"Eri?"
Mom's voice immediately calms me. I turn and see her standing in the kitchen doorway, her hands still damp. Her beautiful eyes shine with a tenderness that hurts almost as much as Ryota's words.
"Mom…" I mutter, but I don't know what to say. Sorry? It's not my fault? I don't know what to do with him?
Mom doesn't say anything. She just opens her arms, and I can't resist. I let myself be enveloped by the warm embrace, the feeling of safety that only she can give me. Her fingers caress my hair, slowly, like she did when I was little and woke up from nightmares.
"Don't mind it, honey…" Mom whispers against my temple. "He's just…frustrated."
I nod against her shoulder, but deep down I know it's more than that. Ryota isn't just frustrated. He's jealous. And he's not jealous of Dad, or Katsuki, or any other man in Mom's life. He's jealous of me.
Soon, the kitchen is brightly colored, the countertops are covered in ingredients, and light floods the room, making all of Mom's favorite copper pots glisten. I sit at the solid wood table, my fingers playing on the time-worn surface, while Mom pours me a cup of steaming coffee, as black as Aizawa-sensei's eyes.
"Do you want some sugar?" Mom asks, even though she already knows the answer.
I shake my head. "Just as it is, thanks, Mom."
She nods, then sits across from me, cupping her hands. For a moment, we drink in silence, with only the sound of our breathing. She looks at me…
"I know you heard," she says, finally. Her voice, as usual, is calm, fragile. "Ryota…it's complicated."
I look down at the cup. The steam tickles my face, and the smell of coffee fills my nostrils.
"It's not your fault, Mom. He's like that with everyone."
"Maybe," Mom sighs, her fingers playing with the handle of the cup. "But it's not just that. He…he also misses his father."
I look up suddenly. Katsuki. The name conjures up a specific image: the one I saw just before going down to the kitchen. I've seen him a few times, even though he constantly drops by in the morning to say hello to Mom and Ryota, but every time I'm with him, the air is charged with a strange tension, like before a storm.
"Katsuki?" I ask, even though I know the answer.
Mom nods, her gaze lost in space, as if she were looking at something far away.
"He and Ryota…have a difficult relationship. Katsuki has always been so…tough. Withdrawn, impossible to reach. But Ryota adores him. And hates that he can't have him in his life."
I feel a lump in my throat. Like me and Aizawa-sensei, I think. Loving someone who seems unattainable, who treats you like you're invisible, even when you know there's something more beneath that armor...
"But why doesn't he hang out with him when he comes to visit?" I ask, even though the question seems stupid as soon as it leaves my lips. Katsuki is Katsuki. He doesn't do anything he doesn't want to do.
Mom smiles, but it's a sad smile. "Because... he must have his reasons. And besides, you know how he is. He's not the type to stop and talk or take his son shopping. He prefers to take action. He's been coming every morning to say hello for years. But sometimes action also means staying away."
I lower my gaze again. Like Aizawa Shota, I repeat in my head. Like him, touching me like I'm the most precious thing in the world and then telling me it's just a one-time thing. As if I could believe a lie like that.
"Mom..." I start, but I don't know how to continue. I want to ask her if she's ever loved someone like this, so desperately and silently. I want to ask her if things work out in the end. If love, true love, the kind that makes your hands tremble and you forget how to breathe, always wins.
But Mom seems to read my thoughts, because she reaches across the table and squeezes my fingers tightly.
"Whatever you're thinking, honey, it's all right. Even if it doesn't seem like it."
I swallow. The coffee burns my tongue, but I don't pull away.
"What if…what if the person you love doesn't see you? Doesn't see you for who you are?"
Mom stares at me for a long moment. Then, slowly, she gets up and walks over to the stove, where a pot is simmering gently. She picks up a wooden spoon and stirs, her movements slow and measured.
"Then show him," she says, without turning around. "Show him so much he can no longer pretend not to see."
I feel tears stinging my eyes. Is it really that simple? Is it really like this?
"But…what if the other person is afraid?"
Mom turns around, and there's a determination in her eyes that I recognize, the same one I saw in Dad Mirio's gaze when he decided to become a full-fledged hero, the same one I saw in Aizawa-sensei when he erased a villain's power with just a look.
"Then you'll teach him not to be afraid."
The silence that follows is heavy. I stare at my hands, clasped around the cup, and I wonder how you do it. How do you teach someone not to be afraid, when I tremble at the mere thought of losing him?
Outside, a bird is chirping, the sun has risen higher, and now its rays are hitting the table directly, illuminating the sugar crumbs scattered across the surface. I look up and meet Mom's gaze. No further words are needed, at least not now.
Mom smiles, and in that smile there's all the strength in the world.
"Now eat," she says, pushing a plate of still-warm melonpan toward me, the crispy crust flaking under my fingers.
"Before Ryota comes back and devours them all."
I laugh, even if it's a fragile laugh. I pick up a cake and take a bite, the sweet taste exploding in my mouth. Maybe, I think, maybe Mom's right. Maybe I just need to...try.
But then my gaze falls on the shirt I'm wearing. The scented one of Aizawa-sensei's. And I think it won't be that simple. Not with him.
Not with the man who disappeared from my room last night without a trace, even though his hands were gripping my hips yesterday as if he wanted to imprint his shape on my skin. Not with the man who has never lied with his eyes.
Suddenly, the sound of the front door startles us. I whirl around, my heart in my throat. Katsuki. It must be him. No one else rings the doorbell twice in a row at that hour.
