Chapter Text
“What are we looking for again?”
You popped the pen torch in your mouth as you climbed to the top of the ladder.
“Couple of boxes full of books,” called up Nemuri, “they should say Culture Festival on them.”
You had been in the middle of making coffee when Nemuri poked her head around the door, asking for your help running an errand. You had been only too happy to help, curious when she led you to the second floor storage room and reached for a ladder.
“Currturr fevtivurr,” you said, rummaging around the top shelf and pretending not to notice the cobwebs and thick layer of dust. How long had it been since anyone checked up here, much less cleaned it?
“Aha,” you said at last, dragging a couple of boxes to the front, “curtur fevitvur!”
You reached for the first box and lowered it down to Nemuri, who placed it on a trolley.
“What are these?”
Nemuri leaned over, setting aside her own torch.
“They’re photo albums,” she said, opening up the box and pulling out a book with thick leather bindings. “We ask every class to complete one at the culture festival for extra credit.”
“That’s so cool,” you said, reaching for another box. “I wish my school did something like that.”
You passed down the next few boxes, increasingly curious of the contents within. You wondered how far back the albums would go. Shouto, Hizashi and Nemuri had all attended UA, hadn’t they? Would their album be in there too?
“It’s good to have the nostalgia,” said Nemuri, helping you down the ladder, “but it serves another, far more important purpose.”
“Oh?”
“Mhmm. Go on, try and have a guess what it is.”
You thought about it as you walked back towards the staff room, Nemuri wheeling the trolley behind you.
“I give up.”
“Well, we have the festival every year,” said Nemuri, “and every year, without fail, there’s a class that struggles to find a theme.”
“I see,” you said, holding open the door to the staff room, “so students can use them as a point of inspiration for their own events. That’s a good system!”
“Naturally!”
Shouta and Hizashi had returned in your absence and one of them had finished making the cup of coffee you had abandoned. You reached for it with a grateful sigh, taking sips as Nemuri dragged books from the boxes, only to set it aside at the overly bitter taste.
“Oooh, are these the festival albums?”
Hizashi was the first one to go and investigate, while Shouta watched from his desk, nudging his shoulder to your butt by way of greeting.
“Look, these are last year’s students,” said Nemuri, “they’ve grown so much!”
“Let me see!”
Hizashi and Nemuri skimmed through the pages, squealing whenever they came across a particularly sentimental shot. Shouta continued to type at his computer and you hovered at a distance, recognising none of the students but almost all of the themes.
“Ahhh, look at Togata and Amajiki!”
“I think I’m going to cry.”
Hizashi slid one of the boxes towards himself, picking through the books for a particular class and crying out in delight when he found the one he was looking for.
“Look, Eraser, it’s us!”
He waved the book, though Shouta didn’t look in the least bit interested, instead grunting as he typed. You, by comparison, were more than a little bit curious and peered over Hizashi’s shoulder. From the looks of things, they had performed some sort of play.
“Look,” he said, slamming his finger on a particular picture. “Here I am, in my professional acting debut!”
“What were you performing?”
“The Little Mermaid,” said Hizashi. “I was the beautiful, tragic mermaid, in love with a prince in the human world and Eraser was my escort from the fishy mermaid land.”
You examined the photo, taking in Hizashi’s shorter hair and class uniform, combined with the heartfelt expression across his face as he presumably performed the heroine’s song.
“Look how cute you are,” you said.
“That’s nothing,” said Hizashi, turning several pages, “wait’ll you see Eraser.”
“Hey,” piped up Shouta, “don’t go showing her anything weird.”
He landed on a particular photo, showing Hizashi and another student in a prince costume and wig getting married, Shouta standing to one side in a colourful fish costume and clearly wishing he was anywhere else.
You squeaked in delight and Shouta groaned, burying his face in his keyboard.
“(Name), (Name),” said Hizashi, “what did your class do?”
“Well,” you said, scratching your chin, “for our first and third years we did a play.”
“And the second year?”
Suddenly everyone’s eyes were on you and you couldn’t help but flush a bright red.
“I...It’s embarrassing.”
You knew you’d made a mistake the moment you said it. Nemuri and Hizashi watched in anticipation and even Shouta stopped typing, peering out through the gap between his monitor and Hizashi’s. You sighed, eyes dropping to the floor and mumbling the words so quietly that you prayed no one would hear you.
