Chapter Text
It starts the way most stories do- with a school.
The corridor is a nondescript pastel blue that Fuyumi Todoroki has seen well enough in hospitals. These walls, however, are stamped full of photographs of older children and adults who beam at her as she passes them.
“Former students?” Fuyumi asks.
She’s following the headteacher down the hallway. He’s a large well-built man with purple skin, horns and furry tail that swishes from side to side as he walks. By comparison, Fuyumi moves silently behind him. She learnt from a young age to walk quietly at home, shifting the heel of her boot to the tip of her toe so that it never leaves the floor. The habit seems to have followed her into her adulthood.
“Yes,” The headteacher beams, revealing pointed fangs, “Our students have gone on to all sorts of professions, and we do our best to keep track of them all. You’ll be shaping the future as you work here!”
“Fantastic,” Fuyumi smiles politely.
Okay, it’s an exaggeration, but she’s glad the headteacher takes his students seriously. If the other teachers share his enthusiasm, then it will be fun working here.
“This is your classroom,” The headteacher stops at a bright orange door marked 1E.
He gives it a push, and immediately Fuyumi is met with light, heat and lots and lots of noise. She flinches backwards, shielding her eyes. When she opens them, she finds that the heat is from a radiator by the door, the noise is from a chorus of rampaging children, and the light is…
…is that child swinging upside down from the lampshade?
The headteacher seems undeterred, stepping forwards to clap his hands. “Class 1E! Attention please!”
The class freeze, before scurrying to their seats, whilst the swinging child mercifully returns to their chair.
“Oh Sato-sama!” A young man comes over. He has dark hair in a quiff and a manic grin spread over his face, “They were just letting off some steam. Say hello, class!”
“Hello Sensei,” The children chorus.
“Hello children,” Sato smiles. “Allow me to introduce Todoroki-san. She’ll be training as a teacher in this class so I expect you to listen and be good as she learns the ropes.”
“Yes Sensei.”
Sato turns to Fuyumi, smiling, “I’ll leave you in Kimura-san’s care.”
He turns to go.
“Wait!” Kimura reaches out a hand.
But it’s too late. The door slams shut behind Sato, and the classroom descends into chaos.
Kimura whimpers and puts his head into his hands. Peeking through his fingers and staring at Fuyumi with one brown eye, he moans, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why they put you with me. I literally only just started teaching this week.”
“Maybe so we can learn from each other?” Fuyumi asks dubiously.
“Or suffer together,” Kimura says glumly.
Fuyumi eyes the room. Children are chasing each other around chairs and tables, screaming. Some are rocking backwards, doing that timeless experiment involving the correlation between the weight of a child and the length of time before the chair falls. And that one persistent child is still doggedly dangling upside down from the lamp.
“What are they supposed to be doing?” She asks.
“Maths,” Kimura sighs heavily, “Times tables.”
“How far have you got?”
“The twos.”
Okay. So, it’s down to her. Fuyumi takes a deep breath and rolls up her sleeves of her white shirt.
Kimura gapes as she strides to the centre of the room, “What are you-“
She claps her hands in a rhythm of two beats, followed by three quicker ones. The children pause, and Fuyumi repeats the rhythm.
“Come and sit down,” Fuyumi barks, “Let’s get started.”
The children move hesitantly to various desks strewn across the room.
“My name is Todoroki-san and I’m going to be your teaching assistant this year.” She moves over to the backboard behind a staring Kimura and begins to write out the characters of her name with a piece of chalk.
“Kimura-san tells me that you’ve been doing the two times table-“
“But that’s so boring,” A boy with great big lobster hands at the front complains.
“Yeah, we know it already!” A girl further back chimes in. She has short, spiky green hair.
“Then let’s race through it and make it fun. Here’s what we’re going to do. Taking turns so that I can get to know you all, we’re going to go round the room and you’re going to say your name, your favourite colour, and the next number in the two times table. Got it?”
She’s met with some nods and a sea of blank faces. The girl with the green hair is staring resolutely out of the classroom window. Oh well, hopefully she’ll join in by the time it gets to her.
“Alright. I’ll go first. I’m Todoroki-san. My favourite colour is light blue. And two.”
She claps her hands again and points to the kid who’d been dangling from the lampshade. “Alright, you’re up next. Off you go!”
