate.
Like how bright Burnin's smile was, or how her skin glowed even when it was glistened with sweat. Or how her plush thighs looked as they crossed, or the way her green hair curled around her shoulders when it wasn't active. She was objectively beautiful, a strong hero with a fierce personality. Just like a certain somebody Fuyumi knew.
She feels Natsuo's eyes on her, but her eyes are on Burnin.
Orange meets teal, and that pale head of green hair cocks to the side curiously.
Her face heats up considerably.
"I'm going to use the bathroom," she stutters out to her siblings, trying not to run as she makes her way to the bathroom. She finds the closest one and closes herself in it, thankful that it was one-person usage. She yanks at the sink handles and pours cold water into her hands before rubbing at her pink face. Her glasses shift a little, and she pats at her face with a paper towel before trying to fix her appearance.
She didn't look like much. She was wearing a flowy white dress with ruffles and thin straps. She looked nice for the early spring days, her usual pink cardigan thrown over the couch in her father's office.
But her mind kept straying back to Burnin. Back to her smiles and strong body. Except every time she tried to imagine the plush of her pale thighs, her view changed to strong cordy muscle of dark skin. She tried to think of her sharp orange eyes, but the color shifted red. Fuyumi tried to think of Burnin in a way that she didn't think of Rumi, but she couldn't.
She wasn't mad at the hero anymore. It would be stupid if she was, but she wasn't sure how she felt. She knew she cared for her, more than she probably should after all these years. And she knew that the woman was insanely attractive. Fuyumi wanted her badly. But, she was just barely accepting herself, she isn't sure if she'd even be able to handle being in a relationship.
Even more, she isn't sure she'd be able to handle being around Rumi.
But, imagining her doesn't hurt.
Her hand sneaked down to her thigh, cupping her own supple skin and mentally replacing her hand with strong wide ones. Her bottom lip trembled a little, eyes squeezed shut as her right hand came to rub at her ribs.
It was like she could feel Rumi's lips on her again, moving quick and hungry like it was the last she'd ever taste of Fuyumi. She remembers the way she'd pushed her back, crawling on top of her and leaving her helpless. She remembers feeling so wrong, and so right. And in this moment, all Fuyumi can feel is right as she works her fingers pleasantly.
Hesitantly, Fuyumi's fingers raise to cup her own breast.
She'd only touched herself a handful of times, most of them being when she was inspecting herself in the mirror, trying to find what was appeasing and unappeasing about herself. Then, there were other times when it was late at night and her family was asleep. Times where she'd clapped a hand over her mouth and left her mind water as her hips shifted.
It was a little hard to think, as her fingers brushed lightly over her own breast through the thin material. No boy had ever touched her like this, but Rumi almost had.
Fuyumi wishes it were her hands now.
She works quickly, trying to release herself of the boiling pleasure without having to actually touch herself there. It felt wrong to do in the bathroom of her father's agency, but Fuyumi considered herself pretty innocent for the most part. She's sure there are other people who have likely done worse in here.
That's when a quick knock raps on the door before it's pushed open.
She flinches, spinning around fast. Her hands glue to her sides, back pressed against the porcelain of the sink as she stares at the intruder and mentally curses herself for not thinking to lock the door. Burnin is staring right back at her, eyes wide but a small smirk on her lips.
"Never did I think Endeavor's sweet little girl he talks about would touch herself in the bathroom," she snorts, crossing her arms as she leans against the frame.
Fuyumi's face feels like it's on fire.
"I'm sorry," she confessed, "I...I've never done anything like this before...just, don't tell my father."
Burnin shakes her head lightly with a laugh. "I won't. But, jeez, girl, it's almost like you've never seen a pretty girl before."
If her face wasn't on fire before, it was most certainly an inferno now. The sidekick gently closes the door behind her, and locks it. "I was sent to come find you and I certainly found you. Found you doing something dirty."
She takes a couple of steps forward, shorter than Fuyumi and looking up at her.
"Y'know," she starts, leaning in to whisper against her ear, "I think you're pretty too. If you ever want to...I don't care about father dearest upstairs."
And Fuyumi figures, it's better now than never.
When she kisses her, it's unskilled and messy. Burnin laughs into it, and it feels more natural than it had ever been with Tensei. And yet, it doesn't leave her with desire like Rumi had.
But this didn't have to mean anything.
Burnin guides the kiss, pushing her back until Fuyumi's fully hopped onto the sink now. Her thighs come to wrap around Burnin's waist, and sharpened fingers glide across her sides and down her legs. When they push up the ruffles of her white dress, Fuyumi doesn't complain.
Except the whole time, she pictures it's Rumi between her legs instead.
When they return, she's immediately being hounded as to her whereabouts.
Laughing, she scratches the back of her neck.
