MSP December 2024: i never wanted to see you again

[dealer_of_aus_666]

Rating/Warnings: Teen and Up, No Warnings Apply
Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia
Characters: Eri's Mother (Yuna), Pops aka Shie Hassaikai Boss, Kurono Hari, Chisaki Kai
Additional Tags: Stuck in a Box, Dysfunctional Family, Arguing, Pops is a Misogynist

Summary:
Yuna gets teleported into a box with three other people, none of whom she likes.

Read on Ao3

Yuna barely manages to catch herself so she doesn’t slam her head into the steel wall, and then jumps back as she remembers the knife she was just holding—but there’s no knife falling in front of her, just a floor the same steel-blue as the featureless walls…and three people lying on it that she wishes she didn’t recognize.

It looks like she’s in some sort of hollow metal cube. There are air grates along the top edge of the walls, too high for any of them to reach, and the ceiling has some sort of screen bolted to it, but other than that there’s nothing. Nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run. Not even anything to distract herself with. She’s always thought her family was cursed, but this is a new kind of hell—being plucked out of making dinner while Mamoru was working and thrown into this…fucking box, with no doors or windows or anything, with people that she never wanted to see again. Mamoru’s not the angry type (she wouldn’t have married him if he was) but he is the type to worry, and how the hell is he or anyone else he recruits going to find her in here? Is she still in Japan? Hell, she could be out in space and she wouldn’t feel anything unless they changed speeds or started falling into the atmosphere and it got too hot in here to breathe from the air friction—

“Kai?”

It’s the one with white arrows for hair, the one who was obsessed with Chisaki. A late entry into the Hassaikai. (Not that she cares, of course.) Kurono? Was that his name? He’s kneeling, looking over Chisaki, who looks like he’s bleeding pretty bad from the head. Jesus. “Kai, can you hear me?”

“…Hari?” Chisaki says weakly, which is weird because Chisaki never uses given names, always honorifics and titles and family names, always keeping everyone at a distance. He’s never used her given name. She’s not even sure he knows what it is.

…again, not that she cares.

And yet, what else is there to do here? There’s nowhere to go. She could look away but she’d still hear them from anywhere in this box. They’d still be able to see her, too, if they only looked around. Dammit! She’d been doing so goddamn well, her father and adopted brother out of sight and out of mind, and she would have been golden if only she’d never had to see any of them again—but here she was, with no choice but to be in sight and therefore in mind, which was exactly what she was trying to avoid! What kind of twisted asshole thought it would be a good idea to put her back in contact with her father?

Because yes, the far-too-highly-esteemed Sugiyama Shinkichi is here too, struggling to his feet in his old age. Yuna feels no impulse to help him. She might push him right back down, actually. What a terrible daughter she is.

…ah, fuck it, talking to Chisaki and his friend is sure to be at least a little less grating than getting lectured by her father. When she turns back to them, though, Chisaki still looks really out of it—eyes unfocused, leaning heavily against Kurono, hair practically soaked from that head wound. There’s enough blood that Yuna’s actually getting worried. She doesn’t think she’d grieve Chisaki if he died, not like she grieved Mom or her first brother, but that doesn’t mean she wants to watch someone die in front of her.

“Here,” she says, taking off her apron and bunching it against where she thinks the bleeding is.

Kurono takes it and shifts it carefully. “Head wounds tend to bleed a lot and look worse than they are,” he says like he’s trying to reassure himself. “But—thanks.”

“Whatever,” Yuna grumbles. “Just don’t expect me to always be this friendly.”

She goes to sit against the wall again, in some vague hope that as long as she stays out of the way (like a good yakuza wife is supposed to do) she won’t have to deal with her father’s nagging idiocy. Kurono, at least, seems like a halfway decent guy. She wonders how long that illusion’s gonna last.

He’s very attentive to Chisaki, she notices. His touches are strangely soft for someone from the yakuza, his face too ready to show his emotions, like his entire focus has been narrowed down to Chisaki’s head in his lap (Chisaki’s eyes are closed now as Kurono presses Yuna’s apron to his head wound, stroking his hair with his other hand), and Yuna feels uncomfortably like she’s imposing. Which isn’t her fault, she didn’t exactly ask to be dumped into this—fucking box—if anything it’s their fault for having such an intimate moment in public—

Is this public though? There’s just four people here, and by some definition of the word they’re all family. Even if they’re cursed, dysfunctional family.

Speaking of family. “Yuna, my dear daughter, is that you?” she hears Father say.

