🔉ter·rif·ic
/təˈrifik/
1. of great size (adjective).
Example: The bunny was of terrific size.
2. something splendid (adjective).
Example: "Oh, Ryoba!" Reiko lovingly exclaims, "it's terrific!"
3. inspiring terror (archaic).
.
The air is cool, and Katsuki knows he's in trouble. He shouldn't have stayed out that long, now Mitsuki's going to get her fucking panties in a wad and bitch about how worried Katsuki makes her. Telling him about how troublesome he is, and sadly stating that all she ever does is worry about him in that suffocating manner. All while Masaru says that this is a stage he's going through, and he needs to talk it out with them.
He says every word except puberty but Katsuki knows that word lingers in the air of his gentle scolds. If whatever Masaru does can even be called scolding.
But oh he's going to be so late, and they'll give him the biggest earful. Say he has to grow out of this before his time ticks to sixteen, and bring up hero schools. His parents stress him out just as much as he stresses them out. Katsuki remembers a time when that wasn't really the case.
He doesn't quite recall how their relationship went to shit.
Loving banter quickly switched to hot arguing in what now feels like overnight.
But soon he's there, he racks through his bag for his key, soon finding it and opening the door.
It swings open, and noise rushes out. Gentle background hums. The warmth of the house is enticing, and he quickly steps inside. Closing the door behind him and taking off his shoes, he stares at the coat rack before him. Leaning on his arm, and staring at the three steps leading up towards another coat rack.
The familiar slim hall way, and the kitchen tap whirred off, 'Oi! Katsuki, you're back?' His old hag. Her voice is slightly agitated, and Katsuki already knows they'll spend some time arguing. He does his best to avoid that.
'Yeah, I'm back,' he manages to bite back the hag threatening to surface. He hears his mother click her tongue distastefully. Katsuki was about to say something in quick defense about that, until he realizes it wasn't meant for him.
'Stupid management at the company!' She begins, walking towards the long entrance, 'can you believe they're sending me off to Korea for a few weeks? Just for a change of "scenery" in the photo shooting! As though they can't just add those artificial ass plants in the background of a green screen, splash a few Korean words on some fucking prefecture 'round here and make it look convincing.'
'I thought you like travelling,' Katsuki tries not to look happy at the words. Joy comes from the fact they're not arguing and talking quite civilly, and also from the fact she'll be leaving for a few weeks. Katsuki wonders if she'll leave that exclusive wine in the cupboard.
'I do, I just don't trust you alone,' The hag says, leaning against a wall, 'you're up to something, I just know it.'
'Or you're just paranoid as fuck,' Katsuki responds just as sharply, beginning to kick his shoes off.
The old hag stares at him for a good, long, distrustful moment before, 'Whatever, get your ass to the shower.'
Not having to voice his thoughts, his eyes take up to hers. His gaze alone is enough to say don't tell me what to do. Not quite a warning, just a quick demand before he looks back to his shoes as though it wasn't on purpose. And like usual, the hag pretends not to see it.
.
Masaru had watched his son grow up, so his biggest question was what went wrong? He always thought it quietly when he saw him shout loudly at another kid, when he saw how frantic and lost Izuku got just by being around his son nowadays, and the way he was just so... angry all the time.
He thought Katsuki would grow out of it by the time he was fourteen.
Then he didn't.
Now he's creeping close to his sixteenth birthday, and Masaru is absolutely helpless. His wife has already brought it up worriedly, and it seems like none of them know what to do. This kid is over his head, but maybe U.A could be a very teaching lesson. Something that'll stick with him forever, an ego-crushing, humbling, and unique experience.
Masaru just hopes time moves faster. Katsuki seems to be getting worse every day. The arguments downstairs have him isolating upstairs, door closed, where he can't hear those two and their endless fights.
Ah, another one's starting up right now.
Katsuki's voice is too loud, and all of a sudden Mitsuki returns the same amount of heat. But Katsuki doesn't back down, now he never backs down, not even when it's good for him.
The two are engaged in a total screaming match, vitriol burning in the back of the words. Masaru's sure today's dispute is about Katsuki coming home late. But he catches heavy words being tossed around that seem to dig a little deeper than that:
...trust...
...so paranoid...
...orried about y...
...annoying...
...reathing down m...
...me alone...
He finds himself catching more words, their voices build, and he realizes the fight is being pulled upstairs. Masaru has no idea why, and on his swiveling office chair he can't focus on the fashion designs sketched on paper before him. He turns around, and watches the closed door behind him. Unable to take his ears from their powerful voices.
'THEN WHY THE FUCK DO YOU NEVER COME HERE EARLY?' Mitsuki bellows, 'HUH?! YOU GOT SOMETHING OUTSIDE OF SCHOOL YOU'RE NOT TELLING US?'
'WHY CAN'T YOU JUST FUCKING TRUST ME?!'
'TRUST YOU? YOU DON'T TELL US SHIT! DON'T ACT ALL OFFENDED WHEN I CAN'T FUCKING TRUST YOU!!'
