6 months later
February flashed by like a dream.
March was melancholic, and rather lonely.
April's spring was bird songs and people.
May was refreshing and hopeful.
June's ascent into summer was warm on the face and happy on the heart. I made friends.
July was sunlight reflecting on surfaces in rainbows and dreams of love.
Today, I lazily flick through a magazine and tune my ears into the radio playing today's weather forecast. The temperature would only rise from here on out. I groan, pulling the fabric of my tank top away from my hot skin.
My butt was beginning to sweat from having been sitting at the front desk since the morning. I get up, fanning my flowy skirt out with a happy twirl and begin dusting off the surface of the desk.
Business had been slow recently as most people were flying off on holidays or cooped up inside with their fans on maximum power. Madame MeiMei had been incessantly chasing me up to dust down the store as I'd been putting it off since the last spring clean. Her allergies had been acting up however, so I didn't argue.
I glimpse out the windows looking out onto the street and capture a pure blue sky, not a cloud in sight. I wanted to be out there realistically but my responsibilities came first and Madame would no doubt take us out on a picnic later as she had promised. The reminder got me excited.
Since the Shie Hassaikai ordeal, I'd found safety in an old, vintage bookstore where Madame MeiMei had granted me a place to live above the shop with her. In return, I would earn my keep by running the shop and she would entrust me with a monthly allowance.
Madame was a god send. I had stumbled out of the wreckage of the gang's house coughing and spluttering as dust choked up my lungs. Then, I ran until my eyes were splotchy with black spots and my lungs were wheezing. Rain had drenched my torn clothes to my skin and cleansed my stinging cuts and wounds.
The doorstep I'd stumbled into to shield myself from the chilly downpour was none other than Once Upon A Time. Dark rain clouds had accumulated overhead, dimming the street but not quite able to dampen the light of this place. A soft golden glow shone in the windows with a flurry of other rich colours coming from the books and the fancy lamps within.
I eyed the place curiously. A gentle piece of music filtered through the door that was nudged open. Somehow, I felt as if I was dreaming. This store was the only thing visibly alive in the street with its welcoming and bright aura. I remembered the warmth of it radiating through the door, that gilded glow through the windows inviting me in.
The last thing I wanted to do was bump into someone that would cause me trouble but something about this bookstore had dragged me in like a moth to a flame. Upon turning the handle weakly, a bell tinkled above and effectively startled me inside. The tinkle of the bell was soon forgotten as I passed my gaze over all the wonderfully bizarre items displayed around me.
I stood on shaky legs, using the nearest bookshelf as a crutch while my eyes adjusted to the new environment. Immediately, the aroma of cookies and sweet candles and old books engulfed me.
Wooden animals marching behind one another were dotted on various shelves and tables; light bulbs in the shapes of stars and leaves and planets hung from the ceiling; flowers and paintings covered every surface, the brown vintage wallpaper just barely having a chance to shine with all the decorations it held. The place was filled to the brim with the strangest objects.
My eyes widened at the adjoining room that was connected by an arch of books. Everything showed signs of age but more so, an old love and comfy atmosphere.
My body relaxed on the spot, my breathing slowing to an acceptable pace as I drank in this secret I had stumbled upon. Perhaps it wasn't a secret but at the time, it had felt like a place only for me. The only store on the street that had shone its light on me as if it was expecting my arrival.
"Hello?" piped up a gentle, feminine voice from somewhere within the room.
I spun in my spot, still clutching my shaking frame as the owner of the voice came into view. Upon laying eyes on me, worry creased her ageing features. My heart leaped into my throat, suddenly lifting my hands up in surrender as if showing this small lady that I would do her no harm.
The elderly woman, decked out in a shawl and exotically patterned clothes, rushed towards me and started rattling off question after question. I could only gape at her in confusion.
"Goodness me dear, what happened to you? Where did these cuts come from? And your clothes! Oh you're soaked! Come, come inside. Let's get you all warmed up. Seriously, what happened?"
As she dragged me by the forearm deeper into her little world, I found my mouth moving against its will. The action worried me but not as much as the truths spilling out of me did.
"I escaped a collapsing building where heroes were fighting villains and I have literally nowhere to go and I'm scared and cold and... powerless. I need help more than anything but I'm terrified of asking anyone for fear they might hurt me too." The last part came out in a whisper. Then I realised. "I didn't mean to say all that."
The lady who I assumed was the shopkeeper turned back to me, sympathy twinkling in her eyes. She nodded with understanding before continuing her path to the back of the store. We approached the front desk and slipped past the doorway of beaded strings hanging in the arch.
"That was the effect of your quirk, no?" I asked, liking the twinkle and sparkle of the funny looking doorway.
"Indeed," she agreed with a nod. "Whoever I touch with good intention will be compelled to tell the truth to any question I ask. You look as if you've just walked out of a battlefield, sweetheart. I'll get you patched up and we can talk about what happens after that later, yes?" she inquired, glancing back at me with an enthusiastic nod. I didn't have time to respond before she picked up a plate. "Cookie? They're fresh!"
