Chapter Text
Out of all her chores, the one Fuyumi loved the most was grocery shopping.
She knew it sounded odd, and Natsuo liked to rag on her for it every chance he could get. He used to tag along, but would complain every time she stopped to consider prices and nutritional value and decided that it wasn’t worth his time anymore. Every Saturday, Fuyumi looked forward to her weekly shop. She supposed she was just like every other girl in that manner. Her father gave her his card and she was given permission to spend it on whatever food she wanted as long as she supplied breakfast and dinner everyday.
When she was younger, she wanted to go shopping desperately. She wanted to stand in the mall, shopping bags in hand with her mom at her side. But that dream had quickly been abandoned when she hit age twelve, and realized that there was no chance it’d be happening. At least, not anytime soon.
Now, she was seventeen and this was the highlight of her week. It was kind of sad, and when she’d confided in her small group of school friends about it they’d laughed at her. Fuyumi had brushed it off then, because she was supplying for her family and that was what mattered.
This time though, she has Shouto along with her. He was only ten, and too polite to admit he got bored with Fuyumi’s browsing like Natsuo. So, he held onto her hand as they made their way through the produce aisle, and occasionally Fuyumi would point at something to see if he wanted it.
Shouto wasn’t picky by any means, it was Natsuo that was the problem. He was the pickiest damn eater Fuyumi had ever met, but she’d always make sure he got a healthy balance of foods in his diet at least.
A small hand tugs on her navy-blue skirt, and points over to the yogurt section. “‘Yumi, can I get the new one? The ones with the candy in them?”
She paused for a moment, looking up and ahead. Their father wouldn’t like it by any means. He was a bit strict on Shouto’s diet, but she supposed she could buy it with her own money and he’d never have to know.
“I’m going to go get a spot in line, hurry up and pick out what you’d like for snacks,” she says instead, watching a small smile break out on his face as he rushes over to the yogurt section. She feels a little bloom of happiness in her chest as she spins the cart around to get in line.
Thankfully, Shouto gets back just in time as Fuyumi begins to load everything in the cart onto the conveyor belt. When she struggles a little to lift the water cases, her ten year-old brother steps in and does it with ease. It’s almost a little embarrassing, but Shouto beams with pride when she thanks him and that makes up for it.
“How are you today?” the cashier asks as a pleasantry and Fuyumi’s head finally snaps away from her brother to acknowledge the woman.
It doesn’t do her any good though, and she finds herself pausing for a moment. A little bit awestruck.
The woman’s white hair is long, tied up in a high-ponytail with her bangs and loose strands falling free. It compliments her dark skin nicely, and only makes her bright red eyes pop out more. What Fuyumi’s eye catches on is the two bunny ears she has, twitching in different directions as she looks at Fuyumi expectantly.
She was gorgeous.
“Um–I’m, uh, I’m good. How are you?” she stutters through, reminding her brain to work and to pull it off that previous train of thought. Shouto blinks up at her, already squeezing behind her legs to help the bagger with the bags.
The woman raises a pale eyebrow, and Fuyumi’s eyes flit down to her name tag.
Usagiyama Rumi.
The woman—Usagiyama replies cooly, “As good as I can be with this job.”
Despite herself, Fuyumi finds herself responding with a small huff of laughter before she starts digging through her purse for her dad’s credit card. “Um, I have a question?”
“Hm?” Usagiyama is half paying attention to her as she scans stuff, before sliding it over to the bagger and Shouto. She has wired headphones hanging from her work hoodie pocket, and a can of soda by the receipt machine.
“Can I pay for the yogurt separately?” she asks, and Usagiyama’s eyes flick over to her. There’s a question in her eyes, but instead she just nods and puts them aside.
The total charge on Enji’s card comes to around 30,000 yen. Fuyumi thinks maybe she won’t have to shop next week, seeing as she over-bought a little. But then her eyes flick back to Usagiyama, and she thinks she might just come back this time next Saturday just in case.
Shouto’s yogurt is cheap, and Fuyumi hands over a couple of yen before turning to her brother. He’s staring at the yogurts excitedly, and Fuyumi has no doubt he’ll rip into one as soon as they get home.
“Thank you!” she throws over her shoulder to the workers, as she pushes out the cart. Shouto practically glues himself to her legs until they’re safely out the door and into the warm September weekend weather. Their driver sits right where he’d initially parked, and climbs out of the car to help them load the bags.
Fuyumi just closed the door to Shouto’s side of the car when she hears someone shout behind her.
“Hey! Yogurt girl!”
She spins on her heel, head snapping around. There were probably a dozen different people it could be, but still she’s paying rapt attention. Then, sprinting across the parking lot in none other than Usagiyama.
Fuyumi feels goosebumps erupt on her arms, despite the warm weather. Her foot shifts, ready to get in the car but then she sees something pale pink in Usagiyama’s hand and recognizes it.
