▍washington dc
𝐎 𝐒 𝐇 𝐔 𝐍
𝐢. 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐲𝐚
40. ✿ ↬
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second person
𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐍 to fall in Washington DC, the District of Columbia. The city lights lit up the night, along with the stars and the moonlight. The night crawlers of people were out now. The parties had begun. The chaos of this political city were in full drive. And the two young college students had begun to make their move to finally leave and start a new life.
A young couple got out of a Taxi, the male being the first and helping out the female. After closing the Taxi door, the two young adults held hands and rushed through the airport with their bags and suitcases. They wore hoodies over their heads, dressed to disappear.
"Come on, we're gonna miss our flight." The girl whisper shouted as they sped up their pace. They purposely arrived a little late so they could leave as soon as they arrived at the airport. Less of a chance at getting caught.
A smart plan. It really was. But she came from a family of smart people. A fanily generation full of intelligence. If anyone could have predicted or figured out her plans, it would be her own blood. Still, it would surprise her which family were the ones to catch her.
The two arrived at the metal detectors. The security guard told them to set everything down and clear their bodies of any metal or anything similar. And the two young adults did just that, going one at a time through the metal detectors.
But, once they went through, even though there wasn't an alarm that went off, the security guard still stopped them. This threw them off. They looked at each other, exchanging confused and suspicious glances before looking back at the security guard.
"Excuse me." The young brown woman spoke English with a light, visible Indian accent. Her expression showed her confusion. "May we know why you stopped us?"
"Because I told him to."
Their eyes turned to see a female who couldn't be any older than seventeen, suddenly walk up. She wore black pants, a tight black top, and a black leather jacket. Her hands were crossed to her chest and her hair was loose and curly. She grinned faintly, her eyes focused solely on the two while she took her time walking up to them.
"Cousin." The brown skin college student mumbled in mike shock as she stared at the girl she hadn't seen in years. Her boyfriend glanced between the two, seeing a few resemblances.
"Hello, Mira." You smiled at the woman who was merely two years older than you. You glanced at the security guard, nodding your head as a signal at him. "Please take their things to the car, Ronin." The security guard, who was secretly Ronin in disguise, nodded his head back and grabbed the couple's bags and suitcases.
The man, who you could see was your cousin's boyfriend, watched with wide eyes as Ronin grabbed their things and walked away with them. His mouth was slightly agape, he was speechless at the whole situation and your apparent power.
"How did you find us?" Samira, your older cousin asked you. She hid her surprise with her firm tone and neutral expression. But deep down, she was very shocked to see her younger cousin who wasn't so young anymore.
"Everyone leaves a trail, Mira. Even you." You responded, your eyes staring the young woman down as you took in her appearance. "Your mother sent me and my brother to search for you. She thinks you've been kidnapped. And here you are, running away."
Samira stared at you, her eyes narrowing at your frame. She didn't speak as she watched you take a few steps to stand right before her. She expected a snarky comment or insult, telling her how stupid she was to run away. Or gloat about how you found her and she wasn't smart enough to get away.
But you did neither of those things.
"Let's go. Omari's waiting outside." You told your cousin before turning around and walking off. You didn't feel the need to glance back, you kept your head held high as you led them. You knew they would follow, they had no choice.
And they did. Samira and her boyfriend glanced at each other, exchanging defeated and confused looks before following behind you. They knew it was over. You found them and took their bags from them. Even if they were to leave despite their bags behing taken from them, they wouldn't make it to the plane. You clearly had enough connections to stop the plane before it even left the ground. That, and you knew were they were headed so even if they did manage to get on the flight, they'd immediately be sent on another after it landed.
The young college students followed you out of the airport towards two big black cars. Omari, the oldest Patterson son, leaned against the car with his hands in his pockets. When he saw they group, he leaned off the car and opened the car door to the backseat.
"Omari." Samira said breathily as she started at the older man with a kind smile. Out of all the Patterson kids, she was the closest to him growing up. He seemed to be the only one who understood her and didn't resent her. You and her were rivals, and Amara didn't like her attitude. But Omari, saw beyond it all and genuinely cared for her.
