Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There's a high pitched click. A small hum of a speaker coming on. The microphone is set up in the small, soundproofed closet. The only light coming from a small, duct taped fixture near the ceiling. It flickers. The outlet that it's attached to isn't a very good one but, with a stack of books propped up beneath the plug-in, it's just enough to keep it in place, so long as nothing shifts it.

The computer and subsequent recording software in question is sat upon a shittily made desk. If it could even be called that. It's more of a box, really, only a couple inches tall and painted a bright red and covered with Present Mic and Crimson Riot stickers. The worst part of it is the fact that there's a bent nail buried into the top of it- like whoever had hammered it in had hit it from the side and then just decided to keep folding it over until it was buried deep into the wood. It didn't help that there were coffee stains and the paint was starting to peel, the stickers long faded or scratched up.

It was... Homely.

And long legs squished to push into the small closet space, sealing the door quickly behind them.

She'd gotten taller over the last few years. Enough so that it was starting to get rather cramped. But she didn't find that she minded that fact. She didn't think she'd grow much taller to be honest- it was just her legs that had really shot up in length. And, so long as she was sitting cross legged, she could manage.

Her tongue flicks out, running over her suddenly dry lips. Buds of nerves starting to build in her stomach that she quickly stomps down hard on-

There was no time to be nervous. Not anymore.

"It's time for the stream after all..." she hums, the voice changer turned on and helping to completely muddle any source of familiarity in her voice. Well, only to those who knew her. It was just off enough to not make someone look twice. And just enough to also throw off potential quirk users who tried their hand on located her through voice-based means.

The smile curling across her lips still manages to be a little shaky with pent up energy, even as the well-practiced phrase finds itself on her tongue. Much more peppy and energetic than she's sure anyone listening in actually feels.

But that, apparently, doesn't do anything to dissuade the viewer count from spiking as the image they're allowed to see shifts to the familiar segmented ring symbol, pulsating with a white gradient on a red background. Making it look pink on the edges.

"Welcome to The Halo Hour! I'm your host: Halo, and 'I am here' to bring you some late night tunes to help you to sleep or to that next cup of coffee before the night-shift starts..."

The chat blows up with semi-familiar spam and gifs and images that she only vaguely recognizes because of how often they're used. It's not what she was originally used to seeing but it's just another thing to force herself to get used to.

It wasn't so bad. Not really. Just jarring and vaguely surprising. Even with the years that'd passed, some part of her mind still expects to see something that just isn't there. Still balking at the bent reality and the differences of this world. It'd been something she'd struggled to come to terms with and still was, but hey, she was getting there. The smile on her face didn't even twitch at the sight anymore.

An image jumps up in the corner of the screen and a large dollar sign appears with an amount that has her singing.

"Ooh~ What's this? What's this?! A donation re-quest! What's this? Let me take a guess! What's this? I can't believe my ears. I must be mishearing. Listen, Halo, we mustn't rest! What's this?!"

And the chat blows up in response, having her giggling. It helps that that's the first time she'd ever responded like that and she can see the donator key smashing in chat and figuratively squealing with a litany of text.

"Thank you for the donation, allmightyfanboy! Which leads me into what charity organization all proceeds will be going to for this month- we're coming back to quirk discrimination once again, because it doesn't matter whether a person has a quirk, a mutation outside the norm or beyond conventional attractiveness, or if a quirk is deemed somehow villainous by societal perceptions... The Equilibrium Charity fights against quirk discrimination on all fronts and helps abused and displaced people recover from-" 

It's not long before she finishes the usual spiel as one of her mods tosses up some hotline numbers and donation links and info links for her.

"Now. Allmightyfanboy, let's get to that request you made."

And her fingers fall onto guitar strings.

...

...

In the beginning, it was much simpler.

Just another artist on HeroTube, another account added and posted to. It wasn't even under the name it was now, no, instead it was a scrappily put together channel by the name of hall016 that produced its own little original songs on a crappy mic with either a guitar or a piano for accompaniment. All of it on a one-color background with movie maker-esque lyrics fading in and out.

It didn't have much of a following.

But that was fair. After all, the person behind it had mentioned that they couldn't afford much better equipment for a while, they just wanted to start putting some stuff up. For fun.

Then a new microphone was introduced and the soft, pretty voice behind it grew stronger. Vocal cords sounding strained and slightly strange and unnatural. Not like they were making a voice or like they were editing their voice, but almost as if their voice was too- mature for their own body. It didn't matter much. They sounded good enough even still. And then they started adding more instruments and a music editing software was added to their equipment list.

And then the one-color image background changed to a simple pink with a white segmented circle in the center, a bright symbol that was exceedingly simplistic. The lyrics were changed to appear in individual lines at the bottom left of the videos in a neat font that was easily much, much more appealing than what it was previously.

The follower count rose.

New songs were made, old songs were redone, and then redone again, and again, until the quality was so significantly better that it was bordering on an almost professional level and- hall016 shortened to Halo. It came not from any specific suggestion but people had taken to pronouncing the channel name like that whenever they talked about it. It just rolled off the tongue better. And the small-time artist with a pretty voice that was only ever heard singing, getting stronger with practice, created an official twitter and, well, it was unusual.

For someone, someone who is so very clearly not a hero and denied it on multiple occasions when asked, to gain popularity like they did.

Maybe it's not all that unexpected though.

Halo said the songs came from herself and so did all the acoustics and groundwork. People liked someone who worked hard for what they had, even more so when they do it all independently. And the amount of songs that Halo produced- they often set themselves apart from the norm because all popular songs nowadays had something to do with heroes or the like- with the amount of quality of lyrics and just... down-to-earth subject matter that was much more relatable compared to the heroics-saturated society that not many could realistically be a part of. No, it definitely wasn't so strange that someone breaking from the norm would gain attention. Especially when they marketed to a much broader audience than most did.

It helped that they often spoke their mind.

Halo @halo_official

I can't really say that I'm a small-time artist anymore. Like, yeah. It's still me and me alone working behind the scenes but I've accidentally created a marketable brand that is way bigger than some kid messing around with their guitar and computer and I really don't know how to respond to that. ~time to ignore my problems and hope they go away~

Halo @halo_official

I'd say I got lucky @hawkssohawt I mean. It's not as if I didn't have the means to create but I just got really lucky when my stuff went viral. I don't think I would've been popular otherwise.

Halo @halo_official

Sorry! No face reveal anytime soon! And I'd rather not anyone identify me if they recognize my singing voice. I'm super camera shy and I wouldn't want anyone to treat me different if they knew who I was. Also, being all mysterious is kinda fun!

Halo @halo_official

@allmightssecretlovechild Favorite hero? Well, there's the obvious popular ones but I don't really have a personal favorite. Maybe Present Mic? But that's more for his radio show then anything! I like Gang Orca too! I'm kinda surprised that so many people are scared of him? Like, I kinda get the why, but also- no?

Halo @halo_official

Thinking of starting month-long charity streams called The Halo Hour. Thoughts?

Halo @halo_official

A bit different but personal announcement: Please refrain from asking for information on me. I will not be releasing personal details to anyone. This includes age and quirk-status.

Halo @halo_official

Small exception to the personal announcement: No. My quirk has nothing to do with my ability to make, sing, or use instruments. My quirk, or even lack thereof, has no involvement in my creative process.

Halo @halo_official

Stream is up! First charity, as voted upon by viewers, is for natural disasters and rescue efforts. Can't wait to start!

Halo @halo_official

A person's quirk is their own information to do with what they please. If you are so bothered by someone not telling you their quirk status then perhaps you have a personal issue that you need to sort through. In layman's terms: It aint your beeswax. The same thing goes for "scary" or "ugly" mutations and so-called "villainous" quirks. Ya'll really need to check yourselves 'cause if you're so bothered by someone's appearance or what they could/could not do with their quirk then you're the problematic one, not them. Sorry, I don't make the rules. I just enforce them.

Halo @halo_official

First Official Album is out! The Halo Official Store is up! And, as always, the majority of proceedings will be donated across multiple charities. For more information, follow the links below.

Halo @halo_official

You know that you've made it big when the hate mail arrives. Gonna be real with you, a lot of this is legitimately hilarious and I totally will be putting up excerpts of my favorite ones because someone of these need to be shared with the world.

Halo @halo_official

Shoutout to @ittybittytiddycommitee @thirtEEnznumberonefan @ineedheroes for their awesome convo on stream last night! It's giving me an idea that I think you all will find helpful *wink wink* ~scholarship opportunities~ from yours truly

Halo @halo_official

@villainsRus Yeah, I receive a lot of hate mail and death threats actually! Thanks for your concern though. It wasn't so bad at first but since I made my stance on quirk discrimination and 'quirkless people are people too' it's really been blowing up so- hey, at least we know who the real villains are now. My attitude probably doesn't help, I know that much. But you would think people didn't need a book to tell them that a person's worth is not dictated by their usefulness. Though, honestly, it's starting to look like they need a goddamn series.

It...

Was incredibly obvious that they didn't have even the slightest bit of a PR team.

But hey. Even if they spoke their mind and were often lambasted for an aggressive approach to some topics they were still incredibly good at what they did and they made sure that good things came out of it. What with near constant donations to charities across the globe and a large voice that spoke up for many who felt they went unheard-

It was no wonder that the Halo fanbase grew and grew until its obsessive following and devotion became… concerning. It wasn't like it was All Might levels or anything- frankly, it was hard to imagine anyone getting even close to whatever he had going on- but the following did mimic some of the reactions he had garnered in his early days.

Really.

Cover artists were just the tip of the iceberg and there sure were a lot of them. Fanart was adorable, especially considering the fandom had collectively designed a character lovingly dubbed after Halo. An entirely pink feminine figure with a white crown upon their head and chibi-like floating wings on their back, often clad in nothing but a white hoodie, nondescript features left up to whatever artist had decided on drawing them. Recently freckles had been popular and... unfortunately, Rule 34 artists as well, which was- yeah. Overall, it came with a litany of messages and support that was, quite frankly, insane but ah~ where there are supporters, there are often detractors.

The cryptid fandoms and conspiracy theorists were rather fun, admittedly. But they had a habit of pushing boundaries and demanding answers and trying to use quirks to locate Halo from behind the scenes, nothing had come of it but it hadn't been a pretty sight when her more… outspoken supporters found out. Absolutely tearing the forums and people behind them to shreds and only stopping when Halo themselves mentioned their dislike for people attempting to speak for them.

Stalkers, death threats and baiting, unsightly behaviors of people attempting to find the one behind the screen, hell, even blackmailers one time, and the almost religious zeal that people paid the name. It was something that heroes often had to deal with, though on a much smaller scale than Halo's broadcasted audience, and they usually had PR teams and agencies to dissuade it all. And even with those protections provided, sometimes it still wasn't enough and plenty of heroes had let it get to their heads.

It has those aware of the media and internet wincing in sympathy.

Halo was a PR nightmare just waiting to happen.

If they weren't already.

Halo @halo_official

Yo. I just saw the R-rated hero? And I? Love her? She is so cool. I wanna be like her- her confidence is out of this world. To be so confident, so powerful- what a world.

Halo @halo_official

Just realized that half my posts I've been making on the wrong account. Yikes. No wonder I've been getting a lot of hate lately. Not that I take back anything that I've said. Once it is spoken, it cannot be undone. All that jazz.

Halo @halo_official

Holy shit. Hero branded food is some of the worst crap ever. Sorry, Pizza All Might, but your pepperonis are gross. I. Don't even know why anyone thought that was a good idea.

Halo @halo_official

Aw, shoot. Wrong account. Again. (And don't get on me for cursing. Kids shouldn't even have a twitter. What the hell.)

Yeah. They definitely already were.

...

...

Shinsou Hitoshi receives his UA letter and knows immediately, as he takes in the envelope that feels much, much too heavy in his hands, what it will say. It's unfortunate that he's not wrong in that assessment. It's even more unfortunate that he doesn't dare dream to hope otherwise. He's not as naïve as he was as a kid, when his quirk first came in, and Shinsou is aware of himself-

And his failures when it came to the practical exam.

He'd managed to take out a two-pointer or two. Somehow. It was mostly done as a result of other students failing to complete their own kills but it had been something at least. Something other than running around and- and- dragging a kid out from some rubble part way through and then nothing else.

His teeth grind together harshly. Tears pricking at the corner of his eyes.

Not tonight.

He slams the envelope down.

Not tonight.

He doesn't want to-

He's being stupid, he knows, because delaying the inevitable is unhelpful in the long run and will, probably, most likely, only make everything worse but he- can't. Right now. He just can't.

Shinsou's hands are shaking by the time he forces himself to crawl into bed and not think about UA and crushed dreams and his stupid quirk and-

He doesn't sleep much that night. If at all.

And he blinks lazily at his phone screen, even with the light as dim as it would go it was still too bright for him to look at without squinting.

The donation request that Halo is singing- it's an older one of her many songs that he doesn't know the name of but could probably find if he was actually paying attention to any of the lyrics- he'd gotten into the habit, like many others he was sure given the insane watch count on all of her things, of listening in on her streams whenever he couldn't sleep. Which was fairly often. Even if they were typically only in English and only ever strayed to Japanese a few nights a month or whenever Halo responded to a Japanese commenter.

It was fine though. Most people had a good enough grasp of English nowadays that they could get a general gist of what was being said, even if they couldn't speak it. He wasn't sure of the logistics but Quirks made language barriers easier to navigate somehow. Something-something about the gene stimulating some part of the brain that emphasized communication or whatever.

It just... stopped being as hard to understand people.

Didn't mean they could speak a second language or write it for shit without instruction though.

And English was- well. It was English.

Even with quirk genealogical enhancements it made hardly a lick of sense half the time.

Which, maybe, was why it was so odd that the ease in which Halo spoke it, smooth and light and almost airy, like she was whispering sometimes, somehow didn't have the same faults that others would. Maybe it had something to do with her quirk or maybe it was just because she was fluent in both English and Japanese- it didn't much matter.

Shinsou fumbled slightly with his phone screen as he typed in chat. Thankful that it was late enough that most of Halo's viewers had already dropped off for the night because, otherwise, he was sure that his comment would've just been buried under the usual spam that the MODs struggled to sort through. But, even then, as he hit send, he can't help but shake his head, because he seriously doubts that he'll receive any response as Halo hadn't been answering as many questions lately and her streams had been shorter the past month and-

"Oh, hey, Catitude, that's an adorable name."

He blinks, lips parting slightly as there's a sound of her guitar shifting to the side and sits up in shock as there's clear pause of her going to his comment.

"Let's see, what's your question..." she hummed, slightly, "ooh~ I see."

Anxiety suddenly pooled into his gut and he sucked in a deep, panicky breath. He- He didn't think she'd actually respond and-

Catitude

It's been my dream to be a hero but I have a psychological quirk and completely failed the UA Hero Exam. What's even the point? I don't have a chance against people with stronger, more perfect quirks. Everyone says mine's villainous. How can I possibly be a hero when people are blessed to go the hero route and I'm just not?

Now he's not sure if he wants an answer.

"So you failed." Halo summarized blandly. "What are you going to do about it?"

He blinks, slow and languid.

"What's with the defeatist attitude? You're not going to get anywhere if you act like that," there's a noise that... might be a huff. He's not sure. He can't quite place it. It doesn't sound derisive but it doesn't sound happy either. "Look. I get it. When it seems like everyone is against you, and- hey- maybe they actually are, I don't know your situation. But if one failure gets you down then maybe you really can't be a hero."

He grips his phone, feels it creak beneath his fingers and immediately starts typing and-

Halo lets out a little laugh. "That pissed you off, didn't it? I can see you typing." He can practically hear the smirk in her voice. "Good. Use that."

...What?

He stops, staring blankly at the stream and the flooding comments. Only a small selection in Japanese that he can read. He doesn't. Deleting what he'd been about to type and typing in something new.

Catitude

I don't understand

"If it's been your dream and UA doesn't think you're good enough, prove them wrong. Prove that not only can you be a hero- but that you can be a better one."

There's an onslaught of messages that nearly bury his own if it wasn't for a mod pinning it just so Halo could find it in everything. The general consensus is something that he agrees with, that Halo is talking about something almost impossible because everyone knew how competitive the hero scene was and-

Catitude

It's not that simple

"Of course it is. Figure out what you can do as you already are, and do it." It's not really advice. Not of a typical sort. And it's said with a sort of flippance that borders on being rude, but somehow Shinsou doesn't think it's meant to come across like that. Even if his first urge is to chuck his phone at his bed, his teeth clench and he glares at the screen until Halo starts talking again. "I'm not saying it's going to be easy. It shouldn't be. There's millions of people who want to be a hero and there's always going to be someone stronger than you, or someone ahead of you, but the hardest things are usually the ones most worth doing."

Part of him wants to start questioning her. Wants to snark and ask: "What do you propose I do then? I'm taking ideas." But he refrains, rolling onto his back and staring up at his ceiling.

That's a question he doesn't think Halo will be able to really answer. It's unfair of him to ask. Not unless he spills his heart out about his quirk and the way it works and-

Even if Halo is a known figure against quirk discrimination somehow he doesn't think even they would find the good in something like Brainwashing.

The lull in the conversation is enough for Halo to get back to her regular schedule and he listens for a few minutes longer before tugging out his headphones. He can still kind of hear it, even with them out and tossed to the side, but the noise doesn't surround him like it had before and he lets out a deep sigh.

Can't even tell himself if it's irritated or not.

At least it wasn't horrible advice, or Halo calling him villainous or trying to get the details on his quirk, or making fun of him for failing. Shinsou just doesn't know what to do with what basically amounted to: Dust yourself off. Get off your ass. And try again.

"Figure out what I can do now... and do it...?"

He scowls at his ceiling, eyes heavy.

He doesn't sleep that night.

But at least his thoughts aren't completely occupied by the weight of a letter a room away. Instead, possibilities and whims are tossed up in his head as he tries to figure out what might actually help solve all his problems. The night is a long one.

What he can do, as he already is.

...

...

Halo @halo_official

I don't know what Plus Ultra means and, at this point, I'm too afraid to ask.

Chapter Text

He was trying to be excited. He truly was. But the lack of sleep from the night before, his anxious mind refusing to shut up and leaving him to disquieting thoughts, and the torn open acceptance letter that he held in his hands was heavy like chains. It'd been weeks since he'd received it. And fewer weeks since he'd actually, finally, managed to open it.

I'm sorry. But, unfortunately, you are not eligible for the Hero Course...

How could he be? When they were up against robots? Every point he'd gained from using other students was only used in their favor at best.

Your final score was: 3 Villain Points. 10 Rescue Points.

It wasn't right.

Due to high scores on UA Entrance Exams, as well as consistent high level grades from previous schooling, you are eligible for placement in Class 1-C. The highest level, non-hero course offered at UA for first year students. Please send in confirmation of enrollment by...

He crumples the edges of the letter in his hands. Eyes burning as he takes in a shuddering breath and presses it to his eyes. He had made it to one of the top schools in the country, in one of the highest level classes too, and yet it still felt like a loss. It couldn't not. When everything came back to the fact that his quirk was not...

Not wanted.

He dropped the paper, knuckles cracking as he squeezed his fists to his face, teeth gritting.

Everything was-

"Hitoshi! You okay? You've been in there for awhile!"

He jumped and accidentally kneed the cupboard. "Geh-?!" He barely kept himself from cursing, bouncing on one foot while he held his knee. "'M fine!"

"You, sure?"

"Yes."

His mother let out a breath that sounded like she was completely unconvinced, he couldn't blame her, but thankfully went away. And he rested his head on the wall and let his leg fall back down to the floor. Aching.

Shinsou Hitoshi looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Hair an even wilder mess than normal, eyes rimmed with red, and pajamas hanging off his frame in large swaths of cloth and making him look smaller than he actually was. He tentatively picked up his acceptance letter, the paper blotted with water from where it fell in the sink, and thought about just crumpling it up and tossing it in the trash.

He'll admit. He almost did.

But instead Shinsou slammed it onto the countertop and ducked down to wash his face just so he wouldn't have to look at himself.

Hopefully, today would be alright.

Who was he kidding? He always had terrible luck when it came to school.

...

...

He was right. It was shaping up to be a pretty shitty day already.

Shinsou dragged the strap of his bag tighter over his shoulder as he hurried down the near empty transit corridor. The train hit a bump and he nearly stumbled over his own feet. Pointedly keeping his head down as he made his way to a separate car and-

"Hey, it's the mind control guy!"

He hunched his shoulders, face pulling down into a pained scowl. He had been so close too, fingers on the handle of the door and everything.

He was used to this. So he really shouldn't be that surprised. Still, he looked at his reflection in the window, noticing the horrified looks of what other few passengers there were onboard. A mother ushering her child to the furthest corner of the train car, pointedly and uncomfortably refusing to even glance his way. Which did not help his inner turmoil as the boy, someone he hoped he'd seen the last of in middle school, Yuuten Tetsubo, grabbed his shoulder in what would have been friendly if it wasn't for the fact that they weren't friends. Shinsou had time to see himself turn blank faced in his reflection before he was forced to come face to face with him.

"Sorry, but..." Oh, he was probably going to regret this but. "Who are you again?"

He was partly hoping that it would piss him off. Partly hoping it wouldn't.

The delayed response; a fake laugh and a painful squeeze of his shoulder told him he hit somewhere right in the middle.

He's not sure how he felt about that.

"You know your quirk is pretty cool..."

Now, to most, this would seem like a pretty normal conversation. Or a pretty simple way to start one with someone. But Shinsou had had his quirk for a long time now and had been dealing with the unfortunate consequences of having one like it. He had the experience. He knew how this went.

It was only meant to disarm him, throw him off center. A barely held attempt to butter him up or draw him out of his shell. In his younger years, when he was naïve and desperate, sentences like this drew him in like a moth to flame. Falling for it once had been due to his own naivety, a second time would have been to childish hope and thoughts of 'maybe this time will be different', and a third well. Then he'd just be a fool.

Shinsou was not a fool.

"...if I had a quirk like yours it'd be really useful."

It was a sixth sense almost. Feeling the red flags and alarm bells go off in his head with surprising accuracy before the sentence had even gotten close to finishing.

"I mean, just imagine." Yuuten slung his entire arm over him and pulled him to a seat. Shinsou tried to take a polite step away and out of his grasp but Yuuten was stronger than him so it was a lame attempt. All things considered, it was pretty easy to overpower Shinsou.

He was weak in the upper body department.

Now if he had to run however, he thinks he could get pretty far ahead.

He hoped it didn't have to come to that.

"I could basically do anything, you know? Make anyone do anything."

"...And yet it would still be illegal." He deadpans.

Five more stops. He had five more stops until he would be on UA's doorstep and away from Yuuten and his-

His black uniform.

Didn't Yuuten use to claim he was on a one way track into the hero course? Yet he's not even wearing a UA uniform.

Shinsou felt an idea begin to form.

"It would be so easy though." He bumped his shoulder. "Wonder what that lady has in her purse?" Shinsou barely spares her a glance. It's a business woman turned away from them and talking endlessly on a cell about something or other.

"Hey, Yuuten, how do you like my uniform?"

He doesn't answer. Of course he doesn't. He knows better than to respond to him directly. That's why he's been purposely going over the words he says with an air of indifference and nonchalance, as if he's talking to air rather than him. It's not something that would work on stopping Shinsou from using his quirk, so long as he responds he can, it wouldn't even make it harder, not that he tells him that.

He doesn't need to use his quirk.

He just needs him to look.

"See, I always thought I would look better in dark colors, don't you think? But, then again, UA has had this uniform for decades. I suppose it's part of the tradition." Shinsou watches the boy take his appearance in for the first time and feels the arm slacken in shock. "Still it's rather comfortable compared to our old ones. What do you think of it?"

The words are laced with a dangerous, purposely mocking hiss. The questions acting as empty threats but enough to keep Yuuten's mouth shut tight as he finally manages to pry himself out of his grasp.

"Oh," he makes a show of noticing the others uniform, eyes flicking up and down, "I guess you wouldn't know, would you?"

Shinsou fills triumph twist inside as Yuuten's face turns a brilliant shade of deep red- embarrassment and fury clear as day.

He does open his mouth though.

Once he thinks a sufficient amount of time has passed.

The train lurches to a stop. Shinsou glances up at the sign, nervous sweat beading down the side of his face. Relief curling inside.

"Isn't this your stop?"

Shinsou got to watch him leave from the window of the train, the joy palpable at seeing the boy growl and kick rocks as he stomps away. He wasn't going to take this train again. Even if it had a shorter walk to UA.

So long as he didn't have to see Yuuten's face again and could get along quietly in a room full of strangers who didn't know him or his quirk... He would be fine.

Shinsou glanced up at the route sign.

Three stops left.

...

...

Class 1-C, while not a hero course, was also one of the highest level courses for first-year students. It also held students that were most likely to be transferred into heroics or be interested in careers along the same vein. A rather common student found were those with quirks unsuited to the entrance exams practical- Eraserhead himself had been sorted into the class in his first year, for example.