The whole situation was bizarre to me. I eyed the plate of cookies, their chocolate chips melting into the soft dough. My mouth watered but my head was paranoid. At first, my instinct told me to question her immediate offer for help. It was suspicious. But I recalled another time I'd done that.
For the longest time, I couldn't wrap my head around why someone like Shota would want to help me. All I would consider were the possible negative outcomes but he taught me that if I wanted to start building relationships and moving on from what deterred me before, then I'd have to start trusting more. Even if it ended just how I feared it would, at least I would've tried. And I think he would've been somewhat proud of me for that. Or at least, I hoped so.
In response to her offer, I nodded. Later, we snacked on her freshly baked cookies together before she offered me a place to sleep for the night. The next day, I explained the general gist of my situation (leaving out some important very criminal parts for another time) and asked her for advice on how I should move forward. It was then that she offered me what would soon become my home.
My trip down memory lane was interrupted by the ever familiar ring of the bell, notifying me that customers had arrived. The first of the day.
I'm still nervous about approaching people. Sometimes my mind will convince me they are looking at me funny or they recognise me from my time in the Shie Hassaikai. It was a slow process of not allowing myself to believe my rampant thoughts until they were proven.
I finish dusting off the desk and tuck away the cloth when I hear the high pitched giggle of a little girl. It reminds me of the memory of a girl I hold dearly. My heart cries a little; it still does that.
With a quick check in the reflection of the glass on the grandfather clock, I shuffle past the many bookshelves, the book arch and past some more messily displayed trinkets. I turn the corner, spotting a little girl and what looks to be her father with her. He smiles down at her as she laughs once more.
Then she turns. They both do. Two pairs of eyes, one a ruby red and the other an endless black.
I think the world outside the bookstore comes to a halt for a second. The friendly smile on my face fades, my lips parting as I suck in a sharp breath. The air is warm around us, a scent of flowers and books filling the space between us.
Aside from the steadily racing beat of my heart, only the grandfather clock ticks away in the background; it makes the atmosphere around us suffocating. I'm paralysed. Stuck between a state of mind boggling disbelief and a parading happiness that is making my stomach flip.
The little girl is no longer giggling. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly and I feel mine fall in sync with hers. Because she's not just any little girl. She has silver hair that's pulled into pigtails, the softest pink ribbons holding them up. In her hand is a traditional hand fan, smaller in size as if tailored for her tinier frame.
My chest seizes as her face crumples and tears well in her eyes. I watch as they sparkle and roll down her cheeks, her mouth moving to form my name.
"Y/N..." Eri whispers.
And when she runs to me, hand fan discarded on the floor, I forget everything and open my arms for her. Her chest collides with mine as she wraps her arms around my neck and begins to weep. I breathe out the biggest exhale, one I've been holding for months on end.
Because my little girl is glowing. She's sporting a white summer dress and ballet shoes, she smells like daisies and vanilla. Her hair is soft and brushed and she's heavier and healthier. Eri tucks her face into my neck, clinging onto me like I'll pop out of existence.
A choked sob escapes my throat as I squeeze my eyes tightly and hold back the tears threatening to fall.
"I knew we would find you. I waited for you," whispers Eri, her voice shaky with tears. "Everyday. I wished on every fallen eyelash and shooting star. Just like Mr Aizawa told me to. And you came back!"
I nod, my own voice unstable. "I'm here. I'm back. Forever."
She only hugs me tighter. My heart sings at the strength in her bones and the lack of bandages decorating her body. Eri is safe. All thanks to one person.
He has yet to say a word. Suddenly my insides turn with nerves as I set Eri down and smooth out her hair. I wipe away her tears, avoiding the eyes of the man standing not so far behind her watching the scene play out silently.
"You're so pretty Eri. Like a fairy," I tell her with an unshakable smile.
She beams at me and I love her all over again just like the day I first met her.
"We are matching!" she giggles through her tears, taking my hands and spinning me in a circle so that our white skirts flutter.
I laugh heartily, enjoying her every expression.
"Eri?"
I feel my pulse quicken at the first sound of his deep voice since they walked in. My eyes flit upwards, instantly hooked by the Pro-Hero's own that were just waiting for me to look at him. And then I can't look away. Nor do I want to.
In those onyx eyes is a wonder I've never seen. They're still tired, red a little around the edges. Perhaps somewhat more than how I remember from before. Nevertheless, there's a whispering gentleness in them that feels reserved for me. Shota regards me like I'd just plucked the moon out of the sky and gifted it to him.
I can't breathe. And yet, my chest is rising and falling like it never has before. Perhaps I'm breathing again for the first time since we parted.
"Yes mister?" replies Eri, eyeing the interaction between us curiously.
"May I have a minute with Y/N?" he asks, somewhat quieter.