Mom stands up, wiping her hands on her apron, and heads toward the entrance. I follow her with my gaze, feeling the weight of Katsuki's face even before he appears in the kitchen doorway. He's exactly as I saw him early this morning: tall, muscular, with blond hair and those eyes that seem to pierce everything they look at. He's wearing a tight black jacket that accentuates his broad shoulders, and cargo pants that reveal his military boots. He looks like he's just come back from a mission, I think, noting the tension in his features, as if he's always ready to pounce.
"Katsuki…" says Mom, her voice shaking.
He nods, his eyes moving first to Mom and then, slowly, to me. He doesn't say anything, but his gaze is enough. I feel heat rising in my cheeks, as if I've been caught doing something shady. He knows everything, I think. He knows everything about me and Sensei.
"Hi," I say, in a low tone.
He doesn't respond. He simply nods, then looks back at Mom.
"I need to talk to Ryota."
Mom crosses her arms, her apron lifting slightly with the movement.
"He's upstairs. But I don't know if it's the right time."
"It's always the right time," Katsuki replies, his voice low and hoarse.
I feel a shiver down my spine. Is that how he talks to Ryota, too? I wonder if he uses the same coldness, as if emotions were a luxury he can't afford?
Mom sighs, then nods. "Okay. But don't be too hard on him."
Katsuki doesn't respond. He turns and heads for the stairs, his heavy footsteps vibrating the floor. I watch him disappear, then turn to Mom.
"Mom…"
"I know what you're thinking…" she says, anticipating me. "But Katsuki is like you, deep down. Stubborn as a mule."
I lower my gaze. Like me. As if I, too, were trapped in a feeling I can't express, in a love that seems destined to remain hidden.
Outside, the sun continues to shine, oblivious to everything. I take another sip of coffee, feeling the heat sink to my stomach. Maybe, I think. Maybe one day I too will find the courage to be like Mom. To tell Aizawa-sensei that I can't pretend anymore.
But for now, all I can do is wait. And hope that, sooner or later, he too will show what he feels.
***
Katsuki leaves the house after about half an hour, and Ryota's words are still ringing in my head. I stare at a fixed point in the hallway when I feel a jolt of nerves shoot up my spine and up to the back of my neck. For a few seconds, no one in the house speaks. Mom's gaze is dull, looking dejected, as she clutches the hem of her apron, trying to think of something to say to cheer up the family. She feels guilty.
I take a deep breath for a few seconds, then get up from the couch and, with determined steps, climb the stairs. The banister vibrates under my footsteps, and every second I get closer to his door, my nerves grow more and more nervous.
I knock just once.
No response.
So I open the door, knowing we'd argue about my behavior, but I don't care. This situation needs to be resolved, and quickly.
Ryota is sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. He's not crying, or at least he doesn't look it, but he looks like he's about to explode again. I pause in the doorway, the door wide open and my breathing shallow.
"Ryota." My voice is cold, neutral.
He doesn't turn around, he just stands there with his head in his hands.
"What do you want?"
"Talk."
"I have nothing to say to you," he replies, in that arrogant tone he only uses when he's trying to protect himself. I move closer to him, clenching my fists until my knuckles whiten. I'm fed up with his attitude.
"You're an idiot," I say bluntly.
He looks up sharply, his pride wounded. He stands up, taking a step toward me, almost as if he wanted to hit me.
"What?"
"Do you have any idea how much you hurt Mom with this bullshit? Every time you open your mouth to say you're not enough, she blames herself. And she keeps trying. She's only doing it for you."
"You don't understand shit."
"Oh, I understand that all too well! You've pissed me off with your arrogant, presumptuous behavior." For the first time, my voice cracks. "Do you really understand that there's no competition between us? There never was! You're the one who keeps thinking that way."
He takes a step forward, I step back. We're almost face to face. The air in the room is tense, heavy, I can almost feel the wind knocking me out. He opens his mouth, perhaps to shout something at me again, perhaps to defend himself, to say that I'm a fake heroine, that I don't know how to fight and that I'm incapable of saving anyone, just to make himself feel bigger. Ryota is unsure of himself, he only speaks like this because he wants to prove himself... I still don't understand what he's trying to prove. But, he doesn't have time to finish his sentence... because I move closer and decide... to hug him.
A simple, direct gesture, without asking permission. I love him, he's my step-brother, and I certainly can't leave things half done, without them being resolved.
For a moment, Ryota remains still, as if struck by an electric shock. Arms at his sides, his gaze vacant, his breathing shallow... Then his body slowly gives way. His hands rise, uncertainly, and finally... they squeeze me. Not hard, not angry. It seems he really needed it.
I close my eyes and let myself go into that brotherly embrace.
"Stop punishing yourself like this," I whisper. "Mommy loves you too. I love you…your dad loves you too. Even if you're a stubborn ass."
"Shut up, you idiot."
Ryota breathes deeply, and in this embrace, time seems to stand still. Then we slowly separate, Ryota shifting just enough to catch his breath. He looks embarrassed, vulnerable in a way he would never admit to in words. I run a hand through my hair, trying to restore some normalcy to the room.
"...and anyway…" I murmur, almost amused, "I didn't think you…liked bunnies."
He looks up abruptly and jumps. His face immediately flushes red.
"W-what?! What are you talking about?" He turns around abruptly, "You don't know anything!"
I smile slightly, cocking my head to the side.
"Hmm. I thought I saw that the other day…the phone background."
"GET OUT!"
His voice is high-pitched, cracked, and very undignified.
"Okay, okay," I raise my hands in surrender when he pushes the door open for me with too much force. He doesn't look at me directly, but the blush on his cheeks is impossible to ignore.
"Goodnight, Ryota," I say, still softly.
"Okay." He grumbles, trying to regain a modicum of pride.
The door closes, and this time, the silence in the house is different. Lighter and more bearable.