“Maid cafe.”
Unfortunately, you weren’t quiet enough. Hizashi and Nemuri both squealed as you had only a moment before.
“Our prayers have been answered,” said Nemuri.
“Pictures, pictures,” cried out Hizashi.
“There aren’t any pictures,” you lied through your teeth.
“Which school did you go to? Maybe we can call their principal!”
“Tell us (Name)! Which school did you go to?”
“I…”
“It’ll save time if you tell us,” said Nemuri. “We can just look at your records.”
“I hate you all,” you said, before catching Shouta’s eye. “Uh, I mean...most of you.”
You turned to Nemuri and Hizashi with a sigh.
“I went to Seisen Academy,” you said, “but you won’t find any pictures of it!”
“Seisen Academy,” said Hizashi, as if you’d told him something incredibly shocking. “You mean… the girl’s academy uptown?”
“You’ve heard of it?”
“Heard of it? (Name), I...can’t believe it!”
You glanced from Hizashi to Shouta to Nemuri, wondering what could have prompted such a reaction. They all had the same expression and that only worried you more.
“What?”
SEVERAL YEARS EARLIER
“What about a haunted house?”
“No.”
“A soba stand?”
“No.”
“Ooh, a musical?”
“Definitely not.”
Hizashi sighed and leaned back in his chair.
“This is a nightmare,” he said. “There has to be one theme you approve of.”
Shouta looked him dead in the eye and sipped his drink.
“It’s never so simple as a theme with you,” he said.
“Such a spoilsport.”
Shouta opened his mouth to respond, though never got that far, for the door to the classroom flew open and Shirakumo strode inside with a shit eating grin.
“Gentlemen,” he said, slamming a pamphlet down on Shouta’s desk, “I’m here to make your day.”
Hizashi and Shouta leaned over to see what he’d brought, taking in the gaudy floral print and elegant typeface. It was an informal invitation to another school’s festival in a few days, though the name certainly drew pause.
Seisen Academy was one of the most prestigious girl’s schools in the prefecture. Its main focus was not only to teach its students, but turn them into well mannered young ladies and, as such, it was rarely opened up to the public in general, let alone men. Only the male relatives of students and the faculty were permitted on site for the majority of the school year, rendering it something of a promised land to students in other schools.
“We have a work study that day,” said Shouta. “We shouldn’t miss it.”
“So we skip it,” shrugged Shirakumo. “They’ll understand.”
“Dancing,” whined Hizashi, “Eraser, there’s going to be dancing!”
“I heard they had belly dancing at the last one,” said Shirakumo. “But my source wasn’t exactly reputable.”
Shouta sipped his drink, glancing from Hizashi to Shirakumo before breathing a heavy sigh.
“Fine,” he said. “But only because it might give us an idea for a theme.”
PRESENT DAY
“Is he going to be okay?”
All Might had arrived not long after your revelation and you felt a little sorry for him. Without context, you would almost certainly have been concerned at what greeted you.
Hizashi had taken a seat in the corner, visibly distressed, letting out only whimpers whenever you offered him glasses of water or cups of coffee.
“I’m not sure,” you said, looking on in confusion, “I don’t even know what’s wrong.”
“I do,” said Shouta, who had returned to typing.
“Care to share with the class?”
“You had the maid cafe in your second year? Correct?”
“Yes,” you said.
“And we’re about the same age, so we would be in the second year at about the same time?”
“Also correct.”
All Might turned to you, looking sheepish.
“You had a maid cafe at school?”
“I’m never going to live this down, am I?”
Shouta sat back from his desk, reaching for his coffee.
“We skipped a work study to go to Seisen’s cultural festival in our second year.”
“You did what ?”
Skipping class aside, that meant that both Shouta and Hizashi had been at your school on the day of the maid cafe. Suddenly it made sense for Hizashi to be so upset. At no point that day had you ever crossed paths with them, despite being in the same place at the same time.
That said…you had crossed paths with a boy from UA.
“Hey,” you said, “do you two by any chance...know someone called Oboro?”
SEVERAL YEARS EARLIER
The plan was simple.