For a second, Eri hesitates. She soon senses the weight of the air between us and chooses to allow him the moment alone with me. The little girl skips off with her hand fan to the old children's tales section at the back.
And then we are alone.
There are so many things I want, no need, to say. But I'm eternally tongue tied under his eyes. I question how anyone could function normally after meeting such an intense gaze. But my mind is running at one hundred miles an hour as I desperately chase the right thing to say or do.
All I know is that the space between us is much too far. And I hate it.
My body moves on its own, hesitantly taking a step forward before pausing to study his reaction. Something flashes in his eyes. And then he's moving towards me. With every step, the distance grows shorter between me and the other half of my heart.
His hand comes to the back of my head, the other instinctively to my lower back. With the gentlest tug, Shota pulls me against his chest. My eyes flutter shut against their will, my arms wrapping around his back. I feel my fingers grip the back of his t-shirt tightly, ensuring that not a single part of me isn't pressed against his large frame.
He engulfs me. I'm swallowed into his bubble of space, the organ in my chest conflicted between gasping for air or slowing till the point that sleep consumes me. I'm at home in his arms. I never want to leave.
All the months we'd been apart, I was growing as a person. I learnt about all the things I couldn't do in the past and I met new people and made friends. Things were looking up, I was more peaceful than ever before. And safe. But there was always something missing. A hollowness. My life was a complicated puzzle slowly coming together but there was always one piece at the centre that was lost.
As I listen to the rapid beat of Shota's heart, I feel as if he has taken all the new parts of me and put me together. He was the missing piece. The picture is completed then and there. It feels like waking up for the first time.
I don't think anything could top this moment. Until he speaks.
"There you are," Shota whispers hoarsely.
A sob racks at my chest. I only cling on tighter. His fingers slip into my hair, stroking softly. His other hand slips around my back and clings onto my waist. Words refuse to form as I battle the urge to fall apart in his arms.
Being away from him, from Eri, had been torturous. The first few months were the equivalent of wading through tar as I navigated the freedom I'd been granted. Alone. So alone.
I'd finally come to terms with the fact that I would have to wait for us to meet once more but only when we were supposed to. As the months went by, a hopelessness dragged my heart into the gutter. I was convinced that he was needed elsewhere and that I was only a small part of his journey through life. It hurt.
I never knew that a heart could ache in the way mine did. How physical it felt.
As I inhale a deep breath, memories flood my mind. A sunlit room, fluttering curtains, softly spoken words and the exchange of secret kisses. I smell the familiar floral detergent on his clothes and the almond in his hair. He's divine. And he's holding me like he'll never let me go far again.
...
Aizawa's POV:
I never knew that a heart could ache in the way mine did. How physical it felt.
It hit me square in the chest. Almost as if the air had been knocked out of me.
Eri had pestered me about visiting Once Upon A Time, the cosy little bookstore on the highstreet since her school friends had raved about it. I relent with ease. The dingle of the bell caught my attention at first. Then it was the antiques scattered on every surface, the worn colour of the pages and the leather bound books on every shelf.
Something flowery is in the air. Eri points at the rabbit plush positioned in a way that made it look as if it were peaking at customers when they entered. She giggles. I smile down at her, happy to see her happy.
Movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention as a woman comes into view from behind a bookshelf. She wears a timid smile on her face, dressed in a lacy tank top and a flowing white skirt.
I think she looks divine. Angelic. My mind can't keep up with all the ways I find her beautiful. Our eyes meet. I feel it in my heart like she'd just taken a dip inside my head and stirred my soul with her fingers.
I realise then why I found it so easy to think she was magnificent. This woman is glowing in a way she never used to. Where her eyes were once dull, devoid of hope and life, they brimmed with a new light. Her hair is different, it suits her like it was made for her. I'm unable to move any part of my body, too breathless to say her name. Summer looks beautiful on her.
Y/N, I think. And then my thoughts are consumed by her, ravaged and melted and remade.
Eri rushes to her. Even as Y/N's eyes leave mine, I'm stuck in a trance I'll never leave. She makes me stupid. And my heart burns with an ache for her to look at me again.
All I want to do is touch her. Feel she's real. And mine. Mine again.
When she is finally in my arms, it all comes to an end. The searching, the waiting, the sleepless nights. I'll never mistake a passing figure as her or hear the echoing memory of her in my house. It's a sort of relief that comes with devouring a breath when coming up for air after being underwater.
Birds sing outside, Eri's back with a book in hand and joins our now group hug, the sun warms us through the window. I close my eyes and focus on the inflated feeling in my heart.
A/N
I hope i conveyed it well but i wanted Y/n's thoughts and narration to slowly become more descriptive and resemble that of a story book. with every month she spent in the bookshop, the influence of the words she read and was surrounded by started to surface in her own words. I've got a little more planned for this but To Be Opposites is slowly coming to a close now. and it makes me happy. this story has been really fun to write but its actually been quite dear to me too.