(M/N) is in the place of "Mother's Name."

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(M/N) wearily sighs as she scans her pass for the metro and a familiar beeping sound reaches her ears, letting her pass through the barricade of a thin, waist-level metal bar with ease. Catching sight of the familiar, but worn-out sign of her designated train platform makes her sigh again -- longer, this time. The breath escapes her nose and fans down to her collar, making the white linen flaps move almost pitifully in the slight breeze, as if they knew the life given to them was out of sheer unease and dissatisfaction.

The collar stills as (M/N)'s huffs come to a stop upon her figure reaching the platform. She shifts in her low heels and checks her phone, furrowing her eyebrows and pressing her thinned lips together when seeing that (Y/N) had only spared a meager "good morning mom, I'm doing good" in response to her optimistic good morning text that asked how they were doing.

Of course, (M/N) would've appreciated a response that was more lighthearted, but her child's lack of enthusiasm, rigor, and spirit was more than understandable. What they had gone through was incomparable to the daily struggles that she had to face. A few minutes of staring at the screen was enough to convince her that she should be content with the fact that (Y/N) had even responded at all. So she subsequently pockets her device, continuing to wait for her subway cab without a second thought. 

Once the metro arrives, she boards it with a bustling crowd in front and behind of her pushing and shoving to get a place in the vehicle. Her body is clamped in between two taller gentlemen and one smaller woman, who are also presumed to be heading off to work, and when she glances up at them, she winces at the sight of their droopy eyelids and exhausted features, the view reminding her of her own disheveled appearance when she gazed into the bathroom mirror this morning.

Her unnaturally tired features were a product of the constant stress she underwent after (Y/N) had resumed school virtually because of the incident.

It was an understatement to say that (M/N) was worried about (Y/N). After all the League had conspired and acted upon, and the effects that were taking a toll on (Y/N) as a result of them, she was necessarily worried -- or at least, as worried a mother should be once harm comes to their child. 

Day after day, she would obsess over their overall condition -- how well they were holding up mentally, what regressions and progresses there had been physically, and so on. There was a firm appreciation from (Y/N)'s part, but they still seemed closed off, distant. They always seemed to be staring into space, at nothing in particular, as if they were in some kind of trance or in deep thought.

Because of the toxic reaction produced by his behavior mixed with (M/N)'s worrying and protective nature, the predicament at hand was worsened completely. It had definitively taken a toll on (M/N)'s overall health -- darker, deeper bags appearing underneath her eyes, a slight slouch in her shoulders wherever she went, this inexplicable tiredness in her voice, and a dulled gaze in the place of previously shining irises.

But despite all the red flags and telltale signs of a shattered physical and mental health, she persisted because she loved (Y/N). They were worth it. They were worth every effort, every struggle, every fight. 

She thought she was doing the right thing by doing whatever it took to help her child in their recovery, and admittedly, she was. (Y/N) could not have been put in a better situation than what their parents gave them -- a cushioned pad to land on when they fell, and a safe space to recuperate in. However, the one flaw in (M/N)'s plan was that she had failed to acknowledge her limit and capacity in taking care of her child. 

She was only human, after all, and humans could only take so much. 

And so when the thought of taking care of (Y/N) had been buried in the responsibilities that her work demanded, she thought she would at least feel a little bit of relief now that she didn't have to completely drain herself to do a job to the best of her abilities. 

Was it truly a surprise when the latter occurs? 

(M/N) is alarmed at the situation she just now realizes she's in. She cranes her neck to look around at the passengers to the best of her ability, and all she sees are the same desolate looks everywhere around her. Some are yawning, meekly blinking their eyes in an attempt to catching a few extra seconds of slumber -- the sweet relief of an activity designated to keep them from reality. Others are glued to their phones, checking social media, listening to music with their heads hung low like tortoises stretching to feed on watery lettuce on the ground. All are distractions.

And there is an instant when the train lurches to a stop at another station, when the thought comes to her.

Has everything always been like this?

It was a thing that wasn't very noticeable before, but now that she wasn't high on restful nights, expanded love, inflated happiness, she could clearly see the greyness that encapsulated the real world. This, and the notion that every waking day and sleepless night seemed to hold the same motions. 

Nothing felt alive. 

Her home no longer felt like home anymore because the levity had been sucked from it, leaving the space dry and listless. She now would learn to dread boarding the metro because of the depressive flock that would ride along with her to her destination. And her workplace... she could only wait to see what obstacles would unveil themselves over there.

Even waking up in the morning felt like a cry for help, these days.

Dawn no longer held that same worthiness, the delicate notion of a new beginning, a fresh start to take upon life with. It was simply light -- a call from sheltered darkness, a beckoning forwards from some safe space in order to tirelessly work. The sunlight tore her from her asylum in the dream world, ripping apart peaceful solstices and replacing them with mundane equinoxes, where nothing ever differed. 