And Midnight, had it not been for the fact that she was a prime example of the advantages of being a recommendations student, would have probably found herself sorted into the class when she was younger as well. The reason why she had requested the position as the classes homeroom teacher when she was first hired. Because she wanted to see students, students that she would've easily been if her life had been a bit different, succeed and actually live fulfilling lives in jobs they actually enjoyed. Considering they had gotten into UA that was all but guaranteed, UA alumni looked out for each other, the alumni community was part of the reason they were such a sought after school.

"When applying for UA, you were asked to list careers you were interested in." She hummed as she walked into the classroom, heels clicking and catching the students attention. "Eighty percent of you wrote hero as your top-choice and, despite the obvious results of the entrance exam, I doubt that's changed. After all, once you start something, you should see it finished." She purred.

Students- her fresh meat- eyed her as her words registered and immediately, even if she hadn't looked over each of their files with a careful eye, she can pick out who's interested in heroics and who isn't.

Eighty percent may seem like a big number but, quite frankly, Kayama is surprised it's not larger. It's rare to have students who list something other than heroics as their top choice, rarer even for her own class, but she always enjoyed a few wildcards.

"If you're still interested in being a hero, then you had best prepare yourselves," she chuckles, "the Sports Festival is one of the best and only opportunities for transfer. Your performance there will dictate your future. Be prepared to work yourself to the bo~ne, because I am not easy."

Ooh~ She has their attention. A particular few stand out to her-

Owatatsumi Ryuujin. Quirk: Scales. Throwable, small projectiles pulled from his skin that could be thrown like knives. Not very good against large robots in the fact that their damage was minimal to, you know, metal.

Kanmon Sango. Quirk: Coral Barrier. Able to produce coral from parts of her body, creating an excellent defensive barrier or something perfect for a battery ram. She'd been just shy a few points of making the heroics department, beaten only because she'd gotten stuck beneath the zero pointer and no one went to help her out.

Sebone Poke. Quirk: Spines. Thin, iron-like spines that hid beneath his skin that he could slide in and out. He'd managed to get rather close to the heroics department but had lost points for tripping up another student.

Combat quirks. Ones that would've been seen in the heroics department if not for a few rolls of the dice falling a bit differently.

Those weren't who she was interested in the most though. No, rather...

Hanzengi Kigen. Quirk: Moodswing. Able to swing the emotions and temperament of a person from one end of the scale to the other. Activated through sustained touch, lasting one minute for every second of touch.

Tobira Koeru. Quirk: Jump Gate. Able to create portals that he could jump through, though they only could extend a few meters; it was perfect for stealth and reconnaissance.

Sansho Hakusho. Quirk: Sneeze. Able to make a person sneeze uncontrollably so long as he was looking at them. A hilarious quirk that would work incredibly well in one on one fights if coupled with combat prowess.

And finally, the golden ticket, Kayama knew her eyes were absolutely gleaming: Shinsou Hitoshi. Quirk: Brainwashing. Self-explanatory, response-based.

But you would be surprised at how many claim a power like brainwashing or mind control and are so far from the truth. To have someone appear, who actually can boast it's abilities- well, she was hardly the only one who would be keeping an eye on the kid. Though it was kept mostly between her and Nezu.

And- ohoho! She eyes him closely, seeing the way his fist clenches and a hard, determined fire lights him. Those were the eyes of someone who had something to prove and she was living for it.

"My name is Kayama Nemuri," she licks her lips, watching a few blush, "and I shall be your teacher."

She expects the usual. Blushing students, miffed students with hurt "sensibilities", offended by her appearance, her R-rated status, those who have a crush on her- which was weird how often that happened, and also gross and confusing because she certainly never had a crush on any of her teachers- and the general hero fangirling and fanboying that would die down after the first week of classes or so.

What she doesn't expect is the way one of her students practically lights up, adoration clear on her face, and the quiet mumble of: "So cool!" She's used to a lot of things from her students. What Kayama isn't used to is the absolute respect that she's somehow managed to gain from one without even lifting a finger- something that, as the R-Rated hero, is in shockingly short supply.

A smile- less saucy and more real- graces her face as she takes in the mutant student with curly pink hair messily tossed over one eye and feels like today is going to be a good day. "Now! Onto orientation, my love~ly students!"

...

...

Halo @halo_official

Midnight. Absolute grace, poise, personality, and sass all rolled into one. She's amazing. Ugh!

Halo @halo_official

@halo'sfuturehusband No. I do not have a crush on Midnight. She's not even in my age range. I just think she's an ~incredible role model~ and, no, that's not sarcasm. Also. Oof. Wrong account that I posted that too. Again.

Halo @halo_official

Welp. Now my fanbase knows one of my deepest secrets. I majorly fangirl over strong and confident women. Really, they don't have to even be heroes, they're just the easiest to talk about because people actually know who they are. Like, I've screamed about MMA fighters before, ya'll just get hung up on the heroes.

Halo @halo_official

Okay, maybe I'll actually make a Midnight stan account just to spite some of ya'll! (┛ಠ_ಠ)┛彡┻━┻

...

...

"-so who'd you expel this year?"

"More like how many."

It's the question of the day. One that comes bi-annually at the least. At the beginning of the year and halfway through it, typically. Those were the most common days that class 1-A students would find themselves judged on whether to be marked for slaughter.

Not that any day was free of Eraserhead's critical eye, those were simply the times where he was given almost complete free reign in his habitual expel-a-thons.

It was like he came out of hibernation just to crush children's dreams.

It was bound to happen. The question was just, how bad was it this time.

The lips thinning and the dull glare to the papers he was looking over, gave away to a break from the norm. Typically, after all, he simply shoved a file or a few ten their way and moved on, not even bothering to remember the names. And Mic, as is often the case when concerning Eraser, was the first to catch on. "None?!"

Kayama whistles. "Wow, this year must be a promising batch. Hey, Eraser, you're supposed to be making room for my students!" She pouts. "I have such a good selection this year too!"

"Why are you disappointed? I thought you hated seeing yours transfer."

"Only because I won't get to whip them into shape anymore." It's a bit hilarious watching Yagi react to her. She thought he'd be used to it by now but no. Her slow drawl and purr of words, emphasis in just the right places to draw up unbidden images, still managed to garner quite the response. Though she couldn't help but feel bad whenever, which was more often than not, it caused him to choke and cough up blood. "I'm being serious though. I have a couple names already in mind for when Shou-ta here decides to inevitably kick someone to the curb."

The glance she sends him prompts him to sigh and rub his eyes. "I have a few on thin ice." He grumbles into his coffee mug. "Attitude problems, mostly."

Ah, but not lacking in potential, which is what would have him throwing them out without hesitation. Attitude problems, however, was a bit of a broad statement. And one that could be concerning for multiple reasons-

Mic frowned and pulled out a pen, already preparing notes that would inevitably find itself into the correct student files. "Anything we should look out for?"

Kayama thinks its a little funny how used to this they all are and how bored Aizawa looks. "Mineta Minoru. Watch if he makes any of the girls uncomfortable, he made a few general comments that I got a bad feeling about." Oh, yes, Kayama would most certainly be keeping an eye on that one then. "If anyone reports harassment, I want to hear about it. Immediately."

Mic notes it down. "Anyone else?"

From there it was like Aizawa was reading from a page of notes. And maybe he was, somehow, in his own head. Kayama wouldn't put it past him.

"Bakugou Katsuki. Personality not unlike his quirk, make sure that it's just his personality and not something else. Todoroki Shouto. Refused to use his fire. If he doesn't figure that out and continues to actively cripple his abilities and endanger himself, then he's out. He has until the end of the Sports Festival." He paused for a second, a deeper frown than his usual finding its way onto his face. "Check for signs of abuse, despite the obvious," obvious being the scar, "or if it's just a result of a falling out with the number two. There could be a problem... with that."

Hardly the first case of abuse the school had discovered but the implication that the number two hero was... well, it was enough to send a shiver up anyone's spine. And it wasn't a result of Todoroki's ice.

"Midoriya Izuku."

Yagi practically exploded with a mouthful of blood. "W-What?"

Aizawa eyed him, unimpressed. "Arrogance, mostly. While his file does state that he was a late bloomer, just because he got his quirk a little later than most is no excuse to not have practiced with it in a safe and controlled environment outside of school. If it wasn't for that stunt he pulled with his finger, he would already be gone."

"S-Surely not so!"

"He's like a four year old who just gained his quirk for the first time-"

Strangely, that seems to have Yagi opening his mouth to say something before a look comes over his face and he closes his mouth, looking depressingly small. Considering he's such a tall man, that's quite the feat.

"-and I do not train toddlers."

Midnight lets out a low whistle before an awkward silence can settle. "All this excitement already~ you've got me trembling in anticipation, Eraser."

He's halfway into his sleeping bag when he looks up at her. "Never say that to me again."

And she completely ignores him. "I'll have you know that I'm going to make sure my class this year isn't easy. Prepare your students for a rough and hard awakening, I'll have some Sports Festival upstarts this year for you!"

The attitude has Yagi more than a little curious. "I-Is there some sort of competition among teachers classes during the Sports Festival?"

"The Sports Festival is one of the ways for students to transfer into the Hero Course! Class 1-C holds most of those most likely to be moved. Since Aizawa and Kan teach 1-A and 1-B..." He gets the point.

"It's not the only way to transfer," Ectoplasm clarifies, shuffling papers from across the room, "just the... easiest? The easiest one. If you perform well in front of thousands, well, the public essentially forces the faculties hand in moving a student up."

Midnight grinned. "It's all about out performing the majority of the Hero Students!"

"Another way would be to be trained by a faculty member and then placed into the Hero Course on a reserved basis. Think apprenticeship. Or to be represented by multiple members of the faculty."

"Oh," Yagi seemed delighted by the prospect, having not known of anyone transferring in when he was in hero course, "you certainly seem rather Plus Ultra about it, Midnight-san!"

"She got a shoutout from the Legendary Halo on Twitter earlier today and has been FIRED UP ever since, yo!"

The conversation just devolves from there as Midnight is offered congratulations that have her beaming with pride. As... controversial as Halo sometimes is, it would be stupid to not realize the sheer popularity behind the artist- getting a shoutout from them, a hero no less, something that Halo rarely spoke about and the majority of the time only after being asked directed questions, was next to impossible and had become a sort of reputation booster in and of itself that many heroes would die for. So far, the only ones mentioned in a good light were Gang Orca, Midnight, a couple American and New Zealand rescue heroes, and that was it.

Everyone else had gotten nothing but indifference or straight up disregard.

The worst- and one that had caused a lot of controversy- was when she outright stated a dislike for someone, as she had done when fans repeatedly bothered her about Endeavor and a couple other small time heroes.

"Endeavor is like a pageant child," she'd growled a little as she'd said it, finally answering the nonstop questions that had been blowing up her chat for days on end, "throwing a fit for not being the most popular. The problem is that a normal brat typically doesn't have a license to throw their weight around for fun and doesn't cause near as much collateral."

That had been a PR nightmare for the Endeavor Agency. One that had nearly caused him to drop to number three, especially after the response he gave to it.

"See what I mean? If a man is so pathetic that he publicly destroys things around him if someone says something bad about him, then I'd hate to see what he's like behind closed doors."

(That had been a lawsuit for Halo for slander. And then everyone was shocked to learn she apparently had a really, really good legal team and had gotten it dropped before it had even gone anywhere.)

An implication which was part of the reason why Aizawa had been especially critical of Todoroki's behavior because he was not so self-involved to realize that he'd been viewing him not as his own person but rather as 'Endeavor's kid' when he'd first applied. In a "oh, not another one"-kind of way that had colored his actions differently. But, when Aizawa had implemented the quirk test, he'd been surprised to realize how... quiet the boy was.

It was worrying that he would've missed it if it wasn't for Mic insisting that he stay up-to-date with the media.

All in all, for Midnight, someone who is often under fire by media and everything in between, it's a vote of confidence and, for once, something good for her reputation that couldn't really be taken away by someone's accusations of something scandalous pointed her way. They were happy for her and a little disappointed that Halo probably didn't know how much it helped ease some of the stress lines on her face.

...

...

It was going well.

It was... actually going well.

A few days in and nobody had asked for his quirk, attempting to measure his worth, and, even though he knew it wouldn't last, it was just so easy to fall into the anonymity. Kayama-sensei hadn't even pointed him out and warned the students away from him like his other teachers had done at his last school and, while a couple of the non-hero teachers that taught courses specific to Gen. Ed. had gone out of their way to avoid him or shut him down if he tried to talk once or twice, they had held their tongues as well. No one...

No one knew.

It was freeing.

Of course, like all good things, it must come to an end.

There's some group assignment in English, one that Mic-sensei had assigned to try and get the students to make more friends, and Shinsou had drifted into a group with a girl with pigtails and a large student with a surprisingly angular face and hair- Chikuchi and Agoyamato. They're deep into the assignment and Shinsou scoots his chair in when a student tries to get past-

Some girl with wild pink hair and a mutation quirk of some kind who has apparently already finished the assignment with her group mates and is now asking Mic-sensei about access to one of the school's music rooms, it doesn't matter and he doesn't care. He just knows that it had Mic-sensei putting one of the students in the front temporarily in-charge for a couple minutes and gesturing for the girl to follow so he can get her to register for... something.

-when Agoyamato asks the damming question.

"Oh, hey, Shinsou-san, what's your quirk anyways?"

Tension rises in his shoulders, nerves bundle in his stomach and, in the nervous habit that he always did whenever he knew things were about to go to shit, he lifted his hand up and rubbed the back of his neck. Resigning himself to the fall from grace once again.

"It's-"

-0-

She is in the kitchen when the front door creaks open, the noise piercing the silence as she looks up from the dinner she's making. She shares a look with their cat, grimace already on her face.

"...he went cycling again, didn't he?"

He only ever did it without telling her when something bad had happened and he needed to clear his head.

She winces as there's a thump of a book being put down, keys jiggling as their tossed down, and the quiet padding of her son as he calmly walks to his room, ever silent-

And slams his door shut hard enough that she can hear things rattle.

She sighs.

"It's happened again, hasn't it?"

The cat simply meows.

Chapter Text

He can't breathe.

Or, rather, he can't find it in himself to take a breath. It's like the inhale is stuck in the back of his throat and, even when he tries to force himself to just not think and focus ahead, it seems to catch and fall into pitiful stuttering's that do nothing but deplete his lungs even further.

Shinsou is overwhelmed.

He catches whispers, quiet but not quiet enough. There's crowds of students, an assembly of assorted onlookers making their way to the cafeteria and all he can think- all he can feel-

Is eyes on him.

Shinsou has never been the type to fall under pressure, in fact he thinks he rather thrives on it and the adrenaline rush that typically comes with it, but this is different. This is borderline suffocating and he can feel paranoia crawl over his skin like spiders. Dark looks and jeers and mutterings of 'villain' and 'monster' and 'look out' that he knows will spread across the school by the end of the week, if they haven't already. Frankly, he had been lucky that the day had ended so quickly yesterday, because he'd been able to grab the first train home and gather his bike and just-

Just ride until his fingers were numb from chilling winds and he was too physically exhausted to really think, even with another sleepless night that doesn't help him today.

Shinsou is an overwhelmed mess of paranoia and anxiety and stress and is just way too tired to be up and about so, when he gets the opportunity, he grabs the handle of the first empty room he sees and runs in, closing the door behind him so he can just-

Just get away.

Only the sideroom he stumbles into isn't quite as empty as he first thought. He nearly breaks a table tripping over a body lying on the floor, crashing into the legs of a desk and twisting just in time for him to fall flat on his back. He grunts, flinching away from where the back of his head cracked into something hard- just enough to hurt and make him curse, "Shit-?!"

"You okay?"

"Wha..." He can't shake the feeling that the voice sounds familiar but he doesn't know where he would've heard it before. "Who...?"

He picks himself up off the floor much slower than he probably should, holding his head as he briefly contemplates just laying there and staring up at the ceiling until they go away. He doesn't.

Shinsou sits up and meets the wide, vacant eyes of a pink haired girl dressed down in the school uniform that he vaguely recognizes, somewhere in the back of his mind, as being from his class. Then, before he can react or say anything- ask why she was laying on the floor, maybe? But, ah, if she knows his quirk, he knows she wouldn't dare to answer- she grabs some papers laid down next to her, thrusts them in his face, says: "Read this." And then lays back down, it's only then that he notices the waded up bag that she's placed under her head, and proceeds to have a seizure.

...Shinsou is-

Very overwhelmed.

-0-

U.A. FILE CLASS 1-C NO. 14

TASATSU MEDAMA

QUIRK: Remembrance; Type: Mutation

Able to recall information with startling accuracy. Applies to both memory and muscle memory and extends beyond a singular life.

Beneath the short description on the front page of the students file- a file that contained nothing more than the requisite medical information and any facilities they'd require for health reasons, in this case; an on-campus area to deal with said issues- there's a small, student photo pinned on.

She's a cute girl, all things considered. Thin as a reed with gangly long limbs and almost no curves to speak of, it had her uniform hanging off of her a bit, as if it didn't quite fit her proportions. A thin nose coupled with thin brows and wide eyes mutated by her quirk- there was no pupil or irises to be found, just white sclera that was on the verge of being haunting- and a secondary mutation that had allowed for a somewhat circular trifecta of horns to sit upon her head like a crown.

There were dark circles around her eyes, it looked like makeup, almost, like liner, facial markings of thin rims of black that painted her face and made her stand out even more, and her curly pink hair was tossed over one eye and scrounged up in a messy bun that must be a monster to manage with all the extra appendages in the way of it.

Kayama doesn't much notice that. Glancing at the page before pulling another student's file out. She'd been going over them all again, now that she had a personality to put to a face.

(She hasn't quite realized the implications of the quirk. The throwaway addition at the end of the short quirk description, it just doesn't really compute- it'd incited momentary confusion but, other than that, nothing.)

The Medama-girl had been the one to look up at her with respect, the other day, and Kayama secretly preens at potentially having the chance to see it again. So long as she didn't blow it. She didn't know what it was but, for some reason, deep in her gut, she feels like Medama's respect is something worth having. And something worth keeping.

She doesn't know why and what exactly it's worth but Kayama isn't about to try and make one of her students dislike her.

...

...

She knows how she must look to her classmates. She's ducked over her notebook, pen twirling in her fingers, and staring at the lyrics and notes she'd already had pre-scrawled across the page. It's in English. So, at least, if someone tried to look at what she was doing, it would be hard for them to read- especially with only a small glance.

She hasn't been very- well. She hasn't been meshing with the other students.

It's not that she doesn't want to, it's just that... Medama has been homeschooling for the last decade, not prepared to pretend to have the emotional maturity of a five year old (which rules out a good amount of early schooling), and it's had the unfortunate effect of killing all her social skills. Oh, she grins and chirps up in conversation, but she can't seem to hang on for the life of her. It doesn't help that she's always hated small talk, especially with strangers. Both in this life and the past.

So, she's probably coming off as an antisocial weirdo. Or rude. There's that too.

Actually, seeing as how they're five minutes into this group project, she's said maybe ten words total and half of that was introductions, and she's very obviously not working with them-? Yeah, definitely, definitely rude.

She can't help it!

Medama feels her eyes begin to burn as she blankly stares at the writing in her notebook. The letters begin to swim as she replays them over in her head and she's forced to blink, breaking the concentration she'd been building, trying not to hum under her breath.

It's just- There's something wrong with the chord progression and it's bothering her.

The song is close to the original. Incredibly damn close. And it wasn't like she was against the idea of changing a song to fit her voice or to sound a bit more pleasing to her own ears, but she'd rather that be done on purpose, rather than because of her own failure to remember it correctly.

The problem with having a quirk based around memory is that her head had to make room for it all somehow and organizing it was her best bet at not being driven completely insane by the sheer load of it. Unfortunately, it also ended up usually taking forever to find what she was looking for anyways so it was a bit of a useless side effect.

"-satsu-san. Tasatsu-san."

She very nearly misses it entirely.

But, from the look on her classmates face, she can tell that he's been saying it for awhile. She barely manages to hide her wince and does her best not to look guilty.

"Are you done sticking your nose in your book or are you actually going to help out?"

Okay. Bit of a callout, that.

She wants to fault him for it- the snooty voice and attitude absolutely grate on her nerves, but she can't help but think 'yeah, that's fair.' The look she receives from the blocky girl partnered with them doesn't help though.

"My bad!" The blonde- a skinny boy with a scar on his face and holes in his ears where earrings would normally be worn- scowled at her harshly and she laughs nervously, though it still somehow manages to come off as semi-confidence, which helps to ease the frown a bit. "I must've gotten stuck in my own head there. What part are we on?"

"Question 8."

Her group mates- Gaiaku and Kanmon, if she remembers correctly- seem completely stumped, so she's not sure how much help she was going to be. After all, she hadn't really been paying much attention and-

Right.

Medama takes one look at the paper, reads the prompt, reads it again. And feels her lips purse. Huh, she forgot that she was in English class.

She turns in the assignment early.

And even has time to finagle Mic into getting her on the student access roster for the schools Music Rooms and Recording Equipment, a lesser known edition to the students focusing on Merchandising but open to pretty much anyone who asked. Really, it only takes mentioning that she was a musician for Mic to rather enthusiastically take her to the scheduling board.

(She'd bumped into a purple haired boy that tickled an old memory from something long ago on the way up. Something she'd never personally read or watched but it's hard to forget even the smallest of things now. Even if she wanted to.

When she and Mic return to the classroom, both are surprised to find that there's an odd tension in the air.)

Her hand twitches over her watch as it vibrates on her wrist, trying to silence it as she listened intensely to Mic's instructions.

Thirty minutes.

...

...

Yamada Hizashi is not an idiot. For many people and his fans, that may come as a surprise, but behind his flamboyant personality, he knew quite a bit. He even had a particularly well-sought after talent-

The ability to read the room.

So, when he returns to his classroom after a student asks about the Music Program, a program that he'd singlehandedly kept afloat within the school even as it dove deeper and more focused on training and heroics, he knew immediately that something was up.

(Admittedly, he probably shouldn't have left. It's only a couple days into the new year and the students are all fresh. He hasn't quite got a good grasp on all the potentially conflicting personalities and leaving in the midst of a group assignment was just asking for someone to step on someone else's toes.

But the Music Program was something he'd fought Nezu for. The Principal was smart, damningly so, but sometimes he seemed to forget that even the small, simpler things in life still held a purpose. Though, maybe that was just to keep Yamada on his toes, now that he thinks about it.

The Principal had always had a thing for mind games.)

The oddly oppressive energy was strange though.

A quick glance told him that the student he'd gone with- Tasatsu Medama -noticed it as well and was just as surprised as him. So it'd definitely happened in the ten minutes he'd been gone.

The frown that lights his face is brief, barely a flicker, before his voice raises and he snaps his fingers to grab the attention of the class- "Hey, hey, hey! Young listeners, what's with the downtrodden looks?! If I didn't know any better, I'd say you weren't enjoying the assignment but that can't possibly be it!"

No answer. A few look like they might say something but are too nervous or hesitant to do so.

Mic carefully doesn't let his grin falter.

"I see the assignment must be harder than I thought!" It shouldn't be. It was a review after all, simpler questions than what was on the entrance exam and everyone in this class had gotten a good enough grade to be allowed into Class 1-C. "That's alright, listeners, I'll go over it! So let's get back to your own desks and hop to it!"

Trying to interrogate them would only make things more difficult, but separating their groups might help.

Them getting up and making their way back to their seats was expected, yes, the speed in which they did it was not, however. And Mic couldn't help but blink in surprise at the only person who hadn't rushed.

It left a purple haired boy in the middle of the room, virtually all alone. He'd started to stand up, but had slowed down as everyone scrambled to their seats- even the girl bound to her wheelchair had quickly maneuvered herself at a pace that was, frankly, pretty impressive- a surprised look on his face. And then it faltered into a frown, biting the inside of his cheek, before pushing his chair out.

It screeched awkwardly against the floor and Mic winced at the noise as his hearing aids picked them up, the noise was grating, but that wasn't even the worst of it. He hid his grimace of second-hand embarrassment as the boy, who looked dead tired, in more ways than one, quietly and quickly picked up his papers and turned to walk back to his seat, slightly fumbling as he walked to his desk-

Mic was only twenty percent sure that someone had stuck a toe out to trip him on his way.

He shared a look with Tasatsu, or at least he thinks he did- it was hard to tell with her eyes the way they were- before she walked to her own seat, a confused look on her face as she sat down. There was still no explanation. And everyone looked pointedly ahead, except for the purple haired boy... Shinsou, if he was remembering correctly, who appeared to be gritting his teeth as he glared down at his notebook.

Mic took a deep breath, and delved into English.

He didn't pay much mind to Medama staring blankly at him for a long moment before she ducked her head and went back to looking over her journal with a fervor of hyperfixation, not quite able to pull her gaze away as Mic asked students to answer questions and the bell rung. Shinsou was the first one out the door that day and Medama was only broken out of her stupor by Mic jovially telling her it was time for her to leave for lunch.