“You left your wallet at my register,” Usagiyama explains, barely even winded from her sprint across the parking lot. Even more hair had fallen out of her ponytail, but it somehow looked good in that messily styled way. Fuyumi took her wallet gratefully, flushing as pink as the fabric.
“Oh my gosh, thank you!” she feels a little embarrassed actually, to have managed to forget something so important. Her dad’s card, her own money, and her school ID had been in there. She takes Usagiyama’s hand without thinking, holding it between them and beaming at her.
She doesn’t notice the way red eyed widen, and her shoulders grow tense as dark cheeks flood with pink. “I appreciate it.”
“Um, yeah,” Usagiyama murmurs, staring at her blankly, “Uh, hey, do you—do you always shop on Saturdays?”
She blinks a couple of times, tilting her head. “Oh, yes I do.”
“Oh, okay. Um, do you think I could get your number?”
Fuyumi brightens immediately, her grin somehow growing ten-fold. She whips out her phone instantly. She needed more friends, almost desperately so. Her ones from school weren’t the best, and really were only friends out of convenience. They didn’t care that much for each other. But, Usagiyama had been willing to leave her work position to return Fuyumi’s lost wallet to her, and that showed good character.
“Here it is!” she chirps, turning her phone around. Usagiyama laughs, and grins as she pulls out her phone and begins to type in her number.
“Wicked, what’s your name?”
“Todoroki Fuyumi,” she answers, waiting to see the initial reaction. Usually once people heard her last name, they either backed off or tried to get ten times closer. Usagiyama had neither reaction, instead just nodding as she types Todoroki into Fuyumi’s contact.
Behind her, Shouto knocks on the glass as if to tell her to hurry up.
“Um, I’ve really got to go but thank you again for returning my wallet,” she says as she pulls the passenger door open. She stands there, between the car and the door, hands braced on top of the window. “Text me soon, yeah?”
Usagiyama nods quickly, shoving her phone back into her pocket. “As soon as I get off my shift.”
“Perfect,” Fuyumi grins, and closes the car door.
As they drive off, Shouto asks, “Is she your friend now?”
“I hope so.”
ONGOING MESSAGE
2 Online
18:34
XXX
> hey, is this todoroki lol?? it’s usagiyama
Todoroki Fuyumi
It is! I’m glad you messaged me. <
How was work? <
Usagiyama ／(˃ᆺ˂)＼
> it was p good ty 4 asking
> how has ur day been??
Todoroki Fuyumi
My day has been good! I’ve been taking care
of my brothers. <
I actually have to make dinner soon, sorry I can’t text much! <
Usagiyama ／(˃ᆺ˂)＼
> nah dw abt it
> maybe we could call?
> im not rlly doing anything till l8tr anyway
Todoroki Fuyumi
Sounds good to me! <
I’ll call you in a bit. <
Over their call, Fuyumi learns quite a few things about Usagiyama Rumi.
She learns that she only works at the grocery store on the weekends as a part time job, and that she’s eighteen years old. She learns that Usagiyama played volleyball and basketball. And that she dropped out of school after being kicked out for fighting in middle school, and now she’s supporting her mom and many siblings.
Fuyumi finds her very admirable. She too takes care of her siblings and father, but she had plenty of money and she got to have a little escape while at school. She thinks she might just lose herself if that was all she did (which reminds her a bit too much of her mother for her liking). Usagiyama fills the silence with her own talking, half of her face pressed into her pillow over the facetime call as she rambles on about one thing or another.
There had been very few times Fuyumi had facetimed someone. Once to her Dad while he was away on a business trip, because he wanted to check in on how things were. The other time was to Natsuo, when he was too lazy to get out of bed to get water and called her to do it instead.
She watches as Fuyumi carefully makes their large homemade dinner spread, watches as she slaps away Natsuo’s hands and responds softly to Shouto’s comments about when dinner would be finished. Her father was coming home a little later that night, so Fuyumi would have to reheat the leftovers for him.
Normally, Fuyumi would force Nastuo and Shouto to sit down at the table with her and eat dinner, but tonight she forgoes that tradition. Natsuo shoots her a confused look, but happily takes his food to his room and continues playing with his new online friend, Duster 044.
Shouto takes a little more convincing, and she can hear Usagiyama’s chuckling as she coaxes Shouto to at least eat in the living room in front of the TV. Shouto actually liked the family dinner when their father wasn’t there, and it made her a little bit upset to see how hung up he was over it.
It only took a promise of soba for dinner tomorrow night for him to go bouncing into the living room happily.
Her and Rumi continue their talk over the phone all throughout dinner. It gets to the point where Fuyumi’s been done for about thirty minutes, but can’t find it within herself to get up and put her dish in the sink when she could be sitting and talking to Rumi.
It’s around 20:15 when Shouto comes in, placing his dishes in the sink and waddling over to Fuyumi. He announces that he’d be putting himself to bed, but he wanted to say goodnight. Fuyumi has to force herself to look cool over the phone, even though her little brother’s proclamation melts her heart.
