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Saito Emi
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Dim lights coming from the window lower her already dampened mood and she feels her breath hitch with every step she takes toward the bed. Her fists clench and unclench and her heart skips and runs. As she nears the end of the bed, she's suddenly not sure about her decision but the sick face of her mother appears, and all doubts leave. Because she has to face this.
"Uh," she starts and cringes at how blunt her voice sounds. But she forgets her embarrassment when shrill coughs rack a thin chest and a weak hand pats down the bed in an attempt to calm down. Only to fail. Just like she has failed at probably every other thing in her life. "Mother?"
"What do you want, brat?" her mother manages to croak out after catching her breath. Emi doesn't dare to rub her back soothingly. She doesn't dare to look at the dead eyes her mother has. The wrinkled grey skin on her hands is enough to see. She has enough to haunt her dreams and ferocious green eyes like hers are not what's missing.
"I had a question about my quirk. I can't heal myself and I was wondering if you'd know the reason. Since, you know, you have the same quirk."
"No shit." Her mother sits up with a struggle and leans against the pillows to rest after her small exercise. Again, Emi doesn't help her. "You can't heal yourself."
"Yes, I'm not sure how-"
"No, you don't understand brat. You can't heal yourself. You can't heal anyone. Not directly anyway. But don't you ever-" Her petite body racks with strong coughs and Emi briefly wonders like how she always does how such a weak woman manages to knock her to the ground. And as if knowing how to answer herself, Emi shifts her eyes to one of the walls where posters and medals are hung, still giving off an aura of victory. Very contradicting next to the woman who's on the brink of death. "Don't you ever address your quirk as healing people. There's one thing it will be used for and it's for destruction."
"You sound like a villain," Emi says softly and almost inaudibly.
Her mother goes off in a rant and Emi spaces out because she's already heard all of this before. Pointless arguments and worthless insults flow out of her mother's chapped lips. All of them contain the same message. You'll be like me. Sick, weak, uncared for, worthless and discarded once you're no longer of use to society. She feels a little proud of herself once she realises that her mother's attempt at making her give up her hopes has backfired as it even gives more of a reason to become a hero.
The blonde still refuses to let their eyes meet. This time, not because she's afraid of letting the sight hover over her brain like a porous dark umbrella that allows the rain to destroy her mind. But it's because she doesn't want her mother to see the passion going on in her eyes. Emi knows she'd be capable of putting out that fire if she tried and Emi definitely doesn't want her to try.
"But you know, to every quirk there's a curse."
Emi focuses again at her mother's lap now as the wrinkled grey hands are fervently moving around to emphasise her degrading speech.
"You can't heal something unless you love it or at least accept it. You don't love yourself, Emi. And I can clearly see why."
With no words, Emi heads to the door with heavy steps, a heavy posture and a heavier heart.
"Also before I forget, pack your things, you're moving out this weekend. Can't deal with your shit any longer. I want to die in peace and forget I had a bastard child. Leave the cat with me."
YOU ARE READING
rubatosis | s. todoroki
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