"Samira." Omari raised his eyebrows with a small smile tugging on his lips. "I hear you're causing trouble these days." You walked over to stand beside him, leaning a against the door to the passenger's seat with your hands in your back pockets.
For the first time simce you left Japan, you saw Omari calm enough to smile. He hadn't been his usual fun and silly self, he'd been more serious. You had to remind yourself that Work Omari and Family Omari were two different people. When he works he is very serious, focused and committed. But when he's off the clock or around family, he was more playful and full of good energy. That balance is what earned him the title and position he has in the FBI.
"So, are you going to take me to my parents?" Samira swallowed thickly, using her left hand to rub her right arm. She looked down, ashamed of herself and her actions. "Are you going to tell them I didn't go missing? That I tried to runaway to an Island and start over with my boyfriend?"
Bryson Harris, the boyfriend of your Indian woman, watched his girlfriend's face show one of guilt. "Don't tell her parents that she ran away!" He suddenly said, which caused the girl to gasp and look at him. "Tell them that I influenced her. Tell them I peer pressured her because I couldn't accept another man marrying her. Tell them whatever you need to. Just..." He trailed off, gently taking Samira's hand in hers as he looked at her. Then turned his attention towards you and your brother with a look of acceptance. "Just don't tell them it was her fault. Tell them it was mine. Let them hate me. But don't let them hate her."
His declaration left silence between all of you. Samira stared at her boyfriend in utter shock and disbelief with tears in her eyes. But he didn't meet her gaze, he stared at you and Omari, waiting for an answer. His gaze was unwavering, but he was secretly nervous. He hoped it would be enough to save her. Save the woman he loved from further pain.
Nearly simultaneously, you and Omari turned your head towards each other. Your eyes met and you stared at each other, and you exchanged looks like you were having a silent conversation with just your eyes. Then, you both looked back at the couple concurrently.
"Get in the car." You demanded the two with a straight face and a commanding tone. Your gaze was unnerving as you pushed off the car. It was time to go.
"(y/n), please-"
"Get." You interrupted your cousin, your tone so sharp that she nearly flinched at it. Your eyes were just as sharp as you stared at the two before walking over to the second car, where Ronin held the door open for you. "In the car." Your voice went back to calm, as if it wasn't threatening a moment ago.
Samira blinked back her tears that swelled in her eyes and walked towards Omari's car while holding hands with Bryson. There was a somber look on her face as she leaned against her boyfriend, who looked defeated.
"I'm sorry." She whispered to Omari with her voice breaking as she got into the car. Omari, however, only watched the girl and her boyfriend get in the car before closing the door behind them.
Omari nodded his head at Ronin before getting in the driver's seat. Together, the two cars followed one after the other out of the airport and down district streets.
◈ O S H U N ◈
The car ride lasted only forty-five minutes before you all arrived at your destination. Samira fought back tears while her boyfriend held her in his arms the whole ride there. They had come to the realization that it was officially time to come back and face the harsh reality of their life. That it was over. They had lost.
Omari opened the door for the couple, letting them get out of the car before he closed the door behind him. You had already gotten out of the second car before them, you waited for Omari to let them out the first so you could lead them in the building.
Looking around, both Samira and Bryson grew confused looks on their faces as they looked around. But when they tried to ask you about the reason for their confusion, you shut down the questioning without fail.
Once you arrived at the specific place you were taking them, you took out the key and opened the door. Letting them walk in first, followed after Ronin and Omari, and then you. Samira and Bryson looked around confused before looking at you.
"Why are we here?" Samira was the first to ask questions, her eyes were still a bit glassy. "Why did you take us here?" It was a hotel. That's where you had taken the two young college students.
The Indian woman's boyfriend shared the same look of confusion and surprise as his girlfriend. Looking from around the room, to her, to you and then speaking. "I thought you were-"
"Tomorrow, I will take you to your parents." You cut the older boy off as you stared at the two who continued to hold hands. "I will explain to them how you recklessly went to Dupont Circle to learn more for a history project, and you got lost. I will tell them you were scared and confused and didn't know your way back. And I will tell them we found you in a hotel."