If Usagiyama’s coo’s over the speaker serve right, she too thought Shouto was the cutest thing ever.
He gives Fuyumi a brief but tight hug, and lets her place a lip-gloss stained kiss to the top of his head. Soon after that, Fuyumi hears the front door open and she spurs into action.
She stutters out a half-baked excuse as to why she had to go, which Usagiyama accepts without question. She really didn’t want to seem rude, but she hadn’t cleaned up at all and still had to heat up her father’s food.
Enji comes in the room just as she ends the call with Usagiyama. He stares at her, still dressed in her day clothes with her plates in front of her, phone propped up on her water glass. Something on his face twitches, something Fuyumi can’t quite identify.
“I’ll have your dinner ready in a minute,” she murmurs sheepishly, and begins to wash her own dishes and the heat in the room dies down a little.
Over the next couple of weeks, Fuyumi has spent more time with Usagiyama than she has with her own family, she thinks.
Her father, surprisingly, doesn’t question it. She pre-cooks meals in advance, meals that Natsuo can heat up in the microwave for him, Shouto, and dad. It’s actually really nice, to not feel like an in-house maid for once.
After school she heads home to complete her homework and throws together dinner for that night. Then, she changes her clothes and heads over to Usagiyama’s house.
It’s a quaint little house, loud and busy. Toys are scattered in the living room, and there’s drawings and achievement awards everywhere. You can smell the home cooked food and hear the laughter throughout the house. At Usagiyama’s home, everything feels warm . Sometimes, Fuyumi wishes she could stay here forever.
It’s more comforting than her own home has ever been.
She thinks Usagiyama realizes that, because soon enough she’s inviting her over every other day even if it’s only for a handful of hours.
Usagiyama’s mother is a short and plump woman, full of smile lines and boisterous laughter. Fuyumi can see where her daughter gets most of her genes from. Fuyumi had also inherited her mother’s genes, save for her height from her father which put her at a whopping 5’10 compared to Usagiyama’s 5’5.
She also finds out that Usagiyama is the oldest of her siblings. She has five of them, all equally noisy and brash as she is. They don’t bother them much, thankfully.
They’re lounging in Usagiyama’s bed, watching a movie, when she suddenly blurts it out.
“Call me Rumi.”
Fuyumi pauses, her brain doing a violent 360 from the contents of the movie to real life.
“What?”
Usagiyama—or well, Rumi’s, legs are thrown over Fuyumi’s lap. Her thumb had been subconsciously running over the seam of her black leggings. She’s wearing a grey band shirt thats about two sizes too big for her. She’s cozy, perfectly content to have Fuyumi in her bed.
“Call me Rumi. It’s weird to hear you call my mom the same thing you call me.”
“Oh,” she whispers, feeling a little breathless. It was the first weekend of October, meaning they’d only known each other for a couple of weeks, and yet, Rumi already wanted her to address her so personally? “Okay.”
“Don’t overthink it, Todoroki,” Rumi rolls her eyes, as she scrolls through her phone, the movie long forgotten. “I think you’ve got too much brain up there sometimes. Share with the rest of us, yeah?”
“Mhm,” Fuyumi blinks, looking down at her lap where Rumi’s ankles are crossed over her thighs.
She can feel the warmth radiating off the smaller woman, who’s completely moved on from the topic at hand.
"Call me Rumi."
And yet, she still called Fuyumi Todoroki .
Her family name.
If Rumi ever came over, would she feel weird if she addressed Shouto and Natsuo the same way?
She decides that yes, she would.
“Hey, if I get to call you Rumi then…you should call me Fuyumi.”
Rumi puts down her phone, looking at her with an expression Fuyumi can’t quite place. “Are you sure? You don’t have to offer if you don’t want me to.”
She shakes her head vehemently. “No, I want you to.”
That earns her a sharp smirk. “Okay then, Fuyumi,” she drawls, her voice dropping a little.
A small shudder crawls down her spine. She didn’t think it could be so nice to hear someone say your name. Rumi was the only friend Fuyumi had ever given the permission to. Her family, well, that was different. It was her family. This? Fuyumi couldn’t quite place it.
It just felt nice. Good.
She had a close friend.
Sucking in a deep breath, Fuyumi turned back to the TV and Rumi turned back to her phone. They stayed that way for a while, Rumi’s feet in Fuyumi’s lap, and the soft chatter of the TV and the phone. It wasn’t until they were called for dinner did they move.
The dinner was good. It tastes like homemade food should. Cooked with love, is what Rumi’s mother says as she piles Fuyumi’s plate up with more food than she could possibly eat in one serving. Rumi sits close to her, all of them crowded at their small dining table.
When their arms brush, their eyes meet, and they giggle.
She wishes that her own family could experience family dinners like this. The closest they’d ever gotten was when it was just her Touya, Mom, and Dad. When they were happy. Fuyumi just hopes that at some point in the next couple of years, she can get everyone around their table once more.