The three of them would take the morning train, clutching copies of the pamphlet and memorising the perfect cover story. If anyone asked, they had come to support their sister. Yukiko, hadn’t they heard of her?
“This is going to be a disaster,” muttered Shouta as they arrived at the station.
“Try to be optimistic,” said Shirakumo. “Worst case scenario, we go get burgers.”
“And fried chicken,” said Hizashi, touching his train pass to the reader.
Shirakumo shoved his hands in his pockets, following the other two through the station to the Seisen exit point.
“Maybe we can get milkshakes too,” said Hizashi.
“Whatever,” said Shouta.
Shirakumo glanced around the station, drifting off from their conversation. His heart skipped a beat when he spotted a capsule machine.
“Guys,” he called out, fishing coins from his pocket. “I’ll just be a second.”
He slipped the coins inside and turned the switch, praying as a capsule landed at the bottom. He had been trying and failing for weeks to complete his set of sushi themed cats and powered through far more money than he cared to admit.
He fished the capsule from the machine and popped it open, praying and praying and praying and finally cursing once he realised the toy was one he already had. He shoved it in his pocket and turned to update Shouta and Hizashi, only to realise that they had carried on without him.
“Crap, crap, crap,” he muttered, rushing through the crowds and out towards the exit.
As Oboro sprinted in the direction of your school, you sighed at your reflection in the mirror.
Maid Cafe
Why had you agreed to this?
You took in your frilly apron and stockings, praying that your parents got too busy to attend. There was no way they’d approve.
“Heyyy, (Name), are you ready yet?”
You sighed, closing your eyes and resigning yourself to your fate.
“Yes,” you said and reached for the curtain, stepping outside to the sound of gasps. Rei, Sayaka and Yuiko had already changed into their outfits and arranged their hair, along with the other two girls in your class.
“Oooooooh, perfect,” cried out Rei. “Secret weapon, complete.”
“Secret weapon?”
You reached your hands to your skirt instinctively, tugging it down even though it came well below your knee.
“We all have our roles to play,” said Yuiko, steering you towards the makeshift dressing table Rei had put together. “Rei is going to lure people in with promises of sweet treats...Sayaka and I are going to make tea and prepare the food. The boys are going to run stock takes and wash dishes.”
“What about me?”
Rei combed your hair with a soft brush, arranging it in pigtails before fastening on the headdress.
“You’re going to take orders, of course,” she said. “You’ll approach with a little notepad and give a bow just like this…”
She took a step back and curtsied, holding the hairbrush in her hand to her heart.
“How can I help you, Master?”
In that moment, you were sure your heart stopped. There was no way you could do something like that. You’d evaporate the second anyone so much as looked at you.
“W-w-why me?”
You had no idea how you would explain any of this if your parents did come.
Rei placed a hand on your flushed cheeks, though, and that was enough of an answer. Out of everyone present, you were easily the most shy. For people who enjoyed maid related experiences, such a thing was irresistible.
“Don’t worry too much about it,” said Yuiko. “All you have to do is take orders and serve them to customers.”
“B-but…”
“It’ll be fine,” said Rei. “Now, let’s do your makeup! It’s almost time to start.”
PRESENT
It was an innocent enough question.
Do you two by any chance...know someone called Oboro?
At the mention of his name, though, Nemuri, Hizashi and Shouta all went pale, as if you had mentioned a secret code word or something far, far worse.
Perhaps you had gotten the name mixed up. It had been a long time, after all.
“Did I... say something wrong?”
SEVERAL YEARS EARLIER
“This is it!”
Hizashi proudly pointed out the gates before them, which ordinarily were sealed shut to the public. Today they were wide open and more than a little bit inviting.
Students and signs littered the entryway, offering up seats to their plays, musical performances and cafes. Neither Hizashi nor Shouta knew where to look, much less begin.
“Look, look,” said Hizashi, wrapping an arm around Shouta’s shoulders, “there’s going to be a band performance! Oooh, they’re showing movies!”
Hizashi turned, ready to tell them that they had hit the jackpot, only to look perplexed at the glaring absence of one of their party.
“Say,” he said. “Where’s Shirakumo?”
“I thought he was behind us.”