“Um…” Her voice comes out in a nervous squeak, and she fiddles with the ends of her long, pink hair as she gazes down at the table, “My name is Ikeda Aiko. I like the colour red. And…Four.”
The boy with lobster hands is next. “Okada Haru. And my favourite colour is brown!”
“Brown?” Fuyumi laughs.
“Yeah, you can mix all the colours together to make it! It’s really fun!”
“I see. And what comes after four?”
“Six!”
And so, it continues. Each child argues for their favourite colour, their praise becoming more and more exaggerated.
“I like orange because of autumn!”
“My favourite colour is blue because when I see my grandparents, they live near the coast, and I get to see the sea, and the waves look really cool and that’s why I like it!”
“I green because it’s the same colour as forests!”
Finally, it comes to the green-haired girl in the back row, who sighs. “Mori Yuko. Pink ‘cos duh. And Eighteen.”
At this, the class explodes into uproar.
“You can’t just say ‘duh’!”
“Yeah, you’ve got to give a reason!”
“No, I don’t,” She rolls her eyes and glances at Fuyumi, “Right, Todoroki-sensei?”
“Right,” Fuyumi smiles.
“See?” She sticks out a tongue.
Shrieks of outrage rise up, and Fuyumi claps her hands. “Alright!” She points to a boy next to Mori. He has dark hair and is rocking back and forth on his chair in excitement, “It’s your turn.”
He's last student and beaming he yells, “Ogawa Riyu! Purple! And nineteen!”
“Twenty!” Other students correct.
“Okay!” Fuyumi claps and turns to Kimura, “And what’s your favourite colour, Kimura-san?”
“Uh,” He looks taken aback, “Green. And twenty-two.”
“Great choice,” Fuyumi smiles, “Okay, well now that we’ve got to know each other, let’s do some work before the break time. Over to you, Kimura-sensei.”
“Oh, right,” The young man reaches into a brown satchel beside his desk, and draws out a stack of paper, “Okay. This was meant for a few lessons back but now we can actually start doing the.” He begins to distribute the paper on each desk, “Let’s do this!”
As the children begin to scribble answers on their sheet, Kimura and Fuyumi exchange tired smiles.
“We can do this.” He says. Gold light seems to gleam from his dark eyes.
“We can do this,” Fuyumi agrees.
And somehow, they do. Aiko – the lampshade girl- actually sits still long enough to do some maths and between them, Fuyumi and Kimura manage to find quieter moments interspersed within the chaos.
So, it’s a start.
Fuyumi is exhausted but happy as she leaves the school gates, bag slung over her should as she steps into the late afternoon sun. The wind whips her hair as she walks to the train station but she doesn’t mind, humming to herself as she goes.
The train is packed full of jostling people, and Fuyumi finds herself wedged between two people speaking loudly on their phone.
“Wow, wow, wow,” An older man to her right gasps repeatedly in various different tones. Fuyumi wonders if he’s genuinely surprised or just faking it.
And to her left…
“I told you, you’ve just got to step up to the plate!” A young woman snaps. “Dad’s working overtime and someone’s got to look after the kids and it’s not like you do anything else- what? No, you do fuck all…well don’t look at me, I’m in college…look I said I’d be there, didn’t I…”
The noise is almost overwhelming. People talking, eating, music blaring. And yet somehow Fuyumi feels happy. Here, in this space, she is not alone, not invisible, and the faces of those kids float in her mind.
There’s so much to do and so much for her to learn, but maybe she can give those children a safe space to grow.
The young woman gets off at the next stop, the man to Fuyumi’s right exits at the stop after. Gradually, the train car empties and Fuyumi is able to get a seat just before her stop.
The walk up to the Todoroki house is quiet and Fuyumi hums to herself as she heads up the garden path. She fishes her key from her bag and twists it in the lock.
As she pushes the door open, she sees her brother waiting for her on the wooden step just beyond the door. One look at Natsuo’s face and any happiness she’s feeling vanishes. His next word floods her with sudden tension.
“Tundra.”
“Where’s Shoto?” Fuyumi whispers urgently as she slips off her shoes as quietly as she can.
“In his room. Endeavor’s in his office.”
“Okay,” She exhales a breath. She can do this. Squaring her shoulders, she turns to Natsuo and meets his gaze. “You get on with your schoolwork. I’ll handle it.”
Natsuo bites his lip, “You sure?”
“Sure,” She smiles.
“Thanks, sis.”