At this table, there’s always someone chatting about one thing or another. Fuyumi doesn’t have to lead the conversation for once, which feels nice and refreshing. Rumi nudges her shoulder every time her siblings say something she deems funny or embarrassing and it passes between their eyes like a shared joke.
It feels genuine.
Fuyumi unfortunately can’t finish her food. It’s all too much, and too good. But, Rumi’s mother packs it up in a plastic to-go container and tells her to take it home which she accepts gratefully. It’s nearing 19:00 when dinner finishes up, and the accident happens.
She’s standing by the island, sipping from her glass cup. Rumi had went off to help her mother clean up (after they’d both already shoo’d Fuyumi away from helping out), and Fuyumi was watching her little siblings bustle around to pick up the dining table.
It really was just an accident. Rumi’s little brother, Kazuki runs by a little too fast with his twin sister Ritsuki hot on his trail. Fuyumi turns at the wrong time, and suddenly a half-full glass of grape juice is being spilled down the front of Fuyumi’s white long-sleeve. It soaks her, cold to the bone with ice.
She tries not to react poorly as it seeps into her skin, only failing to mask the little gasp that leaves her lips. Rumi takes that moment to turn around, almost dropping the glass she was washing when she notices the deep purple stain down the front of Fuyumi’s shirt.
“What the hell Kaz?” she asks, shoving his shoulder. He stumbles a little, guilt clear on his face. Immediately, Fuyumi snaps into action. She takes Rumi’s still soapy wrist in her hand, and shakes her head.
“It’s okay, it was an accident.”
Rumi sighs, shooting her eleven-year-old brother a dirty look before turning to Fuyumi. He mumbles a sorry, and gives her a small bow that she waves off.
“f*ck, you’re never going to get that stain out,” she groans, pinching the hem of Fuyumi’s tight shirt between her fingers. She spares a glance to her mom, and quickly wipes her hands down.
“Mama, I’m gonna go get Fuyumi a new shirt. I’ll be back.”
If Usagiyama notices the change from Todoroki to Fuyumi she doesn’t mention it. She just nods with promises to scold Kazuki. She follows Rumi back to her bedroom, and watches as the older girl digs through her dresser before finally emerging with a shirt for Fuyumi to wear.
It’s a black one, with an unknown band on the back. Fuyumi accepts it gratefully. Like most of Rumi’s shirts, it’s oversized, which means it’s extra oversized on Fuyumi. Rumi turns around so she can peel off her wet shirt and switch it out for the new one.
When it slips off her shoulder and shows her white bra strap, Rumi doesn’t say anything about it but Fuyumi sees her lingering gaze.
They throw out her white shirt, deeming it beyond repair. Fuyumi packs her stuff up, grabs her to-go container, and makes sure Kazuki knows she isn’t mad at him. Then she goes up to Usagiyama, prepared to thank her when the older woman wraps her in a big warm hug.
She’d been there five times in the past two weeks at that point, but this was the first time she’d hugged her. Her hands are strong and warm against Fuyumi’s back, squeezing tight. “You know you’re welcome anytime, dear,” she says against Fuyumi’s collarbone. If she notices the tears bubbling in her eyes, then she doesn’t bring it up.
When she pulls away, Fuyumi rubs at her eyes a little before following Rumi to the front door.
Rumi walks her home. It isn’t that long of a walk, but seeing as it was after dark the older girl had insisted. This was the closest she ever got to Fuyumi’s house, but Fuyumi isn’t sure if she’d ever let her in.
It was always dangerous when people came over.
Rumi stands amidst the front garden, gates to her back. The moonlight shines down on her, painting her in a silver hue that makes her almost look mythical. Fuyumi knew Rumi was pretty, she just didn’t think she could be this pretty.
Fuyumi’s about to walk up the steps when she spins on her heel and grabs onto Rumi’s hands. They’re warm, just like the rest of her. She holds them up between them, just like she had those weeks ago, but this time a little closer to her own lips.
“You promise me you’ll get home safe?” she asks, breath fogging up around them.
Rumi gives her a co*cky grin, hip popped to the side. “Trust me. Ain’t nobody stands a chance against me.”
She smiles, because that’s what she seems to never stop doing when it comes to being around Rumi.
“Text me,” she adds on, for good measure. Then she says, “Thank you for having me.”
“Always.”
That’s when she finally walks up the steps and into her house. She closes the door softly, as to not disturb her working father. Then she peers out the glass until Rumi has made it out of her view, and turns off the porch light.
Natsuo’s laid across the couch when she turns into the living room, video game controller in hand. He has his mic set on. He has a gaming system in his room, but he’s always talking about how the living room TV is better because it’s bigger.
Fuyumi gives him a small little wave that he doesn’t return. Instead, his eyes catch on the obviously different shirt, and raises a thin eyebrow. His expression is questioning, but Fuyumi dismisses it.