Shouta glanced back towards the path they had taken from the station, trying to remember the last time he had actually seen Shirakumo. He definitely remembered talking to him at the ticket barrier, but he and Hizashi had spent so long debating which fast food to get that he didn’t remember seeing or hearing him after that.
“Should we go back?”
“Nah,” said Hizashi, “we can just wait for him. He probably got caught at a crossing or stopped to take a photo or something. You know what he’s like.”
“I guess.”
Shouta glanced around the school grounds, looking for a bench of some sort. In the process, he caught the eye of a girl in the tell tale black and white gym clothes of the academy. He hadn’t meant to and he panicked as she came rushing over, brandishing a pamphlet.
“Hey, would you two like to see a demonstration of our sports club?”
She didn’t give Shouta much of an option to say no, instead shoving one of her pamphlets into his arms.
“As you know, our gymnastics club is one of the best known in the country,” she said. “Our swim team also competes at an international level. Please, please, come say hi to us.”
She gave them a smile and then rushed away to another group of visitors, repeating her invitation to them word for word. Hizashi snatched up the pamphlet, eyes wide.
“Eraser,” he said, “gymnasts!”
“We need to wait for Shirakumo.”
“S-swimsuits!”
“If we sit over there, we’ll be able to see when-”
Hizashi had already stormed off in the direction of the gym hall, though, and Shouta sighed as he pulled his phone from his pocket.
Gone inside. Talk to the girl in black and white, quite pushy. She’ll give you directions.
Shirakumo arrived at the entrance about ten minutes later, holding his phone out in front of him.
Girl in black and white...girl in black and white…
“Good morning, master,” someone called out. “Are you looking for someone?”
He turned to the source of the voice, heart skipping a beat when he saw who it belonged to. It was a girl in a maid costume, pouting her lips and handing out fliers to anyone who stopped long enough.
He thought back to Shouta’s text: girl in black and white, quite pushy
“Hi,” he said, taking one of her fliers, “I’m looking for directions…”
She looped her arm through his and pointed to the main building behind them, holding his arm so close to her body that he could feel the swell of her breasts.
“Of course, master,” she said, “we’re holding a cafe on the second floor, by the stairwell. Make sure to try out our darjeeling blend, it’s put together with love!”
“With love you say?”
“Of course,” said the girl, “we blow a kiss with every stir.”
“I…”
Shirakumo flushed a bright red. This really was the promised land.
“I’ll be going then, thank you.”
The cafe had been open for only about twenty minutes and already it was almost full.
You took a deep breath as you handed over your latest order, wondering what on earth Rei was doing to draw people in.
Scratch that , you thought as you picked up the tray for table 8, I don’t want to know.
Table 8 had ordered a set of cucumber sandwiches and Assam blend and you clutched the tray close to your chest as you picked it up. Their table was in the hallway and you already felt nervous about leaving the safety of the classroom to serve them. You hovered in the doorway, trying to remember the advice Yuiko had given you for class presentations.
Squeeze your toes against the sole of your shoe and smile, no one will know you’re nervous.
You squeezed your toes, you smiled, and you threw yourself out of the classroom before you could have second thoughts.
Unfortunately, you hadn’t paid much attention to your surroundings and almost immediately collided with a boy coming the other way. He crashed into your tea tray, catching it before it could spill over both of you, but not before hot tea could splash across his fingers.
“Oh my god,” you said, “oh my god, I’m so sorry, I-”
Had you burned him? You set aside the tea tray and reached for his hand.
“Come with me,” you said, “we should run this under a cold tap.”
PRESENT DAY
“You’re kidding?!”
You stared down at the album in front of you, completely flabbergasted. Shouta had turned to a particular set of pictures from their own culture festival, of Hizashi being dipped by the prince in their play, laughter breaking out across their faces as his wig slipped off and fell to the floor, revealing a shock of silvery blue hair underneath.
You had heard stories about Shirakumo, but never before seen a picture of his face. You ran your finger across the page, tracing the familiar lines of his face.
“Forget how we know him,” said Hizashi, “how do you know Shirakumo?”
All eyes were on you and you pushed away the album.
“Wellllll…”
SEVERAL YEARS EARLIER
This really was the promised land.
Shirakumo watched as you shoved his hand under the tap, apologising profusely and looking as if you might cry. His finger barely hurt, with little more than a red mark to show for it, but you were as anxious as if he had third degree burns.