She watches him pad quickly through the hallway, his white hair swishing after him. At sixteen, her brother has made many mistakes in his life. Growing his hair out is definitely one of them.
Tundra. Shit. Fuyumi’s fingers feel shaky as she heads into the kitchen. She can feel the tension permeating through the empty hallways, as though tendrils of her father’s smoke have constricted around her body and are forcing her down.
It had been a joke between them, a coping mechanism whilst the rest of the family were tearing each other apart around them. To rate their father’s fury in amounts of snow.
A few precious days were ‘Frost’. Most were ‘Ice’. The last ‘Tundra’ had been at least a couple of weeks ago, and they’d never had a ‘Snowflake’. As for ‘Avalanche’…
…The last they’d had was that day five years ago. The day their mother had left and Shoto had never been the same again…
The pots clang far too loudly as Fuyumi sets them on the stove. The water, too, rushes noisily into the pan and she’s too slow in regulating it to a trickle. She sets about chopping the vegetables and the chicken for the ramen. No on enters the kitchen, though at one point she does hear a door slam, causing her hand to slip in too much salt. Panicking, she does her best to rectify it, adding more water and vegetables, but finally she has no choice but to admit that it’s not going to be perfect.
Fuyumi goes to Shoto’s room first. His is the furthest from the rest. The temperature drops as she approaches the door, and Fuyumi thinks she sees a layer of frost underneath it.
She raises her hand and knocks gently, “Hey Shoto, it’s Fuyumi. Just wanted to see if you’re okay?”
There’s no response as usual, but Fuyumi can hear sniffling on the other side. Just what happened in his ‘training’ today? Is Shoto rebelling. He’s thirteen now the same as Touya when he-
Fuyumi takes a breath, grounding herself, and rests a hand on the door, as if somehow she’ll be able to reach through and hold her brother on the other side.
“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me,” She says, just like she always does, “And the food’s just outside your door.”
Fuyumi lays the tray down and waits for a moment. There’s no answer and with a sigh, she turns back to the kitchen. There must be something more she can do. Their father has kept Shoto separate from her and Natsuo since he was five, so even this ritual is a breach of his rules, but maybe she could…
Where would she even start?
She passes Natsuo’s door and knocks twice, “Food’s ready.”
“Thanks! I’ll be there in a sec.” He calls back.
And then Fuyumi heads down to the kitchen and does the task she was putting off- she picks up the remaining tray.
Her father’s office is on the other side of the house, and even as she walks down the hallway, she can feel the blistering heat. It crawls unpleasantly over her skin, and she grips the tray tight, less to stop it shaking, but more to just have something to hold onto.
She stops in front of the looming dark door. Gripping the tray with her right hand and pressing it against her chest, she knocks tentatively with her left.
“Enter!” Her father’s voice booms.
Fuyumi takes a shuddery breath, and eyes downcast to her reflection in the ramen, she slides open the door.
The heat is even more intense, and her eyes water as Fuyumi flickers her gaze upwards. The room is in a complete disarray. His boxing bag lies a wreck on the floor, and paperwork is strewn over the room. Her father – the Number Two Hero, Endeavor – is shrouded in massive flames that rise from his bare arms. He stands with his back turned to her, staring at something outside.
Fuyumi approaches the desk and lays down the tray with a quiet clink. She turns and moves from the room, sliding the door behind her. She only taken a few steps, when she hears the door slam open behind her. She turns to see her father marching out, her bowl of ramen in his hand. His eyes are fixated somewhere above her, but she can see that he’s murderous.
Fuyumi shrinks as he stops by her and slams the tray into her hands.
“This is disgusting,” He spits, “Tell the cook I’ll be eating on patrol.”
The flames leaping from his fingers scorch her, but she grips the bowl hard as he strides past her down the hallway.
He didn’t look at her once.
Fuyumi bites her lip to fight the tears and the pain as she walks back into the kitchen. She places the bowl on the side, and twists the cold tap, running water over her fingers. Natsuo glances up from the table, already halfway through his bowl. His eyes widen as he stands, “What-“
Fuyumi lifts a finger. He waits, and they both hear the front door slam.
After a beat, Natuso’s jaw tightens, “Did he hurt you?”
“I don’t think it was intentional. His flames just caught my hand when he was giving the bowl back.”
Fuyumi pulls her fingers from the trickling water, and turns off the tap with a hard squeak. She sees Natsuo cast his eyes to the table, as if only now registering the full bowl, “He didn’t want it?”