-0-

It's raining.

She leans her head against the cool window of the train ride home, careful to not move or shift as it pulls to a stop and then starts back up again. The train ride is an hour long, and already the sun is beginning to drop low, but that's fine- she doesn't have far to walk.

Dreamily, almost, her foot taps to a beat that only she can hear.

It's not cold enough for her breath to fog up the glass, so her reflection is clear but she pointedly stares past it. She doesn't succeed and her memories are too good for her to ignore it. The pink lashes catch her attention, faded brown mixed towards her skin, a thin pale face stares back and eyes-

She lacks any form of pupil. It's only sclera. White, white eyes that look creepy to even herself. She would close them, but the image wouldn't leave anyway, so she doesn't.

Her wrist watch beeps in warning.

Twenty minutes.

-0-

Kayama hums a tune. It's off-key, but still recognizable.

The few students that do hear it send her grating looks before abruptly double-taking once they realize who it was. She simply smiled, grin growing in volume as she sashayed down the hallway-

There were whispers on the rise. And a fresh rumor mill to discover, even though she was sure Nezu already knew the majority of it. New students meant new personalities and even newer misunderstandings and accusations that were equal parts ridiculous as they were potentially harmful. If there was one thing that you could always trust it was that gossips and eavesdroppers were always in fresh supply.

Something-something Todoroki kid.

So-and-so had a crush on an upperclassman.

Villain quirk in a Gen Ed class.

Something Monoma was acting crazy again.

(They'd all heard from Kan about his Monoma kid already. Multiple times.)

She smirked, filing all that information away for later. It was too widespread to tell what was serious and what was not, what was important or likely to blow over within the week, or if it was likely to cause trouble if left to fester. She's sure they'll know when to get concerned.

Kayama was one of the few teachers that loved to patrol the hallways and one of the few that made sure that they were seen during their assigned times, a different approach compared to other teachers. Like Shouta. Who had taken to using the time to sneak around and test students' abilities to spot him, and was always soundly disappointed when he realized how poor students and, particularly his own students, were at situational awareness whenever they didn't see him. Kayama was different. When her day of the week to patrol came along, she loved to watch students grow silent as she passed before doubling back to surprise them- it was how she often caught students getting into trouble.

She continued the tune as she turned a corner, eyes peeled as she let her gaze wander over the students filtering out for that day's lunch. She keeps a specific look out for her own students, the colorful and flamboyant bunch she had taken under her wing were up and about and already she could spot a few- it had only been the other day that Mic had pulled her aside to discuss a rather curious situation that had happened when he'd left the room unattended, nothing too bad, but he'd told her to keep an eye out for anything strange.

Mentioning a few students in particular, especially the one- Shinsou Hitoshi.

Was it strange that he wasn't at lunch today?

She looked around, trying to catch a glimpse of purple hair in the crowd.

He hadn't seemed odd in Homeroom today, perhaps a bit tense, but there'd been a bored look on his face for the whole time. Completely unbothered and apathetic.

Kayama's humming falters as a hum joins her own. It was abrupt enough that it had her slowing down in step as she tilted her head to listen, it was…

Were they trying to correct her?

As if to prove her point, the humming stopped, so when she tried another note, it was only then that it greeted her again as she changed her tune to meet it before continuing. And as soon as her tune seemed to trail off-tune, it would come back to correct her and- Kayama couldn't help it. She laughed.

It was then that she noticed the grinning pink haired student of hers, looking supremely smug from where she was walking down the hall, a notebook that she had been scribbling in during class under her arm.

"You're funny, kid!"

The girl chuckles and opens her mouth to say something when-

She's interrupted by a beep and the girls eyes shoot wide in surprise as she slaps a hand over her watch, there's a worried crease to her brow and Kayama- Midnight- immediately grows concerned. She thinks she hears a quiet mutter of, "Aa, I forgot to silence it today!" But before she can say anything in response, she's hurrying away as fast as she can- not quite running.

Kayama frowns worriedly after her, before she remembers what it must be, "Oh-! That's right, you were..."

Ten minutes.

...

...

A shuffling of papers. A desk pushed aside.

A quick intake of breath.

She doesn't feel it. There's no real warning from her body. Not this time. Something tells her that it means it's going to be worse than usual. But she's learned to trust the band on her wrist. It was better to. Even when it was sometimes wrong.

A bag is placed on the floor.

Everything is fine.

A beep.

Two minutes.

She takes a deep breath and sits on the floor.

...

...

She taps her leg, waiting.

There's nothing.

Thirty seconds on the clock.

It'll begin counting soon.

She chews on a nail, can't decide between laying down or sitting up. She's been through this process too much to really be scared anymore- though she doesn't think that the small fears would ever go away, but she was nervous. Waiting for the blackout or the cloudy miasma that always seemed endless to take over.

Fifteen seconds.

The door creaked open and she didn't even have time to react before someone stumbled in, breathing slightly strained, and trips over her outstretched legs. Nearly cracking their head against the desk in the room, if not for her reflexive kick shoving the desk out of the way.

Ten seconds.

Silence.

He lays there for a long, especially awkward moment.

Five seconds.

Indigo eyes whip around in shock and meet her own and she-

Doesn't know what to say.

"You okay?"

"Wha...Who-?"

It doesn't matter much. She already knows she's out of time, so she just shoves the papers that she makes sure to always keep close into his chest. Ignoring the soft 'oof' that escapes him, "Read this." And lays back down. Trying to appear composed and unbothered, even by the uncomfortable presence in the room, and the sudden worry she has for how he'll react once she comes back to herself.

At the very least, his eyes looked slightly familiar. Like a boy she hadn't spoken to yet.

One second.

The timer starts.

.

.

.

Chapter Text

She is born knowing who she is and who she was and that’s that.

There’s not much else to say.

There’s no fireworks, no grand introduction, no epic tale. She is just... born. Having previously existed and already knowing who she is. A startling clear memory of death, traumatic and suffocating; an intermediary timeframe of nothingness that can only be described as the void, stuck on the edges of her mind and keeping her awake at night and all she knows is that she once was, knows that she was unmade, and yet, somehow, somehow... here she is again.

Her body is different. The name is new. The world is vaguely familiar, like something out of a book she never read, but it's somehow just as fundamentally hers as the life before was.

And she exists.

At least, she thinks she does. Sometimes it's hard to tell what's real and what's not, what's before and after, but she's been starting to get the hang of it.

Medama is fifteen and she thinks, in another world, she would not have existed. And that everything would have carried on without trouble, because she didn't imagine she was worth much that was good- well, other than, perhaps, bringing some culture to these musically disinclined swines.

(She doesn't mean for it to come out the way that it does but... Really? Really?! How many songs about heroes, good vs evil, and all that jazz can someone take? There was only so much vocabulary and synonyms and rhyming before it got repetitive, even with the odd language comprehension thing happening.

She'd like to say it was a phase, but a phase was a decade at most in the music perspective, a near century was just... too much.)

So, when she, for lack of a better word, woke up for the first time, she didn't exactly know what she was getting into. A world full of superpowers and superheroes and all she could focus on was the shitty oversaturation of the media- and she had thought Disney was bad- she had been more than a little miffed to learn that almost all the songs she grew up with, songs she loved, straight up didn't exist.

Because the people who made them didn't exist.

She is... She is putting her reaction lightly.

Medama had- when she had first realized what had happened, her mind struggling to figure it out, it hadn't really clicked- everything she had lost...

"The computer? Why do you want that? Not searching up anything bad now are you?"

Her mother teased.

She is young, very young, with eyes just like Medama's own but she's all the prettier for it. With long straight pink hair and a coy smile that reminded her, oddly enough, of a predator. 

"Music! Want music!" Medama is three and her words come out slurred and bordering on gibberish. She sometimes forgets that she should be speaking Japanese and, up until this point, she's been still caught in English. "Headphones from dad?"

"You want dad's headphones?"

"Uh-huh."

They were the only pair she could really use. Her father had similar horns to her own, though his were asymmetrical, so, like her, he could only really use headphones that went in the ear- unfortunately, Medama was all too aware of what she was missing out on, unlike him. She missed over the ear headphones... they were just so much better.

"You want me to help?"

"No, I find it-!"

If there was one thing Medama would always be thankful for, it's that her parents, being the young and inexperienced couple that they were, didn't exactly have a good frame of reference for normal children. And she wouldn't call them naïve, but they were incredibly trusting when it came to her saying she was good and didn't need help- it sometimes felt like they had too much faith in her actually and... well, that was neither here nor there.

She had been set up on the computer. Looking up YouTube didn't provide the same results she was used to, and, for a moment, she had tensed, before spotting the curiously familiar play button logo on a website by another name- HeroTube. And felt something tight unclench within her.

A place by another name, but still the place it was meant to be.

Perhaps there was a God or something up there, after all- and they had staunch copyright laws across dimensions and worlds.

(She hoped not. Because, she hadn't realized it yet, not at this point, but she was already preparing to break every single one of them.)

And so she typed in the first song that came to mind.

And found nothing like what she had intended. But that was alright too. She imagined that some titles changed or some lyrics were done a bit differently to get with the times and quirks. That was fine. She'd just look up keywords and phrases, or play around with what was popular in the music feed until she came across something familiar.

She tries it. She tries it all.

And a search bar stares back at her with no helpful results.

She types a name in, frustrated, deletes it, and then types another. The names and words begin to blend into each other as she looks for anything- anything- songs that she hadn't remembered before were suddenly at the forefront of her mind, songs that she didn't like, had outright hated and tried to forget coming to her- nothing. Nothing. Nothing even close.

Beethoven didn't even show up. And neither did an exact equivalent.

The screen shuts off mid-search and she doesn't realize that hours have passed and that her parents have gone to bed already, leaving a plate of food next to her that she hadn't even touched and she's met with-

Her.

Her cheeks are chubby. Her nose is thin and her lips are too. Her hair is curly on her head, cut short and she's soft with babyish features. There's horns on her head. Her eyes are dead, fish-eyed things, rimmed in an unnatural dark shadow of a line.

(Brown hair. Freckles. Amber eyes. That's what she remembers. And her memory is never wrong.)

She's a demon, is her first thought, before rationality can catch up to her. She's a monster masquerading as a little girl. A ghost of someone too young to die but too old to live like this. Her reflection blurs with unshed tears and she feels heat build low in her stomach, something like rage and anguish-

It hadn't clicked.

Not really.

Not before.

This was just the wake up call that she needed.

Tasatsu Medama is a little girl, much younger than what she remembered but quickly catching up to where she was... before she died. She is just another quirky person in a quirk filled world, trying her best to figure out what she's doing and knowing that she's unlikely to.

Does anyone know what they're doing?

(She was a month old and it was horrifying. She was supposed to be sixteen and it's terrible.

She was a year old and, when her birthday came around, she realized that the date was wrong. Because this is the day she died. It's- It's supposed to be the other way around.

She feels sick.)

There's memories there, a punch of reflexes and half finished thoughts from a teen girl whose internal clock had stopped far before it's time, and she's one of many children that awaken their so-called quirks. She’s refurbished but she’s still herself and, if anything, she thinks she always knew that she wasn't quite right- she just hadn't been able to quite comprehend it up until that point. A young mind can only handle so much and trauma was a powerful thing. There's nothing but brutally clear images all the way up until the end, and an endless amount of running thoughts and untouched songs on her lips and fingers. 

Because, even if she has nothing, she still has her memories.

And those- those can be shared, even if other people don’t know that's what she’s doing.

Medama pretends it isn't heavy on her shoulders. Pretends that there's not some deep- irrational, really- offense that her entire world is forgotten, to all but her. She doesn't exactly have a leg to stand on with that though.

After all, she can't even prove it existed in the first place.

(Is she a thief- for stealing from someone who cannot be proven to be real? Is she a liar for claiming them as her own, even when she knows that it is only her voice that is truly ever hers? Is she wrong for wanting to share- scream- cry- sing- a thousand voices, a thousand poems and songs, of people who would never be heard otherwise?

She takes the silence as permission but not as forgiveness.

Then again, she doesn't apologize either.)

-0-

The cafeteria is an incredibly open space. With long tables and smaller ones along the edges, it extends all the way to groups of benches situated outside and grass space if anyone wanted to sit there. Which a good few already were. There’s even more space that he can’t see, as students are mostly free to wander so long as they stay on the grounds, but Shinsou finds himself on one of the smaller, indoor tables- it’s small, circular, and tucked into a corner behind a wall with a bunch of potted plants setup on top. He’s ducked low, hunched over his tray, trying to ignore the side eyes and stares and the snickering and suspicion that boils and--

He just desperately tries to eat his lunch in peace.

Soon, he would be old news. Soon there would be less stares and rumors.

He tried not to remind himself that, after the rumors, came the worst part.

The requests.

Can you get the teacher to change my grade?

Hey, there’s this upperclassman that always turns me down, think you can help with it?

How bout you... convince him to turn over his wallet, kid?

It came from everyone. From teachers to students to even their families and it always made bile rise to his throat as sickening voices tried to manipulate him or convince him of things that he would never want to do in a million years. He has been asked to do horrible, horrible things. And he knew that, had he been another person, just what a monster he could have been.

(Hitoshi is a master of control. It’s an intrinsic part of his character, of his quirk and genetics; he can feel a connection. A sort of pulsating wave that washed over everything, just waiting to drown those within his grasp beneath the deluge.

That amount of control over someone, it was-

He had never experienced it himself. Probably never would.

But, in some ways, he understood the fear. After all, what kind of puppet master would he be without his puppets? The thought was a bit incomprehensible.

It’s why he could never understand the people who tried to take advantage of him, even on a basic level. There’s a disconnect, a suspended disbelief, and it’s kind of like watching a car crash in motion- because, how could they not comprehend the horror? Of being unable to control yourself, your most basic of whims? There is no option to fight, to flee, or even cry, there is only entrapment and an instruction that will only ever be comprehended after the fact.

“It’s called having empathy.” His father would muse and Hitoshi would look up at him and tilt his head. “You don’t see it as often nowadays- people seem to forget that, just because a hero saves the day, that doesn’t mean there’s not another.”

“What?”

He had asked. The question fell from his lips without fear, for once, even if the tone was flat.

His father had simply smiled and answered without a hint of anger or distrust, something that would mean more to Hitoshi than anything else in the world, “Heroes just make sure that the danger doesn’t come back. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t still problems. Think of it in terms of medicine- just because you’ve eliminated the cause, that doesn’t mean you’re free of all the symptoms. A cancer... it doesn’t just go away overnight.”

“Is that where you come in?”

“Yes, after all, we doctors are here too.”

It’s worse, Hitoshi thinks, because strength- Will- that had nothing to do with it. There is no fighting back, or independence. And helplessness... that was something to be afraid of.)

Instead, Shinsou Hitoshi just feels embarrassment pool in his gut when students take a look at his empty table- the look in their eyes is one of pity, mixed with an amusement and he could practically hear the thought of ‘loser’ being sent his way- thankfully, they don’t actually say anything. They just raise one brow before walking off and Shinsou curses his own stupidity because, of course, he would draw eyes sitting all alone like he is. 

(On the outside, he is calm. Unabashedly unashamed and his apathetic gaze cuts through the onlookers.)

He should’ve just found somewhere hidden outside and admitted defeat. The roof, maybe, or even one of the trees outside-

Shinsou nearly jumps out of his skin as a tray clatters onto the table across from him.

“The lines here are so long,” a familiar voice complains, “I don’t even know how you got to the front before me. I was even rushing too!”

(People had switched lines to avoid him. Not all of them. But a big enough chunk.

He should’ve just brought his own lunch today.)

He looks up and- oh, his eyes are wide and he must look absolutely boggled as he stares- catches sight of curly pink hair that falls in a mess over one eye, segmented horns that looked oddly similar to a halo if you tilted your head and squinted, and the girl that was already taking a seat across from him.

“Uh.”

“We didn’t really get the chance to talk the other day,” she laughs a little as she scratches the side of her face, as if nervous, “sorry about that, by the way, it was a really bad first impression on my part, wasn’t it? I wasn’t expecting anyone to stumble into that room. Other students aren’t really supposed to be there, it’s for privacy, you know?”

Something inside him winces and something inside of him huffs. What- is he gonna get a lecture now? It- It doesn’t matter. He shakes his head and looks down at his food, “I... wasn’t aware of there being any rules.”

She waves him off. Which is a bit unexpected. “You’re fine. Not like it’s the end of the world or anything. You know, you handled it really well, all things considered,” she quirks him a grin, and he can’t help but feel more and more confusion bubbling up inside him as the conversation continues. “Most people end up freaking out or even calling for an ambulance but... Well, I have instructions on me for a reason, you’d be surprised at how many people ignore them though. It really screws with me.” Shinsou is a bit taken aback by the rambling, it’s coupled with the fact that she’s very expressive as well, her hands waving along with her movements and... he’s watching them as they get dangerously close to knocking over her water and-

He can’t actually take it. He reaches over and slowly grabs the water and places it out of her immediate range, causing her to blink in surprise.

“-Oh! Thanks, my bad. Anyways... Even though I could tell you were super panicking, you did exactly what you were supposed to. So, thanks. For that.”

Shinsou... Shinsou stares.

He’s squinting and, hell, he hasn’t even gotten her name yet. There’s also the added fact that it doesn’t seem like she’s planning on stopping her chatter. She’s unbothered by the way his eyes flit across her face and search calculatingly over her, as if assessing her threat levels, and she takes a quick bite of food- barely pausing to swallow before she’s talking again- he’s got a bit of a dead eyed look, she notes. One that makes him look much more tired than before and would probably be pretty intimidating if he didn’t have a spoonful of peas halfway raised to his mouth, lips still slightly parted from where he’d been going in to take a bite.

“You’re...” He hesitates, like he’s unsure of how to respond and, hey, maybe he is. “Welcome...”

“Shinsou, right?”

He nods.

“I remember you from class introductions! I’m Medama.” She pauses. “Well, Tasatsu Medama but, please, call me Medama.” She says it in a slightly suffering tone of voice, like she’s used to asking people and having them do the opposite. She understood why, of course, but she much preferred being called by her name versus her family name. It was uncomfortable and impersonal- though, she supposes that’s why people called each other by their family name in the first place. “Sorry, if you’re, like, waiting on someone to join you over here by the way. I couldn’t help but-”

It doesn’t make any sense.

Shinsou frowns, only half listening to her rambling, and casts her a suspicious glance. It’s only further reinforced by him noticing the weird glances they get and the whispered conversations caused by the very rumors that had pushed him to run into her in the first place. “What the hell are you doing?” It’s rude. Snappy, and asked before he can really stop himself; his mouth slams shut, teeth clicking and rattling from the force of them coming together so suddenly.

“What do you mean?”

It’s a genuine question. Confused and innocent.

A flag raises in his head.

...She doesn’t know.

Because, if she did, she wouldn’t have answered.

He sucks in a deep breath and subsequently chokes as something goes down the wrong pipe.

“Shinsou? You okay?” 

Genuine concern, not a hint of a lie in her voice. He wheezes a bit, eyes watering. “Is this a joke? Didn’t anyone tell you to beware- or tell you that I was dangerous-?”

“Do you need water? You can take mine, I haven’t had any of it yet.”

...Shinsou thinks he’s being ignored.

“Are you stupid?”

She snorts, “I like to think of myself as pretty smart, actually.” And doesn’t sound offended, though, at this point, he wouldn’t have blamed her. He notes that she still hasn't hesitated to answer. “Now, do you want my water or not?”

He coughs.

“...Sure.”

And weakly takes the water away from her and, for the first time, there’s quiet between them as Medama actually takes the chance to eat, looking down at her food. He sips, eyeing the people behind her, at the very least it seems like the majority of onlookers had finally lost interest in them and were going back to their own conversations and no longer were there anymore pitying looks sent his way. One-sidedly, it was awkward.

“I- Sorry.”

“Huh? For what?”

Well, he wasn’t just going to say that he’d been acting like a paranoid jerk. “I was rude there. Sorry.” He knows he doesn’t exactly sound like he’s actually sorry but Medama seems to take him at his word, shrugging. “Thanks for the water.”

“To be honest, I didn’t even really notice. And no problem.”

He supposes it was nice to figure out that there’s someone who hadn’t heard of him and his quirk. It was actually- a pretty comforting thought. To know that the rumors and gossip mill wasn’t anywhere near as bad as he’d first thought. It had something easing in his shoulders. Maybe... Maybe UA wouldn’t be anywhere near as bad as previous years.

(Shinsou wasn’t holding out hope but it was something, at least.)

And he imagined that Medama would soon hear everything, especially now that she’s gone out of her way to approach him, but it’ll be nice while it lasts.

-0-

Halo’s voice crackles to life over the phone.

She’s giggling as she reads through comments. “-I met a really nice guy today. Well, nice sometimes. He was kind of an asshole for a bit there at first, asked me if I was stupid, you know? But ah- it seemed like he had his reasons.” The chat blows up a bit. “He was pretty cool. I think I’m gonna try and be his friend. He’s got all these unsavory rumors around him-”

She laughs at something that pops up in chat.

“Yes, yes. I like exclusively bad boys.” It’s clearly a joke. “Seriously though, it just seems like he’s got a bad rep ‘cause of his quirk, he seems like a pretty chill dude. I mean, he dealt with my awkward rambling pretty well...”

A pause as she reads her chat.

“Oh gosh, I’m actually really awkward irl, guys. You don’t even know.”

Shinsou is asleep. For once. His headphones had fallen off and he was curled up against the side of his bed, still stuck in exercising clothes from attempting to train. He didn’t know how to- not really- but he was trying his best. Exhausting himself to the point that, even with his insomnia, he was knocked out in an incredibly awkward position that would hurt him when he woke up. He was drooling slightly, mouth hanging up, and a cat curled up in his lap. A blanket had been draped over him.

Had he been awake, perhaps he would’ve thought the situation had sounded familiar, but, even then, he wouldn’t have made the connection.

-0-

Shinsou’s neck hurts.

His entire back aches actually. It's what he gets for falling asleep sitting up on the floor.

He's making good on his thoughts from yesterday- trying to find a hidden place to eat lunch and avoid prying eyes at the same time. He'd gotten all sorts of weird looks that day in homeroom. Enough so that Kayama-sensei had started picking up on them and had even called a few students out for staring and not paying attention to the board. It was an awkward feeling. Being gawked at like some sort of poisonous rare kind of animal or a particularly disgusting one that people were preparing to poke with a stick.

His steps are careful and measured, his face wiped of emotion, except, perhaps, tired; a younger him would've been stomping angrily, upset and puffed up with frustration. But he knew how that would end from experience- accusations of villain and maybe even a suspension, all because he was supposedly 'up to no good' for having emotions.

Today has been a bad day.

But whatever.

It's lunchtime. He'd probably have to try out a couple other places, to get some variety, but Shinsou eventually finds a space outside, an old bench slightly hidden under the trees and-

"Shinsou!"

It's Medama.

His lips pull up in something, not quite a sneer. And he watches her approach-

"You know, you're pretty fast." She raises a brow at him. "You cool?"

He doesn't answer. Doesn't want her to get any ammunition.

Both pink eyebrows are up now, "Ooh- Kay. I'm gonna take that as a probably not. Is it cool if I hang out with you?"

He gives her a flat look.

"Um. You... can talk to me... you know?"

"Oh, thank you for your permission." Sarcasm rolls off his tongue with ease and he rolls his eyes. "How kind."

Medama seems brutally unaffected. 

"You're welcome."

It's enough to give him pause.

...Is she fucking with him?

"Take it that it's been a bad day?"

Some of his old classmates had found him on his commute again, not Yuuten but that didn't matter, they had chased him all the way to his stop and if it wasn't for the many, many times similar situations like it had cropped up before that resulted in him having rather stellar cardio and stamina- well, Shinsou wouldn't have been surprised to be coming to school with his belongings destroyed. So, yes. It has not been great. And Shinsou felt his eyes twitch and he opened his mouth- probably to say something offensive and overtly ruthless that he would feel guilty about later- 

(Perhaps about her eyes? She covered one of them with her hair. It must be a sensitive topic, especially considering how she keeps her head slightly down, as if trying to avoid looking people in the eye.

Or maybe about the fact that she had no friends in the class? That she didn't pay attention. That writing in her little notebook all the time made her look like some creepy stalker writing in their diary the whole day. Or how her mutated horns-

Well.

Probably not for the best.

Shinsou has experience in finding things that bother people. It comes a bit with having a silver-tongue... and being a teenager. And yes, those would all probably goad a response or silence, but that didn't exactly matter.)

-instead, Shinsou deflates like a depressed balloon.

"What the hell do you want, Me-da-ma."

He draws her name out, trying to hide his discomfort. He half expects, half wants, her to not answer. It's phrased like a question after all, even if his tone isn't indicative of one.

"Well, Shin-sou," this little shit, "I was wondering if I could sit with you today?"