“Have you and Shouto eaten dinner?”
“Mhm,” he hums, eyes glazed over in the light of the TV.
“You ate all of it?”
“Yes, ‘Yumi.”
“Okay,” she takes a couple of steps closer and presses a kiss to his temple. He wrinkles his nose at her, but gives her a small smile anyway. As she’s making her way down the hallway to check on Shouto she hears,
“Yeah, sorry, my sister got back from a…hangout.”
Of all people, Fuyumi was not expecting to see Usagiyama Rumi at her school’s cultural festival.
She spotted her through a window from the cafeteria to the large courtyard of her private school. How she even got the clearance through is beyond Fuyumi, but this is absolutely not the scenario she wants her best friend to see her in.
When her class proposed the idea of a maid cafe, Fuyumi thought it was funny and it brought in a lot of money. She knew her family wouldn’t be coming, so she had readily agreed to the idea. Then, somewhere in the progres, it became a genderswapped maid cafe.
Which left her in the school cafeteria, surrounded by her male classmates in frilly maid dresses serving families, friends, and other classmates. Meanwhile, she was dressed in ironed black slacks, some black flat shoes, a skin-tight white blouse and a black vest. Her hair was done up in a bun, save for her bangs and face framing pieces.
She could see Rumi’s head swiveling around, ears twitching as she no doubt searched for Fuyumi.
Grabbing a tray to cover her face, Fuyumi can back inside to the kitchen.
“Hide me!” she hissed to her friends who were working at the food booth. They shared looked between each other, before shrugging and letting Fuyumi crawl past them and sit on the floor with her back pressed to the counter.
“Who are we hiding you from?” one of them asked, scrubbing down a couple of coffee mugs.
“Rumi. Bunny ears, white hair. Hard to miss,” she answers quietly, just in case Rumi’s superb hearing can hear her over everyone else. She holds the silver tray in her lap. “I didn’t know she was coming.”
“Is she a family member?” another asked.
“No,” Fuyumi sighed. Then, a little shyly, she added, “She’s my friend.”
More looks were shared over her head.
“I don’t see what could possibly be so bad about your outfit, Fuyumi,” Rumi’s voice cuts through the bustling with ease, having rounded the corner of the STUDENTS ONLY door to peer inside.
She can’t see Fuyumi, but her face burns anyway. Her friends were absolutely no help.
“I look stupid,” she says, suddenly regretting all her choices when it came to the cultural festival. “This was a stupid idea.”
She can practically hear the eyeroll that comes from her best friend. “C’mon, it can’t be as bad as those baby photos your brothers sent me.”
Fuyumi groans into her hands, only feeling more embarrassed by the memory. Eventually one of her friends looks at her expectantly, holding a tray of three orders. “Look, just go out there and do your job, please.”
Sighing, she gets to her feet. She keeps her head low as she takes the tray and turns to face Rumi.
The older girl is leaning in the doorway, arms crossed as she gives all of Fuyumi’s friends an unimpressed look. But when she sees Fuyumi the expression drops, and she straightens a little.
The silence that ensues is suffocating.
Eventually, Rumi clears her throat and shoves her hands in her pockets. “You look fine, Fuyumi. It’s not that big of a deal,” the words sound choked, and Fuyumi wished she could bury herself in the ground. Rumi probably thought she was ridiculous.
This was horrible.
She was making a fool of herself.
Rumi silently follows her as she delivers orders of coffee and pastries to customers until eventually she’s given her break. Immediately, she’s tugging Rumi out of the stupid cafe and into the hallway.
“Why are you here?” she asks, plopping down on a bench with her own cup of coffee. Rumi sits next to her, wearing simple jean shorts and a white tank-top. She’s wearing a black bomber jacket with a big yellow moon on the back. It has some small white lettering across the right breast that Fuyumi can’t quite read.
“You told me about it and I got curious,” she admits, looking anywhere but Fuyumi, a pink tinge to her cheeks. “I just asked around till I found out what class you were in. Then I heard you moping in there.”
“It was supposed to be a dress,” Fuyumi says, as if that makes it any different. It does for Rumi though, because her pink cheeks turn red, “They decided at the last minute to do gender-swap.”
She needs Rumi to know that, for some reason. Needs her to know that she isn’t as ridiculous as she looks right now.
After a moment, Rumi asks, “Wanna skip the rest?”
Fuyumi’s brain lags for a moment, before her head snaps around. She’s a little appalled. “You’re asking me if I wanna skip school?” she asks, almost verging on too loud before she corrects her volume.
Rumi’s eyes shift to the side, seeing no problem in the question she just asked.
“Uh, yeah, that’s what I asked.”
Fuyumi’s head whips around a couple of times, just to make sure nobody would come up and hear this conversation. Fuyumi couldn’t possibly skip school, especially not culture festival day where she had a job to do.
