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Ever since the public appearance, they were more comfortable with each other. Not by much, but just enough not to flinch at every movement the other made. Asami tried to think of things to talk to him about, and when she thought of something, she would tuck it away. Waiting for the right moment.
The right moment never arose.
Todoroki was climbing the popularity polls ever since his appearance with Asami. The way he shielded her from the press garnered civilian admiration. He had more work, and more villains to contend with.
This kept him distracted, but Asami could see the constant pressure of his father wearing on him.
"How was your day?"
Out of nowhere, within the kitchen, she spoke. Todoroki stopped typing on his computer, not expecting her to speak. What was he going to say? It wasn't condescending. It was genuine. Quick, think of something.
"Fine," he said, immediately regretting his tone. He tried to rescue the only conversation she had started in days. "How about yours, Saito?"
"Fine as well," she said. Asami sat at the pot, stirring. What was she going to say now? What would they talk about? She exhaled, adding some salt to the pot. "Any villains today?"
Todoroki didn't expect her to talk anymore. He turned around on the couch, getting a peek of her at the stove. Her back was turned to him. "A couple of lowly ones."
"Oh," she nodded her head.
"Did you listen to your— music?" Todoroki struggled with what to ask, a long pause between the words in his question. He couldn't see the slight smile on her face.
"Yes, do you hear it when you come home?" The question was no longer forced, her curiosity actually true.
"It's rather loud, Saito. It could injure your hearing," he said, meaning for it to be a joke. There was zero emotion in his voice, however, and it came off flat. Another silence fell over them.
"I'll lower the volume next time. I apologize."
Todoroki bit the inside of his cheek, feeling like he had messed up. Why couldn't he have just said something nice? He was trying to, but nothing ever came out right.
Their dinner was silent, delicious as usual. Later that evening, Asami sat on her bed, staring at the photograph she kept hidden away. She touched her finger to it, drawing circles around her brothers' faces. She sighed, messing with the ends of her braid.
Todoroki gave a soft knock on the door and she looked up, not noticing the storm brewing in the distance. "May I come in?"
"Of course," she said, getting to her feet and giving him a bow. "Is there something I can do for you?"
"No," he said, making eye contact for a second and then averting quickly. "I apologize for sounding harsh earlier. I did not mean it."
She froze, watching him leave the room. What? He was apologizing? For the hearing comment? Her silk robe flew out behind her as she chased after him. "Todoroki— wait!"
She reached out for his hand, gently grabbing it. It was his ice side. She felt prickles of coldness erupt in her palm, it stung but she held on. She wasn't letting go so easily.
He stopped walking, his back still turned to her.
"It's alright. I know what you meant."
Todoroki felt the warmth of her finger tips dance across his ice cold hand. Don't freeze. Don't let it out of control. He couldn't look at her face. There wasn't fear anymore— just worry and softness. He didn't want fear, but he didn't want her to be close. She wasn't his to have, she didn't have a choice. He let go.
"Don't do that again."
She let go, her hand practically blue. She retracted her hand, pulling it close to her chest. Emotion welled up in her chest and she let out a stuttering exhale. "I-I'm— I'm s-sorry. I forget myself."
He heard the door shut softly behind him. Why?! Why did father do this?! I can't— I can't handle this. He moved toward the window, rain drowning out the thoughts in his mind. He looked down at his hands, flames erupting in one, ice creeping up the other. He had to push her away. He had let her get too close.
Asami stared out the window in her room, curling up on the chair she didn't know he sat in. Tears dripped down her face as she pulled up her knees to her chest, nestling her face deep into the soft silk. I'm trying so hard, Mom. I'm trying to make him happy but I can't. If he doesn't like me, they'll cut off the money. I— I don't know what to do.
Todoroki tried to calm himself down, regretting everything. Why didn't he just let his sister get married?! What was so hard about that?! Why did he always have to step in— why couldn't he just stop being the hero.
He wasn't the hero, at least, not to Asami. He had to figure out a way for them to come to an understanding. He had to understand why she was there, maybe then they could reach normalcy. Todoroki paced as the torrential rain fall thundered and whirled outside.
Asami had moved away from the window. Though she could create wind storms, she was terrified of thunderstorms. A strange fear. She fled to the bathroom, shutting herself up in the bathtub, no water running. Fear, anguish, anxiety. He wasn't cruel, why couldn't they just talk? Become friends.
Friends.
She couldn't become friends with him. They would eventually be married, she would have to carry his children. What was she going to do? Pretend like that was never happening? Sing and dance alone in the room, forgetting her duty as a future wife and the eldest.
She covered her ears at the sound of thunder, rolling over in the bathtub, feeling her sobs echo around the porcelain.
Her mother died the night of one of Japan's biggest storms. Her death was clouded in black clouds and bad omens. Things in the bathroom floated, carried by a gentle wind, swirling in circles. Asami didn't know what to do, sitting up and watching brushes, pins, hand mirrors circle around her. Towels and wash cloths.
She held on to the back of her head, rocking back and forth. Please, please, make it stop.
Todoroki had sat down on the couch, holding his hands together hoping they would counter balance each other. He was thinking. All he could do was think. His knee bounced up and down.
He should go in there. Tell her they were leaving Japan. Running away. No, no. They couldn't do that. She had a family.
No, he would walk in there and tell her that everything was going to be okay and they would figure it out together.
No, no. That's not right. He couldn't even formulate the right words, so he took out a notepad, writing versions of his declaration over and over again. Hours had passed by as he tried to perfect what he was going to say. The storm finally receded.
He opened the door, leaving the notebook on the coffee table. She wasn't in the bedroom, but the bathroom was shut. He knocked on the bathroom door, but there was no response. So, he gently turned the knob, looking inside.
He couldn't see her, just her hand over the side of the bathtub. Everything was strewn around the room, like a tornado had whipped through. Todoroki slowly stepped toward the bath tub and there she was.
She had fallen asleep in the bathtub, her face red and puffy. The hand that reached out for him was clutched close to her chest. All of the words he had carefully crafted together shattered. He leaned down, picking her up from the bathtub in his arms.
"I'm sorry."
He walked to the bed, her body warm and light in his arms. He laid her down, making sure her head hit the pillow. She sniffed in her sleep, her face contorting. Her hand clutched his sleeve and wouldn't let go.
He knew she was dreaming, but it hurt his heart. She didn't deserve this. It wasn't like him to be so mean to someone in need.
He unfolded each finger, laying it at her side. Todoroki pulled out a blanket. He covered her, making sure she was alright. Then, he turned out the light.
How was this going to work if he only felt happiness when she did?