"Really?" Samira gasped in surprise, fighting back the tears that were forming in her eyes. She wasn't normally like this. She didn't cry so easily, but this night was just full of emotional roller-coasters, she couldn't help it.
With a simple nod of Omari's head, Samira turned to her boyfriend and hugged him tightly. She couldn't help the tears that had begun to fall down her brown cheeks as she cried.
Quietly, you watched the two hug, taking in their appearances. Your cousin was different than you remembered. She had wavier black hair, her lips were fuller, her brown eyes had a light in them, and her body wasn't as skinny as it used to be to be.
Bryson Harris, her boyfriend, was someone you didn't recognize but could acknowledge his attractiveness. He was a dark skinned man with almond eyes, full two-toned lips, and locs that were well taken care of. He even dressed nice and looked well maintained, Samira picked suitably.
The two complimented each other very well, you could tell they had a nice dynamic. She was a beautiful brown skin Indian woman, smart and a crazy. He was handsome dark skin African American man, calm and patient. They looked great together. They were in love.
"Bryson." Omari's voice caught the attention of both college students, causing them to look at him. "Come with me and Ronin to get something to eat. Then, we'll come back and bring up your bags."
"Uh..." Bryson looked at his girl, who nodded bear, before looking back at the Omari and Ronin. "Okay." He kissed the brown skinned girl's forehead before walking with the men out of the room.
That left you and Samira alone.
The two of you stared at each other, both of you analyzing one another. Samira noted, like you did her, that you were much older and not just in appearance. She could tell by the way you carried yourself, that you were much more mature and had a better mentality than you once did.
That must be why you never bothered to stay in contact with her once you got to a certain age. You didn't care for her anymore, you didn't envy her anymore. You had grown up, and not just on age. You didn't need her, she no longer was someone you looked up to in disguise. She was someone you didn't want to be.
Truthfully, Samira never forgot about you, even though you probably forgot her. And she wouldn't blame you if you did. Your relationship was complex, there was more to it than what people first see, which is two cousins hating each other. You were never enemies, just rivals. And honestly, Samira enjoyed the rivalry.
There was only one minute, maybe two, of silence that settled between you both. Samira opened her mouth to speak, assuming you wouldn't be the first to. But then you did. "Why did you do it?" You asked.
That question confused Samira, it could mean a number of things. She assumed you were talking about her running away. And that confused her because she knew that you already knew the answer to that. Did you want her to tell you? Did you want to hear it from her?
The young college student looked down at her own feet before opening her mouth to explain. "I wanted to leave because-"
"I know why you tried to run away, Samira. That's not what I'm talking about." You interrupted the girl, your words catching her by surprise. "Why did you let me see you the way that I did? For so many years."
That question stunned Samira into silence. She wasn't sure how to answer that question. Her head raised and she met your eyes, which stared sharp and patiently into hers as you waited for an answer.
You knew Samira let you think of her poorly. You knew Samira allowed you to paint her a bad guy. And you knew Samira wanted you to see her a rival. You knew it all. And you wanted to know why. Why did she willingly let herself be viewed in such a way by you?
Samira walked to the soft hotel bed and quietly sat down. She turned her head slightly, looked down at the white cushiony sheets and using her brown hand to feel the softness of it. She didn't meet your eyes as she finally gathered the words to speak.
"I envied you, (y/n)." She admitted to you, releasing a shaky breath as she did. "Education was all I had, it was all I represented. But you had a life, something to offer outside of your intelligence. You could make people smile and laugh, I made people upset. You had strong ambitions and dreams, I didn't know what I wanted to believe. And maybe at one point you didn't whether, but you found it, and I never did. You were great at sports, I hated the gym. You could paint, I can't even mix colors correctly. You were as caring as you were strong, I knew you had a bright future. The only future I had was the one my parents wanted for me. And once I finally leanrded to accept and kinda love it, they took it away from me and want to marry off. Even my education wasn't enough for them. I envied all that you were, and all that you would become. Even now, I still envy you."
