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[tsuutarr]

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So uh I really like Izumi!! And want to punch Yukio so

yeah I made this lmao (extra fic included under cut! [2019 words, angst fic])

“Dad!” a cheery, young voice beckoned, “Dad!”

“What is it, Izumi?” the girl’s father responded, swiveling his chair around,

“I’m hungry!” she responded, a pout settled on her lips, “Can we please have dinner already?”

“Okay, okay. In a bit, okay? I have to finish these reports and I’ll make you something, okay?”

“You said that ages ago!” Izumi whined, tugging at her father’s sleeve, “Mama’s out and I’m hungry!” Izumi’s dad waved her off, shaking his head,

“Wait a little bit longer, okay?” Izumi pouted at his dismissal, before tugging at his chair and pulling him away from his work forcefully,

“Dad…!” she whined, “I promise to not bother you after dinner! Pinky promise!” she raised her little pinky at him, “Please…?” her dad stared at her in silence, before he hefted out a sigh,

“Alright, alright,” he finally rose from his work, “I’ll make something quick, okay?” Izumi’s expression immediately brightened as she followed after her father’s larger footsteps,

“Okay!”

Once in the kitchen, Izumi’s dad messed around the cupboards in an attempt to see what he could make, “Ah,” he pulled out some curry roux, “Perfect.”

“Whatcha gonna make?” Izumi asked, leaning her small body against the countertop,

“Some curry,” her dad smiled, before mumbling, “…This and ramen are all I can make to be honest…” Izumi’s dad quickly shook his head and rolled up his sleeves, “Well, whatever! I’ll make you the best curry you’ve ever had!”

“Yay!” Izumi responded, “Can I help?” her dad paused, before grinning,

“Of course. Can you wash the potatoes for me?” Izumi nodded vigorously, before fumbling about to find the stool she used to help her mother with the dishes. The two then fell into a strangely familiar, yet awkward routine that was expected of a distant father and a clumsy daughter. But somehow, they managed to finish the curry that they had initially planned on making.

“Looks good…!” Izumi uttered, sniffing the curry that wafted through the air, “I can’t wait to eat it!”

“Neither can I,” her father responded, oddly proud of himself, “…I usually don’t cook, so I’m not sure how it’ll taste.”

“Well, I helped!” Izumi reminded, puffing her little chest out, “Of course it’ll taste great!” Izumi’s dad merely rumbled, with laughter,

“Okay, okay. Can you go ahead and set up the table, then?”

“Yup!” Izumi did a cute little salute, before stepping off of her stool and clambering to set up the table with spoons and plates. Her dad followed suit and placed the curry in front of both of them, with a heaping of warm, white rice. Izumi and her father sat down opposite of each other, and clapped their hands in unison,

“Thanks for the meal!” they both chimed, before digging into their dishes,

“Yummy!” Izumi muffled out, making her dad’s chest fill with a strange sense of pride that he usually only felt after the completion of a play, “…But that carrots are gross…” she stuck her tongue out, making her father chuckle,

“You need to eat carrots to grow stronger, Izumi.”

“…If I eat the carrots will I be able to stand on the stage you direct, dad?” Izumi’s head tilted, her big, doe eyes staring at her father in curiosity. Her father paused, not quite sure how to react,

“…Yup,” he finally settled, “Eat your carrots, and do well in school, and I’m sure you and I can put on a wonderful play together.” Izumi’s grin, despite being covered in curry, was vibrant,

“Okay!” she stabbed a carrot and shoved it into her mouth, before sticking her tongue out in disgust. Her dad could only laugh at the scene before him, and reached out to ruffle her hair,

“I’ll make you curry again, okay?” he murmured, making Izumi nod her head energetically,

“I love the curry you make!”

And so, the next day, and the day after that, and the rest of the week, was filled with curry. Izumi scraped through her curry and pouted, “We’ve only had curry…” she mumbled, making her dad smile apologetically,

“…It’s curry ramen, though?” he offered, making Izumi huff out and lean back in her chair,

“I don’t want it!” she whined, making her father frown,

“Come on, Izumi,” her father whined back, “For dad?” Izumi stared at her father, before rising from her chair and pouting,

“Okay… But you have to visit more!”

“…Sure.” Her dad strained a smile that was perfected over the years. He had the intention, but not the time, to visit his family. The only real reason he was even here at the moment, sitting in front of his young daughter, was because he was packing and moving everything necessary to his theater troupe in Tokyo…. Perhaps he could take her with him, then? But then she’d be away from her mother, who had a steady career as flight attendant, but decided to drop that job to spend more time with their daughter. Unlike him, Izumi’s mother was seemingly making an effort to spend time with their daughter… But he also couldn’t just give up his dreams…

“Daddy?” Izumi’s dad snapped out of his stupor, blinking owlishly at his daughter, “I’m sorry…”

“What? No, no,” he quickly reached out to wipe the tears gathering at the corners of Izumi’s eyes, “I’m sorry. Daddy was just a little distracted with work…”

“…Really?” Izumi wanted to ask if work was more important than her, but refrained,

“Yup,” her dad nodded, a strained smile on his lips, “…So, shall we continue to eat?”

“…Okay,” Izumi nodded while searing her curry-eating father into her memory. One day, maybe they’d eat something else. After a play they made together, hopefully… at the thought, little Izumi couldn’t help but grin. She was going to stand by the side of her father one day.

