From The Sidelines.

The County Fair.

Izuku doesn't remember the last time it rained this long in Ise.

The skies cried for weeks, and its tears swept through the streets, flooded the drains, and beat down on the rooftops of quaint pastel homes. Gray clouds blanketed the city and the greenish-blue tint just refused to go away.

The sunny afternoons, golden sunsets, and humid air that everyone in Ise was so used to disappeared for what seems like forever. The only semblance of what the beachside town normally looked like was at night on the few days where the rain would stop for a little bit. Izuku doesn't mind it too much; however, it was a bit of a hassle.

First, everything was cancelled or postponed. The yearly county fair that everyone looked forward to was pushed back three or so weeks, considering that the fairgrounds were flooded. After-school activities held outdoors were cancelled altogether.

Second, the melancholy weather did not add to the mood within his house. The afternoon following Izuku and his mother's fight once school let out for the day was the first time he'll see his mother since the fiasco of the night before. And Izuku had felt the negative energy and tension before he even stepped foot into the house. Life was sucked out of every crevice, every room, every pocket of space the house occupied.

From the walls of the house to the colorful decor neatly placed here and there, it felt gray against the awful lighting that the rainy days provided. And coupled with the depressing mood inside of the Midoriya household, Izuku could barely stand to be here.

Inko didn't talk to him. Food was prepared on the table. Their glasses of water filled. Their plates made. And so they eat dinner quietly at the table, across from one another. There was only 2 feet of table between them, but it felt like two oceans.

Izuku couldn't tell what his mother was thinking, and he couldn't even read it in her large and expressive eyes that he inherited. Inko had rings under her eyes, a somber but rather blank expression on her face, and bodily movements that seemed to be exhausted.

Izuku felt horrible. He felt so, so bad. Because he knew that he was the cause of it. He knew that he was reasoning for his mother's tears, lack of sleep, lack of energy, lack of life. And he was tempted to apologize, just so that the air between them is somewhat normal again.

He wanted so badly to automatically do what he's been habituated and taught to do his entire life and apologize just so that there is no negative feelings in the room.

But then, he thought, then what? If he apologizes, and gives in once more to her, then what? The cycle will only repeat. The arguments, the discontent, the tension, the horrible sentiments will only happen again, and again, and again. And then, he also thought to all that Katsuki had said to him in that one argument.

It wasn't a bad thing to be happy, to be forgiving, or sentimental. In fact, those were great traits. What was a bad thing was when he has to force those feelings, when he didn't want to. What was a bad thing, was when he doesn't have healthy amounts of anger and sadness when it is necessary for his own justice. And to give in and apologize to his mother, when he had done nothing wrong, would be doing an injustice to himself.

He needed to stand his ground, and advocate for himself. And so, although it was painful, although he loved conversation with his mother, although he wanted nothing more for them to be happy together again, Izuku sits through the quiet dinner.

Because it was not his responsibility to repair a broken house when he was not the one who broke it. Because he wanted to prove to himself not for Katsuki, not for the world, not for anyone else, that he can put his feelings first, for once. And not accept anything less.