That was the truth. Samira had always envied all that you had and would become. Just seeing you again after so many years, you had become this amazon woman. This strong, intelligent, beautiful, resilient, skillful, capable and happy woman. And she couldn't say she was any of those things. Her boyfriend was the only good thing she felt she accomplished. You had become exactly what she couldn't, but also what she knew you would.
For a few seconds, maybe longer, you stared at your cousin before speaking. "That doesn't answer my question." She explained why she treated you the way she did, not the thought process. Not why she wanted you to not like her. Wanting to be rivals is one thing, but wanting someone— your family, to hate you is another.
"You could have treated me the way you did and left it at that. I would've taken it because you were my cousin, you were family." That was not a lie. You loved your family so much that you would allow them to hate you and hurt you if they wanted. You trust that if they ever did, it would be for a reason. "You could have talked to me. But you wanted me to hate you. I saw it, I know it. So I pretended to because I would do anything for you. But now, I want to know why. Why did you want me to hate you? Why?"
"I felt guilty." Samira confessed, she couldn't meet your eyes for this. "Everyone knew about Chris. Our uncles, our cousins. Hell— even our grandparents. We all knew what he had done to you and your mother, the truama and pain he inflicted. I was young, but I wasn't dumb, I could see your bruises. But we never said a thing. We all knew and didn't help. Yet, I still let my envy of your character, cloud my judgement to try and help. I still treated you the way I did, because I knew you could take it. And I felt guilty, I felt like a terrible person for it. So, I thought to make up for it, you should hate me. You had every right to hate all of us. We deserve it."
"I knew what you were going through, I knew what happened to you. And you still grew to be this... this amazing person. I watched you become resilient. I saw the person you were growing into. And it made me feel even more terrible, how I was still so envious. There I was, complaining about my parents, when you went through the most traumatizing things, and survived. Hell, you had actual scars, and you still smiled through the pain. You found a way to make something of your life, to be happy. And you never complained once. Whenever things got tough, you never complained. You never made excuses. You never focused the attention on you. You never looked back. And even now, I still hate myself for how I treated you. Truth is, I wish I was you."
The room was soundless, so quiet that the you could only really hear was the sound of the air conditioning. Samira could not force herself to meet your eyes, her hand has stopped moving against the sheets of the hotel bed while she waited for you speak. For you to yell or get angry and scream at her.
And after a minute of processing the brown skin girl's words, you finally spoke. But you did neither of the things she expected. "Don't compare your trauma to mine. And don't self-depreciate or undervalue yours either."
You leaned leaned the wall, crossing your arms to your chest. "You don't have parents, you have financial support and unemotional caregivers. You have every right to be angry, you deserve better, and I can understand you taking it out on me. I have the mother you've always wanted, there's nothing wrong with envying a child that had the parent you deserve. I felt the same everytime I saw other kids with their loving fathers and their mothers who had time for them. I should apologize. I never saw your side, I never took the time to understand you. I judged you for what I thought you had, for what I thought I wanted. I judged you for an image you painted, instead of seeing the meaning behind it. And for that, I apologize. I'm very sorry, Samira..."
"Stop! Just... stop!" Samira suddenly shouted. She finally raised her head to meet your eyes, her hand gripping the sheets of the bed. "Stop being understanding and defending me like this. Stop apologizing like you did something wrong!"
"Don't make excuses for me! Or any of us!" Samira watched your eyes widen at her sudden outburst of anger and frustration. "Did you not hear what I said? We all knew! We knew about the abuse. We knew about the neglect. We knew he wanted a son with a Quirk and got angry when he didn't get it and took it out on you. We knew he tried to sell you to three men for money when you were six. We knew about all the unspeakable things he did to you and your family. I heard them talk about it all. Things so horrible that I can't even say it out loud because it makes me terrified and sick for what you went through!"
Samira ran her hands through her long, wavy hair. You mentally noted this action of stress and guilt as you waited for her to finish. "We knew it all... All of us... So please don't make excuses for me. Don't justify me hurting you. Who cares that my mother never told me happy birthday? Or my father cared more about his son and legacy than showing up for my recitals. Or them trying to betroth me to a man I've never even met or know anything about. All of that is nothing compared to what you've gone through, what you've endured. You never got a real birthday. Your father didn't care about any of his children and you never got a recital. Your father tried to sell you to three disgusting men. You had it so much worse than me. Don't apologize to me like you hurt me. I don't deserve your compassion or forgiveness. I don't deserved the kindness and understanding that you're showing me."