“Said it was disgusting.”
“The bastard.”
Fuyumi’s lip trembles, and tears start to fall as she makes her way over to the table.
“Hey,” Natsuo’s voice is gentle as he wraps an arm around her as she sits down, “Hey, don’t listen to the bastard. Didn’t we agree that he’s got a terrible taste in food?”
“Yeah,” Fuyumi huffs, her mouth twitching despite herself, “Sorry, think I’ve just had a long day.”
She wipes her eyes and reaches for her bowl of ramen. It’s cold now, and as she takes a spoonful, she finds that it is really too salty, but actually, as her cooking goes, it’s not too bad.
Fuyumi catches Natsuo still watching her carefully.
“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s disgusting,” She forces some lightness into her voice and smiles, “I can actually taste flavours this time.”
Natsuo relaxes and grins, “Yeah, at this rate, you’ll be the best cook in the family.”
“Buy me a cookbook for my next birthday and I’ll see what I can do,” She winks. Natsuo’s smile widens and he withdraws his arm to return to his own bowl of ramen.
When they’re finished, Natsuo stands, “I’ll wash, you dry?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks for the food,” Natsuo says as he collects the bowls, “I know you’ve been doing all the cooking since our housekeeper left, so tell you what, starting tomorrow I’ll try a hand at cooking.”
“You’ve got school,” Fuyumi protests.
“And you’ve got work,” Natsuo returns, “So I’ll cook tomorrow. Provided it’s a Frost or Ice day.”
“Sure, you will.”
“I mean it,” Natsuo laughs as he sets the crockery down in the sink, “I’ll cook.”
Fuyumi raises an eyebrow, “What will you cook?”
“Uh, a curry.” He shrugs.
“A curry?” Fuyumi shakes her head as she grabs a cloth and Natsuo rolls up his sleeves and turns on the tap, “Absolutely not. It’ll be a disaster.”
“Fine, then I’ll make it for just the two of us. You make something for Endeavor and Shoto.”
Fuyumi glances at him, “So when you said you’d cook-“
“Look,” Natsuo bites his lip, “Do you want my first attempt at cooking to turn the day into an Avalanche?”
They look at each other. In her mind’s eye, Fuyumi sees Natsuo burning down the kitchen, Endeavor storming in, Shoto gazing wide-eyed at the carnage. Her shoulders start to shake, and to her surprise, she finds that she’s laughing.
Natsuo glances up at her in surprise, “What?”
“You,” Fuyumi gasps, “Making curry and burning down the kitchen.”
He glares at her, “It’s not that funny!”
“But imagine the news though. Flame Hero Endeavor’s house set on fire by his son’s cooking. All the questions he’d get asked. He’d hate it.”
Natsuo quirks a smile, “And the firefighters accidentally put out Endeavor’s fire by mistake. Can you imagine how dejected he’d look?”
Fuyumi has never seen her father look dejected in his life, but somehow, she can picture him sitting on the floor, surrounded by water and pouting.
“What a way to increase your fame,” She grins.
“But seriously,” Natsuo shakes his head, “Really loving your faith in my cooking, here. You genuinely think I’m going to burn the house down?”
She nudges him, causing his brush to scrape haphazardly over a soapy pan, “Nah, your curry is going to be great. And it’ll be nice. Just you and me.”
Natsuo glances at her, “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Fuyumi smiles softly. Natsuo’s expression has turned serious again, as he continues to scrub the bowls. His train of thought has probably now gone in a different, darker direction.
“Want to do One Good Thing?” She asks.
Natsuo passes her a bowl, and she begins to dry it, “Sure. Why not?”
“Okay, you first.”
“Alright,” Natsuo purses his lips, and then scratches his ear, leaving soapy suds behind, “My good thing…would be during Career Development today. ‘Cos even though we’re Second Years, they want us to start thinking about our options. And Naiomi – you know Naiomi?”
“Yeah,” Fuyumi grins. Naiomi is Natsuo’s girlfriend. He goes on about her constantly. Fuyumi’s met her once or twice. Outside the house, of course.
“Well, she’s thinking about going to the same university as me. Different courses, obviously. She wants to get into Robotics. But still, it’s cool.”
“That’s great,” Fuyumi smiles, “Really great.”