"...Why?"

This time it is a question. Bland and unassuming, sure, and he wonders if it'll tip her off-

"Who else would I sit with?"

He wants to say 'with literally anyone else in their class' but he also knows that Medama probably doesn't actually know anyone else in their class.  It's not very hard to figure out. He hadn't meant to observe- not really- but it was hard to not pay attention to her after yesterday. He'd been waiting for someone to call her out, to point at him and accuse him, or for her face to turn to fear or horror or whatever it was that people normally expressed when learning his quirk. 

Except no one had said anything to her from what he'd seen. Sure, a few had given her nervous looks, but other than that-? Her nose was stuck in her book.

"You do know about my quirk, don't you?"

"What would your quirk have to do with anything?"

So that's a confirmed no then.

"Are we gonna sit and eat or are you going to tell me to go away? Because we're fifteen minutes into lunch already."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

He wonders how long this charade will last. When someone will tell her his quirk and she'll turn her back on him in some way or another- he only hopes that she'll be a disinterested one, she seems like the type. Head in the clouds. 

He eats his food, one leg bent over his knee so his tray can rest on it without tipping over. Medama just straight up sits in the grass, uncaring of grass stains mucking up her stockings and skirt, and sets her tray on the space next to him. Shinsou looks over his shoulder, watching as students file around and find their seats, a few completely ignoring the cafeteria to hang out, and- because they're out of sight of the majority- they're both left unbothered. Hell, he doesn't even see any glances sent their way.

It's a relaxing notion.

They eat in quiet from then on.

...

...

"-I feel like he's waiting to rip my head off. No, no, no. Not literally." An airy chuckle fills his earphones. "I feel like he's planning on dragging me through the mud with words. You know, 'cause he thinks I'm gonna rag on him or something? But he doesn't cause there's no real reason to and it's hilarious...! He's all pent up about it."

"Anyways, onto this week's sponsor-"

...

...

"Me-da-ma."

"Shin-sou!"

The drawled, overemphasized on syllables has Medama beaming with a slightly wild looking grin.

Shinsou's brow raises, "You... look like your days been going better than mine?" He's not angry like he had been yesterday. Just... tired. Even more so than usual.

"So you know how I'm apart of the school's Music Club-"

"There's... a Music Club...?"

"Yeah. It's run by Mic-sensei for the most part. But he's usually busy so it's mostly just free reign of the music and recording studio in the Business and Management building."

"If he's so busy, how can he manage a club-"

"He works with the non-hero instructors."

Aah. That makes sense.

The 'non-hero' instructors at UA were all well-vetted civilians that typically came from one of UA's forgotten classes. Alumni.

(If Medama was being honest with herself, she thinks that's partially why the campus is so competitive between departments. Especially with Gen-Ed, 1-A and B, and so on. It seemed like the few Gen-Ed teachers they had were all... pretty hostile towards their hero counterparts.

It just seemed like a lot of unhealthy bitterness.

Kinda made for a toxic environment. She wonders if Nezu does it on purpose- the chimera, for lack of a better word, was one of the few things she'd been interested in when she remembers the vague world of Boku no Hero Academia. The only character she'd really paid attention to.

...She'd thought he was adorable. 

The maniacal, grudge against humans, only really added to that fact, in her opinion. She thinks he might like the chaos. Or that he might be treating it like a game.)

Because, even if this was a Hero School, there were plenty of Heroes uninterested in teaching as a secondary degree. 

It was rather pressed upon newly graduating heroes that they look into higher education after graduation. After all, one never knew when they would gain a career ending injury or be unable to work while recovering from one.

(For example, Fat Gum was apparently a Nutritionist on the side. Sir Nighteye was a Statistician. Endeavor did something with Business. Gang Orca had a professional degree in Child Care.

A lot of heroes held a secondary degree, typically one that, in some way, helped their hero career and would blend into their personal work nicely. Or in Aizawa and Kayama's cases, worked with their hours, seeing as they were typically working at night.)

"I-!" Medama grins and Shinsou would almost describe it as wicked. "Have received a private room. All to myself~" She pauses. "Well. For two hours after school everyday, but still."

"Impressive."

His words come out flat.

He's just trying to eat his food, only half paying attention to what she's saying. Perhaps- maybe- a little bit jealous that it seems like she's having a much better experience at UA so far than he is.

She grins in what seems like pride. "Oh yeah. I managed to beat out all the competition, you know-" Shinsou takes a sip of water. "-and it helps that I'm the only member of the club!" And chokes on it.

"Y-You did that on-" He coughs. "-purpose!"

"I did. I totally did."

She doesn't seem even slightly apologetic as she hands him a napkin.

"You're the only one. In a club."

"...It's very productive."

"Don't there have to be at least three people to keep a club running?"

"I don't know. I’m not a club expert-”

Shinsou bites his tongue to keep from pointing out that she was supposedly supposed to be in one.

“Besides, UA is already so weird. And it's not like many people use the recording and music studio anyways so they're probably just trying to get their money's worth." It was better than having to avoid stepping on people's toes. Having the modern equipment to use and basically all the freedom she wanted was great, it was made even better by the fact that teachers rarely came to double-check on her, which seemed like them just being lazy but she'd take what she can get. "I don't think there's anyone I could ask to join anyways, I don't really know anyone. Unless...?"

"No."

He didn't even need to think about it.

"Hm. Too bad. You have a nice baritone."

He blinks.

"What."

"Mm."

She can’t respond at first because she’s already taking a bite of food and her mouth is full. So there's a pause before she says: “You’d be a good public speaker.”

Where did that come from?

“...That an insult?”

“No?”

The honest confusion on her face must’ve shown through because he doesn't question her.

“Oh.”

She's telling the truth.

Medama loves the voice as a concept; loves listening to it, seeing how they vary, seeing what people can do with it, what accents and languages have formed- and Shinsou's voice is one that definitely stands out. In an odd but... New. Kind of way.

It's tired and modulated, with little to no influx of emotion and comes off as scarily apathetic most of the time. Questions don't sound like questions, for example, they sound like statements; rhetorical. It’s definitely a talent he’s practiced with, something learned and not- something that just is. It’s forced in a way that tells her that he has to remind himself to do it sometimes, that, in other moments, it’s as easy as breathing- and she takes a deep interest in how it seems to get hard on him to maintain it whenever she catches him off guard. 

Something tells her that he’s not used to people being genuine with him.

(He’s not.

Always... something.

Shinsou can spot a lie a mile away.)

It’s like he’s waiting for a threat of some kind or some red flag to go off so he can say something biting and be done with her. He’s defensive. And she wonders why he doesn’t just do it anyway.

The bell for lunch calls an end to their little meeting. And she hopes that he doesn’t really decide to be rid of her- she wouldn’t hold it against him but she certainly wouldn’t be happy about it either- because, truth be told, she does actually want to be friends with him. And not just because of vague memories and a slight familiarity that she hadn’t felt in a long, long time-

(You would think she’d be afraid of a world and its characters- people, she corrects- that her own original world had written about. She’s not. She doesn’t really care. But it’s the first time that something, anything, has truly connected her back home that wasn’t a result of her own attempts at reclaiming her memories and life. And Medama is a selfish person at heart.)

-his voice is nice.

When he’s not forcing it into a monotony. 

(Though she guesses the deadpan does give way for some excellent comedic delivery.)

It’s a sweet baritone, all things considered. Melodic and oddly alluring in an... she thinks that, perhaps, others wouldn’t notice. But she lived in a world without a hint of quirks or powers or whatever they call it, so she knows what people sounded like before- people without something else- His quirk does something to his voice. Soothing and tranquil; Medama doesn’t actually know if he’s realized it yet, that his quirk is working in tandem with his vocal cords, that it’s producing an enchanting effect that she can’t help but want to listen to.

(He doesn’t know. Not yet.

But that’s not for a while now.)

...

...

Now.

Medama is many things.

But she is not an idiot.

Of course she’s heard the rumors about Shinsou. It wasn’t hard to. She may seem like she doesn’t pay attention but, honestly, that couldn’t be further from the truth.

...Sometimes.

Okay. So she lets down her guard when she gets hyper focused on something but- what of it? 

So, yes, she knows that Shinsou has a Brainwashing or Mind Control quirk. She has to wonder which it actually is because she feels that there is a distinction- Brainwashing seems more, long-term and likely to be easier to break out of, while Mind Control just seems more like a... Well, more like blatant Mind Control. It doesn’t much matter.

Honestly, it seems like all these people forget about the kinds of stuff they can get up to with their own quirks.

That- or they’re just not creative. Because, c’mon-! Some of these people have zero excuse for not being able to make it into the Hero Course. Even with the whole robot thing.

(Which was a shit test, by the way. Not even for the favoritism aspect. Though there was that. More for the fact that robots don’t exactly test a students actual skillset. Have they never played a video game before- it was just a mindless hack-and-slash with possible side-quests!? But she also hated it because of the major funding that had to go into it every year and the fact that, as a hero school, they could probably be spending money on more important shit.

Like charities.

Medama wants to roll her eyes. She’s an influencer. A single voice in a throng of millions and yet, somehow, in a world that’s supposed to eroticize heroism, she’s also breaking records with the amount she donates in a singular year.

And Medama remembers the statistics from her world.

She’s donated shit-all in comparison .)

But it was fairly obvious how full of shit all the rumors were from the get-go. UA wouldn’t allow a person who regularly abused their quirk to get what they wanted into their school, after all.

“Hey, psst- Hey, you-!”

Medama is on her way to the Music Room when a girl from 1-C catches her sleeve. It’s a girl with sharp eyes and pigtails in a, quite frankly, standard Japanese appearance. It’s a frankly refreshing look in all honesty.

Chikuchi Togeike, her mind supplies helpfully, filling in information that she didn’t even know she knew until she needed to remember it.

“Yeah?”

“You’ve been hanging out with that guy- Shinsou, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, he’s-”

“You’ve got to be careful.”

“Um. Yes, well. I’m sure if you-”

“It- It just, it didn’t seem like you’ve heard yet, because you're always writing in your notebook, you know?”

“Actually, I-”

“So I thought I’d warn you-”

“That’s really not-”

“He- He’s a villain! His quirk, it’s Brainwashing. He told me himself. I- I know he’s probably hidden it from you to get on your good side. But he’s-”

“...You really shouldn’t say-”

“He’s a monster in the making! How they let him into this school I’ll never understand...”

“A monster, huh?”

Medama’s expression has flattened an incredible amount during this whole exchange. In part because of just how... earnest Chikuchi is, as if she actually believes every word of what she’s saying.

(Halo’s voice seems tense, tinged with anger. 

“Arrogant and pompous... little brats with no understanding of what evil actually is. Ignorance is just the first step.”

Chikuchi will hear this and nod her head along. Agreeing with every word her favorite musician spouts, as if it isn’t about her- as if she doesn’t remember how she’d warned that pink haired girl in her class away from someone with a quirk that she only barely had an understanding of.)

Medama snatches her arm back. With enough force that Chikuchi stumbles a little at the sudden lack of anything to grip in her hand and looks up to-

She flinches at Medama’s smile. It doesn’t seem happy. But she can’t honestly figure out why. Perhaps because she’s revealed Shinsou’s treachery and Medama is coming to terms with it? Chikuchi only wanted her to be safe after all, it’s what any hero would do, and she puffs up a bit in pride as Medama pauses. Seemingly at a loss for words before the smile doubles in force.

(Halo sighs. “I don’t believe in violence to prove a point. Not really. If you have to use fists to drive something home, you must have a pretty pathetic argument built up in the first place.” She pauses. “But sometimes it just feels great to smack a bitch.”

It garners laughter from the chat.

“I mean, I didn’t. Obviously. But I sure did want to!”)

“Aa, I see. It’s unfortunate then, that I have a habit of ignoring unsolicited advice.” She says the last part with a tiny bit of a sneer before falling back into her perfect, fake smile. It’s what she wears whenever she streams. It helps her keep her chipperness, even when it’s closing in on two in the morning and she just wants to go to sleep for forever. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really do have to be somewhere. Though, I assure you, that I only plan to spend my attention on people I find likable from here on out.”

Chikuchi blinks blankly after her, perhaps trying to translate the words in her head because they clearly haven’t made it all the way through her thick skull as of yet.

Medama sits with Shinsou again the next day.

And smirks, expression smug, when Chikuchi gives her a surprised, then insulted look.

Chapter Text

“...I don’t know if anyone’s even awake anymore. It’s so late- er, early now, I mean.” Her quiet voice whispers into the mic, sounding exhausted and a little scratchy from overuse. The viewer count has gone down pretty far, which is what she’d been expecting, if she was being honest. She’s a little relieved to see that it’s gotten smaller, even if it's not technically a good thing, but she’s nervous and she’d rather there not be a higher chance of people noticing. “I’ll take a poll later on my twitter and see if you all liked the new segment- singing you to sleep- I don’t think I’ll be able to keep it up all the time, I gotta sleep myself sometimes, but it’ll be nice to do every once in a while.”

That said, the chat was still going pretty strong, even if it’d slowed down majorly.

"Anyways, I do have an announcement to make!” Her voice raises a bit back up to it’s normal volume before dying back down. “I- uhm. Lemme see. I got a picture to go with it and-”

Those who had fallen asleep were suddenly shocked awake by what sounded like confetti and streamers being popped. An image jumping up on screen in a fairly crappily put together poster that just had text scrawled across it- it was, frankly, incredibly dorky. Cartoon party effects, tossed together marker, she was pretty sure there was a coffee stain in the corner of the image that they could still see, even though she’d tried to cover it up with a sushi sticker-

“Holy shit. That is way too loud, gosh. Whoops!”

Halo laughs, but it sounds distinctly pained and nervous and she has to cough to try and force it out of her voice. “U-Uhm. So, you can read that, I guess. I’m releasing another album, isn’t that fun? Follow my socials for more information ‘cause I did not expect to get so tired that I- uhhh-” She was used to late nights but a ten hour stream was just murder on her body. Every bone ached and she could practically feel blood clots forming in her legs from lack of use. “-I’ve honestly forgotten... no, that’s a lie, I don’t forget. I just-” She mumbles, muffled noises that sound like she’s talking to herself, and it has the chat ‘awwwing’ at the noise. Her lips purse a bit at the cutesy reaction and she ignores it. “-half the things I was going to say so I’ll just let you all know through there. I’ve gotta get ready to go to-”

She cuts herself off, realizing the mistake she’d been about to make by saying too much. Ugh. That would’ve been a nightmare in a half. She definitely wasn’t going to do long streams like this unless she had 5-Hour Energy raring to go at every interval.

“Well, I’ve gotta get ready to go. Since it’s morning already. Um. Nice streaming everyone!”

-0-

“There’s something wrong with that girl...”

“Isn’t it obvious? It’s his quirk.”

“What’re you guys even talking about?”

“Villain.”

“Oh, the new one that the news covered-”

“No, at the school.”

“There’s a villain at the school?”

“Well, no. But it’s pretty obvious to anyone with a brain that he’s going to become one. You know, that guy from 1-C they’ve been talking about, but that’s not even the worst part-”

“What’s the worst part?”

“He’s gotta be controlling this girl. She keeps hanging out with him and, well, who would hang out with a villain if not to-”

They fall silent as people pass through the hall, their conversation kept hush-hush. That is, until one of them hisses: “ ...What? ! Has someone told a teacher yet?!”

“Yeah, one of the heroes too, but they just said something about our imaginations running wild. They won’t believe us!”

“So... S-So we gotta get proof, right? We can snap her out of it and-”

“-she can tell them herself!”

...

...

“Aah!”

“Will you watch where you’re going?!”

“B-But I-”

“You’re annoying, Chikuchi. Knock it off!”

Chikuchi sniffs, sticking her nose up in the air as her arms cross over her chest, acting as if she hadn't just been trying to run away from Shinsou. Letting out a terrified sounding scream every time he took a step near that... couldn't have been more obviously fake.

(There was the added fact that Shinsou had to step near. She was blocking the pathway to his seat.)

“Well, it wouldn’t be a problem if he just left!” 

She’s saying this to Shinsou, for the most part. Who really can’t win no matter what he does. Taking the early train to avoid old classmates had, unfortunately, resulted in him getting to class at an earlier time than was typical. An earlier time that meant running into Chikuchi Togeike, who was turning out to be one of his freshest pains' in the asses to deal with.

Shinsou's eyes narrow a bit before he flatly states, “...He has class in twenty minutes.”

“Did you just talk to me?!” Chikuchi shrieks, voice shrill.

Shinsou decides not to mention the fact that he technically could mind control her right now. Whenever he tells people that they have to respond to him in order for him to control them, they always seem to think that it’s only to his questions- and, well, he absolutely implies that and doesn’t go out of his way to correct them but, really, any sound they make after he speaks is pretty fair game.

“You all heard that, didn’t you?!” There’s a loud groan from the blonde, one of the only others in the room, and Shinsou relates to him immensely because the blonde looks way too tired to deal with any of Chikuchi’s shit. “Gaiaku, c’mon! Back me up here, he totally tried to use his quirk on me.”

“Ugh, go talk to Eiga- he’s probably the only one gullible enough to believe you. And that’s probably only because he’s a total gossip-” It has Chikuchi arguing with the blonde- Gaiaku- and Shinsou looks at his seat. So close and yet so far.

...He’s not going to lie, he spaces out quite a bit.

“Ikimaru, you believe me, don’t you-?!”

He only tunes back in when Chikuchi whips around to glare at the only other person in the room- Ikimaru... Hisoo, if Shinsou remembers right, and he only remembers because of how distinct the guy's appearance is. Blue skin, fluffy dark hair, large ears that stuck out from his head and were distinctly bat-like, fangs that stuck out over his lip, and a long tail with feathery bits at the end. Shinsou had no idea what his quirk was supposed to be but he couldn't help but wonder how it tied into his vaguely vampiric appearance-

"Um."

Ikimaru looks like he's about to cry if Shinsou's being honest.

In fact, he looks a little like his soul is trying to escape his body and Shinsou feels that on a spiritual level. Chikuchi glares harder at the waif of a boy, who only sinks deeper and deeper into his seat. "I- I think it's rude-"

Chikuchi looks triumphant.

"-t-to tell him to get out... I mean, he hasn't done an- anything, right?"

Shinsou, who'd just been about to label the guy a complete pushover, feels a smug smirk spread across his face that has Chikuchi huffing at him angrily.

"Hasn't done anything? What about that girl he's possessing- Medama?"

And here he thought his quirk was Brainwashing, not possession.

Still. Shinsou feels himself bristle, "Excuse me?"

Chikuchi is smart to not respond, her face puckered and sour. And Shinsou ignores the wide eyes he gets from Ikimaru and the suspicious, but not quite believing her, look from Gaiaku. Shinsou glares until she responds, which only happens once she deems a suitable enough time has passed for her to answer safely- "I tried to warn her off, you know. Tried to tell her about your villain quirk-"

Shinsou tries not to react to that. Just barely manages to hide the pained expression that threatens to overtake him, though he can't quite keep his fists from clenching at his sides. 

Well, there goes that.

"-but you must've gotten to her already with your quirk because she refused to listen!"

(Is that why Medama had been complaining about Chikuchi the other day? A part of him dared to dream.)

"I didn't do anything." He sneers.

"Then why would Medama hangout with you-"

He doesn't know. Maybe she is one of those people who want something from him and is trying to act all buddy-buddy, it's the most likely possibility in his mind. Maybe she felt pity for him that would wear off in a day or two. Maybe she really had just completely ignored Chikuchi and just didn't know about his quirk yet. It doesn't matter.

(The part of his brain that Shinsou tentatively labels 'childish hopes and dreams' spoke up with a whisper that was quick to be brutally stomped out 'but we would've noticed if she had been hiding something like that' and ignored.)

“Well, what were her other options?” Chikuchi’s mouth slams shut again. “A harpy with an inferiority complex?”

She forgets that she's not supposed to answer.

“Inferi- I’m going to be a hero, you watch your mouth!”

“Oh, I imagine Class 1-A is just waiting for someone like you to join- I hear every classroom needs a class pet." He grins. "I think a dog would work well for them."

Chikuchi seems taken aback. Though Shinsou couldn’t reasonably understand why, considering what she’s accused him of. “L-L-Like you’re so much better! A villain that’s not even charming, I bet Medama’s only hanging out with you because she feels sorry for...”

“Medama can think for herself, thank you very much.” Both flinch back from each other at the unimpressed voice that comes drawling from the open doorway. The first thing Shinsou is struck by is the fact that she looks even more tired than he does, seemingly physically drooping where she stands, and like walking into the classroom to find them arguing was the last thing she needed. 

(It wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't for the subject being... well, her. As it was, she was forcibly made a part of it the moment Chikuchi name dropped her.)

She yawns, rubbing her eyes. “Also, argue louder. You’re only scaring off all our classmates.”

That’s about when they notice the heads peeking out from behind her and around the edge of the doorway, no one that Shinsou knew the name of but the wide eyed looks they were getting was enough to have his shoulders hunching and him wishing he hadn’t come in early to class today.

Chikuchi puffs up, completely mistranslating her words, “He is scary, isn’t he? So you agree with-”

“...Chi... Whatever your name is. I-” Medama blinks, head bobbing like she was struggling to keep herself from falling asleep standing up. Her hand comes up to wave her off and she slinks towards her seat in disinterest. “Can’t deal with you right now.”

“Deal with me?!”

Medama winced, rubbing her temples. “Yeah.” And simply sits at her desk, burying her face in her arms.

Shinsou takes the chance to get to his own seat, leaving Chikuchi open-mouthed in the middle of the room as he shoves past her. A deeply offended look has made its way onto her face as it quickly turns a humiliated red as people shoot her looks and sneak past to their own seats- what a way to make a morning awkward. Shinsou curses his own part in it.

And he doesn't get much of a chance to interact with Medama anymore after that. Classes start and everyone goes back to focusing on their work- all Shinsou does manage to do is spare a glance in Medama’s direction eventually.

She doesn't meet his gaze back.

Head ducked in her hands, fingers tangled deeply in her hair, and it looked like she was seconds away from falling asleep, pen scratching against paper in that journal that she always carried around and eyes slowly blinking open and closed. As if she wasn’t able to see a single thing.

“-answer this for me, Shinsou?”

Shinsou breaks his gaze away as Mic-sensei calls on him and he stands to answer. Ignoring the looks from the rest of the classroom, looks that he was sure were suspicious and defensive of his voice- watching and waiting for him to slip up so they could accuse him of everything minor and major.

...

....

“We should hangout with more people.”

Shinsou gives her a side glance from across the bench, she’s draped over the back of it. She’s got a tiny red spoon in her mouth, the plastic kind that comes with those premade parfaits, the only thing she’d gotten for lunch- and she’s looking out at all the other people eating lunch as Shinsou picks at his food and turns away.

“Then go find some.” He huffs.

He’d tried not to seem surprised when she’d followed him back to their normal spot, not making a comment on his quirk- even though he knew that she knew what it was now. And he was sure that she knew he did.

“Well, you know anyone cool? I- Don’t really know anyone.” She mumbles. Her energy levels are cut rather obviously in half, especially compared to how she’d been the day before. He’s faintly surprised that she’s not using the time to sleep already. “And I don’t know who’s going to be a... be like Chikuchi.”

He snorts.

Stabs his food.

“...What’s with that reaction?”

“They’ll all be like Chikuchi. And I thought you didn’t know her name.”

“Of course I knew her name. I don’t forget things unless I want to.” Yeah. He didn’t know about that . He rolls his eyes. Shifting away as Medama pulled herself back around, slumping back so she’s actually sitting next to him now, her head resting against the back of the seat. “Hey, what’s up with you-? You’ve been acting weird all day.”

She paused. “...Is it Chikuchi?”’

“No.”

“Then what’s-”

He stabs his food again. Glaring down at it.

“Why are you here?” She doesn’t answer. Of course she doesn’t, he asked a question. She just stares at him blankly, like he was an idiot who couldn’t see what she was up to- “Is this some strange pity thing to you? Or are you going to go find some friends to talk about me behind your back? I’m not going to use my quirk on anyone for you and-”

“Shin-sou.”

She frowns at him.

“Me-da-ma.”

He scowls back.

She doesn’t seem even slightly intimidated by it, just confused as she stares back and opens her mouth- then closes it, brow furrowed and lips pursed before she finally speaks up: “You... do know that I knew what your quirk was from the start... right?”

-0-

Shinsou collapses onto the couch.

And a cat jumps up onto his chest, knocking the breath straight out of him. 

“Espresso-!” He grunts, breath coming out in a short wheeze. “Ge’off!” The aching running through his entire body, just painful enough that he was sure he was going to feel it tomorrow, throbbed a little from the surprising weight leaping onto him. He folds over and Espresso hisses as he loses his footing and is forced to hop off and onto the floor. 

So much for relaxing, he huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to will away the uncomfortable tension in his muscles. His hands still shaking from overwork a bit.