There was a moment of silence as Samira showed her guilt. Hearing her words and seeing her facial expressions, you could tell just how responsible felt for everything. You could tell that she's been carrying this weight for years. She wasn't done expressing her guilt.
"Whenever I needed help... you were there. Whenever I was upset or cried... you were there. And you never made fun of me for it or told anyone. You let me keep my pride, you probably knew it was all I had. And you protected it... Even though we were rivals, you were always there. You let me treat you terribly. You let me be your rival. You didn't want it, you didn't want any of it. But because that's what I wanted, so you endured it. For me." Samira rubbed her face as she reflected on her relationship with you, so complicated on the surface, but meaningful on the inside. "Even now, you traveled all the way from Japan to Washington just to find me because I was 'missing.' You're allowing me to keep my dignity by not telling my parents I tried to run away. I'm older. And I've never been there for you. Not once. I don't deserve you."
It was true, you were always there for Samira. It was almost like a silent truce, when you were. You could remember all the times she cried, all the times she had been down. And you could remember all the times you were there with open arms and a caring smile. Putting your rivalry aside just to be her family.
Even now, you didn't have to help Omari find Samira. You were here to get Miyori, your cousin stuck in Johannesburg. You could've waited till Omari found Samira on his own so you could leave. But you set your rivalry aside and did all you could to find Samira, setting your personal negative feelings about her aside out of worry and love.
No matter what people may say about you, they can never say that you don't care. You may not be the best at displaying your affection and compassion as Izuku is, but you cared just as much as he did. Especially when it came to family. For you, it was family above all else. And that includes Samira.
Although, you couldn't lie and say that it didn't hurt hearing her tell you how they all knew. All of your father's siblings— your Indian aunts and uncles and even your grandparents, they all knew. They knew what he was doing for years and never did anything about it. They let you and your mother endure the pain and suffering of your father. They let him mentally break all of you down and were the first to call you when they needed something from you, but were never there to answer and of your calls.
None of you knew that. None of you knew that they all knew. That's why, despite your terrible father, you still kept contact with his side of the family. If you were being honest, back then, if your mother and brother knew they all were aware and didn't care to do anything about it, all of you would've cut them off. Rightfully so.
But that was years ago. All of you have grown, you've matured. It no longer bothered or affected any of you anymore. All three of you— You, Omari and Niari have been to therapy individually. You were all mentally and emotionally at a better place. At this point in life, you were all cared more about protecting your peace. And at this point, you hardly were in contact anyways and only involved yourself with on certain occasions, so it didn't matter.
Quietly, you stood up from your leaned position on the wall and uncrossed your arms from your chest. You walked over to the Samira and sat down beside her on the bed, putting a bit of distance between you both.
"I envied you." You admitted. The sound of your voice and the words you said, had the brown girl look at you. "To me, you were this older, smarter, beautiful and perfect person who could play piano and violin. I never really wanted to be better than you, I wanted to be you. You were just so perfect and respected. Even when you cried, I saw your tears as diamonds. I idolized you. You never had to worry or suffer. I wanted your life. Honestly, I never truly hated you. Nor did I see you terribly. Yes, I had my moments of course, we're family. But you could never make me hate you, Samira. I never saw a reason to. I loved you that much."
Samira found herself gasping as she heard you speak. That one sentence was devastating to hear. 'Even when you cried, I saw your tears as diamonds.' It made Samira realize just how low your self esteem was, and just how much you emotionally depended on her.
While she envied characteristics everything about her. You evidently all that she was, her life even. You based your worth on her. She was like your Idol. You wanted to be her rather than compete with her. It made her feel worse than she already did, hearing how little you cared for yourself.
She was now happy that you stopped trying to contact her. It means you no longer saw her as a guide to humanity. You grew into your own person and began to love not only your life, but yourself. And that makes her happy.