She had perfect attendance (save for that one time she had to stay home and take care of Shouto when he caught a nasty flu), perfect grades. She was on the principal's list, the president of her grade’s student council, the perfect model student.
Fuyumi couldn’t be bad.
Rumi seems to sense this internal monologue she’s having, because she reaches out a hand and places it onto Fuyumi’s shoulder. “Trust me, they have plenty of people here to serve coffee. Let’s do something you actually enjoy, and get you into real people's clothes.”
“These are real people's clothes,” she says weakly, but it isn’t much of an argument. She couldn’t really fight with Rumi. She just always ended up going with what she wanted, because it made Fuyumi happy to see her happy.
Her class did have more than enough people to serve and make food for the cafe. Besides, school would be getting out in an hour and the festival would only go for an hour after that. It’s not like her dad would know, Shouto and Natsuo were being picked up from school by the driver.
She could.
The only people who would notice her disappearance would be her friends, and she doubted they cared enough to report it.
Fuyumi’s eyes flit back up to Rumi’s, a deep red. Her eyelashes were long, flicking over her cheeks as her white hair spilled down her back loosely. Rumi always knew what she wanted. Fuyumi hoped one day she could be like her.
Slowly, she says, “My clothes are in my locker. We should be quick.”
Rumi’s resulting grin is infectious, as is the warm bubbly feeling in Fuyumi’s gut when Rumi holds her hand the whole walk back to her locker.
When Rumi asked to come over to stay the night, Fuyumi had just straight up said, “No.”
She’d been a little offended, and taken aback. “What? W…Why?” She’d dropped Fuyumi’s hand so fast, as if it was poisoned. Fuyumi smacked her forehead, and quickly rephrased.
“I just…don’t think you’ll enjoy it. That’s all,” she admits, having changed out of the maid outfit into a white t-shirt with a dark red strap dress on top. Her mary-janes had slid on easily, and she topped it off with a cream-colored cardigan. Rumi blinked at her a couple of times before scoffing.
“Yeah right. What, do you think your little brat siblings are gonna annoy me?”
Fuyumi shakes her head, lips pressed together in a thin line. It was a habit she really had to stop doing, seeing as all it did was smear her lip gloss.
“No. My dad can be…not the best sometimes. I just…I wouldn’t want him to start something.”
Rumi reaches out and takes her hand again, and any tension that was building in Fuyumi’s shoulders relaxed as they walk through the chilly November air to Fuyumi’s house.
“I’m not scared of your dad, I assure you,” in all honesty, Fuyumi wasn’t even sure if Rumi knew who her dad was. She didn’t want to scare her off, that was for sure. But, then again, Rumi didn’t get scared of anything.
Fuyumi reaches into her backpack and pulls out her phone. She dials her dad’s number and holds it up to her ear.
It takes a couple of rings, but eventually he answers.
“What is it?” he asks, gruffly, more of a demand than a question.
“Hello Father, I just—I wanted to ask if a friend of mine could sleepover tonight? We won’t disturb you and I’ll still make dinner and get Shouto and Natsuo to bed.”
It seemed a little silly to have describe the details of their bedtime routine with Rumi right next to her, but the girl only nodded at her to ensure she did want to come over.
He’s quiet at the end of the line for a moment. “Don’t be too loud, that’s all.”
Fuyumi brightens. Hopefully his agreement means he won’t fight with Natsuo at dinner.
“Thank you, Father! We won’t be, promise.”
She’s met with the dial tone. He’d hung up.
But Fuyumi wasn’t going to let that dampen her mood, as she puts her phone in her backpack. “You better let your mom know,” she says, and Rumi only laughs.
“I’m eighteen, she’ll live.”
That earns her an eyeroll.
Thankfully, the rest of the night goes smoothly. Rumi watches quietly as Fuyumi makes dinner, and listens intently when she describes all the different things she’s doing to the food. Natsuo and Shouto are thrilled to have company, and Natsuo won’t stop bugging her about the sports she plays.
Father takes his dinner in his study, and the rest of them enjoy a nice meal around the dinner table. Shouto gets ready for bed by himself, and Fuyumi tucks him in at 21:46, eleven minutes past his usual bedtime. Natsuo on the other hand had already retreated to his room to study for the upcoming biology test he had.
Which left the rest of the house to Rumi and Fuyumi.
They’d managed to take over the living room, a sweet rom-com playing on the television that she half-payed attention to. Rumi had borrowed some of Fuyumi’s clothes. Wearing a blue-blouse and some of Fuyumi’s sweatpants that bunched around her ankles. She looked comfortable, curled up under a grey knitted blanket on the couch.
Fuyumi, unable to help herself, crawled right up next to her and laid her head down in her lap.
Rumi had paused only momentarily before she slowly began threading her fingers through Fuyumi’s hair. She twirled strands of red and white around her fingers, nails scratching nicely against her scalp.
With each drag of nails against her scalp, Fuyumi felt impossibly more tired. It was nearing two in the morning, which was pretty good for Fuyumi considering she usually went to bed before the clock struck midnight.