“...stupid, shoulda figured out something better... don’t even know what I’m doing. HeroTube videos don’t teach shit-”

It was the only thing that he could think of.

No gym would accept him once they looked into his quirk. At least not one that was safe for him to go to. And the ones that were anonymous didn’t typically have the best reputation and, even if he ignored that, there wasn’t one anywhere close enough that he could even think about feasibly going in on a regular basis.

That left whatever was close to home. Most of which Shinsou had tried already.

“Espresso-?” His cat meowed loudly at him, and he huffed in return. “C’mon, don’t look so offended. You’re the one that knocked the breath right out of me.” Straight out of his lungs actually, he picked the cat up and ignored the hiss he let out until he could get him in a better position. Espresso was a cat that didn’t exactly mind being man-handled, in fact, Shinsou would be willing to bet he had some sort of superiority complex because he just loved looking down at the word from above. In this case, in the arms of his humans. “Uff, you’ve gotten heavier...! Didn’t know that was possible.”

It didn’t help that Espresso was also an incredibly spoiled cat. A fat ball of white fluff that enjoyed falling asleep on people.

“Mom, can you watch Espresso? I gotta go take a shower.”

He didn’t expect a no. His mom was always trying to get the cats attention and it seemed like she was going to be busy on the computer for awhile yet so- “Sure. Where’s my sweet lil’ bastard man? Espresso~” She cooed and he dropped Espresso straight onto her lap. “Oh, Hitoshi, no one gave you any trouble today, did they?”

He just grunts in response. Not really answering the question which, for his mother, was probably answer enough. That nothing much had changed between now and middle school and- 

“You’ve been giving the cat too many treats!”

“No I haven’t!”

-he bites his tongue, foot tapping on the floor and a nervous energy that he'd been hopping to be rid of running through him. "Hey... mom?"

"Ye'ffh?" She's got her face half planted in the cat, so her voice comes out muffled and Shinsou can't help but swallow. "What's wrong?"

"...Do you... Do you think someone could want to be friends with me- even if they knew what my quirk was and that they wouldn't want to... you know?" 

"Of course." She answers it with an ease that he honestly can't help but envy. That level of confidence was just- beyond him. "The world's full of all kinds of people. You just gotta find the good ones. Why? Did you meet someone-?"

"Nah. Just asking."

"Hmm."

She had his same talent for spotting lies.

"You should invite them somewhere. See how it goes."

He just makes a noncommittal noise, shaking his head. "I'm not going to school to make friends- "

"...Never knew my son was so edgy."

And he flushes red before he can stomp off and hide it.

-0-

"She was with him again today. How long are we going to let this go on?"

"Did you hear- He tried to use his quirk on one of his classmates the other day! Nearly got away with it too but someone stepped in-"

"I can't believe UA has been so irresponsible as to let a villain in! What next?"

"I have a plan. I did a bunch of research on quirks like his the other day, turns out that you can usually snap somebody out of it by, like, pain-"

"-but what if that isn't it?"

"Well, maybe there's a time limit or something? Anyways, we can meet and-"

...

...

"Give me your phone."

Shinsou doesn't even take a full step into the classroom before he's bombarded. Medama looks just as tired as she did yesterday but much more used to it now- or, maybe, she'd just had a bunch of coffee to force herself to stay awake.

"..."

"Shin-sou."

There's snickering from the back of the class and he feels tension rise in his shoulders. It takes all he can to bite his tongue and keep from shoving Medama away, whatever plan they'd thought up probably wasn't a new one and-

"Are you going to or not?"

It's not as if he has much of a choice in the matter. He feels a scowl deepen as he ducks his head, pulling his phone from his pocket and already accustomed to the results.

He doesn't expect to get his phone back. Or, if he does, he doesn't expect to get it back in one piece. It was just how these things went and he's just glad that he'd gotten a warranty this time and-

(He only really has himself to blame. For being so naïve to think that Medama hadn't figured it out already, or that she could possibly be different- especially not after he'd stormed away from her the other day when she'd told him she already knew about his quirk.

It wasn't even fair. He didn't even have a clue what hers was so he couldn't even really defend himself.)

-he blinks sudden spots from his vision as Medama takes a selfie of herself. "Wow. You have flash on? We~ird." And then hands his phone back to him. "I sent a text to my phone so I can add you. Let me get a picture of you at lunch or something.”

He blinked again. Lips parting slightly as Medama hurries back to her seat and he only really has a chance to look down at his phone for a moment and see the profile pic she’d given herself. It’s a simple one. Of her just holding up a peace sign with a grin and sloppily drawn music notes around her head. As far as he can see, there’s nothing wrong with it- or his phone- and he eyes her number with a modicum of trepidation as he takes it in, dimly wondering if it was fake-

Medama’s number has three sixes in a row.

His lips pursed.

That’s bad luck, isn’t it?

He doesn’t get the time to look any further before he’s been shoved forward a bit, “Ooh~ lovely to hear that my students are finally starting to get to know each other!" It looks like Kayama-sensei finally showed up. And, like always, her presence and double entendres causes a whole round of unnecessary snickering and groaning from either half of the class. One side enjoying it and the other annoyed. “But we have a class to start and an excellent subject for today! Dreams for the future! I have assessment tests~!”

This time pretty much everyone groans.

See; the odd thing about Class 1-C was that there was almost constant testing. It varied so completely that it was honestly a little astounding. From personality, morals, and academic tests. It seemed like they were constantly being tested on their values and ethics and Shinsou couldn’t help but find it incredibly strange-

What’s weirder is that Midnight always seemed so excited for it. Giving them all a borderline predator look as they ran through all the papers and she droned on a lesson on art history at the same time in the background.

The exchange is pushed to the back of Shinsou’s mind as more important things are brought up.

...

...

“Dude, Shin-sou. It’s my number.”

He gives her a suspicious look.

Excuse him for being cautious. 

She laughs, scratching the side of her face and he watches her eyes crinkle with a narrowed look. It’s not an uncomfortable or a fake laugh. Just confused. “We’re friends, I just figured I’d give it to you.”

He mocks back, “Are we?” Waiting for the inevitable flinch.

She doesn’t.

“Well, sure. We hangout all the time. Have you not noticed?”

He scowls, giving in to her point. It has been about two weeks and- he shakes his head. “Fine. Friends.”

Medama snorts with laughter. “Why do you gotta say it like that?”

-0-

musicclubonly created the group chat school buds <3

musicclubonly added insomnicat to school buds <3

musicclubonly: I do think we should hang out with more people

insomicat: You can

musicclubonly: Well why not you??? You're cool

insomnicat: You're the only one who thinks that. Leave me alone

musicclubonly: I will if you actually want me to

Read 10:03 pm

musicclubonly: do you want me to

Read 10:54 pm

musicclubonly: shinsou I may not have insomnia like I am assuming you do

musicclubonly: based off the name

musicclubonly: also the eyebags but I felt like that was too much of a callout

musicclubonly: but my sleep schedule is disastrous and I will absolutely stay up for this

musicclubonly: do not challenge me to a no-sleep-off

insomnicat: I would win

musicclubonly: idk I'm pretty bad

insomnicat: if you thought the eyebags were too much of a callout why did you point them out anyway

musicclubonly: uhhhh

musicclubonly: uh

insomnicat: your an idiot

musicclubonly: hey that's rude don't say that

Read 11:14 pm

insomnicat: sorry

Read 11:23 pm

musicclubonly: did you rlly think I didn't know what your quirk was

insomnicat: I don't want to talk about this

musicclubonly: but... rlly tho???

insomnicat: why else would you have stuck around

insomnicat: sorry I didn't realize you were just crazy

musicclubonly: it's not crazy to want to hangout with you dude

musicclubonly: besides you seem like a good guy

musicclubonly: when your not being a jerk

insomnicat: nice

musicclubonly: you have to admit I have a point

Read 11:36 pm

musicclubonly: trust me I've met bad people

musicclubonly: you are not bad

Read 12:24 am

insomnicat: thanks

insomnicat: I guess...

Read 1:54 am

musicclubonly: hey you listen to halo??

insomnicat: don’t most people

musicclubonly: idk bout that

insomnicat: why

musicclubonly: no reason,,, just bored

insomnicat: go to sleep

insomnicat: you don't have insomnia like I do

musicclubonly: I mean yeah

musicclubonly: but then who'd you talk to?

Read 2:13 am

musicclubonly: Shinnnnn-sou?

Unread 2:27 am

musicclubonly: I assume you're asleep,,, Nigggght~

Read 2:52 am

-0-

The early evening air is cool.

“Did you find her?”

“No, I lost her completely! It’s like she up and vanished.”

“She didn’t use her quirk, did she?”

“What even is it...? I don’t think I’ve heard anyone say yet.”

“Ugh, this would be so much easier if we could just tell her that we were trying to help her.”

And a group of UA students in crumpled uniforms and exhausted looking faces appear to be scouring the area, searching for someone. It was an unusual sight. The school had just gotten out and most students would be rushing home at this point, that or in a club but even those had let out already. It was quite rare to see someone up and about, still in uniform. 

A curious group of onlookers watched the students as they huddled together before separating, looking like they were finally on their way back home.

A pink head of curly hair peered out from around the corner of an alley. She eyes the spot where the students had just been with a growing stutter in her heart as she chews on her lip.

She has a ratty old sweatshirt- some of the first Halo merchandise ever created- tossed on over a green skirt and stockings and anyone who looked close enough might’ve realized that the green matched one of the main colors of UA. Instead, no one sees her as she leans against a wall and slides to her feet, a slightly stressed and panicked breath leaving her. “What the hell was that all about...?” She mumbled, squeezing her hands to her face. “Fucking hell. Giving me a heart attack."

It may have seemed strange to any stranger who overheard but anyone who knew her well would’ve just nodded along in understanding- and a distinct lack of actual comprehension.

Medama groans, tugging the sweatshirt tighter over her head, horns barely hidden beneath the hood.

“Not again...”

She only gets up when she's sure that they haven't left behind any stragglers, trying not to think about how they waited for her to leave the school grounds before giving chase. Her breath finally easing from the adrenaline coursing through her veins from the sudden attack.

She'd be better prepared for them next time.

Chapter Text

Her breath is heavy in front of her face.

It hangs in the air, the only warmth- soon to disappear. She can’t help but focus on it. It’s the only thing she can see after all, and it’s the only thing keeping her thoughts from running off, from turning into panicked babblings and desperate pleas- because it's a reminder. That she’s still breathing. Despite the cold settling over her limbs, despite the pain, the nipping, freezing chill of winters air- she’s still alive.

She’s still alive.

She doesn’t mention the pulsating, overwhelming throbbing throughout her body; the pain that beats unendingly, not unlike a heartbeat, and the heat that seems to boil her blood. It’s frostbite, hypothermia; and it feels like a raging fire, one that festers and is unbearable with each passing second. Making it harder and harder to think, to feel anything; other than pressure- she’s still alive. She’s still alive. Her breath is proof, it doesn’t matter that her eyes are getting heavy, that she can’t actually feel her body anymore and that her heartbeat seems to somehow both grow faster and quieter at the same time. 

She can still try. She can still move.

Something rumbles and screeches, her very world seems to collapse around her and she gasps as the pressure increases and, somehow, the biting cold gets worse, even though she hadn’t thought that possible. She wheezes, sucking in a breath that seems to shock her lungs and cause her very body to stutter-

Medama comes back to herself with the sound of rushing water still echoing in her ears.

“Two minutes.”

“Wh- Wha...?"

"Your seizure. It lasted two minutes."

Right.

Right.

She'd nearly forgotten- or gotten as close to forgetting as she could- that she'd heard her watch start beeping in warning. A sudden seizure coming on, surprising her so much that she'd dragged Shinsou along with her despite his protests and asked him to keep count before she'd quite suddenly collapsed on the floor.

She blinks dazedly, suddenly realizing that Shinsou is now leaning over her with barely concealed concern.

"Medama?"

"Y-Yes."

"You just had another seizure."

"Oh? Did I?" She mumbles, feeling a bit lightheaded. Her voice comes out in a slight wheeze. "Was it bad?"

"...It looked like you were just staring. But your eyelids were going crazy. Like- twitchy."

"Aa."

She's suddenly hit by a wave of guilt. A hand coming up to massage her clammy forehead and brush some of her hair from her eyes, her body felt shaky and limp and she was hit by just... waves and waves of tiredness that threatened to keep her laying down on the floor of the empty classroom they'd just barely managed to duck into.

"Sorry, Shin-sou." Her words come out soft and the little pseudo-nickname is drawn out three times longer than it normally is. "Thank you for helping. I know there's probably better ways to spend your lunch."

He squints at her. Head tilting.

Then says, thinly: "Don't worry 'bout it."

She nods, head still swimming.

"You can ask, you know. It's fine."

"..." He opens his mouth, frowns, and then takes her up on the opportunity: "What's wrong with you?"

Medama fucking snorts with laughter.

Shinsou's ears burn red and he rubs the back of his neck.

"Y-You gotta work on your bedside manner-!" She chokes, clutching her stomach as she laughs. "I c-can't breathe, Sh-in-sou!"

"...I'm leaving."

"Wait, no!" She grabs his arm, pulling him back and manages to calm down, cheeks flushed pink and a crooked grin on her face. "I just didn't expect you to be so blunt there."

Though, she supposes she shouldn't have expected anything different.

"It's my quirk. Or at least, part of it is. It's... I suppose you can say it's a symptom." She pointedly ignores how that catches Shinsou's attention and immediately has him turning to her in interest. To be honest, she's surprised it hasn't come up yet. Popping the quirk question... it always seemed like the first thing people asked nowadays, before even asking for a person's name. It was- quite honestly, gross.

(Shinsou had never asked because she never had. He hadn't wanted to breach the topic, afraid that she'd want him to reciprocate.

He doesn't realize that that little act of discretion is one of the main things that pulled her towards him so quickly.

Even now, he doesn't ask.

Just looks at her and waits.)

Medama smiles, trying to stand up. She wobbles on her feet and has to use him as a support but she manages it, and some of the warmth returns to her limbs. "My... quirk is called Remembrance. It's basically an eidetic memory on some kind of steroids."

She sees his eyes glance up to her hair.

Can see the question he doesn't voice.

"The horns are a partial mutation from my dad's side of the family. The eyes from my mom. If that helps. The quirk is a mix of the two's- Astral Projection and Advanced Memory."

"’Astral Projection?’"

She laughs, sounding nervous.

And if Shinsou is seeing things correctly, she looks incredibly tense. "Yes, well, I- uh. So here's the thing. My memory is kind of... too advanced. In that. It's not really only my memory."

Shinsou leans away from her quite suddenly.

There's a sudden alarm and tension and paranoid look on his face that has Medama feeling a little sick to have directed at her.

"...You can see others?"

Aa, shit.

"No! No, nothing like that." She is very quick to dissuade that thought because she can see how his mind is reeling from the notion. And she doesn't point out how it's hypocritical of him to find that, of all things, to be a deal breaker. "I can only see my own." She feels him more than sees him slowly start to relax, the hand she still has on his arm telling her more than enough. "The problem with that is that there's... at least two sets of my own?"

"...Are you asking me or telling me."

She can see the confusion in his eyes and tries to nonchalantly shrug it off.

"The quirk counselors were briefly thinking of calling my quirk Rebirth. You know, since I'm basically a reincarnation or whatever."

She scrambles to keep talking. Ignoring the fact that she's dropped what she knows can be a bombshell on him and is pointedly refusing to look his way as she scratches the side of her face, laughing a little. Nerves suddenly frayed.

"The seizures come from a form of epilepsy. But they're caused 'cause, well, as much as my quirk is a mutation- the human brain is only really adept at handling one person's life and it struggles to keep up, you know? Having all this information stored in my brain, especially in a school with a lot of people and a lot of things happening all at once, it can get really overwhelming and-"

Shinsou is staring at her.

She knows he's staring at her.

He's at a complete loss for words.

"-I mean, seizures aren't even the worst thing I have to deal with. The claustrophobia I got is honestly way, way suckier and I'd rather not even think about that-"

(Shinsou shuffles the fact that she's claustrophobic to the back of his mind. It doesn't seem too important when compared to the fact that she has literally just admitted to being reincarnated-)

"How old are you?"

He blurts, unable to help himself.

"Fifteen."

That's... a year younger than he was.

Medama blinks. "But I know what you're really asking. I was sixteen when I died."

He opens his mouth, closes it, then: "You're thirty-one."

And watches as, for the first time he's met her, that Medama's face morphs into something cold and angry. He would take a step back if her grip on him hadn't gotten a tad painful. "No. That's. Not how it works."

"But-"

"Would you say that sixteen makes you a grown up, Shinsou?"

He winces.

(He doesn't admit it but he can't help but feel an uncomfortable pang when she says his name without the emphasis on syllables.)

"No."

"And was I ever a grown up in either of my lives?"

"...No."

"Then what makes you think I'm a grown up now?"

Math, he doesn't say. But he sees her point. "I... get it, Medama." And his own lack of mocking emphasis seems to be enough to shock her back to herself because she jolts a bit- a thin smile spreading across her face before she nods.

Shinsou shifts from foot to foot.

He doesn't like the sudden turn the conversation has taken, unexpected and yet simultaneously predictable. The subject of quirks always seemed to be a touchy subject when it was brought up around him- he just hadn't guessed that he'd be on the receiving end of it today. "So... it gives you epileptic seizures?"

Medama practically, and thankfully, leaps on the safer aspect of the topic. Which Shinsou didn't think was something he ever would have thought- that seizures would be a safer topic.

"Yeah. They've gotten a bit worse lately. But I think that's because of the overload of information- keeping track of everything in a school of hundreds everyday... it gets kinda crazy, if you can imagine."

He can't, not really.

He's still trying to just comprehend the quirk.

Medama bites her lip, "...Thank you. For coming with me. I know how- creepy and uncomfortable my seizures can get. Especially for someone to watch. And, I guess, thanks for not freaking out over the reincarnation aspect of my quirk..."

He opens his mouth to say something, possibly about how it doesn't really matter to him. Not in the long run. Thoughts whirring and answering questions that he hadn't had an answer to before, but is cut off by a shocked voice from next to them- "Your quirk makes you a reincarnation?! That's so cool!"

It's a boy from their class. One with some sort of technology quirk. He's got wild brown hair and a kind of built-in camera over one of his eyes.

Shinsou immediately notices Medama clam up, her unhidden eye widening as the guy takes an interested couple steps forward, there's a light on his face- it's blinking. And Shinsou grimaces as his gut tells him the obvious; he's recording.

Neither he nor Medama seem particularly jazzed by that revelation.

In fact, Shinsou blinks and has to crane his head around. Medama is hiding behind him.

"What. Are you doing."

It's actually really impressive how much of herself she's managed to cram behind him. Seeing as how she's pretty close to the same height as him but, he supposes, given how she was way skinnier, that it wasn't all that surprising.

Her voice is muffled, "I can't stand cameras."

But what really has him raising a brow is the embarrassed swell of red on her cheeks, the way her eyes squeeze shut, and the way she covers her face with her hands. As if trying to hide. She's actually managing a pretty good job of it considering there’s not exactly hiding places in the middle of the hallway. And Shinsou ignores the slight pressure from her horns getting buried between his shoulder blades, they’re not exactly sharp but they’re strangely cold, and instead tosses a bland look at their fellow student that’s caused her to turn to... hiding.

"I'm Kiroku Eiga! You're the Brainwashing guy, right? I've never met someone with a quirk like that in real life before, it's like you're straight out of a comic book-!" The guy laughs. "Almost like a super villain." The worst part is, it’s not even said tauntingly- it’s said as if he’s pointing out the obvious, just pointing out facts.

(Shinsou's hands clench at his side, nails digging into the palm of his hands and he keeps his gaze perfectly blank.

He is not allowed to glare.

Especially not when there's a camera in his face. He is not allowed to be threatening, intimidating, or even upset- lest someone spread rumors. Or lest someone take it the wrong way.)

"No."

A brief moment of silence.

Shinsou blinks lazily, slowly. He wasn’t the one who spoke.

"Huh?"

The camera on Kiroku’s face focuses forward, peering at where the slightest bit of pink hair peeks out from behind Shinsou's shoulder and the edge of a horn glints in the hallway lighting.

"I said- no." Her voice is muffled, but it's not soft or a whisper. If anything, it's almost too loud, and unshakeable in it's terseness. "He's not like an anything. You're just jumping to conclusions." Medama huffs and Shinsou shivers at the breath near his collar. "And you shouldn't film people without their permission. It's a violation of privacy. And also, pretty sure, low key illegal... given how we’re on private property.”

Kiroku Eiga's human eye, though notably still with robotic aspects to it, blinks once and then his lips press together in a thin line. Not quite a smile. Not quite a frown.

The blinking light turns off.

"I am just cataloging memoirs of my high school life, is that really so bad?"

"Doesn't matter what your intentions are."

Kiroku Eiga's head tilts and he looks like he's about to say something- "Oy, Eiga! Get your ass over here!" It's Gaiaku, peeking into the hall with squinted eyes and a perpetual scowl on his face. "Lunch is almost over, leave those losers alone."

"On my way!"

They wait. Standing in the hall, for the pair of boys to disappear.

"...Is the camera thing a quirk thing too?"

"It's a thing-thing. I've just never enjoyed it."

Maybe it's the fact that Shinsou's heart's still beating incredibly fast from the exchange, that it'd grown even faster when he'd heard Medama speak up, despite using him as a physical shield, but he doesn't call her out on the obvious lie. Isn't even all that bothered by it. Even if it's the most blatant, untruthful thing he'd heard out of her mouth since he'd first met her.

"We should hurry before lunch is ov-"

Too late.

They're interrupted by the bell ringing.

Shinsou tries not to think about how his stomach growls as they're separated by the swarm of students returning to their classrooms. 

…

…

Medama had mentioned wanting to make more friends- meet more people. She and Shinsou had been particularly isolated from their classmates since day one and, yes, that was partially a result of both their own doings-

(Look. They're both socially inept at best. They can't be blamed.)

-but this is not what she had in mind.

"Reincarnation?"

She nods.

For once, unable to find her voice. She knows whatever spills from it will be a lie, and a lie, and more lies.

(Laugh it off, she tells herself. They don't have any idea what they're even saying.)

"Wait, so how old are you-? You're not, like, a creepy adult are you?"

"Oh, so have you like- gone to school before? That means you know all the answers on the tests and stuff right?"

"And you remember everything?"

Kiroku Eiga is a gossip. He's also a rumor-spreader and an overall monger.

And, the worst thing is, she honestly doesn't even think he realizes he's done anything wrong.

(His intention doesn't mean shit. If the results are what they are, she doesn't care what he'd been meaning to do.)

Medama doesn't like to specify her quirk to people. In this way, she understands Shinsou on a level she doesn't think he quite realizes. She doesn't like mentioning the reincarnation bit- and she didn't even know why she'd told him in the first place. She just felt like she could trust him and it was only fair considering how his quirk had been unceremoniously outed before he'd ever even spoken to her.

She'd meant to even the playing ground.

But not in this way.

"Ew. So your like an adult?"

No, she wants to say but they don't give her the chance, I'm the same age as I've always been. One year at a time.

"Can you like legally drink?"

No.

"You must remember everything! That's so cool!"

No. It's not cool.

"Wait, if you remember everything-"

No.

"-then-"

No.

"Do you remember how you died?!"

Her pen snaps cleanly in half.

-0-

(She is not an adult in a child's body.

It is a gross mistake to say so.

The amount of horrible, horrible people who assumed as such- who tried to take advantage of her for some sick, twisted fantasy built in their own head- was a disgusting number. 

It is what has her holding her tongue when asked about her quirk. When the topic is brought up. It's what makes her worry for her body, mind, and every other child she sees because anyone else would have fallen prey- would have fallen victim.)

(She is a new person. Completely her own. She just has... more.

Who's to say that others aren't also like her.

But locked away from those precious- horrible- memories.)

(She opens her mouth and screams and somewhere along the way it turns into singing.

She's just thankful the UA Music Studio is soundproof and hidden under lock and key. The room is automated to signal her with a light whenever someone enters and she quickly uses it to shut up and work on something else whenever someone comes in to check on her.

No one does today.

She's alone.

Somehow that fact isn't as comforting as she would've initially thought.)

...

...

Shinsou is... Very much a stupid teenage boy.

A stupid teenage boy who's first emotion upon seeing Medama surrounded by their classmates and smiling and laughing to the many probing questions is jealousy.

An intense, burning jealousy that has him glaring down at his paper and writing so hard that it gets close to tearing.

He tries to ignore the hunger in his stomach and a bitter part blames her even though he thought that he wouldn't. It's not really her fault, he'd gone along with her willingly after all. But sudden emotion can lead to a lot of strange reactions that, otherwise, wouldn't be seen.

Like him- Completely and utterly jealous.

Of the fact that Medama has gained so much adoration and attention with just a mention of her quirk.

(Or perhaps, and this thought doesn't cross his mind until much, much later in this story and has his cheeks burning red with the realization, because of the sudden lack of attention she's giving him. Will eventually give him- when their classmates steal her away. Back to the 'heroes' so-called side.)