Sometimes she wished to simply close the blinds and hope that the Sun would never come to disturb her, as unrealistic as it was.

As the metro halts at (M/N)'s designated platform in real time, the older woman sighs, putting away her daydreams to focus on preparing for her job. She walks off the platform and continues to her office building, where she checks in and takes off her coat in the locker room. Checking her phone one more time to find that her husband had sent her a "Good Luck Today!" cartoon emote, she smiles, laughing softly at his antics before closing her device and heading to her office in a slightly better mood. 

On her way to the studio, she runs into Shioto, one of her long-time colleagues that joined the industry fresh out of college. The two had a complex mentor-mentoree relationship, with Shioto being (M/N)'s junior after she'd been hired and taken under the older woman's wing. As a result of the immediate establishment of their relationship, their friendship and bonds of trust developed quickly. In a way, Shioto reminded (M/N) of (Y/N), not only in the aspect of being quirkless, but their lively spark never seemed to dwindle, even in the face of adversity. 

"Good morning (M/N)!" Shioto smiles at (M/N) with a cup of coffee in hand, transparent steam curling up into the air, a short distance from the girl's mouth. "How's everything been?" Her senior sighs softly, tiredly combing a hand through her hair and sparing a weak chuckle.

"Everything's going well," the woman replies, "Just a little caught up with some at-home business." Silence overtakes the pair for a minute as they walk to the drawing quarters as a certain unasked and unanswered question begins to linger on the tip of (M/N)'s tongue. She pauses for a second to debate on whether or not it was the best time to ask about that topic, but ultimately decides that, because Shioto is rather close to her, she wants to make sure that she's doing alright. 

"How's Atsushi holding up?" The question seems to shake Shioto, her eyes growing wide for a moment before blinking themselves back to normal. (M/N) panics, immediately regretting her seemingly ill-advised decision, but the younger woman waves it off, though she hesitates to give a definitive answer to the inquiry upfront.

"He... He's getting better. He's strong," the brunette states, nodding firmly, "He's still learning how to walk without braces, you know, physical therapy and such." She stifles a sniff by hiding it with a sudden cough into her elbow, then tries to continue.

"The doctor said that..." Shioto turns to (M/N) to make her voice clearer and to disguise her emotion, but pitters off the moment she sees her, her eyebrows furrowing. 

"... you look really stressed, (M/N)." 

"Oh, no, no," the older woman says, "I'm just getting older, these things happen."

Shioto frowns at the uncharacteristic response, tilting her head so she could get a better view of her senior's face from a lower angle. Upon seeing the new wrinkles and dark spots developing on her face, Shioto winces, then hurries to set down her coffee and rummage through her bag. The older woman next to her looks on curiously. 

"Here." In Shioto's hand are two pills, both pink with no branding on them. The younger woman is quick to show the package she punched them out of, three of the eight pills, excluding the ones in her hand, already consumed. 

"It's a medication I take whenever I'm tired," she describes, "I've used it for quite some time now and trust me, it works wonders." (M/N) eyes the pills cautiously, debating with herself on whether or not she should take them. 

"Are you sure it's safe for me to eat? Don't you need a prescription for things like these?" she asks, pressing her lips firmly together. Shioto shakes her head, still holding out the product invitingly.

"Try it, it won't do you any harm. It works for me, at least."

Perhaps it was a kind of desperate haze that draws (M/N) closer to the girl. Before she knows it, she is drawing a cup of water from the community dispenser and gulping down the two of the tiny, pink pills that were previously in Shioto's open palm with fervor. 

"Don't you feel better?"

And as if on cue, right after she swallows, (M/N) feels oddly rejuvenated. Her head is clear and her limbs are no longer shaky. All the worldly realizations that came to her on the metro disappear, leaving her refreshed with her head on her shoulders. Though the physical drawbacks of her inane stress do not vanish at once, (M/N) is more than content with her current state as compared to how horrible she was feeling before.

She turns to Shioto happily, graciously thanks her, then starts to talk about a storyboarding idea for an upcoming animation with her junior as they continue to walk to the studio. 

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umm..... did i say three updates for the missing weeks?? haha uh,,,, sorry my work ethic is SO BAD AKJSDBKJDBFOSDOBSG it's spring break for me, however, so i will try to release a longer chapter this week!!!!

but i hope you all enjoyed this chapter and the new style in present-tense (i wanted to make it stand out a bit more, though it feels kind of weird,,,, -_-") 

i might bring back past-tense chapters to fit the narrative, but i wanted to gauge your response and see whether or not this flows :))

thanks for reading and voting, as always <3 

i love you all so much! please stay safe ^_^