“Thanks,” He flushes, the tops of his ears turning pink, “But of course if we do go to different unis, I still want us to see each other. I don’t want to be what holds her back if another place is better for Robotics, you know?”
“Right,” Fuyumi agrees, “And have you decided what you want to do?”
“Eh,” He shrugs, “Still a toss up between Marine and Medicine.”
“Cool.”
“Go on then,” He nudges her with a smile, “One good thing about your day.”
“Oh that’s easy,” She beams, “The kids.”
“Yeah?”
“They’re such chaos. When I walked in, one girl was actually swinging from a light.”
“No way!”
“Yeah, so that was kind of stressful. But it’s so much fun working with them, and I just know I’m going to learn a lot.”
“Or lose your sanity,” Natsuo laughs.
“That too,” Fuyumi smiles.
“Seriously though, you’re going to be great, sis.” He hands her the last bowl, fishes his phone from his jean pocket and squints at the screen, “Oh, gotta call Naiomi.”
“Is she okay?”
“Yeah, uh…” His ears redden again, “Just time for our nightly call.”
“Aw. Tell her hi from me.”
“I won’t,” Natsuo sticks out his tongue and leaves the room, tapping at his phone.
Fuyumi watches him go, the smile dropping from her face with a sigh. The skin of her fingers still itches from the flame and stings from the warm water. She dries the bowl and places the stack in the overhead cupboard.
Heaviness seeps through her. So, this is it, another day done. What now? She sits down at the table, rests her head on the wood, and sighs again. It’s strange to think that she’s given all of herself to her day – the kids, her family, the food- and yet somehow Fuyumi feels that she’s got so much more to give.
A key turns in the front door and she jolts upright, the familiar tension returning. Endeavor’s back already? The front door slams open, and Fuyumi buries her head into her hands. She can’t do this. Not tonight. She’s spent, and she’s sick of being treated like a ghost.
Her father’s footsteps sound down the hallway, the heat travelling with him. Fuyumi waits for him to continue walking past the kitchen, then she rises from the chair, grabs a couple of spare shopping bags and slips out of the front door.
The night air is cool and refreshingly open. The streets are devoid of people, and Fuyumi feels herself relax as she walks further and further away from the Todoroki home. She heads towards the convenience store, the only place open at the time of night.
It’s an old shop, passed down family generations. The sign “Ono & Co” is cracked and spinning on its’ side and various miscellaneous objects stare at Fuyumi through the windows. A bell dings as she opens the front door.
“Oh hello dear!” An elderly woman from behind the counter beams. Her grey hair is striped blue, and she wears a ratcheted black jumper with a tiger on the front.
“Hello, Ono-san. Just getting some groceries for tomorrow,” Fuyumi gestures to her bags.
“Oh lovely!”
Fuyumi heads down the aisle. What might Natsuo need for a curry? She grabs some carrots, potatoes and rice, and hunts around for some good spices.
As she heads to the counter. Ono-san has her back to her. As Fuyumi heads to the counter, Ono-san suddenly whirls around and suddenly Fuyumi faced with a red oni. She yelps as the woman laughs and takes off the mask.
“Good, isn’t it? My son painted it."
“Yes it’s very…nice.”
“Would you like one?” Ono-san crouches down and lifts up a massive sack which she places on the counter, “We’ve got such a variety. Even ones of Heroes. Look we’ve even got Endeavor. He would like it, wouldn’t he?”
“Um…maybe…”
Ono-san must catch her reservation because she immediately shoves another one into Fuyumi’s hand and says brightly, “Or this one? It would really suit you!”
“Um…I don’t…”
“It’s free! Just for you! I’ve got so many here that I really don’t think I can sell them all. Do me a favour and take it, will you dear?”
Fuyumi gazes down at the proffered mask. It’s white with the eyes framed in swirls of light blue and silver. Maybe she could paint on it? Doing art might help her zone out, and she hasn’t been able to do it for a while.
“Sure,” She smiles, “Why not?”
“Great!” Only now does Ono-san inspect her shopping bag and begin scanning her objects. “That’ll be 5000 yen.”
Fuyumi hands the notes over and holds her mask in her left hand and her shopping bag in her right.
“Thanks Ono-san. Have a good evening.”
“You too, dear.”
Fuyumi begins to hum to herself as she steps outside. She recognises the tune now – it’s a lullaby her mother used to sing to her each night. That had been before her father had changed. She bites her lip. That had been so many years ago now. Natsuo would have been too young to remember.