Although, she couldn't help but wonder soemthing about what you said. If you saw her tears as diamonds, what did you see your own as? Did you see it as cement, something soft that hardens for others to use? Did you see it as mud, something natural yet dirty?
"I don't blame you." You reassured your cousin. She, who was a reflection of yourself in a different light. "You were a child. Just as I was. You looked up to your parents and wished for their approval. You didn't understand the kind of people they were. They didn't do anything, so you didn't. I understand, and I'm not mad at you. You feel guilty, they don't. You told me, they didn't. That tells me enough about you and the situation for me to decide that I forgive you."
"(y/n), stop-"
"Stop, Samira. Stop trying to make me hate you. Because I won't. I never did and I never will." You interrupted the girl, who could not meet your eyes with her own. "You were a child, Samira. We were children. Stop punishing yourself. Stop hating yourself."
For some reason, it was something Samira could not accept. Her guilt buried her mind deep in shame. It was something she struggled to overcome. Guilt was a very powerful feeling, more powerful than people realized. You saw that.
"I forgive you." Your voice was soft and your words were reassuring. You spoke calmly with your hand gently touching her shoulder. "But you need to learn how forgive yourself."
"How..." Samira trailed off, her voice hushed as she swallowed. "How do I forgive myself?" She wanted to know. How does a person, carrying so much guilt, learn to feel less?
"Therapy. That's how learned." You were still in therapy, years later. And considering the job you're going to soon have, you'll probably never leave. "Your parents, even now, still have control over you. They influence you because you adapted the way they think even if it's not what you want to think. I'm not going to tell you what to do or how to live. But I think it would benefit you to confront your parents."
Samira's eyes widen before she looked away, fear settling in her body. The thought of speaking to her parents, confronting them and telling them how she really felt, scared her. She shook her head feverishly at the idea, she couldn't find the confidence in her to do such a thing.
"Samira." You looked at her, eyes almost as soothing as your voice. You used your hand on her shoulder, to rub and ease her worries away. "Tell them that you're in love. Tell them you refuse to marry someone they want, and live a life they want you to. Tell them you want to live your life the way that you want. You're an adult, this is your life. They can't control you. If they can't respect or accept your boundaries and decisions, maybe you should go no contact with them. You need to protect your peace and happiness."
There was a moment of silence, Samira let your words soak in her mind. All the things you said, were all the thinks she felt. But to say them to her parents was a different situation. Could she do it?
"Will you be there?"
"Do you want me to?" You didn't mind being there for moral support, as long as she wanted it. And with the nod of Samira's head, you smiled. "Then yes, I'll be right by your side."
Without warning, Samira threw her arms around your shoulders and hugged you tightly. It caught you off guard but you hugged her back, allowing her to squeeze you as tightly as she needed to. "Thank you." She whispered to you with gratitude.
"You're welcome." You whispered back just as quietly. It felt weird hugging her. In the years youve been 'rivals' you've never really hugged her beside the times when she cried. But this was different than those times, she was crying about her pain, she was crying about her dreams it.
"I'm sorry... that no one helped you." Samira whispered into your ear. It was a final apology, but not for herself. Not because of her own guilt, but because of the way you were treated by your own family. She hated that your own family, were against you. They weren't there when you needed them most.
"I'm sorry, too... No one helped you either." Samira was treated almost as bad as you were. Besides the bullying from outsiders since she was a brown skin Indian girl. She was treated badly from her own parents.
Her parents were there for her in the way she needed them most. Her parents never took in consideration how she felt or her aspirations. Her parents never cared for her. So, in a way, you were one of the same. And that's why you were both so connected.
◈ O S H U N ◈
That night went by fairly slow and allowed the morning to take its time with its arrival. When the morning did finally set its course, everyone packed up. Since the case secretly was closed, all of you were getting ready to head to South Africa later that day. But first, you had to take one of your many cousins to her parents.
It was safe to say Samira was very nervous and fearful of seeing her parents. More specifically, of speaking her mind and setting her boundaries with them. Knowing her parents, they wouldn't accept any of what she had to say. She knew they wouldn't, but she still wanted them to hear her. To listen to her pain. That would be her closure.