“It’s okay,” he said, the other students in your class looking on in curiosity. “I’ve had worse.”
You let go of his hand and switched off the water, reaching for a towel.
“Even so,” you said, “I should’ve been more careful. You’re a guest to our school and…”
“Seriously,” he said, “don’t worry about it. I’ll just intrude upon you for a little while.”
He glanced around at the cafe, searching for Hizashi and Shouta among the customers and coming up blank. He was sure he had followed Shouta’s instructions to the letter, yet neither of them seemed to be there.
“Hey,” he said, turning to you as you guided him to an empty table, “did two other guys come here recently? About this tall, one really smiley and loud, the other not so much.”
You shook your head and pulled out a chair for him.
“Sorry, I haven’t seen anyone like that,” you said. “Maybe they’re somewhere else in the school.”
“Maybe,” he said, scratching his chin and examining the menu.
He knew he had to make a choice. He could seek out his friends and pray that whatever they were up to was better than a maid cafe. Alternatively, he could stay here, on the receiving end of a good deal of attention.
It took him only a matter of seconds to decide, setting down the menu with a grin.
“I’d like a slice of the Victoria sponge,” he said, “though...I might need a little help eating it. My finger is a bit sore.”
He wriggled the finger that had taken the brunt of the hot water, prompting you to scribble down his order with a nod.
“Of course,” you said. “I’ll be right over.”
“You really go to UA? Ahhh, that must be so much fun!”
You held out a spoonful of cake and Oboro leaned over to take it.
One of the other girls had taken over most of the waitressing duties while you attended the boy you’d burned. At first spoon feeding him cake felt awkward, though he joked so much about it that it was difficult to feel self conscious for long. The second you set down his tea and called him ‘master’, he insisted on you calling him by his name.
“Mhmm,” he said. “A lot of it is just regular classes, but the hero course is next level.”
“You must have a really cool quirk.”
“Eh, it’s not much,” he said, holding his tea cup a little below his lips and blowing on the surface, creating a cloud that slowly floated towards you.
“That’s amazing,” you said, reaching out to touch the cloud in front of you. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”
Truthfully, you’d never really talked to any heroes before, student or pro. You had so many questions and no idea where to begin.
“Have you ever done any missions?”
Oboro set down his cup and flexed his shoulders with a grin.
“Well...there was this one time my professor sent me to the Himalayas…”
PRESENT
“...and he told me he crawled through the snow, the boss strapped to his back by only a single harness…”
You paused in your story, taking in Hizashi’s sniggers as Shouta rolled his eyes.
“What?”
“You,” Hizashi wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “You really believed that?!”
“You mean it wasn’t true?!”
Hizashi by now was laughing so hard that he had to hold onto the nearest chair to brace himself.
“Shirakumo never even left the prefecture, let alone the country,” said Shouta. “He was lying to impress you.”
“Then he was lying when he said he attended a diplo-“
You paused, the absurdity of the tale hitting you at last. You had always known his stories were incredible, but had had no point of reference and little choice but to take them at face value.
“I can’t believe he lied to me,” you said. “All this time…”
“I can’t believe you didn’t question it,” said Nemuri.
“I didn’t go to hero school,” you said. “Why would I question it? You could tell me just about anything and I’d believe you.”
“Your quirk is a lie detector,” sighed Shouta.
“I can’t just use it anytime someone shares an anecdote,” you said. “Besides, it’s not like any of you guys would do that.”
You reached for your coffee and took a long sip, crunching up your face almost immediately. You’d forgotten to add sweetener and it was still far too bitter. You set down the cup, suddenly all too aware of how quiet the room had gone. You glanced from Shouta to Hizashi to Nemuri to All Might, realisation slowly setting in.
“Oh my god,” you said, as not one of them made eye contact. “What have you guys lied to me about?”
They all flinched at that, All Might shuffling on the spot, Hizashi suddenly whistling a tune.
“I didn't save the president of the United States from an assassination attempt by gassing the attacker,” said Nemuri.
“I used the last of the creamer,” said All Might, looking as if he might burst into tears on the spot.
Hizashi stepped over, touching his fingertips together as if he was the heroine in a shoujo manga.
