Fireworks ~ TodoMomo

||Chapter 8||

Slowly, like an old movie, the days finally eased into July, spreading a humid heat over Tokyo. Shouto had spent most of his time working part-time under his father or visiting his mother. Otherwise, another summer was passing by uneventfully. The only thing that seemed different was that sometimes he'd find himself wondering about Yaoyorozu or thinking about the upcoming festival with his classmates. And the more he thought about it, the more he found himself looking forward to it. So it was a relief when the day of the Sumidagawa festival finally arrived.

"You look so handsome in blue!" His mother said excitedly, stepping closer. Her normally even and controlled voice fluctuated with barely contained emotion.

Shouto shifted. His ears felt hot as his mother straightened out the collar of his yukata. "Yaoyorozu picked it out."

Her smile widened, her gray eyes creasing at the corners. "Ah, she has good taste then. You'll have to thank her for me."

Shouto hummed as his mother finally stepped back and looked him up and down; a warmth that he had never seen before shown in her eyes. His throat tightened as he watched her.

It was almost surreal to see her like this. His mother seemed younger and happier than he could ever remember. As if seeing him go to a festival was one of those parent milestone things.

Perhaps it was — or maybe she was once again reading between the lines, into the emotional space Shouto still didn't know how to interpret for himself yet.

It had taken him ten years to muster the courage to face his mother again, but within a few months, it felt like she already knew him better than he knew himself.

Even when his letters were sparse, his mother seemed to understand the words and emotions he didn't say. It wasn't that he was trying to leave things out on purpose. He simply didn't always know to describe things beyond what they were.

Shouto had never been good at interpreting his feelings — probably thanks to his bastard of a father. But recently it had become even more difficult, especially when thinking of Yaoyorozu, to put his thoughts into words.

For some reason, though, it seemed like the more confused and frustrated Shouto felt about these feelings, the happier his mother became. As if she were reading from a different book than him.

It could be slightly annoying, but, at least for today, he'd let it go because of how happy she was.

There was a curt knock, and then the door slid open to reveal a nurse. "Todoroki-san, it's time for your medicine."

His mother nodded.

Shouto glanced up at the clock above the nurse's head. Almost three.

He looked back at his mother. "I better get going. It's a two hour train ride to get to the restaurant."

"Of course." She smiled brightly up at him. Her dark gray eyes twinkled. "Your mother would like a full report of your time with Yaoyorozu-san."

XXXXXXX

Momo raised her head. Her reflection shimmered in the mirror hanging against the pastel pink wall of her Tokyo bedroom.

The room wasn't as large as the one in her family's main home in Aichi, but comfortably fit a canopied queen size bed with matching Italian nightstands and dresser. On one wall, a silver Venetian mirror hung from ceiling to floor outside of a walk-in closet.

Momo's heart pounded in her chest as she studied her reflection, warmth spreading in her limbs.

After an uneventful summer, it was finally the day of the Sumigada festival, and Momo could hardly contain her excitement. She had gotten up early, double-checked the reservations, and then, unable to stop herself, pulled on her yukata hours earlier than necessary.

She reached down and adjusted the sleeve of her yukata, careful not to wrinkle the delicate fabric. It was crimson with Sakura flowers of varying sizes and shades climbing up the sleeves and a pink obi fastened around her waist to cinch the fabric closed.

It didn't match Todoroki's outfit like she had originally planned, but he had picked this one out for her. And red and blue were complementary colors, so arguably, they could still look like a couple.

Momo felt her cheeks warm, and she cupped her face.

She looked pretty. Her hair was no longer in a spiky ponytail but neatly tucked into a braided bun.

There was still four hours before she would meet up with her schoolmates at the yakitori restaurant. Admittedly, Momo was still a little unsure if that was the best choice for their class dinner, but Jirou had assured her repeatedly that the guys would only be happy if there was a lot of meat. And she had already checked that the restaurant had cold soba.

Momo went and laid down on top of her bed. She couldn't stop smiling.

Four more hours, and then she'd get to see Todoroki. Maybe she could surreptitiously sit next to him at the restaurant. He could ask for the soy sauce or for her to pass a drink, and she could pour it for him. Or, what if, while she gave him something, their hands brushed?

She pressed her face into her pillow and squealed at the image. She needed to calm down. If she kept imagining these hypothetical scenarios, she would jinx herself.

Drawing in a deep breath, Momo turned over to stare up at the canopy of her bed. She couldn't wait. The night couldn't come fast enough.

There was a sharp knock on her door, and Momo looked over. "Who is it?"

"Momo, dear. May I come in?"

Momo sat up at the sound of her mother's soft, silvery voice. "Yes, mother?" she called, patting down her cheeks, hoping to hide the evidence of her earlier inappropriate thoughts.

Her door creaked open, and a tall, lithe woman swept in. Her long, blonde hair had been pinned into an intricate bun that not a single hair dared to fall out from, and she walked with perfect grace, hinting at her past training as a model.

Momo's mother looked around the room before spotting her on the bed. Her lips pulled into a small smile that almost looked — regretful? "I'm sorry, my Momo-chan but I need to talk to you."

Momo nodded. She smoothed down the front of the yukata as she scooted to the edge of her bed.

"I know you are going to be upset," her mother began delicately, as she moved closer, "But, I just received news from your father. He said he's on a direct flight home from Singapore for a quick layover before his trip to America tomorrow morning." Her mother's face flickered, and she bit her lip, hesitating for a moment, before continuing. "I know you had your heart set on seeing your friends tonight, but I'd like to request you reconsider."

Momo's eyes widened with shock. "What?" Her heart felt like it had suddenly dropped into the pit of her stomach. "I..."

Her mother's eyes softened as she sat down on the bed next to Momo. Her mother had the slight citrusy smell of bergamot mixed with the softer scents of rose and jasmine. "You haven't seen your Father in almost a year. He will want to see you and hear all about your training." She reached out and gently drew Momo's right hand into her own. "I reserved seats at your favorite French restaurant to apologize."

Momo dropped her gaze to watch her mother's hands wrap around her own. She blinked as her vision grew blurry. "I...I wanted to see the fireworks with everyone," Momo whispered.

Her mother squeezed her hand. "I know." Her voice held a string of regret. "But, you can go see the fireworks with them next year." Her mother's dark eyes, so similar to Momo's own, searched her face. "We hardly have a chance these days to do anything as a family. Your friends would understand, wouldn't they? Will you do this - for me?"

Momo bit her lower lip. She knew how much her mother treasured their family time, and she hardly ever asked anything of Momo. Her parents had always supported her and loved her dearly. Would she be a bad daughter if she refused?

Momo's stomach twisted. "Yes, mother," she said after a moment, because, at the end of the day, she could never go against her mother's wishes.

Her mother's face relaxed, and her mouth curved up into a small, grateful smile. "Next New Year's, we can go see the fireworks in Paris. They're lovely."