But then that one day never came. After Izumi had visited her father in Tokyo, he very rarely ever came in contact with her. He was busy, Izumi would remind herself, throwing herself headfirst into theater so that she could stand by her father’s side that way. But for some strange reason, she could never seem to properly act. Her acting just piled and piled to become nothing more than a collection of awful attempts. But Izumi couldn’t give up… She had to reach her father somehow.

So she continued theater while her relationship with her mother became strained. Izumi’s mother loved theater at one point, but slowly came to despise it due to the lack of contact from Izumi’s father. Worse yet, her mother was the sole provider for the two of them since her father seemed far too busy to even call, yet alone send a check in the mailbox. Thus, Izumi spent most of her time alone and in that time frame, she made curry—the one thing other than theater that connected her to her father, and the one thing that she knew how to make decently.

The curry soon became an obsession and so she continued to cook, slowly abandoning the premade curry roux for original spice blends and new recipes. Curry became an even bigger obsession when Izumi woke up to an empty bowl of curry she had experimentally left out for her mother who she rarely met.

Izumi continued to act, and alongside that, she continued to make curry. She would leave a bowl of curry before she went to bed, and woke up to an empty bowl. Somehow, that warmed her heart. And then, one day, a sticky note was left on the edge of an empty bowl. ‘This is my favorite thus far,’ it had scribed, making Izumi bloom into a dopey smile. That night, Izumi also left a sticky note, ‘Tell me all your favorite curries, mom! I’ll make them for you!’ and so began the sticky note exchange. Before long, the two were eating meals and messaging each other regularly, finally settling into a gentle routine.

Izumi had initially made curry to connect with her father, but now, she connected with her mother—and she was thankful.

Then the phone call came. Her home phone blared loudly, and worried that her mother might have some issues, Izumi picked up the phone, “Hello? Mom?”

“Try again,” the voice responded, a light cheer in his tone. Izumi nearly slammed the phone down, but kept steady, “…Hello?”

“Hi,” her voice cracked and her hand trembled,

“How are you?”

“Fine,” her eyes were getting watery,

“That’s good. Ah,” the voice sounded energetic, dismissing the evident pain Izumi was feeling, “My theater troupe, Mankai Company, got nominated for the Fleur Award!”

“That—” Izumi breathed in deeply, “That… That’s good,” she swallowed, “I’m proud, dad—”

“Oops, can’t stay on for too long!” her dad’s voice chuckled, “We gotta prepare for the best stage, after all. See you!” and then the line beeped and Izumi felt like she blacked out. But she knew the call happened when her mother’s eyes became distant when they watched her father’s Fleur Award nomination on the television. Seeing her mother’s cold eyes, Izumi kept the phone call to herself.

Then another call came, almost too quickly after the last. Izumi’s mother was with her this time, so Izumi was hesitant to pick up the phone. But she was desperate to hear her father—to be acknowledged by him—so she picked up. “Hello?” she called,

“Is Yukio Tachibana there?” the voice, slightly gruff, asked, making Izumi freeze,

“Excuse me?”

“…Guess he’s not there either, then.”

“Wait!” Izumi called out, loud enough to catch her mother’s attention,

“What’s the matter, dear?” her mother’s eyebrows furrowed at her trembling daughter, but Izumi paid her mother no mind.

“…Well, kid,” the voice started, “We don’t know where your dad is.”

“Dad… Dad’s missing?”

“What?” Izumi’s mother’s hand bolted out and grappled the phone as if she were choking it, “What do you mean he’s missing?!”

“Ma’am,” the voice from the other line turned polite, “We don’t know. That’s why we called you.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have!” Izumi’s mother’s voice broke through the entire house, “He’s left us and never called once! He can’t waltz into our lives after he goes missing!” her voice broke and cracked, obviously hurt, “Never call us again. We have nothing to do with him.” Slamming the phone down, Izumi’s mother slumped to the floor. She pulled Izumi close to her, hugging her daughter tight, “It’s okay, darling, it’s okay.” Izumi couldn’t process what was happening, so she stared ahead of her blankly, before crumbling when she was alone in her room.

It was not okay. The fragile routine Izumi had built up with her mother soon crumbled, and her mother threw herself into her work. Izumi too threw herself into theater, but the gripping fear that her father left her because she was not good enough gnawed at her and prevented her from truly acting out her potential.

For a man that was never present, he sure liked to engrave himself on others, didn’t he?

Surprisingly, though, there was one constant—curry. For some odd reason, whenever curry was made, Izumi and her mother ate together. Curry became the one semblance of normalcy in Izumi’s life. Strange, wasn’t it?

Izumi stared blankly as she mixed another batch of curry—this time for more than just herself and her mother. This time, she was cooking for the members of the Mankai Company. She silently stirred, closing her eyes to inhale the scent of spices, before smiling softly.

The scent of spices was normalcy to her—it was family, it was home. And she was home at Mankai Company.

But a small voice at the back of her mind whispered of how she was not deserving of family. How they would all leave her like her father did. Izumi quickly scrapped those thoughts and stirred her curry.

It was okay. Even if they all left, she wouldn’t. Unlike her father, she wanted to stay to the very end until they all went their separated paths. Izumi breathed. She could do it. She did it once before, after all.