“I never... actually performed at the Royal Albert Hall,” he said. “And definitely not in front of the Queen of England. I’ve never even been to England. I didn’t use my quirk for echolocation to locate an underwater base, either.”
“All this time,” you said, getting to your feet. “All this time I’ve been living in a house of lies .”
You grabbed your coffee and clipboard and left the room, poking your head back around a moment later.
“Oh, All Might sweetie, you’re fine,” you said, “you bought like thirty boxes of creamer the day after so I kind of figured. Rest of you, though..”
You frowned and shut the door behind you, closing it just after Shouta whacked Hizashi over the head with a file.
In all of the chaos, you had abandoned your office, intending to be gone for only a matter of minutes. Your computer had gone into sleep mode in your absence and you had to read over the papers on your desk to remember what you had been doing.
You had been comparing your notebook to the calendar on both your desktop and work phone, ticking off days and counting weeks. You rubbed your temples and propped your head up on your elbow, turning the pages of your planner with the other.
Shouta stepped into your office a matter of moments later.
“Do you think I’m gullible?” you asked, knowing it was him from his slow gait.
He sat down in the chair opposite your desk with a sigh, stealing a candy from your bowl on the way down. He didn't answer your question, instead unwrapping the candy and leaning back in the chair. You looked up at him, watching as he crunched the candy and stole glances at you out of the corner of his eye.
“Okonomiyaki,” he said at last.
“What?”
“I don’t like okonomiyaki.”
“What?!”
For as long as you could remember, Shouta had loved your okonomiyaki, often requesting it for dinner with extra bonito.
“But,” you said, “I don’t…”
“It looks like a weird alien creature when it moves,” he shrugged, “but it always makes you laugh, so..”
He shrugged again and you sighed, sitting up straight and closing your notebook.
“I’m overreacting, aren't I?”
You reached for your coffee, taking a sip only to remember that, yet again, you’d forgotten to add sweetener. You made a point to set the cup down behind your computer monitor so you didn’t reach for it again.
“I’m sorry,” you said. “I shouldn’t have gotten so angry...I just...I don’t know, I guess I’ve been feeling really sensitive lately.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “We shouldn’t have lied to you to begin with.”
He grabbed your coffee cup and stood up, turning towards the door.
“By the way,” he said. “If you’re going to forgive Mic, do it soon. Otherwise you’ll have this to deal with…”
He opened up your office door, revealing Hizashi standing outside, still touching his fingers together and wielding the softest puppy dog eyes you’d ever seen. He rushed in as Shouta left, throwing his arms around your neck before the door had even closed.
“(Naaaaaaaaame),” he said, burying his face in your hair and smothering your cheeks and forehead with kisses. “I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry.”
You looked down at the notebook in front of you and closed your eyes.
“I know,” you murmured. “I know.”
That evening, you sat down on your hands and knees and rifled through the boxes under your bed.
Hizashi, still overcome with guilt, had offered to cook dinner. Shouta meant to supervise, though had gotten distracted.
You had taken Eri with you to the drugstore when you finished work, meaning to pick up a few extra bottles of shampoo. When you first took her out and about to the shops, she had held onto your hand and hid behind your legs the entire time. Now she was brave enough to go and look at displays on her own, which she often did.
As you had shoved a few things in your basket, Eri had called you over to see a clothes rack around the corner. They had a full collection of Ganriki Neko items, ranging from shoes to pyjamas to sweaters to baby onesies and stationary.
“Oh wow,” you had said, gaze drifting across the soft blankets. “It’s a shame Shouta isn’t here.”
Truthfully, it wasn’t a shame. Shouta would have bought everything without hesitation.
“I tell you what. Why don’t you pick something out for him and we can surprise him when we get home?”
Eri’s eyes had brightened and she rushed from one end of the display to the other, finally coming back with a gaudy headband decorated with cat ears-the same cat ears she shoved onto Shouta’s head after bouncing through the door.
In all of the excitement, no one had noticed you slip away. Eri was too busy laughing at Shouta and patting him on the head as he drank a glass of milk, Hizashi slicing vegetables and egging her on.
You smiled at the sound of their voices through the door, pausing every so often from your rummaging to really listen to them. Eri grew more independent every day. She would be a teenager before you knew it, with far more important things on her mind than if Shouta’s nyan sounds were the right pitch.