And then he hears her pen snap.

There's ink spilling everywhere and everyone backs away to try and get away.

(The uniforms are expensive and not easily replaced.

Medama doesn't so much as blink at the black liquid staining her entire front.)

And he has to wonder just how much force it takes to destroy a pen, of all things, like that with your bare hands. The answer he finds is simple: A lot.

Shinsou winces slightly at the dull screeches some of the girls let out, a girl with fingers and her face covered in a mishmash of colors is one of the few that simply laugh at the sudden ink covering her before it abruptly changes color on her uniform, and turns back to try catch sight of Medama and-

And then he sees her face.

Suddenly Shinsou doesn't feel so jealous anymore.

"Oh no, someone get Kayama-sensei so we can clean this up!"

"Geez, I wasn't expecting the pen to explode like that."

Medama stares blankly ahead and- Shinsou doesn't know how to describe it but it has him grimacing and something painful coming over him and he can't help but feel ashamed by his initial reaction. She looks absolutely lifeless... it's probably the best description he can come to but that doesn't seem like enough. The mutated circles around her eyes seem to somehow darken and her entire body seems to droop and he can see-

Now that he knows what to look for.

-that there is a notification on that watch she's always wearing.

"Hey," he doesn't want to bring attention to her, at least, not any more. He doesn't think any of the others have seen her expression just yet. "Can you all shut up? Some of us are actually trying to work."

And when Chikuchi cries 'Brainwashing' in that annoying voice of hers, Shinsou is just thankful that he'd been counting on it.

-0-

"You really still want to make friends with people in our class."

"Of course I do!"

Shinsou pinches the bridge of his nose, wondering what kind of idiot Medama is. Hell, he doesn't even know why he picked up the phone. It was the one day a week they had off from school- UA being prestigious as it was but also trying to train one of the most important careers in their society was one of the few schools in the area that had students required to attend six days a week instead of five, the great thing about that was that after school clubs were actually not as big of a thing when compared to other schools, partially the reason why the Music Club was taken exclusively by Medama- and Shinsou had planned on biking and doing what training he could manage.

He'd been planning to run and do push-ups, sit-ups, and whatever other exercises he could find online.

(...No. He was not going to go do the stupid anime thing like go punch a tree and call it 'training'. That did not work in the real world and trees were not good stand-ins for punching bags. Shinsou didn't know why some idiots seemed to think so.

His dad was a doctor.

He's heard all kinds of dumbass stories about kids 'training to be heroes'.)

But then his Mom had asked him to run to the store to get groceries and his Dad was on a day-shift instead of a night-shift for once. So he hadn't been able to do what he wanted just yet.

Shinsou can't keep the skepticism out of his voice, though even then it still came out in a flat, "After what happened?" 

Oh, they were having a sale on milk, that's cool.

"Not everyone was like that!" Still, Medama does falter a bit in her enthusiasm. "Hey, what about that blue boy? The guy that looks like Nightcrawler!"

"Nightcrawler? Is that supposed to be some sort of hero?"

"Uh, something like that. A comic book actually but-"

"Comic book?"

She quickly carries on and Shinsou is quick to forget it. "But he kinda stood up for you with Chikuchi, didn't he? That's at least some good points, right?"

"...I guess. He was a kind of a pushover though."

"So ?" Medama laughed. "I'm not expecting saints here, Shin-sou."

He grunts noncommittally.

"Anyways, are you up to anything?"

"Grocery shopping. Sorry, excuse me." Shinsou politely dodges around a man who was wearing a rare limited-edition Halo merchandise sweatshirt, crouching down to get a good look at some of the canned foods. "Are you sure about this? You know how people react to my quirk... and yours, it looks like. Which I still don't understand."

"I don't know. People are weird. I think they're just curious for the most part- but, you know, in that way where you want to poke something with a stick?" Medama grumbles. "Oh gosh, I just wanted to punch them. Is that too mean?"

"Th-That voice-!"

"Hah?"

Shinsou blinks dully, head tilting to look up at the guy who was staring down at him with wide eyes, having dropped a can of beans on the ground in... shock, it seems.

"Can I help you, sir?" He asks boredly.

"You- You-!"

And then the guy... faints.

Shinsou just-

Stares.  

Because is this really his day today? He just- he doesn't even know what to do. 

"Hey, Medama?"

"Yeah, Shinsou?"

"I'm going to have to call you back."

...

...

Twitter blows up.

To the point that the app actually crashes and all because of one single tweet.

HalosFutureHusband @onlyrealfansplay

I heard her! I heard Halo in real life! She was on the phone with some kid!

And HalosFutureHusband who was not, in fact, her future husband, quickly became assaulted by a number of comments demanding a location and a description of the other person on the phone. It's a testament to Halo's ability to cultivate a fanbase and her attempts at instilling a degree of honor and general politeness that has the fan- someone who believes themselves to be one of her biggest fans of all time- refusing to disclose details.

After all, he thinks his future wife (he's an idiot in a fantasy about a woman he knows nothing about, but at least that's good in this case) will be rather angry with him if he attempts to disrupt her life.

Unfortunately, it does result in less honorable fans attempting to track him- and rather successfully given that he does not have not anywhere near the same protection that Halo had set up- and the world makes a discovery that Halo made a call to someone most likely within the Kanto Prefecture of Japan, given that the man lives in that general location.

The area gains a rather sudden influx in tourism.

(And, unaware of the events, Shinsou redials Medama's number as she watches in a slightly horrified fascination, the way twitter slowly turns in on itself.)

...

...

Medama is laughing, uproarious and loud enough that Shinsou has to hold his phone away from his head. "It's really not that funny."

"It is though! Because of-" She seems to catch herself . "Well, just because. Are all grocery shopping trips as wild as that for you?"

"Hmn."

"Maybe you should take me out sometime." Medama hummed and he couldn't help but feel like it sounded a little familiar but he thinks that may have been because he's just heard it from her before. Even if he couldn't remember a specific time off the top of his head. "I think it'd be fun."

Shinsou, who'd been walking with his bike and the groceries simultaneously on one arm and the phone in the crux of his neck, nearly trips over a crack in the sidewalk. "What?"

"You said something about missing training, right? Because you had to go shopping?"

Shinsou squints but doesn’t call her out on the sudden change of subject.

"Yeah..." He hesitates, mulling over a sudden rush of thoughts and, before he can really stop himself, he mentions it: "The Sports Festival is coming up in a couple months." Maybe two. And it seems both so far away and way too close for comfort. He doesn’t feel even the slightest bit prepared for it.

"I guess you're going to have to really focus on that, huh?"

For some reason, Shinsou thinks she sounds almost disappointed. And he takes the words the wrong way. "You don't think I can do it."

"Well, that's jumping to conclusions." Medama snorts. "You really gotta stop assuming the worst, Shin-sou. I just meant that you’re probably going to be busy.”

He frowns, kicking at the ground. “Gotta train.”

“Well, don’t sound so enthusiastic.” Medama huffs a laugh, sarcasm shining through. “Anything I can help with?”

Shinsou honestly shrugs.

At this point he’s at such a loss on what he can do that his head feels like it’s been screwed on backwards.

“You have a plan, don’t you, Shin-sou?”

His silence is telling.

Shinsou knows that he’s probably sweating right now and his head is slightly bowed, eyes watching his feet as he takes step after step forward. It's not that he wasn't trying, that he wasn't doing anything, but beyond basic exercises that anyone could do, he didn't exactly have a lot of options.

“...You said you were going to go training after you drop off groceries at home, right?”

“Yeah? What about it?”

“Hm. Come meet me at this location.”

There's the telltale vibration of his phone receiving a text message and he briefly glances at the address she’d sent him. It’s not too far away from where he lives. Maybe just a bike ride away if he really pushed it. It's not in a great area though.

“Ominous.”

“Bring your exercise clothes!” Medama all but chirps. “If you’re going to be in the hero course, you’ve gotta look the part! Eheh, and you’ve gotta promise to try and make some friends with me before you transfer, you know? See you in a bit.”

She hangs up. Before Shinsou can point out that he hadn’t actually agreed to anything and that he was a bit dubious about going to any location that she picked out- no, he doesn’t even get a chance to get a word in because he’s- He’s frozen, phone still pressed to his ears and... His face flushes a bright red and he knows that his eyes must be shining a bit and he quickly wipes them on his sleeve.

“Damn it.”

She hadn’t said it as a ‘what-if’. She’d said it like it was inevitable.

Like it was bound to happen.

...

...

“Hitoshi, what’s got you smiling like that?”

“Was I...?”

His mother is shooting him a look with raised brows as she hovers next to the countertop, not literally, she’s just organizing the groceries into groups so she can put each of them away easier. And Shinsou is on his knees by one of the lower cupboards that she always struggles at bending down to and is being offered piece by piece things to put away. He can hear her leg braces squeak a bit as she turns, her Gutter Crutches helping to turn her around- and he tries not to ruin his mood by looking at her legs, the weak and shaky state that they were in and...

“Hitoshi, c’mon, tell me what’s up. You haven’t even taken off your shoes yet.”

“I’m... planning on going somewhere. To meet a-” He searches for the word because he doesn’t really know what to label Medama as. “Acquaintance?”

“Oh, a friend?”

She seems absolutely delighted by the prospect and he rubs the back of his neck with a shrug.

His mother had always been the one in his family to hold out hope that everything would work out in the end. Even so, he just... never could understand the optimism she seemed to try and exude all the time, especially when she failed horribly at keeping the attitude up herself- he hated seeing her depressed but it seemed almost better when compared to seeing her crash and burn every now and then. Like when she was reminded of her injury...

“You want me to call the police if you don’t call me in an hour, right?”

Shinsou snorts, “Of course. What makes you think that rule changed?”

His mother just smiles and he promises to send her the address and Medama’s name beforehand, in case something does happen. He tries not to think of his mother’s enthusiasm and her disappointment when- if this went bad like all the other times he’d tried to meet with friends after school did.

He just hoped that-

Maybe, finally, his hopes were actually founded this time.

Chapter Text

Her efforts are absolutely exhaustive.

Kayama moans and slams her head onto her desk, hair splaying about everywhere. She didn't know what Nezu was thinking- no, that's a lie, he had explained it in nauseating detail when she had first wondered about it- but it was just creating more and more work for her. She had patrol in an hour- where did he think she had time to grade any of these extra so-called assessment tests?!

Ectoplasm gives her a pitying look.

"...too many papers...!" If she had to read one more she was going to go crazy. "What is Nezu thinking-? I know he's a genius but this is too much! Even for me."

All Might- Toshinori Yagi, she reminds herself, it's hard to put a name to the superhero, even if he was in his smaller form- looks genuinely confused. And also a bit worried. Which is nice, she supposes, but she can't help but think 'lucky him, he gets all of the fun stuff'. "Are you alright, Midnight?"

"Just call me Kayama, Toshinori. We're all friends here." She pauses and then adds, tongue sliding along her lip. "And, maybe later, I can have you call me something else..."

Aizawa, who happened to be walking by, swats her over the back of her head with papers he has in his hand. Somehow making it look like an accident. The sly jerk. 

"Nezu assigns Class 1-C an exorbitant amount of extra tests. Assessment tests." She seethes. The worst kind. "At some point they just start becoming moot because the students start getting bored of them and they start recognizing the types of questions being asked and half-assing it by just re-answering it the same way they did before and not putting any new thoughts down."

It'd be better if they were at least more sporadic but Nezu had a habit of coming off as heavy handed, especially when it involved students and testing, because he was trying to see who got lazy first and who kept going strong.

Not very many were.

Shinsou. Gaiaku. Hanzengi. Umino. Ikimaru. They at least tried to mix it up. But there were only so many ways you could say what basically amounted to the same things over and over again.

"What's... on the tests?"

"What do you want to be when you grow up? What would you do in so-and-so situation? What is your opinion on this law? The trolley problem." She rubbed at her temples, headache forming just thinking about it. "He overcomplicates it, simplifies it, rephrases it to see if their answers change but it basically boils down to the same thing over and over again."

The most frustrating thing is, it also functions as an incredible morality, personality, and 'how students handle pressure' test. And she can't even really, truly fault him for it. 

It's how they pick out who has the qualities of a hero and who does not.

Or, at least, how Nezu does.

Everybody else just treats it as a 'what to expect when dealing with x student' and, only in a rare few cases, has it ever completely cut someone off from the hero course. Because they really didn't want to transfer in any particularly... crazy students.

(They had one student who was likely a budding serial killer several years back that had wanted to use the hero business as a cover. Yikes. It was a situation that none of them wanted to deal with again.)

"Is that not good?"

Toshinori still seemed confused.

Kayama pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's good. It's just... near constant."

Honestly, at this point, she wouldn't be shocked to find her students popping up every other week with visits to Recovery Girl. She'd be seeing a lot of fake stomach aches and very real hand cramps. Not that she would blame any of them, even for lying. But still- Ugh, she wants to check out for the day. At least in terms of paperwork.

“...Anyone looking good?”

Kayama almost answers, she almost does. Instead, she... actually doesn’t want to say. Because that’s Vlad asking the question. And as much as she respected him as a teacher and a hero she doesn’t want to bring it up because his... competitiveness often gets the better of him. It’s something that spreads to his students and makes them see Class 1-A as a threat, and it’s a trait that leads him to viewing anyone else as competition.

She bites her tongue, eyes sliding suspiciously over to him.

(She could say Shinsou, who’s so passionate it seems to exude from him, who seems desperate for a direction and any clue on what to do. She could say Hanzengi whose intelligence precedes himself. Gaiaku who wants to become a hero medic despite his punk appearance. She could say just about any of her students is qualified in some way or another.)

And, when he views her students as competition, he’ll give his students time to prep.

Oh, he won’t make it obvious that it’s a heads up, but she wouldn’t be surprised if there were suddenly lessons on mental quirks or non-physical quirks or the 1-B students suddenly knowing how to deal with quirks that are strangely similar to her current students.

So... she meets him halfway, and mentions a student who she knows who’s interest in the hero course is, at best, unpassionate about the possibility of transfer.

“Uhh. Shockingly, one of the people who don’t want to be a hero has been showing a surprising amount of maturity.” Kayama purses her lips, pulling out the sheet of the little pink haired student who seemed so bored every time they gave these tests and who’s answers were disturbingly consistent across the board. “Tasatsu Medama: Maturity, strong morals, pretty smart... It seems like she’s just got a good handle on herself. Good head on her shoulders. I imagine she’d do well in practice.”

Mic practically perks up out of his seat, grin exploding across his face, “Isn’t that our lil’ musician club member?! Pink hair, horns, scary eyes?”

“You shouldn’t call her eyes scary.”

He remembers her.

The few times he’d gone to check in on the music room he’d, unfortunately, hadn’t gotten to see her in the middle of her work. The student had been learning the controls for the recording equipment as best she could by herself- (He had felt bad because he hadn’t had time to help her out and had seen her struggling over an instruction manual labeling all the buttons and instruments she could possibly use) -and had seen her playing around on a piano and messing up repeatedly as she tried to figure out a melody. He hoped one of these days he’d finally see some of her work in action.

“Musician?”

Mic pauses, surprised to find Kayama looking absolutely confused.

“Yeah, she’s in the Music Club room everyday...?” He frowns. “I’m thinking of the correct student, right?  She seems pretty interested in music and- Noo?” A question mark is practically hanging over his head as Kayama shakes her head.

“I’ve never heard anything about that- but music isn’t anywhere on her career profile.”

Mic mopes.

“But... I was so sure.”

Kayama laughs, shaking her head, as she pulls up Tasatsu’s file and the career she’d listed as her biggest interest. It was certainly one that she didn’t see everyday but it certainly explained why she was placed within her class. It was too bad she was homeschooled up until this point, she’d loved to see her previous test scores and see how she did on them all.

“Well, to be fair, I never know what she’s writing in that little book of hers. Maybe it’s music related.”

(She doesn’t realize how right she actually is.)

The discussion falls into other students as Vlad attempts to weasel out quirks and any other students that may prove to be competition for his own in the upcoming Sports Festival.

...She wants her students to beat his into the ground. 

Physically.

Maybe not the most ‘heroic’ of an attitude but Kayama wanted her students to show up the hero students so-so-so bad.

...

...

Kayama huffs.

Glad that she can finally pull away from her grading and make her way back to her classroom.

“Oh, Nezu, thanks for covering me.”

“Haha. It’s no trouble at all. It’s always wonderful to help teach the next generation!”

She squints. “Uh... sure.” She looks between the student sweating buckets in his seat and where Nezu stands at his podium. The large whiteboard is covered in scrawling words and diagrams and her student has a stack of paper that she knows she didn’t give him. his shaking hands holding a pen that looks fresh out of ink. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson, my student~” She purrs. “Because we here at UA want to make sure that you’re well aware of what happens when you act-” Her hands snap into a clap since she doesn’t have her whip to snap for effect. “Badly. ”

It’s either a testament to her capabilities as a teacher or the horror that is Nezu that her student just nods rapidly and looks insanely relieved by her presence.

Kayama isn’t so egotistical to think it’s because of her.

Nezu is an... unfortunate, hell.

“Yes, yes! I’ve learnt my lesson! Can I- Can I...” he raises a nervous finger, as if he isn’t sure if he’s allowed to ask, “...go home now?”

“Of course. Off you go!”

Nezu laughs.

Maniacally.

“I hope you’ve taken my lessons on filming without permission to heart, Kiroku Eiga!”

Her student shivers and she doesn’t blame him. Shaking her head as he rushes out, forgetting to close the door behind him and everything in his hurry. “Is that... truly necessary? I’m sure if we just brought it up with him and Shinsou and Tasatsu, we could have found a solution.”

Nezu smiles, sipping at his tea. He’d brought a thermos for the hour of punishment her student had undergone. “And miss an opportunity to educate a budding reporter on the ethics of journalism? Why! I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He hops off the stool he’d set up. “Besides, UA is a private school. Even though it was a mistake caused by his last school being public, and also allowing passive quirk usage, he should still be well aware of the legal trouble he could possibly get into in the future! Especially with filming the wrong person. Haha!”

Well, he does have a point. 

“Your student is quite camera shy.”

“Hm?”

“Tasatsu Medama! I even have the security recordings from her in the music room kept in a hyper secure server,” Kayama can’t help but tilt her head, confusion palpable. “Haha! You should inform Yamada that if he wants to catch a glimpse of her work in progress, he had best catch her by surprise. It almost seems like our young student has terrible stage fright. Or, I would assume. If I didn’t know any better!”

...Okay.

So.

Something’s going on with that.

Kayama doesn’t ask. Not because she doesn’t want to. But because she doesn’t think Nezu would answer. At least, not in a way that wouldn’t give her more questions than answers. Nezu leaves, heading back to his office with laughter in his voice and always knowing more than everyone else. Always prepared to taunt them about it.

Chapter Text

He’s an idiot.

He’s an absolute fool.

Shinsou has already chained up his bike and has been waiting for ten minutes outside the building that Medama had indicated in her text message. And she’s nowhere to be found.

It’s early evening. The skies are just beginning to turn a darker shade of blue and there’s a cold chill in the air that’s causing him to break out into goosebumps.

He’s getting looks for loitering outside the building. It’s a gym from what he can tell. So there’s at least that. He doesn’t recognize it and, when he’d looked up the name, all he got was an incredibly shitty website that didn’t exactly get his hopes up. The only thing he could really figure out was that they did gymnastics and self-defense and that they were semi-anonymous when it came to quirks.

Medama is nowhere to be found.

He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up but-

He supposes there are some aspects to his personality that he gets from his mother because he had, even if he’d known better. He was a stupid idiot with way too much trust and hope in humanity and- Shinsou just wanted a break. He just wanted one person other than his parents that didn’t think he was a villain, or a monster in the making, or some other kind of horrible person all because of his quirk-

Shinsou crosses his arms with a huff, already dialing a number in his phone, “Hey, Mom?”

“Oh, is everything okay-? Do you need me to call anyone-?”

“No.” He says, flatly. Dully.

He can hear the excitement on the other end. “So then-?”

“Ditched.”

And can hear it immediately shatter to a million pieces.

He kicks a rock, watching it skitter away.

“Just letting you know I’m heading back home now.”

“I- o-okay, Hitoshi. I-” He half expects her to ask him to give it a couple more minutes, can hear it in her voice, but she doesn’t. She knows that it wouldn’t solve anything. “A-Alright. I’m... I’m sorry. I’ll see you when you get back, neh?”

“Yeah.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair and wonders how awkward it’s going to be tomorrow. When he comes into class and Medama starts avoiding him to join those ‘new friends’ she was excited about making, even though they’d treated her like an alien exhibit and he’d been the only one to try and help- He shakes his head. There was nothing he could do about it now.

Shinsou unlocks his bike from the bike rack and throws a leg over the seat, he has half a mind to send Medama a pissed off text but he can’t even find the energy in him anymore to be angry. At least it was something simple this time and not some sort of trap that he’d walked straight into-

“Wait-!”

He twitches.

“Shinsou, wait up!”

And turns to see her running up the street, one arm waving and trying to catch his attention and- Shinsou frowns at her as she rushes up. It... It looked almost as if she had run the whole way here. He waits for her to come to a stop in front of him, still poised on his bike to leave her behind.

Medama comes to a sliding stop, her sneakers squeaking against the pavement.

“Sorry, s-sorry-” She huffs, out of breath, bending at the waist and hands on her knees as she tries to re-catch it. “I forgot I had to change before I left home.”

Shinsou glares at her, scowl growing.

“And you couldn’t have sent me a message.”

She wheezed, sounding hoarse. “N-No... service- when I realized- the time, so I just- ow, tried to hurry.”

“It took you fifteen minutes to change.”

Shinsou deadpans and he thinks the sweat on her brow isn't just from her rush to get here.

(Medama stared at her floor length mirror; it was old, cracked and covered in stickers at the bottom but she could still see most of herself above the calf just fine.

“...I want to look cute.”

And, well, then she couldn’t decide on which of her outfits she should wear and was actually made out of something that could get dirty and covered in sweat without getting uncomfortable.)

(It was worth it.)

He glanced down.

She was dressed in a pair of simple high waisted black leggings with what looked like a floral pattern up the side of the legs in a mesh insert, a matching cropped hoodie on- one that only really covered her shoulders and arms- and a bright pink racer back sports bra that matched her hair and the pink and clunky sneakers she’d tossed on. To him, it didn’t exactly look like an outfit that would’ve taken fifteen minutes to pick out and put on but, then again, he didn’t realize how many outfits she’d gone through before finally deciding on this one- both for comfort and style.

Shinsou looked notably underdressed in a dark purple sweatshirt and old black joggers and kind of busted tennis shoes with frayed purple laces.

Medama just smiled, tugging a strand of hair that threatened to fall out of her bun and pushing it back into the many clips that struggled to keep her curly hair contained. Her bangs still fell over her left eye and hid it away from view, but the rest was tucked and braided, and her face flushed pink, her eyes slightly crinkled in worry- 

Shinsou looks away.

(There’s a pout on his lips.

And he can’t help the blush that slowly begins to form, even if it frustrates him. He’s just glad he can hide by ducking into his sweatshirt and keeping his eyes firmly off of her.)

“Don’t keep me waiting.”

(Medama seems to glow.)

He mumbles, hopping back off his bike and wheeling it back to the bike rack.

Medama just grins and doesn’t even wait a second after he finishes locking it back up before her arm is looping under his elbow and pulling him towards the building- “Don’t worry, I won’t!” Not exactly what he had in mind but Shinsou doesn’t pull away from her grip.

He’s dragged into the building without much fuss as Medama makes a beeline for the front desk, the worker looks up and- “Oh, Tasatsu, this isn’t when you normally come in.” And Shinsou shifts uncomfortably as the desk workers' eyes shift over to him and seem to take in his appearance with an unimpressed look. “Who is this?”

Shinsou suddenly had the horrible realization that Medama was a regular, especially seeing how she’d been instantly recognized, and that he was notably not.

(Suddenly Shinsou is aware of how clean and pristine everything is, despite the drab outside, and the way he stands out with his eyebags and wild hair and old clothes-)

“Shinsou Hitoshi. Can I use one of my guest passes?”

“Of course. Is there a level you would prefer that is equivalent or below your own-?”

“Platinum, please!”

The desk workers' eyebrows raise, “And how long would you like this guest pass to work?”

Medama actually pauses and seems to mull it over rather intensely before she asks, turning to him in interest, “When did you say the Sports Festival was again?”

And Shinsou is pulled along before he can get much of a word in edgewise or to even ask what exactly is going on before he’s being handed a plastic card with his picture on it and the words ‘guest’ in bold capped letters and a purplish-silver star on it with a barcode and the note under quirks- does not need personalized quirk equipment without even a notation or warning about his brainwashing. He stares at it like it's a foreign object, unaware that he’s biting his lip and looking-

(His eyes are shiny and his gaze is wide and hopeful and he looks not unlike a small kitten who’s dreams are coming true.