Her eyes were slowly but surely getting heavier, her cheek pushed into the warmth of Rumi’s plush thigh. She thinks she could sleep here forever for a moment, but then realizes that might be a little weird.
“‘Yumi?” her best friend whispers into the air, testing the waters. Fuyumi gives a little non-committal hum to let her know she was awake. “I have a secret.”
In her chest, her heart seizes. Fear and panic strikes her, for what reason, she doesn’t know. She shifts her body, sitting up so they’re only inches apart. Her eyes are heavy, but she wants to know. She wants to give Rumi her full attention.
“What is it?”
“You know how I got kicked out of school for fighting?” she asks quietly, fiddling with her hands in her lap now that they weren’t in Fuyumi’s hair. When she’s given a nod, she continues. “Well, I never stopped.”
What?
Fuyumi must say it outloud without realizing, and it comes out a lot more judgmental than intended because Rumi winces a little, and Fuyumi can see the metaphorical guard rise in her eyes.
“No wait, sorry. Um, what do you mean?”
Red eyes meet blue. Fuyumi’s glasses had been lost somewhere on the coffee table, but even with her blurry vision, Rumi still looks as pretty as she did that night in the moonlight.
“There are these underground fighting rings around here. I don’t make enough money from the supermarket, but I can’t work during the week so at night…I fight. I always win.”
She adds the last part as if it changes the fact she’d been doing something illegal. More importantly, something dangerous.
“What?” Fuyumi echoes, “Are you okay? Like, are you hurt? How did I not realize—”
“No, no, shhh. I didn’t expect you to know but…I think I’m gonna quit soon.”
Fuyumi feels lost. Rumi had kept this big secret because….she was scared? Did she think Fuyumi wouldn’t like her because of this? Because it doesn’t change anything. Fuyumi just wants her best friend to be safe.
Illegal fighting rings are not safe.
“Why?”
Rumi looks straight ahead. At some point the movie had stopped playing and the TV was casting them in this sweet-soft pink lighting. It was like someone had draped a pink sheer curtain over a warm dim lamp. Her lips glistened a little, and something inside Fuyumi compelled her to reach out and brush against them.
Thankfully, she caught herself.
Rumi’s head turned back around just as Fuyumi flinched back, biting down on her own lips.
“I…I think I want to be a hero.”
The word ricochets around in Fuyumi’s mind for a minute.
A hero .
Like her Father. Like Shouto. Like Touya.
Something just as dangerous as illegal fighting rings.
But, something that would do good.
“What…what makes you want to be a hero?” she asks, voice a small rasp.
Rumi looks at her so gently, hands reaching out to hold against her hips. It wasn’t friendly, not in the slightest but Fuyumi couldn’t find it within herself to care at this moment. Rumi was oh so close, and yet she felt so incredibly far at the same time.
Goosebumps rise up on Fuyumi’s arms, and her heart is racing in her chest. Her eyes flick down to Rumi’s lips, and red eyes do the same to hers.
“You.”
Her?
“Me?”
Rumi nods. “You…you do a lot of good, ‘Yumi. And—And I want to be someone who can do that too. Someone who can use their strength to help others.”
Fuyumi stutters. Her? Really? What had she done?
“I'm not that strong—I don’t do anything.”
She’s met with a firm head shake. “Hell yeah you do. ‘Yumi you take care of your brothers every day, and if that’s not strong then I don’t know what is.” She says it so firmly, so surely, that Fuyumi balks. Well, if Rumi thought so, it had to be true right?
“How are you going to become a hero?”
She’s met with a shrug this time. “I figure I can take the test somehow. I’ve got some connections in the ring, I’ll figure things out. But I want you to be there with me.”
Fuyumi finds herself beaming.
“Of course. You’re my best friend.”
Rumi’s hands slip away from her waist before Fuyumi could even blink. She’s standing in an instant, leaving Fuyumi confused on the couch.
“I’m gonna go to bed,” she says, back turned to Fuyumi, head lowered. Her white hair provides her a curtain of privacy. Something in her voice tells her that something’s wrong. Very wrong.“Thanks for listening.”
Then she’s gone down the hallway into the guest bedroom, and all Fuyumi can do is wonder what she’d done wrong this time.
The next morning, Fuyumi gives three knocks to the guest bedroom door before she walks in. Rumi’s sitting in a pile of blankets, hair drooping in her face and ears lying flat. At some point she’d taken off the blue blouse, now sitting there wearing nothing but her black sports bra.
Fuyumi would be lying if she said it didn’t make something warm pool in her gut.
Slowly, she closes the door behind her. It was quite time for breakfast yet, and Father had already left the house. Besides, it was a weekend, nobody would be waking up early except her.
Fuyumi strides over to the bed, sitting down in front of Rumi. Heavy, sad, red eyes stare at her, and Fuyumi reaches forward to brush the curtain of white hair of out Rumi’s face. That only seems to worsen the pained expression on her face.