And you were right there when she did, You were there for not only moral support, but also to make sure they listened to everything she had to say. Her parents were stubborn, they kept interrupting Samira everytime she said something they didn't like. Which was eveything. So, you had to keep shutting them up so that the girl could speak.
In the end, Samira's parents were very unhappy with everything Samira told them. And they didn't take any of her words or tears seriously. Samira knew they wouldn't, but she was satisfied with at least being able to speak her mind and stand up to them for once.
To show them that she was serious, she left and blocked them on everything. She was done with them. She didn't need them to pay for anything anymore. She got a full scholarship and she would get a job to pay and support herself. It was up to them to not only take her serious, but also accept everything she said and prove themself to her. She was done being their puppet and letting them control her.
Now, you and the rest of the crew found yourselves at the airport. Mizo and Ronin were getting the private jet owned by your grandmother, Nakanti, ready. So, the rest of you waited outside with your bags.
"So, this is goodbye..." Samira mumbled as she stood before you. Her gaze drifting from yours to the private Jet behind you, and back to your eyes. "Is there anyway I can convince you to stay for a little while longer?"
"I have people waiting for me." You said, seeing a defeated look appear on the girl's face. "But this isn't goodbye. I'll visit, I know where you are. I'll call and text you when I land. We'll keep in contact."
"You don't have my number." Samira's face contorted to one of confusion, then she saw you pull out your phone. A few seconds later, she felt her phone vibrate in her back pocket. Confused, she pulled out to see a text from you. "How-?"
"Don't underestimate my capabilities." You raised your brows with a grinning smile before laughing and putting up your phone. "That, and I had Rufaro look up your phone records to get your number."
"That's the tech guy, right?" Samira asked, to which you nodded your head in reply. She crossed her arms to her chest. "Remind me to never get on his bad side. He seems like the type to ruin your entire social life with a click of button just because you pissed him off."
"He's got more patience than you think." You laughed a bit at what she said befor looking at her boyfriend, Bryson Harris. "Take care of her. If you love her like you say you do, you'll make sure she never loses sight on her dreams and ambitions. Make sure she believes in something, herself first."
Bryson smiled and nodded his head, wrapping his arm around Samira's shoulder. "I will. You don't have to worry." He look at you with a small smile, he was happy knowing his girlfriend had family to depend on, even if it wasn't her immediate.
"Good." You smiled and spoke in a sweet tone that was intimidating with the words you spoke next. "Because if you hurt my cousin, I'll make sure you lose the ability to reproduce."
The black college student's smile fell and he gave a look of both fear and concern. "Uh... Yes, ma'am." He found it terrifying how you could smile and speak so sweetly while saying such threatening words.
"Time to go." Omari said, letting his presence be known he walked up to the three of you. He smiled at Samira and patted her shoulder. "Be careful, okay?"
"Don't worry, I won't run away again." Samira smiled largely and laughed as and hugged her older cousin tightly to express her gratitude. "It was nice seeing you again. Visit me, okay?"
"I will when I can." Omari replied with a gentle smile as he returned the Indian girl's hug. When he let go, he nodded his head at Bryson, to show he acknowledged him, before turning around and walking towards the plane with his bags.
"See you later." You said as you hugged Samira. You knew for her, this was a fresh start to a better life. And you were not only happy to witness it, but happy to be the cause of it. "Please be careful. Remember to go to therapy, learn to love yourself and live for yourself."
"Thank you for... everything." Samira whispered in your ear as she hugged you tightly. When she let go, she looked you in the eyes with small smile. "Whatever you need, call."
You smiled at that. Naturally, she would want to return what she sees as a favor. But you hoped in time, she wouldn't see it as such, and would see it as family helping family. So, you said, "take care, Samira." And walked towards the plane.
The process was quick. Ronin, who apparently has a pilot license, started the private jet. Mizo placed all your luggage where they needed to be, while the rest of you got comfortable. It was very luxurious and different than the planes you had flown before.