She and Chisaki groan at the same time. (Chisaki must be more aware of his surroundings than she thought.) The first words out of her mouth in response are “don’t talk to me”, because just hearing his voice again is enough to rile her up—she doesn’t want to talk to him, she doesn’t want to be around him, she never wants to be reminded that he exists ever again.

He doesn’t listen. He never listens. “Yuna, please, I’m your father. I don’t—I don’t understand why you seem to hate me so much.”

—and ooooh, she can’t stand that. “You don’t understand? Are you that fucking stupid? Or is it just that you have so little self-awareness? Although I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything else from you, given that you’re so self-absorbed you wouldn’t even be by your own wife’s side in her dying moments—”

“I—what? That’s—how dare you imply—”

“I’m not just implying, I’m saying it outright! I was with Mom in her last moments—unlike you—and she kept begging to see you, she wanted so badly to see you again before she died, and I came to get you because she asked me to but you refused! She loved you enough to want you to be the last thing she saw before she fucking died and you didn’t even love her enough to let her! You brushed her aside—both me and her—at every opportunity because you considered your precious yakuza clan more important than your wife and child! Mother died alone because of you! And then you had the fucking audacity to just—go find a child off the streets and decide that he was more important than me, just because he was a boy—”

“That’s not right,” a new voice says. It’s Chisaki. He’s shaking as he pulls himself up to a sitting position. “You were always the important one. You were blood related. I was just a prop he was using because he needed an heir.”

“And why couldn’t the heir have been me, huh? Why couldn’t I be the one to be running the Hassaikai right now?”

“Dunno,” he mumbles, eyes unfocusing. “Think it’s cuz the yakuza hates women.”

“That’s not true,” Father immediately protests. “We don’t—we don’t hate women, we just—a woman’s place is in the home, it’s the most natural configuration, that’s where they’re happiest—”

“Shut the fuck up! You don’t know shit about women! You don’t know shit about anything!”

“Do not give me such disrespect, young lady!”

“Don’t you call me young lady! You sacrificed that right when you drove me to the point of running away!”

“I did no such thing! You decided to run away entirely on your own—I had nothing to do with it!”

“Ahem,” Kurono says, interrupting their shouting match. He’s standing up now. Chisaki’s sitting against a wall, eyes closed, Yuna’s apron between his head and the metal—Kurono must have put him there while they were distracted. “If I may weigh in?”

“And what right do you have to speak on what it’s like to be a woman?”

“I used to be a girl.”

Both she and her father fall silent, because what? (And yet, the way Chisaki had so easily and matter-of-factly admitted that the yakuza hates women, like it was common knowledge—)

“…that’s ridiculous,” Father protests, but he sounds unsure. “Girls become women, not men. Everyone knows that.”

“Yes, well, everyone’s wrong. But back to the point. The funny thing about being a girl who’s expected to become a woman is that it’s fucking miserable. And that wasn’t just me, mind you. It was every single other girl I knew. That’s the thing about submission—it’s miserable. Do you remember Ito Kanae?”

Yuna blinks. “Who?”

“Kai met her several years after you left, you wouldn’t know her.” Kurono turns back to Father. “Do you remember her? Do you remember her suicide? Her funeral? I wasn’t there, but Kai was—and he remembers. He remembers that everyone said she loved roses, and that she told him she hated them. He remembers how her husband talked more about himself than her at her own funeral. He remembers, most of all, that feeling of utter helplessness that she radiated seeping into his bones as he realized he couldn’t help her.” Kurono gives Father a smile that’s really more like a threat display. “I don’t really expect you to remember. After all, you’re just like her husband.”

Silence.

“Hari,” Chisaki rasps from the wall. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t worry, Kai, I have a plan,” Kurono soothes. “Which reminds me. One more thing. Yuna’s fine, since she’s not part of the Hassaikai any longer, but you, Oyaji—you know too much now.” Suddenly there’s a shotgun in Kurono’s hands, pointed straight at Father. “So I can’t let you leave here alive. You understand.”

The gun fires—

—and suddenly Yuna’s standing in her kitchen again, alone, no Father or Chisaki or Kurono, just her and the dinner she was making. None of it seems to have burned, at least.

Okay. Okay. Fuck. Breathe. Just breathe. She escaped, right? That’s a good thing. Even if they still have her apron. Whatever.

…god, she hopes Mamoru gets home soon.

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Not my best work, I'll be honest, but I wanted to get this out quickly, so that I have time to finish something else I want to post before the end of the month. At the same time, I do love looking at this fucked up family we've got here, and Yuna especially is very much a wide-open area to play with given that Horikoshi didn't even bother to give her a name, so I hope you enjoyed it anyways!