Medama’s smile turns soft.)

-”This is too much.” He blurts and then whips upward, a suspicious glint in his eyes. “I don’t want your pity. I’m not poor. I can get my own membership.” He could. He really could. His family was well off, even if they didn’t really look like it, even if his mother couldn’t get much work, and as much as they were a bit of a pack of pennypinchers- only really buying stuff they needed rather than spoiling themselves- Shinsou could get his own damn membership.

(And now she’s exasperated.

But also happy. Because she absolutely would have offered a free pass but she also liked that he refused to take advantage of what she knew was one of her most major of vices: generosity.)

“Think of it as more of a free trial. Just something to work with until the Sports Festival. I wasn’t just gonna let you use me for free exercise equipment,” she says blandly, it sounds like she’s scoffing and everything, looking deeply unimpressed by Shinsou’s conclusions, and- for some odd reason- that seems to have him relaxing a bit, “besides, we’re friends.” Shinsou blinks at her very slowly when she says that. “I just wanted an excuse to hang out and you wanted to train. This kills two birds with one stone, doesn’t it?”

Shinsou still doesn’t look convinced.

So Medama crooks a smirk in his direction, looking downright sly.

“I don’t even know if you can handle this gym anyways. The instructors are very particular about who they teach and- hm~ I don’t know if you’ll be able to keep up!” He stares at her, absolutely seeing what she was trying to do. It didn’t mean it wasn’t working though. “My instructor selects her students, you see, and- aa.” She makes a show of looking him up and down and watches one of his eyes twitch. “I don’t know~”

Shinsou stares at her.

"I'm not going to fall for that."

Medama smiles.

...

...

Shinsou falls for it.

No questions asked.

Hook, line, and sinker. He tries to meet the challenge head on in a fit of bullheadedness and the urge to rise to the occasion and-

Shinsou lands flat on his back, breath knocked out of his lungs, and the mat underneath him barely acts as a buffer.

Medama crouchs over him, sweat dripping down her own brow and... well, she looks like she's handling this much, much better than him. "Wow. You're doing way better than I did my first time," she admits, "I broke my nose and everything." Entirely her own fault, they'd been practicing how to fall correctly and she'd slipped and managed an incredible example of how to fall incorrectly . “So... how’d you like it?”

Shinsou grunts, none too pleased with her playful attitude.

“Why...” he breathed, “...do you have a self-defense instructor anyway?”

“You should always know how to protect yourself.” Medama blinks, as if she doesn’t even understand why he would need to ask. And there’s something blank and bland in her voice as she says it, like she doesn’t want to elaborate. And she doesn’t. “Want to switch over to stretches?”

“Oh, don’t take him away from me so soon, Me'!”

Shinsou wants to be a hero and he wants to train, in order to do that: he needs proper instructors. Medama’s mind may have jumped ahead a couple steps; perhaps she could have tried easing him into the possibility of getting a gym membership or, you know, asked him if he even wanted one when she’d first brought him in, but...

He, vaguely, wants to complain but he can’t. This is the most help anyone’s ever been and Shinsou really can’t say anything.

So, when Shinsou had followed along after her, he’d also jumped the gun himself a bit when he met the competent instructor that Medama introduced him to. Sora was a simple looking woman- in terms of lacking a striking, quirky appearance- with wild brown hair, brown eyes, and whose only prominent feature was the impressive assortment of muscles and scars that she sported on her hands. She was also looking completely unwinded by the fact that she’d just flipped Shinsou straight over her shoulder.

“She’s been teaching me since I was a kid... I mean, I usually only come to the gym for yoga and some gymnastics nowadays but Sora-sensei always has time to teach whenever I want to get some practice in too.”

“Aa.”

It explains why Medama was instantly recognized at the front desk, he supposes, even though she admitted to usually only coming in the mornings since she apparently had commitments outside of school that she hadn’t elaborated on. She also hadn’t been coming in as often as she usually did and Sora had decided that she was the perfect example to show Shinsou how to defend against an attacker- “Speaking of, gymnastics might be something you're interested in?” Medama offers him a hand and he takes it. Sora calls for a water break and hops off and out of sight for the moment. “I’m sure it can only help.”

Shinsou raises a hand. Because he doesn’t even want to think about that right now. Not when his sides are screaming at him and his arms are shaking from overuse. And he must really be an idiot- because this is clearly the most elaborate plan of beating him up that he’s ever experienced- but he thinks that Medama might actually be trying to be his friend.

(Shocking, he knows.)

“Medama.”

“Shinsou.”

No nicknames.

He opens his mouth, struggling for words and it comes out in a wheeze instead. He doesn’t really know what he’d planned to say. Maybe ask what was really wrong with her because this was all- it was just so much and so overwhelming. She was trying to help him become a hero, and she never asked... why. He just- didn’t get it. Didn’t understand how she wasn’t taking one look at him and questioning his worth and his plans and everything about him. 

(That part of him is bubbling with hope. More than it ever had before.

He can’t help but look at his hand, the palm that she’d taken without hesitation when he’d placed it on her own and how she’d pulled him up back onto his feet.)

He’s going to keep coming back to this gym. With or without her. Because Sora hadn’t even asked for his quirk when he’d walked in, just teased Medama for bringing in a boy and he’d pretended not to listen and be equally as flushed as her by the whole situation. And he thinks he could actually come here and learn and he wouldn’t have to be afraid of someone trying to kill him in what was supposed to be a spar and... and Medama is tilting her head at him still, waiting for him to say something and Shinsou buries his face in his hands in a, frankly, terrible attempt to hide the small smile on his face.

“...Who were those people you wanted to make friends with?”

-0-

Shinsou does not know how to throw a punch.

("First, we'll go over some basics, how to throw a punch-?"

"I know how to throw a punch."

"You don't. Trust me. In fact, everything you think you know? Discard it! I- oh, Medama-! Can you take a break from your cardio? I want to use you as an example!"

Shinsou had winced when Medama took a hit to the gut from Sora and looked about ready to fall over. Shit. She'd been holding padding and everything too.)

Shinsou doesn't know how to defend himself.

("Imagine I'm a mugger, I have a knife, and I'm coming at you from the front. First instinct? What is it?"

She attacks him without warning and they all learn what it is.

It's to freeze.

The face that Sora makes is one that has him brutally ashamed of his natural reaction. "Running. Fighting. Those are both good instincts to have because you're, at least, reacting. Freezing though? That's the worst. But we can train that out of you at least-)

He can't break a headlock.

(He chokes, throat squeezing and head swimming in panic and- "Sora, stop! You're hurting him!"

"Oh shit, kid."

Shinsou wheezes coughing and he pushes Medama away when she rushes to his side, looking increasingly worried and guilty.

"Kid, you gotta tap out. I wouldn't have known-"

"How-" He coughs. "-else would I learn?"

She looks at him like he's a dumbass.

"Through practice, not unconsciousness."

Shinsou learns to tap out after that.)

It's frustrating. It makes him realize all his flaws and pathetic parts. But it's-

(Medama hits the floor and rolls away, breath catching in her throat in surprise and, when she looks up, it's to Shinsou looking equally as surprised-

He'd managed to partially throw her over his shoulder when she'd played the assailant in the scenario. Throwing her off his back. And, sure, it was awkward and he hadn't committed to it all the way through but he'd done it.

He'd done something.)

He's learning.

He's going to be a hero.

It hadn't seemed realistic... before. He hadn't realized it, hadn't realized how little he had done up until this point. It's just been a couple hours- and, maybe. Maybe that's nothing.

Maybe it means nothing.

But to Shinsou-

This is something he can do. This is something he can work with, work towards- as he is. And maybe it's not the Hero Course, or top of the line, but it's at least his own.

-0-

"Hey, Shinsou?"

"Mnh."

"What kind of hero do you even want to be?"

He's shaking. His hands and legs are practically vibrating and he's covered in sweat and wiping his brow- he's tired. Absolutely spent. And he's never felt so full of energy in his life. It's like it's getting pent up, the adrenaline, and he thinks he might go crazy if he doesn't do anything but Sora-sensei gives him a look if he so much as tries to take a step back towards the mats.

Instead, he sips water that's a bit hard to swallow from an old water bottle covered in peeling cat stickers and smeared graffiti that'd once been insults from his fellow middle schoolers and instead turns to stare at Medama. Or, perhaps, ogle. Vaguely wincing at the, frankly, impressive set of stretches that have him both oddly fascinated but also questioning if the human body was actually supposed to bend like that.

She wasn't as sweaty or tired as he was, though he thinks that's only partially due to her obviously having a better endurance- she'd spent most of the time in the gym acting as Sora-sensei's guinea pig or running laps and doing what Shinsou was surprised to learn were pretty typical stretches for gymnastics and yoga.

(Medama mentioned off-handedly how, before she could inform anyone of her quirk, she'd been incredibly bored as a kid and doing stretches was one of the only things she could do to pass the time. And that now she just hadn't wanted to lose any of her learned flexibility.

She laughs about how many people she used to freak out by being able to bend over backwards and walk around.)

She's currently doing the splits, her upper body slowly being bent far, far forward, until she's parallel to the floor, before she sits back up and twists an uncomfortable looking direction. "There's supposed to be types, right? Rescue. Daylight. Support." She lists.

Shinsou takes a while to answer.

Mostly because his eyes are almost watering from the sight of her spine looking like it's about to pop straight out of her back. "...Underground."

"Oh, what's that entail?" She pulls into a normal sitting position and Shinsou practically sighs in relief. "Also, join me. You really should stretch."

"I... don't think I should. It looks-" He really doesn't want to. "Painful."

Medama scoffs, "Just some simple ones, Shin-sou. I'm not going to throw you into the deep end just like that!"

Alright, alright. Whatever.

He has to wonder how she can do this with such a straight face. Face half pressed to the floor, as he tries to follow her movements and feels his muscles scream in protest and not just because of how tired he was. 

Hey, at least he can touch his toes. He's not a complete lost cause.

"So... underground?"

"Aa."

They're at least some of the only few in this section of the gym at least. Apparently the area was for one-on-one instruction for the most part, but Shinsou could still glance around and see a few others. Most were much older, going to town on a punching bag, or doing sit ups and push-ups in a corner while listening to music, the only good thing is that none of them were making loud grunting noises with whatever they were doing- Shinsou was partly convinced that people only did that because they were trying to compensate for something.

"You don't see a lot of daylight heroes with my kind of quirk running around."

He's honestly surprised to see Medama's face turn annoyed. "Stop with the self-pity thing, dude. If you want to be a daylight hero, you can. Fuck the rest."

He briefly opens his mouth and then closes it. He's not surprised that nothing came out.

One, because he didn't expect the callout and, yes, he's aware of it.

(Shinsou knows he has problems. With jealousy, with anxiety, with self pity, and all that bullshit.)

And two, because-

Well, he shouldn't be surprised, should he? He doesn't know why but, for some reason, he hadn't thought of Medama as the type to curse. But maybe that's because, when he looks at her, all he can really see is...

Pink.

(Shinsou doesn't follow that line of thought. Knowing exactly how insulting it could be and he wasn't looking to dig his own grave just yet.)

Three, because she said it with such a confidence- arrogance, he might've even said, before he met her- that it's just a little astounding.

"If you just want to go into underground because you think it's your only option-"

Shinsou blurts, "No." To stop her line of thought, can see the building irritation on her face and watches it wash away as he denies it. Even if he hadn't wanted to go into underground... "It's not like that."

It wasn't.

(But he couldn't tell her that the only heroes that cared- and not for something stupid like fame or fortune- were those that went underground, those who didn't plaster their faces and names across every screen, who weren't just trying to make another buck.

Didn't say how daylight heroes would have believed all the villain accusations, had before, and tried to make quick work of him, even as a child.

Couldn't say that the only hero that had ever tried to help him, had reached out to him without fear, was an underground hero with floating hair and red eyes who probably didn't even remember him.

No. He couldn't say his real reasons.

Probably never would.)

"Underground heroes have a lot of freedom that daylight and other heroes don't have," he finds himself saying instead, "They work more independently. And on things that matter. I don't have time to be a poster boy for some agency."

Medama laughs. "I don't know. I think they're on the lookout for eyebags and purple, I hear it's all the rage." 

And he snorts. Trying to imagine it. He can't. Not without cringing.

"But I get what you're saying. About the working on things that matter. I guess we're similar in that aspect," Medama admits with a shrug, "I 'spose it's why we're both in 1-C. Gotta keep the practical kids together, you know?"

"You're wearing ten percent of a jacket."

"And my arms have never been warmer."

Shinsou must be really out of it because he can't seem to hold back his laughter. It's quiet, breathy, and plays just under his breath but it's still there.

Medama's head tilts towards them, her mouth opens- ("That's the first time I've ever heard you laugh.") -and doesn't say anything.

Just watches him shake his head as they finish stretching, much less tense than he was before. "Well, you want to be a hero too, don't you? Support, maybe?" He doesn't even think about not asking a question. Hasn't even realized that he hasn't been putting their lessons under a microscopic lens this entire time.

"Nah. Heroism in this day and age- It's not for me." Shinsou tries to not jerk in shock at that. Because she doesn't say it with even an ounce of bitterness, as if she was talking about the weather. "I couldn't even imagine it, if I'm being honest?"

"Then what did you mean before- about the things that matter? Why are you even in 1-C then?"

"Huh? Oh, that." Medama flashes him a tiny smile, one that's a little nervous. "I think it still aligns with the classroom goals, since it's still law enforcement, but I want to be a Criminal Investigator. Maybe even a Private Detective." 

Shinsou's mind actually blanks for a good minute.

Because that's-

Unusual.

And not something he ever, in a million years would have guessed. His mind had gone to musician, singer, technical support for heroes- "I want to work with Cold Cases." Medama tacks on, as if that doesn't also have him greatly confused.

"That's... highly specific."

Medama just hums, a tune he's completely unfamiliar with but his head is still hanging on the reveal so he doesn't pay it much mind.

He wants to ask why. He doesn't. Not for lack of anything like genuine curiosity, but because he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and pulls it out to see the Caller ID and all he manages to get out is the smallest of greetings before- "Shinsou Hitoshi! Where the hell are you?! Do you need me to call the police, what's happening?! Why aren't you home yet-?!"

Oh shit.

He forgot to tell his mom that Medama actually had shown up.

...

...

"So..." Medama muses with a wide smile on her face, "it was a good idea, no? Now you have a plan and we can hang out sometimes!"

She also chirps.

"And we can see how our totally-super-fun and not-at-all-assholes classmates are tomorrow!"

Shinsou is not looking forward to it.

But they had a deal. "I make no promises."

"But you'll at least try with me, right?"

He makes a face.

"C'mon, at the very least, we can fail as a team?"

That was one way of looking at it, he supposes.

After assuring his mother that no, he has not been beaten, abducted, or thrown in jail- all more likely than you'd think- and that, no, she did not need to call the police or call his dad while he's still at work- 

(Shinsou shudders to think how that would go down. His father never liked to be interrupted without good reason, a firm believer of keeping a work and home environment separate from one another, and could be incredibly intimidating when he was annoyed. Something Shinsou didn't particularly wish on anyone.

Much less accidentally on Medama.)

"It was a good idea, Me-dama."

He's not really used to calling her by her given name yet but he's starting to see why she prefers it. The brightening look in her eyes is almost too literal. It suits her and he can't much imagine calling her anything else.

"...Thanks."

He really doesn't need to thank her, and the bow he gives is definitely overkill but he does so anyways and Medama's a little captivated by the awkwardness in his limbs. The way he has no clue how to act, seemingly at a complete loss for how to handle the situation she knows she's created. 

"It's really no problem."

It really isn't.

She just wished- delighted laughter nearly escapes her at his wondered expression that looks back on the gym, because it's only a building and it's only equipment to her, and she has more money than a kid should ever have at her age- that he'd be a little less anxious about the whole thing. Especially about the friends thing because she was honestly excited about the prospects and-

"Even if it doesn't work out, I think I'll be okay failing together with you." He offers her a grin, one that shows too many teeth, is a little too wide, but it's real and... and... 

She thinks that she should respond. And yet, for some reason, she can't. She doesn't know what to say to that. If there is even an appropriate response. It's not all that different to what she'd said before- but that didn't have her lips parting or her eyes blinking or a soft something washing over her.

"Ready?"

"Y-Yeah. I am. Let's go."

And, is it just her, or does her voice feel oddly small?

Medama sits on the back of his bike, sitting in the place where a book bag would normally be sat and gives a nod. An offered ride back home is the least he can do in his mind and Medama isn't about to turn down a gentleman thankyouverymuch. 

Shinsou takes a deep breath, trying to relax, and then- they're off-

A note is hit on a piano.

The sky is still slightly warm from the setting sun and Medama brushes hair from her face.

Soft and sweet and almost delicate.

Shinsou turns a corner on the sidewalk and it's not long before they're crossing a small bridge and using the hills to pick up speed. They have to hop off a couple times and walk up a couple hills but are soon pushing the bike to catch momentum and hopping back on, nearly stumbling over their own feet but just barely hanging on.

The piano plays as a soft voice begins to sing, it sounds unusually delicate and deeply joyful: "If I could ride a bike… 

I'd zoom around the world-

Medama waves Shinsou goodbye at the bottom of her building, a smile spread across her face as he returns it with a tired one of his own.

-with you sitting there behind me~

She collapses into her bed, wondering why the grin stays so silly in place, and feels the urge to press her face into a pillow.

I'll take you to places

Her keyboard is in the corner of her room and her eyes find it with a sudden song on the tip of her tongue.

past several faces

When Shinsou gets home, he takes an immediate shower and cleans up for the night, apologizing for worrying his mother and thoughts on the future and the way the day had ended. Turning out better than he could have ever imagined.

Just living life so carefree

He'll eventually find himself laying in bed, tired out of his mind but still somehow awake, and will pull out his phone and discover an impromptu stream notification for Halo.

If I could sail a boat

The song will play, a light piano that seems to soothe his soul and a voice that sounds so deceptively familiar and trustworthy and lovely will sing him to sleep. The final nudge into a sweet oblivion.

I'd cruise across the sea

And Shinsou will dream of bike rides and sunsets and pink.

A sweet adventure for us two~

I’ll be Jack, and you, Rose

Just please don't let me go

'Cause I'd be nothing without you

Oh, when you call me

I'm drifting on clouds

Like I'm dreaming

But in the morning

I'll wake up and see that you're stuck

Here with me

If only you knew

What I would do for you

I'd jump up and hold you

So tightly

But I will never be

Able to do these things

So I'm just left i~magining

The stream ends with a click.

Chapter Text

"Did someone clip it? I missed the stream!"

"Halo wasn't supposed to stream yesterday, was she? The next one was listed for tomorrow."

"She wasn't! It was completely unprompted-"

"-do you think-?"

Squeals.

"Oh, this is so cute!"

"Hey, this song can't be about anyone in particular! Halo has never done this before-"

"First time for everything."

"Oh, I wonder who it is!"

"Shut up! It's just a random love song! Halo can't be-"

"-oh, absolutely adorable and sweet. I'm so jealous. To have Halo sing about you, she sounds absolutely enchanted by them-"

"Do you think it's about that rude guy she mentioned in that stream a couple weeks back?"

"-must be someone special, I mean, who else-?"

"A real piece of work."

"No! I was supposed to find her and marry her!"

"The song is about me, guys, totally!"

Laughter.

"But-"

"This is such a sweet song, and Halo's never done something like this before-"

"They're calling it a surprise stream. We hope she does more!"

"-it still begs the question-"

"-who could Halo have a crush on?"

-0-

He’s running.

His limbs feel like lead, they're impossibly heavy and they feel like they’re weighing him down; keeping him from running at his full speed. But that doesn’t seem accurate. It may have more to do with the fact that he’s shaking in exhaustion as he rounds the corner, feet nearly sliding out from under him and the soles of his shoes skid across the concrete. His vision is blurry, slightly fogged from the early morning air and making it difficult and significantly harder to concentrate.

Hell, that wasn’t even the worst of it, the worst is that his eyes are spotting and his side is screaming. A stitch forming with piercing pain, making his lungs stutter and his tongue feel cold and frozen, like a rock in his mouth. 

None of it mattered.

The only thing that mattered was one foot in front of the other.

He’d run. Miles. As fast as he possibly could, unable to even stop to take a break, heart pounding in his chest and threatening to leap out. There's even a bit of saliva falling from the corner of his mouth- disgusted at himself, he wipes it against the sleeve of the hoodie he'd had tossed over his uniform- and the sweat is dripping into his eyes and-

His muscles and body ached, calves burning, and his head was world weary. Not just from today either. The exhaustion from yesterday had remained. To the point where his eyes were still heavy and desperate for sleep.

And he was late.

Shinsou doesn't stop. Won't let himself. Wishing that he'd grabbed his bike and taken the chance of someone trying to steal it-

(He wouldn't. Shinsou did not have many things that were his and that were... for lack of a better word, well-loved. His bike was kind of his most prized possession. It's why he'd never taken it to school before. Where bullies and assholes could get to it.

Deface it. Claim it for their own.)

-because it would've at least helped with the strain and stress of- of-

It's rather simple, admittedly, the how's and why's. And, yet, still, Shinsou just couldn't understand. Because he had slept in. How the hell had he slept in? Shinsou hasn't slept in since he was six and his quirk was still developing and getting stronger and even then it had been few and far between- it was just- it just hadn't been- ever since his quirk had come in it seemed... less and less physically possible for him.

(Quirks were well connected to a person's biology, physiology, and just general habits. Not so much that they may make a person stronger than another but definitely in that they affect their general, everyday life.

Especially those with neurological, mental, mind, brain-based quirks.

The brain was a delicate thing. And one easily affected.

It's why Medama has seizures, for example.

And it's why, for Shinsou, whose quirk is more mind than it is voice, and whose family history leans heavily into sleep based quirks on his father's side, well- gaining insomnia isn't so surprising. Chronic Insomnia even less so.

It helps, though, that his brain is wired to deal with it. That he can go far longer than a normal person without sleep and be relatively okay. Unfortunately, due to that fact, and the fact that he was over reliant on his body practically forcibly rejecting him from slumber, Shinsou just wasn't quite prepared to fall asleep and not wake up. It was just something that didn't happen because his body didn't know how to let himself sleep.

And this was bullshit.)

It's a testament to just how exhausted he had been.

And how he was paying for it now. Absolutely miserable.

First, he'd missed his alarm. Not a big deal. Shinsou didn't typically wake to his phone alarm. (Usually because he was awake before it.) Instead, he'd woken up to the lovely- note the sarcasm- couple that lived in the neighboring apartment screaming their heads off at each other because one forgot to pick up milk from the store or something equally inane and stupid.

(Vaguely, he wonders if, this time, the girlfriend will finally keep to her word and leave for good because he really wanted them to shut up and get over each other.

Shinsou did not like their drama.

It made him sick to his stomach and made his shoulders tense and anxiety pool into his gut. 

And, yet, whenever they phoned the police about a domestic dispute, they never seemed to do anything.)

Shinsou had simply yawned, rubbing at his eyes sleepily and pajamas half rolled up, and went to go get breakfast. He was halfway through a piece of toast, still endlessly groggy and wishing he'd started the coffee pot earlier, when his mother came out of her home office and gave him a strange look.

He checks the time a second later.

And instantly feels his stomach drop.

Then, it had been adrenaline, fear- he missed his fucking train and had to jump on one that only took him part way- and then it was run- run- run-

(He had gotten into UA. He had gotten into UA. And he'd thrown it all away. They were going to expel him. Use this as an excuse as to why he wasn't worthy and finally get rid of him like the trash of society he was always told he was-!)

Shinsou doesn't pay much mind to the wall of people at the front of the school. Doesn't really notice the people trying to get his attention and shoving microphones in his face, just realizes that they're blocking his path and he's having to shove his way through and elbow and-

(Shinsou is partly aware of the hands grabbing at the back of his jacket and his arms, trying to hold him down. A quick flash of teeth and a glare has most of them letting him be on his way without much difficulty.)

He's so close.

And yet... and yet...

The thundering pulse of his own heartbeat in his ears begins to ebb away and his breath is heaving as his feet stutter to a halt.

"What is it like with All Might as a teacher-?!"

It's then that he first notices the cameras and microphones in people's hands. Reporters, his mind helpfully provides, finally booting up and registering his surroundings. Thankfully, none of them seem interested in him anymore. Not only for his aggression but he supposes a sweaty teenager with bags under his eyes wasn't all that interesting.

"N-No comment."

It's a soft voice that catches his attention, brutally tiny and drowned by the loud chatter of reporters talking to their cameras or trying to gain interviews with other students they've dragged down or who are purposely trying to get the most attention.

"Can you please let me go? I d-don't like all the cameras in my face- "

Shinsou's first instinct is that it's Medama. That they've caught her in the camera's she doesn't like and she has nowhere to hide like before, when she'd used him as a shield.

"What does it mean to be taught by the Symbol of Peace-?!"

