buttercup | bnha x oc

two

In the Fujimori household, it was awfully dark. An odd stillness hung in the air, accompanied by a quiet aura that often appeared at night: a silence that drifted, intruded by faint sounds like the occasionally passing car and the slight shift of one's position. A faint buzzing was what had intruded that silence at the moment. A dim light shined from the screen of a young girl's phone, appearing drastically bright when compared to the darkness of the house.

"C'mon, pick up..." She frowned— it was an odd expression, one that rarely adorned her features. She pressed her phone to her ear, hope bubbling in her chest.

"Hey, is everything alright, Keiko? I'm sorry I didn't pick up before."

"Yeah, I'm not in danger or anything. But, um, the lights aren't working? Did a power line fall or..?"

"Ah, I'm sorry, honey... I had to cut costs so I could afford groceries— I only got food that doesn't need to be refrigerated, since the power's out for now... The frozen food we already had is in a cooler. I'm sorry, honey, I really am... I'm trying." 

Keiko frowned again when she heard her mother sounding so defeated, so tired, so sad. She remembered her mother's bright smile, her musical laugh. Then, she thought about how her mother couldn't find a reason to express that beautiful smile right now, and it hurt. That surely wouldn't do. Keiko needed to give her a reason to smile beautifully again.

"It's okay, Mom, I know. You're trying, and that's more than enough."

"But it's— it's not! I should be able to support you more, I-I'm your mother, I need to help you—"

"You are helping me, Mom. You are. It's okay." Keiko was speaking with complete, heart-felt honesty, and she would never lie to her mother. She would never lie to the woman who loved her unconditionally and did so much for her; she would never lie to the woman who was such an amazing mother compared to some of the other cruel ones out there… However, it was apparent that her mother didn't believe the truth.

For a moment, the sounds drifted into silence.

"It's okay," she repeated. She would repeat it a million times if she had to. "It is. I have my phone, that's enough light for me to do my homework. I'm glad I have food, and we still have clean water. If I need electricity, I can just visit a neighbor. I'll eat the frozen food in the cooler first, so it won't spoil."

"Right..." Her voice was absent-minded, and it was clear her thoughts weren't quite present in the conversation, instead shifting between the million concerns that swarmed in her mind. "Right, right. I'm sorry, honey. You shouldn't have to be the one to comfort me—"

"But I want to," Keiko interrupted. Interrupting was rude, she knew, but she also thought that the situation called for it. She heard a faint sigh.

"You're too good, Keiko. Too good. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Mom... And I have something for you. It'll be waiting for you whenever you get home. I'll put it in the cooler with the other frozen stuff."

"Oh... You didn't have to do that, honey." Keiko could almost hear the smile, that beautiful smile, in her mother's voice. It made her grin, too, and she felt her heart hum with joy. Perfect.

"But I wanted to. It's worth it," she said firmly, nodding to herself. "It's worth it if you smile."

"I'm smiling, honey, I'm smiling. Oh, I love you... You're too good."

"You've said that already, Mom," Keiko reminded her, smiling.

"It's the truth," Mei defended with a quiet chuckle. "I have to go now. I love you so much. Take care, okay?"

"Okay." With a click, the call was ended, and Keiko sighed. 

She leaned back in her chair, gazing at the ceiling, giving her mind a moment to process. The shadows shifted when she turned off her phone, and she blinked to adjust to the darkness. She never liked the dark, yet she knew she would have to deal with it, so she tried to find something good in it.

She hummed. Sometimes, the lights gave her a headache, and now they couldn't. It was miniscule, but it was something, and Keiko felt herself clinging to that with everything she could. Given her situation, it was so easy to drift deep into that darkness, into that pessimistic hopelessness, but Keiko refused. She thought of yellow, of flowers, of her mother's smile. I can't see any of those things in the dark, she thought bitterly. No... think positive. Positivity is there. Just find it.

The night's stillness lingered.

She sighed. It was fine. What homework did she have tonight? She turned on her phone and shined the light into her backpack. She pulled out a yellow journal and flipped it open to the marked page. Several crooked lines divided the page into a calendar, and colorful highlighters (borrowed from her teachers) had been used to mark each day. On that day, only one task was listed: study for the science test on Friday. She sighed with relief. This was going well for her today, so she clung to it, feeling all the joy she could from it.

She pulled out her science textbook. It had many torn pages and a weak spine, weary from years of use, marked all over by students who could care less about the school's property. Her eyes scanned over the pages once, twice, then a third time, yet each time her focus flickered to something she thought she saw or heard in the stillness of the house. Focus, she told herself, focus.

It was easier said than done.

Keiko shut her textbook with a groan, rubbing frustrated tears from her eyes. Think yellow, think flowers, think about those persistent little buttercups who grow through the cracks in the concrete against all adversity… If buttercups could grow through the small cracks in the sidewalk, through the harsh rain, through everything, why couldn't she? She could, she would, grow through the tears, through the darkness, through everything.

She imagined how nice it would be if her mother could relax a bit, if she could spend more time at home and less at her multiple jobs, if she didn't have to worry about budgets and prioritize needs versus wants, if she wasn't taking every shift she could to cover the expenses to keep their house in a good neighborhood. She hummed. If the house had no electricity for now, she may as well get out more… 

"I'm going to get a job," she decided.