The private jet was very comfortable. It had high-quality leather seats, fine dining, high-end bedding, elegant bathrooms and even a kitchen. The private jet was an enjoyable experience that's far more pleasant than the cramped quarters in most commercial jets.
When the jet took off, you stared out the window to see Samira and Bryson watching as you left the ground. You could see the smile she had on her face as she waved you all goodbye. Bryson hugged her close, comforting her while she kept a brave face. Soon, you were out of her sight in the sky.
The ride was very comfortable, indeed. You stared out the window while you listened to music through your headphones. A comforting song playing that eases your troubled mind.
Rufaro, who sat across with a square table between the two of you, had a book in his hand. Despite his Quirk being Technopathy and technology being his hobby, it wasn't all he did. He enjoyed reading books, too. Normally fantasy, but sometimes fiction.
Every now and then, Rufaro would look up from his book to glance at you. Each time, he saw a look of trouble on your face while you stared out the window. At first, he decided to leave it alone, figuring something was on your mind. But, as time passed on, he grew a little concerned.
"What's on your mind, Mani?" He asked, looking up from his book to loook at you. He knew you could hear him through the music because you briefly looked at him when he spoke.
"Nothing, it's just..." You trailed off for a few seconds and pulled out out one of your headphones. "Miyori... I'm scared for her. I know they haven't killed her, she's valuable to them. But that doesn't mean they haven't hurt her."
"Miyori is a strong girl. She's as tough as she is smart. If she hasn't thought of a way to escape by now, she's probably waiting for us. You have to believe in her, it's the only thing that'll give you peace of mind until we save her." Rufaro reassured you with a small smile, which you nodded to. He glanced back down at his book for a second before looking at you, seeing that troubled look still there.
"But that's not what you're really worried about. Is it?" He added, more so talking to himself than you when he said this. He grabbed his bookmark to put inside the book before closing it and placing it down on the table. "What's on your mind?"
"South Africa. This mission." You answered, pulling the head phones out your ears and setting them down on your lap. You paused your music and looked at Rufaro. "I don't, it's just— there's so much that can go wrong. I guess I'm just scared of messing up."
Rufaro furrowed his eyebrows at your confession before he leaned closer to the table and placed his hands on top. "Mani, if you want to back out, there's nothing wrong with that. It's okay if this is too much. Don't be so hard on yourself for experiencing human emotions."
"I don't want to back out, Rufaro." You stated with a firm tone in your voice to set the record straight. "I'm just scared that I'll do something wrong. There's no room for mistakes here. If I mess up at any point, it could cost not only this mission, but all of our lives. And I really don't want to break any promises I've made."
"I understand. This is a lot of pressure. Trust me, I'm feeling it, too. If this goes wrong, I might never see my parents again." Rufaro paused, glancing down at the table as he thought about his parents. Just speaking of them brought sadness. He really does miss them. But he looked back at you with a small smile. "We all have something to lose. All of our lives are on the line. That's what makes us a perfect team. So, put some faith in us. You're not alone. We're in this together."
The man who was your first childhood best friend smiled trustfully and held his hand out. With a smile of your on, you nodded your head and put your hand in his. You trusted him. You trusted all of them. You were all in this together.
With a nod of his own, Rufaro let go of your hand and grabbed his book. He got comfortable in chair and picked up where he left off after removing his bookmark and setting it down.
For a minute, you looked around. Mizo laid down, dozing since she was tired. Ronin had the plane on autopilot as watched Mizo sleep, rubbing her back and shoulder with an adoring look. Your mother, Niari, was happily on the phone with her finance, Aizawa. Omari was looking over Miyori's file before he received a text from his wife, which had him smile.
Everyone was okay. That was reassurance enough to ease your mind. You smiled, content at the sight of everyone being comfortable. You were happy with the people that surrounded you, who dedicated themselves to be with you. So, with a comforting feeling, you put your headphones back on and drifted asleep.
You dreamed of Izuku.
ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ_ʙᴜɴɴʏ//ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ ɴᴏᴛᴇ
how we feeling? we're getting to the important part. i hope you enjoyed this little mini arc with her indian side of the family and samira.
O S H U N