“Aha,” you said at last, dragging out the item you’d been looking for.
It was a photo album, dated from the moment you entered high school to graduation. You turned through the pages, smiling at the photograph your mother had taken of you in your uniform on the first day, to the photos of you studying on your bedroom floor, to pictures of you winning awards at the end of the year.
You stopped halfway through, focusing on a single photo that stood out from the rest. It was a polaroid, hastily taken, though slipped into the album with an equal amount of care.
“(Name)!” Eri burst through the door. “(Name), can I borrow some of your yarn?”
“Yarn? Why w-oh, I see. For the kitty, right?”
She nodded in delight and you pointed her in the direction of your craft drawer with a gentle warning to watch out for the needles.
She grabbed a roll of red yarn and headed towards the door, changing her mind at the last second. She came back over and leaned over your shoulder, wrapping her arms around your shoulders as she had seen both Hizashi and Shouta do.
“Who’s that?”
“This? This is an old friend...and that…that’s me.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really. Come on, let’s show them.”
You got up from the floor and left the room, Eri rushing past you to tell Shouta about the yarn. At some point either Eri or Hizashi had drawn whiskers on his cheeks.
“Peace offering,” you said, as Eri jumped up onto the couch. “I’ve been a bit of a jerk today.”
You rested the album on the coffee table, motioning for Hizashi and Shouta to look.
“This is (Name) and her friend,” said Eri, proud that she knew something before they did.
“So I see, honeybun,” said Hizashi, leaning in to view the picture. “So I see.”
SEVERAL YEARS EARLIER
You ran out of cakes and tea leaves by lunchtime and had little choice but to close up the cafe. Your other classmates jumped at the chance to go and see the other classrooms, though you felt more than a pang of regret at the knowledge that your time with Oboro was coming to a close.
“You’ll have to come and visit UA some time,” he said, as the pair of you walked through the corridors. “Our culture festival is coming soon, even if we haven’t decided on a theme-“
“I’d like that,” you said, wondering what kind of an event it would be. The sports festival alone was a national one.
Oboro stepped out into the sunshine and turned to you with a grin as he extended his pinky finger.
“Pinky swear,” he said. “We’ll meet again! You’ll come to UA one day and meet my friends. They’ll love you, I just know it!”
You lifted your own, linking it around his with a blush.
“Pinky swear,” you said.
He grinned and let you go, immediately rummaging through his backpack.
“One second,” he said, “just a...aha!”
He pulled out a polaroid camera and held it high above your heads, wrapping his other arm around your shoulders.
“Come on, smile!”
PRESENT DAY
The photo had faded, but the words written on it hadn’t.
Don’t forget our promise! :) -O
It had been years and you hadn’t forgotten, even if you hadn’t been able to keep up your end of the bargain. You didn’t know how to feel knowing that he hadn’t either.
You had flashed a shy smile when he took the picture, incredibly self conscious of your maid outfit and pigtails. Oboro, by comparison, grinned as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
You watched the three of them, Shouta scratching his chin and nodding as Hizashi talked, Eri winding up the ball of wool.
You thought about that ball of wool for the rest of the night, while you ate dinner, as you tucked Eri into bed, as you scrubbed the whiskers from Shouta’s face, slightly concerned that they had been drawn on with permanent marker.
You thought about it even as you soaked in the bathtub, lifting up the pinky finger you had linked with Oboro’s all of those years ago.
Perhaps your meeting truly had been fate, even if you’d never see each other again.
Perhaps, all obstacles and misunderstandings aside, everything had been planned from the beginning.
You remembered his words; the promise you’d actually made.
You’ll come to UA one day and meet my friends. They’ll love you, I know it.
You drained the tub and stared across at the sink, eying the row of pregnancy tests you had picked up at the drug store while Eri was distracted.
You knew the result without having to look; you had checked the date of your last period on three separate calendars, had stirred so much sweetener into your coffee that it tasted like syrup, had cried in the grocery store the day before because they’d run out of your favourite snacks.
Perhaps this was meant to be too.
Perhaps, you thought, running your fingers across your stomach, you really were meant to meet a boy called Oboro one day, even if it wasn’t the one you had always thought.