"I got lost," she admits, the white lie slipping off her tongue with ease, "Without Burnin I probably still would be."
The cackle it elicits from Natsuo is almost worth the lie.
"Mom, I just wanted to tell you that--um, well. I like women."
"That's wonderful, Fuyumi. Thank you for telling me."
ONGOING MESSAGE
2 Online
13:24
Contact FUYUMI ❤ has unblocked you.
FUYUMI ❤
> Hi, it's Fuyumi. I hope this is still your number Rumi.
Usagiyama Rumi
holy shit <
um, srry ignore that it is still my number <
are u okay??? <
FUYUMI ❤
> I'm fine, thank you. Are you?
Usagiyama Rumi
i am <
i've been worried abt you <
i haven't stopped thinking about it <
FUYUMI ❤
> The gala or the sleepover?
Usagiyama Rumi
both <
im sorry <
FUYUMI ❤
> I feel as though this is a conversation we need to have in person.
> Does the old cafe still work for you?
Usagiyama Rumi.
oh definitely <
does 16:00 tmrw work?? <
FUYUMI ❤
> I'll see you then!
Rumi's already there when Fuyumi arrives.
She's sitting in the far booth of the cafe, the sun filtering through a window and painting her features in early spring warmth.
Her hair is pulled into an artistically messy bun, ears swiveling the moment she walks in. Her face doesn't move, but Fuyumi knows Rumi knows she's here by the way her entire body stiffens.
She's wearing a black compression shirt with some sinfully tight flared jeans. She looks good, really good. Fuyumi takes in a deep breath, mentally preparing herself, before walking over and sliding into the seat across from her.
Rumi's head turns very quickly, eyes raking across her as if looking for injuries. Fuyumi had done her best to look good and casual. She wore a pale pink long-sleeve shirt with a white skirt that had flowers embroidered on the hem. It was very reminiscent of the kind of clothes she used to wear in school. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she smiled at her company.
Rumi quickly smiled back, a grin that could battle All Might's.
"I've wanted to see you forever," she admits, never the one to hold back what she thought, "And then I saw you at the gala and I... I froze. I thought you hated me. Then, Hawks had to screw things over for me with his scheming. So, I'm sorry for how things went down then--I tried to shut down any rumors and photos circulating but I didn't do to well."
"You did?" Fuyumi asked softly. "I had no clue."
Rumi shrugs, looking a little sheepish. "I figured it was the least I could do."
Fuyumi stares at the table for a moment, before flitting to Rumi's hands which were laid flat on the table. In a moment of confidence, she reached out and took Rumi's hand in hers.
Their palms met, and it felt like something had finally fit.
"I never hated you," she confesses, a blush rising on her cheeks, "Actually, I--well, it took some time to realize and be okay with it but...I love you, Rumi. I always have."
She thinks it's the first time she's ever seen Rumi cry.
In the past few weeks, she's been catching herself up on what Rumi's career has looked like. Never has she cried, or lost focus of the task at hand. But right here, right now she was. Her eyes were wide and wet, a glistening sheen over a startling shade of maroon.
"Why...why'd you push me away?"
Fuyumi presses her lips together. She's had enough crying for this year, at least. She's going to be the strong woman she knew she was. She was going to be truthful.
"I was scared. I thought I could only ever love a man--and I was really wrong. I hurt you, and...I'm sorry for that. We both have things to apologize for."
Rumi's eyes squeeze shut before a laugh startles out of her. "God, what did I do to get a woman like you?"
Fuyumi smiles and lifts their connected hands before placing a soft kiss to the back of Rumi's hand. It has her startling, staring at Fuyumi like she'd done something forbidden. Which, she supposed she had.
"I want to kiss you," and if that doesn't jumpstart the hero, then Fuyumi isn't sure what would. She jumps out of her seat, all energetic and excited and eager. Fuyumi giggles behind their palms, and stands as well. Rumi wastes no time, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her in. Fuyumi feels warm all over, and pleased to no end. She leans down to connect their lips, and her hand cradles Rumi's cheek.
Kissing Rumi was as easy as breathing.
She doesn't even know how she'd hated this so badly once.
In truth, it was something she should've cherished.
Rumi tastes of coffee and chocolate, and she smells like an expensive perfume. Fuyumi wants to envelope herself in Rumi's body, tucked deep in the cavity of her heart and never come out.
When they break the kiss, Fuyumi brushes their noses together.
"We still have a lot to talk about," she reminds.
"I know."
"I'm not entirely confident in my sexuality."
"That's okay."
"There's going to be hard moments."
"I know, baby."
"It's not going to be the same...I'm not the same--"
"Just shut up and kiss me."
And Fuyumi complies.
They'd need time, and patience but she has plenty of that to give for Rumi.
If they had each other, Fuyumi knows they'll be just fine.