“Stupid boy!”
Fuyumi jolts as she is pulled from her reverie. A child lies spreadeagled on the concrete ground in front of her, hands outstretched to a shopping bag lopsided on the ground. A dark liquid spreads from it, pooling into the cracks.
The boy stares at it stricken, before glancing up, eyes wide in fear. A burly man stands over him, arms folded, face furious as he glowers over the boy.
“What the hell did you trip for?” His voice is eerily quiet.
“I…I didn’t mean...”
The boy starts to edge away as the man step towards him.
“Oh dear,” Fuyumi hears Ono-san gibber from behind the counter, “Maybe a hero will come…”
The man’s arms are bare and muscled. Fuyumi wonders if they’re from his quirk. But then again, many hero physiques are entirely separate from their quirks.
“A hero…” Ono-san repeats.
A hero isn’t going to come. This is an obscure shop on an isolated street, and the only hero nearby is at Fuyumi’s house. Maybe she could phone the police…
Fuyumi sets her shopping bag down and frantically rifles through her bag. She lays down the mask and draws out two carrots in her right hand, whilst her left hand continues to sift between the rice and spices.
The sound of a slap resounds through the store. Fuyumi looks up to see the man grimacing his hand held aloft in the air.
“Now look what you made me do.”
Fuyumi’s fingers are tingling. She looks down to see that the carrots have frozen over in her hands.
She stares at the carrot icicles in shock. Then she hears the boy whimper, “I’m sorry.”
And something inside her snaps.
Fuyumi looks out at the boy, and sees instead Shoto, her mother- and Endeavor looming over them. Only this time, rather than fear, she feels fury. With a shuddery breath, she jams the mask onto her face, and marches towards the man.
Ice crawls up her arms and along the edges of the carrots, stiffening into points. She steps in front of the boy, and as the man brings his hand down again, she raises her fist, a jagged tip of ice poised at the man’s neck.
“Woah, hey,” The man smiles brightly, “Are you a new villain or something? Don’t worry, I’ll just stand here, and we can wait for a hero to turn up.”
Fuyumi’s eyes narrow. Now that she’s got to this point, she’s not sure what to do. But her ice seems to decide for her, spreading from the tip onto the man’s neck. The man’s eyes widen, and she stares in shock as it continues to spread over his body.
“S…Stop it!” The man chokes, “Look, you can fight a hero, okay? I’m just an innocent bystander! There’s no glory in fighting me.”
“I…” Fuyumi bites her lip, willing the ice to vanish, but to her horror, she finds that she can’t seem to stop it. The ice continues to spread, coating the man’s body in a layer of frost. It’s as if her own pain is exploding out of her and swallowing this man whole. Her hand shakes as she tracks its’ progress, covering his arms and his legs, before rising up the man’s torso towards his head.
“No no no no no no,” He pants, his voice rising in pitch and Fuyumi’s voice joins in with his, “Stop it! Stop it!”
The ice reaches the rest of his neck, and then his head. His voice peters out into muffles as it presses his lips tight and crawls up his cheeks. His dark eyes roll over into the back of his head, and he collapses, his iced body rattling as he hits the ground.
Fuyumi jerks back, sickened. What has she done? What has she done? That’s a person, that’s -
“DAD!”
Fuyumi turns to see the boy staring at her in shock, tears forming in his brown eyes.
“Fuyumi-san.” Fuyumi turns to see Ono-san staring at her grimly. The shopkeeper holds a phone in her hand, “The police are on their way. You should go.”
“I…” Fuyumi starts breathing heavily, the ice disintegrating from her hands, leaving frozen carrots. She gazes at the man, at the boy, and doesn’t know which way to turn. “The police?” She whips round to face Ono-san, “What will you tell them?”
The old woman smiles sadly, “That I saw an abuser attacking a child, and that he was saved by a vigilante.”
“A vigilante?” Fuyumi’s head is spinning. She can’t seem to think. All she sees is the man lying on the ground, his sobbing child beside him.
“Go,” Ono-san says gently, pressing her shopping bags into her hands, “You lost control. It’ll be alright. The heroes will save him. Now go before the police get here.”
Fuyumi stares blanky down at the vegetables. She hears sirens off into the distance, and her body makes the decision for her. She turns and runs, leaving the unconscious man and his son far, far behind.