“What did I do?” she asks into the silence, as Rumi’s hand sneaks its way onto her bare thigh and her thumb rubs into supple flesh.
“Nothin’,” Rumi mutters, her ears flicking up. Her tail twitches a little, which is how Fuyumi knows she’s lying. She knew her best friend.
“There’s obviously something,” Fuyumi sighs, “Please, let me fix it.”
Rumi stares at her long and hard, eyes going from her eyes to her lips to her nose then back to her eyes. “You mean it?” she looked almost angry with her, an unappealing mix of anger and disbelief on her face. Fuyumi wanted to wipe that away. She wanted the familiar wide smile and sparkling eyes that she'd grown so accustomed to over the months.
“Of course,” Fuyumi isn’t sure what she’d do if Rumi stayed mad at her.
What she wasn’t expecting was for Rumi to kiss her.
Except she should’ve. She really should’ve. Rumi had liked her since day one, it was clear as day. All those sweet physical touches that seemed innocent, almost not friendly. When she’d been so caught up over Fuyumi in the cafe outfit, or when she’d gotten annoyed over her brother spilling juice on her. It all circled back to last night when she’d told Fuyumi she wanted to be a hero. A hero like Fuyumi.
She was blind to see it.
Because, Fuyumi wasn’t supposed to like girls. Fuyumi was her father’s only daughter, and the heir to all his non-hero associations. She’d be the one producing children and grandchildren. She was supposed to marry someone rich and famous like her dad. No, not someone. A guy.
She’d never had a boyfriend before, but Rumi’s lips on her lips felt both right and wrong.
That heat from earlier continued to pool in her gut, warm and sticky as she got to her knees. Rumi quickly followed, lips moving against Fuyumi’s slow ones. Her hands roamed up her body, pushing her back down onto the bed.
Fuyumi’s head tilted back, a shaking moan escaping her lips as Rumi kissed down her neck.
This was a sin. That was what she’d been told by her grandparents since she was young. Boys were with girls. Girls were with boys. That’s how it worked. Except right now, Rumi was making quick work of her neck, leaving bruises she’d struggle to cover. Trying to show her different.
God, if Rumi wasn’t temptation incarnate then Fuyumi doesn’t know what was.
She squirms under Rumi’s hot, heavy, body. As disgusting as she felt in this moment, she also felt like this was right. A cool chill washed over her body, no doubt her own quirk trying to fix the sudden rise of temperature on her skin.
Rumi’s hand brushes her breast, and that’s when Fuyumi freaks.
She shoves her off with a strength she didn’t know she possessed, chest heaving. Rumi scrambles back, lips shiny and wet. “Stop,” she gasps, hoarse as she feels the familiar pressure of tears in her eyes. Any defense in Rumi’s body quickly melts away, as she softens and reaches out.
Fuyumi melts into her easily, and it makes her nauseous.
Rumi holds her close to her chest, and Fuyumi soaks in the warmth of her skin. Her salty tears spill down Rumi’s front, as she tries not to calm her stomach. Something was wrong. She felt filthy.
This wasn’t right.
This was wrong. Oh, so wrong.
“sh*t, I’m sorry baby. I shouldn’t have done that—I’m so sorry, ‘Yumi.”
Fuyumi doesn’t know what it is about her.
Maybe it was the way she smiled, bright and sunny as if there wasn’t a thing in the world that could hurt her. Or the way she spoke, brash and unrestrained. It could be the way she touched Fuyumi, like she was some relic to be cherished and not a sinner.
Like what they did wasn’t dirty.
Fuyumi loved everything about Usagiyama Rumi, and that’s what scared her. She wasn’t supposed to love girls, she was supposed to be good.
God, how did they end up here? With Fuyumi’s face pressed into her collarbone, smearing spit and tears against her dark skin. Rumi’s hand rubbing soothing circles into her back, whispering sweet things that only served to make Fuyumi more upset.
She was going to be ill. This was so messed up. She was doing something bad, something wrong. Her grandparents didn’t like this, so certainly her father and brothers wouldn’t. They’d be so disappointed in her.
Did she taint Rumi too?
Fuyumi’s head pounds, too many thoughts running free through her brain.
“Don’t overthink it, Todoroki,”
She can’t help it.
“Get out,” she says, halfway through a sob, “Please, leave. Just get out.”
Slowly, Rumi peels herself away, caught between leaving and going back to Fuyumi’s shaking form on the bed. Instead, she pulls on Fuyumi’s blue blouse and leaves the guest bedroom. It’s only a few minutes before she hears the front door shut, and Fuyumi collapses into a shuddering mess on the guest bed.
ONGOING MESSAGE
1 Online
11:56
Usagiyama Rumi
yumi?? <
yumi are u okay <
pls just let me know ur okay <
im sorry <
im so so sorry baby <
Contact FUYUMI ❤ has blocked you.