'WELL IF YOU WEREN'T SUCH A PARANOID FUCKING BITCH THEN--...' the air turns stale, and Masaru takes a deep, long inhale. Hoping to never have to take another breath out again. Did Katsuki just call Mitsuki a bitch? This will never end well. He can already envision their wide, red eyes staring at one another in more than a little shock. As though waiting for the words to be sucked back in.
'I'm a fucking what now?' Her voice is quiet, but the clarity gives away her a location. Unmoved.
'Nothing.' says Katsuki, as though that would remove his words from the air.
'REPEAT IT.' She urges, anger swelling in her rising voice.
'NOTHING!'
'I'M A BITCH NOW, HUH? I'M A FUCKING BITCH?!'
'NO!' as though time would reverse itself along with his words.
'IF I'M A BITCH FOR GIVING A SHIT ABOUT YOUR FUCKING ASS, THEN I GUESS I'M THE BIGGEST FUCKING BITCH ON EARTH!' Her tone grows wet, and Katsuki's lack of response for once leaves a period of silence. 'MAYBE IF YOU DIDN'T GET YOURSELF IN SO MUCH GODDAMN TROUBLE ALL THE TIME!! FROM THE FUCKING DAY I GAVE BIRTH TO YOU TOO!! DO YOU HAVE TO SEEK TROUBLE AT EVERY. GODDAMN. TURN?'
'WELL MAYBE YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE BECOME A FUCKING MOTHER THEN IF YOU COULDN'T FUCKING HANDLE IT!'
'OR MAYBE IT'S YOUR FAULT! MAYBE YOU'RE JUST A REALLY SHITTY FUCKING SON AND- oh.' they've both said things they can't take back, and Masaru listens to the way all their voices crumple. 'Oh.' Mitsuki helplessly repeats.
'Well-' the way his voice softens, it sounds like his own throat is suffocating him. His tone dampens but just for a second. The second of silence is Katsuki recomposing himself, Masaru knows because his next words have a dicing edge to them. And all the wetness in them has been drained. 'I fucking hate you too.'
It's extraordinary and also... highly concerning how he can express so much pure emotion in a second, to exempting himself from feeling a thing the next. Masaru hears the argument end, and he knows they've both lost the fight. Katsuki's steps take upwards, and Mitsuki is left silent. Either stunned or regretful. Maybe both.
In a few moments, like he's predicted, Mitsuki enters the room. It's an unusually bad fight. Mitsuki's mumbling about Katsuki changing, with foggy eyes and skewed brows, she welcomes herself on Masaru's lap. Hugging him, and Masaru embraces her. Letting Mitsuki talk it out.
Running his hand through her hair and, ' I'm such a terrible mother.' Mitsuki starts quietly, 'I can't even control my goddamn anger, he just says stuff and it riles me up and then I'm the monster! And I'm just looking out for him!'
'I know,' comforts Masaru, 'you're doing your best.' his voice is the only palliative one after a fight.
'I just want to be there for him,' Mitsuki quietly goes on, 'at least you can actually talk to your son! Do you see how he looks at me? With dread. He can't even stand me. He changed so quickly, Masaru.'
'I'll talk to him.'
'Why did he have to change?'
Masaru slowly gets up, just as the bathroom shower ends. Marking Katsuki leaving the bathroom. He hadn't even noticed Katsuki had began to shower in the first place. Mitsuki slips onto the bed, staring at the ceiling and blinking quickly in order not to cry. Of course it wasn't just Katsuki.
Mitsuki was annoyed about the Korea thing. But maybe that was also because of Katsuki. Then she had no say in the earlier meetings, just so she could stick around to make sure Katsuki arrived home on time. It's just this whole argument that really frustrates her. Masaru promises to treat her to some savory Korean treats when they get there.
At the same time when Masaru wants to believe that boy is innocent, the very centre of Mitsuki's bad mood is a dirty, messy web of wires that all have their root to Katsuki somehow.
He knocks on his son's door, 'Hey, can I come in?'
No response. He knocks once more. Nothing. He tries with a little more urgency, and soon wins a messy, 'WHAT?'
'Can I come in?'
A wet sniffle that betrays his dry voice, 'No. Go away!'
'Katsuki,' it was supposed to be firm but his voice melts unwillingly. Masaru decides maybe it would have been better that way, although it blunts his point, 'please?'
The shuffling of clothes, and soon, the door creaks open. Katsuki's wet eyes peeking though the thin slit madly. Awaiting whatever.
'Can I come in?' He asks.
Katsuki hesitates, but the door soon opens for Masaru. He enters the room, neat like usual. Katsuki didn't have petty problems like a messy room or a full sink, the dishwasher was always on if Katsuki was home. And the floors were always swept. The problems resided outside the house, like him being late and or through the evening without a trace when he was just home a few minutes ago.
'I hate her,' Katsuki soon announces, and Masaru just hopes Mitsuki didn't catch his voice or something.
'No you don't,' Masaru sighs, sitting on the tidy bed. And looking through the room so freakishly clean that it nearly looks austere. 'You should try to listen to her more often—'
'And "and try and be less argumentative", would you quit repeating the same shit to me?!' Katsuki yells.
'Don't shout.'
Katsuki's gaze steels but he soon looks away, 'All you do is recycle the same garbage.'
'Well, you should try and listen to that too.'
Words: 1916