"I-I don't know! I'm not even taught-!"

It's not her.

For one, the voice is all wrong. While Medama definitely tries to be quiet, her voice isn't meant to be drowned out; this one is shy, nervous, and... scared. It doesn't have any of the same strength that Medama's did.

Second, as Shinsou pushes through the crowd, partly only able to do so because the cameramen fear their equipment being knocked loose and the reporters afraid their perfect makeup and hair would get ruined if knocked over, she doesn't look anything remotely like Medama.

Long, wavy blonde hair and long bangs that draped over her face and only revealed a single green eye. And small, wood... tree saplings growing out of the side of her head like horns.

Shinsou... couldn't help but think she looked familiar.

As in, he's pretty sure she's from his class-kind-of-familiar.

"Your- don't! Ow, y-you're hurting me-!"

"What Course are you in? Have you met him? Can you tell us-?!"

"H-Hey, p-please, I just wanna go to class-"

His face is blank. His breath is still coming out in wheezes and his lungs still burn. But he's taking a step back, away from the school, even though he knows the bell is about to ring and that he has, maybe, seconds before he'll be officially counted as late.

But something in Shinsou twitches.

In rage.

(They have their hands on her wheelchair, one of them is holding one of the locking mechanisms on one of the wheels in place, and the girl is scrambling to try and regain control.

But she's failing. Miserably.

This many people jerking her around, she looks like she's about ready to fall out of her seat and onto the ground. And she furiously digs the palms of her hands into the chairs wheels to keep them from making it even worse, even if the metal is squealing and pinching her fingers and drawing blood from scrapes.)

"So reporters are holding students hostage now," his voice cuts through the din; cold, articulate, absolutely pissed beyond belief because this was the last thing he needed this morning. "Can't say I'm surprised. I wonder what the public thinks, I sure hope you're still filming. Hope it's live too."

(Even if his quirk is centered around the brain, both his own and others, it still carries weight in his voice. It still cuts and catches and slices like a knife through others. Demanding attention.

Medama was right to be a little enchanted by it. To say that he would be a good speaker. It's because his voice is commanding, it was made to be, and even without direct quirk use it still spilled into every facet of his being.

Thankfully, it very easily helps to get his intent across without the need to say much more.

It's also what makes it clear that this, this is a threat.)

"A student-? Aa! So you'll answer questions about-"

The reporter is smarmy. He instantly wishes he could kick his face in. Disgust shows clear as day on Shinsou's face, the bastard doesn't seem to notice or care, sticking a microphone under Shinsou's chin- he wants to smirk. Because even half this guy's age and Shinsou is still clearly taller- and already demanding questions, as if Shinsou was planning to answer any of them.

The only good thing about this is that most of the cameras have turned away as others pale, noticing the whimpering student they'd harassed and assaulted.

And Shinsou's eyes flash, opening his mouth to say... something probably not good.

Thankfully, whatever he'd planned to say, he doesn't need to, because there's suddenly hero teachers on the scene- Snipe and Ectoplasm, muttering about how they hadn't realized there were reporters at this entrance too- and they finally draw the attention away from the students.

Well, almost all of them.

"You should be ashamed!"

Hands on his hips, Kiroku Eiga serves as an incredible distraction for Shinsou to slip away unnoticed, his quirk recording the masses- as he was legally allowed to do, given the passive nature of his quirk, as well as the fact that he hadn't entered UA private property just yet- and was making sure to get a good look at each of the reporters faces. 

"Have you no dignity? You all are reporters, don't you have any morals-? Ethics-?!"

(Shinsou briefly wonders where he gained such passion for ethical reporting in the span of two days, given what he'd been up to with his quirk before, but he pushes the thought out of his head. He really doesn't care.)

Instead, Shinsou glances at the girl from his class. Who is shakily trying to roll her wheelchair away from the scene with bloodied fingers and bruises all up her wrists and knuckles.

"Th... Thank you."

He grunts.

The damage... doesn't look as bad as it had initially, at the very least. Though it shouldn't have happened in the first place. Most of it seemed superficial enough but he knows how it could've easily been worse. 

Most of the bleeding seems to be coming from a cut on the palm of her hand to the crux of her thumb and forefinger, where it looks like it'd got caught on a sharp edge of something and been ripped open. It's not even a lot of blood but the scrape is unwarranted and undeserved.

(Kiroku Eiga is filming faces and he can already hear the lawsuits preparing to be filed by UA.

If it wasn't for the cameras rolling, he wouldn't have been surprised to find every reporter present rounded up like villains. But, then again- Shinsou thinks bitterly- they had a gorgeous reputation to uphold.)

She sniffs. And he winces.

"They wouldn't let me leave," she explains, even though she really doesn't have to, "and I-"

She can finally move again. And Shinsou awkwardly follows after her, unsure how to help or whether or not he could leave. Not knowing if it was even a good idea to speak or not given the... fits Chikuchi has been having the past couple days.

"Why'd you help me? I thought... I thought you only liked Tasatsu in our class."

Well.

She's not wrong.

Shinsou opens his mouth, closes it. His lungs are still struggling with every breath and he self-consciously realizes that he's been panting this whole time and he already knows that he looks like a complete mess.

"I know... someone who... can't walk. Not without help." He says carefully, trying to reign in his breath. It comes out in a quiet mutter that he wouldn't even be surprised if she misheard or straight up couldn't hear. "Figured you didn't like others shoving you around either."

Her lone eye widens in surprise and-

"Oh my! Look at what those nasty reporters have done to you!"

Shinsou decides it's high-time to take his leave as Recovery Girl makes her way over, an anxious blue boy that he also recognizes from their class trailing closely behind her. "I-I tried to get help as soon as I saw. Please forgive me, I wasn't fast enough-!"

And he makes it to class late.

Nearly ten minutes. But, then again, so do quite a few others due to the horde of reporters mobbing each of the schools entrances.

"Are you okay?" Medama leans over to whisper into his ear and he shivers, flinching away. "You came in all out of breath and-"

"Missed my train." 

He growls.

"Oh."

She seems sympathetic to his plight and eyes the sweat dripping off his brow and the jacket he's stuffing into his bag. At least the morning had been nice and cool and so he hadn't sweat through anything.

She still lurches back in her seat though.

He didn't mean to snap at her, but he had. And instantly feels guilt well up inside and physically drooping, head near crashing onto his own desk as he buries it in his arms, eyes just barely peeking over them. "Sorry..." He mutters, honestly meaning it.

"Is cool. We all have our bad days."

It doesn't feel like it's cool. In fact, he doesn't like how Medama turns away and leaves him alone afterwards, the lack of talk gnawing at him until he feels progressively worse about it.

She didn't deserve that. Especially not after yesterday.

"Ikimaru Hisoo, right?"

He asks, instead, after a moment and watches her blink and finally turn back to him. He ignores the tension on Chikuchi and Agoyamato when they realize he'd asked her a question. He... couldn't care less about them right now.

"Yeah. He seems-" Medama doesn't say what he seems like and, instead, makes a wavy hand motion he doesn't know how to interpret. "I mean, unless you have any suggestions?"

He lets his gaze roam the room.

("Targets? Are they picking out targets for his quirk?!" Chikuchi hisses and is expertly ignored by Shinsou. She seems to find the possibility equally as ridiculous as it actually was. But, then again, who knew with her.)

There's a bunch of obvious no's.

Mostly for the simple reason that Shinsou knew next to nothing about the majority of them.

And there's some that Shinsou begrudgingly throws into a maybe pile, if only to stay a little positive today.

He's about to tell Medama that he doesn't have anything to add. Ikimaru is a good place to start as any, he supposes, before his eyes flick to the couple coming in through the door- one with her hands bandaged and the other worriedly fussing over her in an anxious display that was only kind of annoying but, helpfully, provided a name that was nowhere on his tongue beforehand.

"Komorebi Kiko."

...

...

Komorebi Kiko has known Tasatsu Medama for all of ten minutes. That timeframe is only slightly beaten out by Shinsou Hitoshi, who has an extra fifteen minutes on top of her, a fifteen minutes that Medama seems to be trying to blow out of the water with sheer enthusiasm and exuberance that is...

"...I-I mean, not that you have to tell me who your favorite is or anything? It just seemed like a good conversation starter and I- uhm."

Frankly, a little embarrassing.

"I love your horns! They're way different from mine but they're way cuter. Do you actually grow leaves from them? Do you make flowers?"

Her eyes flick over to Shinsou, who stands awkwardly behind Medama rubbing the back of his neck, and she’s almost sympathetic.

"Or- Or is that rude? I-"

But, here's the thing, Kiko also can't help but find the nervous grin that's on Medama's face, the wild hand motions when she spoke, more endearing than they were anything else. So she helps the girl out. Because she clearly isn't great at small talk and looks seconds away from falling away into a flustered, stuttering mess. "...I can't actually sprout flowers, just leaves. The quantity changes based off of the season though, like a real tree. And my favorite hero? I guess Kamui Woods..."

"Woah. Really? That's pretty cool!"

Medama seems to fumble for a second, trying to figure out what to say next and Komorebi feels a smile bubble up and takes pity on her again.

"...did you hear the new Halo song?"

"Which one?"

"The one from last night."

"Last nights..." Medama hummed and Kiko blinked, she supposes that answers that question, she's humming the tune to it after all. 

She flushes slightly, before glancing Shinsou's way. Or, Kiko assumes it's a glance, her head tilts towards him and everything. "Did you, Shin-sou? Or did you miss it? I'm not sure how late it was when you got back."

"I heard some of it." He admits, hand still nervously toying with the back of his neck. "I think I fell asleep part way through though."

"Oh."

If Komorebi didn't know any better, she would say that Medama looked disappointed.

"Aa, Tasatsu-"

"Medama is fine."

"I-" Kiko blinks, and then blushes. "A-Are you s-sure? I- mean, I o-only just introduced myself."

"Yeah, I wouldn't suggest it if I wasn't okay with it. I prefer it, even.

"O-Oh, um. Then, I suppose, I'm Ki-Kiko?"

"Haha! See, I told you Shin-sou! I wasn't the only one. It's not weird."

"It's weird."

"It's... a little weird, Tasa- Medama..."

Somehow, Kiko doesn't think this is how conversations are normally supposed to go. It seems too quick and Tasatsu- Medama too blaise.

Why, even Shinsou is frowning, the indigo eyed boy has his gaze towards the floor, briefly eyeing Medama before glancing back at Kiko with a slightly deepening frown. He doesn't seem very happy by the quickness of the introductions and subsequent demands of given names on Medama's part, at the very least, Kiko wasn't sure if she'd made it worse by offering up her own.

Oh, Kiko wasn't good at this. She just wasn't. And after this morning she was still just a wreck and introducing exuberant new people on top of that plus her morning savior was... Ah. She felt herself grow sweaty with nerves, fiddling with the bandages on her hands.

She hadn't expected Tasatsu Medama and Shinsou Hitoshi to approach her, especially not so early in the morning, when it was clear that Kayama-sensei had been called away to act as Midnight against the media surrounding their school, because...

Well, quite honestly. The two had a reputation.

Okay. One that may have been born from the nonsense that Chikuchi spouts on the daily and Agoyamato eats up like the word of God but still. It was a reputation.

They were an isolated pair from the class. She wasn't even sure if they'd been told about the Class President voting they'd be doing over the next few days or so- something that Mic-sensei had nearly forgotten to announce to them before they'd headed to lunch the day before because Kayama-sensei had forgotten to tell them. The two had already disappeared to who knows where.

Now, Komorebi didn't believe much of anything she'd heard about the two. Other than what Kiroku had said about Medama's quirk, maybe, but she doubted that Shinsou was a villain in disguise or that he was controlling Medama's every move.

...okay. So maybe she'd bought into it a little until this morning. When Shinsou had stepped in.

But she didn't now and-

And-

Well, Kiko was nervous.

She opened her mouth, hoping to provide anything that might keep the conversation rolling without the awkward tension in the air but-

"Love~ly students," Kayama-sensei interrupts in a glorious blaze of confidence, a seductive smile on her face as she leans through the doorway, eyes fluttering, "the reporters may have caused us an unfortunate delay but that's no excuse to keep me waiting, is it?"

That's as good an order to take their seats as any.

At least it kills the awkward atmosphere.

...

...

"Hey, Shin-sou? I know you... implied you listen to Halo, but do you like them?”

"Hm?"

"Are you even a fan of Halo? I kinda just assumed, since you said everyone was... Even if I don’t know how true that is." Medama seems to scowl as she says that, looking slightly... annoyed. It sort of reminds him of when she'd been telling him he could be a daylight hero if he wanted, despite how- unrealistic they both knew that was. Medama didn't seem to care much about what was realistic or not. "Which, I mean, y-yeah, but you... haven't really mentioned it-?"

Shinsou shrugs, "I use her to fall asleep to."

"Ooh?"

"Yeah. Helps with insomnia.”

"Oh!"

“Relaxing. I’m sure everyone else in our time-zone does the same."

He doesn't know how she can go from annoyed and frustrated to looking absolutely delighted in the span of a couple seconds but she somehow manages to pull it off, her eyes lighting up and the dark rims only accentuating her smile.

"That's good! At least."

He grunts, going back to his work.

Pretending not to be glad that Medama hasn’t scurried off to try again on Komorebi or Ikimaru during the free period of study Mic-sensei had given them, just before lunch. She’s not really focused on the work at hand, only skimming her own text book and half sitting on his desk as he takes notes on his own but, given the nature of her quirk, he doubts she even really needs to study. That or it's just the most boring thing ever for her.

-0-

“Are we all ready to go?”

“Yeah,” there’s a group nod, and the leader grins, giving them a thumbs up, “we’re starting off simple, right?”

“You got it.”

They hadn’t stopped their efforts after school, not at all. Lying in wait for the girl to leave the campus and, just outside of the schools security cameras, they began their chase-

Unfortunately, she seemed ready for them, every single time.

(She ran. So impossibly fast it left them all in the dust.

She seemed to find every crowd to hide in, every nook and cranny and hiding place.

And then she just seemed to... disappear. They hadn’t an explanation for it. Not really, even offering up the possibility of her quirk letting her escape didn’t seem to help any, since they didn’t know what it was. It almost seemed like she had experience- running from them. Because she never screamed and always seemed to be thinking two or three steps ahead of them. If not more.)

It was frustrating. But it’d also slowly brought their heads together. Because it meant that the Mind Control- the Brainwashing- whatever it was- was probably far more powerful than they had previously imagined, especially since she seemed so... lucid and aware. It was a dangerous villain they were up against, but all they had to do was snap the victim out of it and she’d be singing them praises to the teachers. Of how they rescued her, of how heroic they had been, and the villain would be out of the school and they would all have their hero placements pending.

“Let’s do it. Plan A.”

They eye the pair as they leave their classroom, the last ones out, ignoring the laughter that the girl let out and the grin on the face of that- that villain - It felt almost as if he was mocking them. And they secretly seethed.

...

...

Medama feels the hair on the back of her neck prickle.

It’s paranoia.

Or... is it really? If they’re actually out to get her?

The bell had rung. Signaling the start of the lunch period, Medama’s mind had been on scenarios and conversation starters and awkward small talk that she hated, trying to think of ways to approach Kiko again or how to catch Ikimaru’s attention without spooking him. A feat in itself, she was thinking. The vampiric blue boy that Medama had noticed, likely already a friend of Kiko’s, was a jumpy dude who seemed to only have the firm instinct of flight and getting the hell out of dodge.

And Shinsou had pulled ahead, still weary from his run to school this morning and stuck on shaky legs, while Medama had been too caught up in her own head.

It’s why he doesn’t initially notice when she gets pulled back.

A hand gripping her elbow and nearly ripping her off her feet- because Medama may be on the taller side but she was also extremely light and skinny and that, unfortunately, made it all too easy for anyone bigger than her to manhandle her- as she went stumbling back.

“Hey, what the fu-?”

Cursing, cursing. Apparently she’s not allowed to do it.

She leans back, face slightly twisted in disgust, as a finger presses against her lips in an attempt to silence her.

“Listen, we’re going to help you. I know you probably can’t respond to us as yourself but if you come with me then we’ll be able to break the control he has on you.” The grip on her elbow tightens and she feels her eyes twitch in pain, the guy has large hands and is all too unaware of the level of strength he’s putting on her. “The hero teachers will be able to help once you speak up and-”

Now, all of this is said in the span of- maybe, three seconds, and, truth be told, she doesn’t catch like half of it.

What she does know is that his voice sounds familiar. In a sort of spine-chilling familiarity.

(She’s heard him shout after her. When all she could do was run-run-run.)

And the other thing she knows is: she does not want his finger anywhere near her face. So, she does what any sensible person would do in her place.

She bites him.

The resulting yelp is music to her ears.

“Get your hands off me!” She hisses, voice cracking in pitch and she quickly yanks her elbow free, stomping on the guy's foot with enough force that it surprises him into letting go. “Don’t touch me.”

It’s not an exactly impressive display.

But it does catch Shinsou’s attention and he-

Indigo eyes fix a glare on the face of the guy who’d grabbed her. He doesn’t make any move to say anything to the guy, but that doesn’t seem to matter. The student freezes, pausing in mid lunge to try and grab her again and just... completely falters. Medama sniffs at the reaction and then turns on heel to rush away, trying to put as much distance between her and the student as possible.

He lets her go. Doesn’t make another move.

And Shinsou reluctantly turns his back on him, following after Medama as she rounds a corner.

“It didn’t work. She completely didn’t listen.”

He seethes where he stands, rubbing his throbbing finger and rage almost palpable.

“Next plan, we’re doing this the hard way if we have to.”

...

...

Medama bites her lip, hand coming up to cover her mouth as she ducks her head against the wall of the empty room they’d rushed into. It seemed to be some sort of Art Club for after school activities but that didn't matter, so long as no one was coming in any time soon.

“Oh, shi-” The curse is cut off into a small whine that she tries, and fails, to swallow. “It hurts.”

She doesn’t like to show when she’s in pain, and usually she can ignore it. But her elbow is throbbing and her eyes are prickling with tears and she just can’t hold it in right now.

“What happened? What did he do?” Shinsou asks, there’s a harsh demand to his voice and she can see how concerned he is beneath the obvious anger and Medama forces down a whimper. “Your arm is...”

Shinsou sucks in a breath, sympathetically pained.

Her arm is bruised. A bright red color that is already turning purple and brown. The shape of a hand wrapped around her elbow made it clear just how hard she’d been grabbed. Tentatively, he reaches out a hand, he doesn’t know why, maybe to try and help, but touching it would only make it worse and so he pulls back.

“Why would he grab you like that?”

And Medama may not have known Shinsou for very long but she definitely knows this is something that would bring him immense guilt and so, with an experience she hates, she lies: “I-I don’t know. I don’t think he meant to. I think he has some sort of strength augmenting quirk and lost control of it and I-” She stutters, hissing as she wraps her arm around her middle. She sucks in a deep breath. Curses. “F-Fuck!”

She wipes her uninjured arm over her face, tears starting to drip.

And Shinsou feels something tighten in the pit of his stomach. “It doesn’t matter if he meant it or not,” he growls, frustrated, running a hand through his hair, “c’mon, let’s take you to the nurse.”

“R-Recovery Girl’s quirk... isn’t exactly known for helping bruises.”

“Then she’ll get you an ice pack at least. There were nurses before quirks, you know? They don’t all have to have healing quirks.” He snaps at her, and feels instant guilt roll over him. “S-Sorry, I- I’ll take you.”

“You’re right. You’re r-right. I- Sorry. I’m-” She squeezes her good hand over her face. “This is embarrassing.”

The admittance is, well, it has Shinsou tilting his head as he helps her back to her feet. “There’s nothing embarrassing about this. You were hurt.”

She gives a wet laugh. “Yeah, but I’m crying. And I d-don’t want anyone to n-notice-”

Her eyes are brimmed with red, it mixes with the darkness around her eyes and somehow makes it look like her tear tracks were a deep lavender color, rather than just the red of her skin. It’s as sad as it is cute. And Shinsou bites the inside of his cheek, admitting that she has a point when it comes to not wanting anyone to notice. “I have... a hoodie that I wore this morning in my bag. If you want to wear it?”

“A-Are you sure?" She sniffs, fingers catching on her cheek as she peaks through them.

“Yeah.”

“O-Okay then.”

Shinsou quickly pulls out his bag, fingers grasping onto the old hoodie that he’d had for years. The purple jacket had large black buttons down the front and was completely knitted, the hood was floppy and was almost too big for anyone with a normal sized head but for Medama, who tugged it on and pulled the hood over to try and hide her face, it helped with her horns. She needed the extra room to fit it over her head and Shinsou is glad that he didn’t care too much about the jacket anyways because her horns stretched through what small openings in the knit that it could find. Not bad enough to actually seriously damage it, but still.

It helped that it hung off of her. The sleeves were much too long for her arms and she had to tighten her hurt arm over the fabric to keep it from getting hooked under her skirt and ruffling her clothes.

It felt like a.... to be cliché, it felt like a warm hug.

She never wanted to take it off.

“Thank you.” She blinks furiously, trying to stop the tears from coming. “S-Sorry in advance if I- like, cry on it or something.”

“Don’t worry about it. Come on.”

He doesn’t really need to help her.

It’s not as if her legs are injured. But he would feel incredibly guilty if he’d just left her to wallow. Besides, the moment he offers her his hand, she grasps onto it with a softness that has him not wanting to shake her free. Tugging her along down the hallway and over to where he knows the Nurse’s office is, they get about halfway- 

(And both of them try not to think about how they’re missing lunch or that their stomachs, Shinsou’s especially, are eating each other from the inside out.)

-when an alarm starts to ring throughout the school.

“That’s...”

They both share a look.

“Level Three Security Breach-”

And Medama lets out a disturbingly wet giggle. “Today’s just wild, huh?”

Chapter Text

Medama sits on the bed in the nurses office, feet swinging back and forth and still swaddled in Shinsou’s jacket. The hoodie offering a comforting support now that her purple haired friend wasn’t present anymore. She wishes he was, thumbing the palm of her uninjured hand and feeling the gritted frown on her face grow. Recovery Girl was kicking out anyone and everyone who didn’t show any signs of injury and, unfortunately, Shinsou was one of the first to go.

(“Thank you- I- Do you want your jacket back now or-?”

“I said don’t worry about it.”

“Mn’kay.” She has to admit that she’d sniffled a bit and then felt her cheeks go absolutely rosy in embarrassment. “Sorry for... this.”

The rolling of his eyes is unnecessary. 

The flick to her forehead even less so and her eyes water intensely.

He grimaces, “Not your fault...” Before shaking his head and kicking at the floor with one of his feet, Medama doesn’t even pretend to not watch him go. Eyeing his back until he turns the corner and Recovery Girl is ushering her to a seat as a sudden influx of injured students crowd into the office.)

She massages her eyes, fingers pressing into her closed lids until the underside of her vision begins to spot. She’s not crying anymore, after the initial tears, the pain hadn’t gotten.... well, it hadn’t gotten better but she’d definitely gotten used to it. The throbbing was just another beat in her head to try and focus to and she carefully took in deep calming breaths to keep herself from thinking about the pain too hard.

It helps that the hoodie is soft, the knit feeling more like a blanket wrapped around her than anything, and she wishes she could just curl up on the bed and lay down.

“Now, dear, let’s take a look-” Recovery Girl waddles over, much too old to still be up and about as she regularly was. Medama had half the thought that she was going to keel over just standing there. “-thank you for waiting for so long. I know you were one of the first to arrive.”

“It’s okay.”

She would shrug but the action would only jostle her arm.

Due to the.... stampede caused by the students freak out, there’d been people coming in and out of the nurses office every time Recovery Girl would so much as turn to look in Medama’s direction and she’d asked, quite worriedly given Medama’s face was still splotched with lavender-redness and tears, if she thought she was alright enough to wait. And Medama, an idiot, but also anxious on a good day and trying not to draw attention to herself or her sniffling and just generally not wanting to be a bother, would simply nod her head and give a shaky thumbs up.

So much time had passed that she was pretty sure she had completely missed Mathematics-

(Not that she was complaining.)

-but she was also one of the final few still in the nurses office.

(Her phone vibrates with a couple texts. From Shinsou. Wondering where she is and she takes that as a sign that it’s passing periods and Mathematics is, officially, over.

She groans.

Not great.)

The only few remaining in the office is a Support Course student who needed ice for stomped on feet and a Hero Course student with blue hair, broken glasses, and a concussion that had him a little cross eyed. One he’d apparently gained whilst attempting to stop the stampede of students who’d clearly never received a safety drill in their life.

(Medama is frankly disturbed by the lack of fire, hurricane, shooting, and earthquake drills that the students have had. It seemed like a massive oversight. But that may just be her coming from an American public schooling perspective- still, she would think with all the villains and disastrous quirks up and about, they’d at least teach people some things.

But no.

They don’t.

Because, apparently, there’s always going to be a hero there to save you.

She wants to scoff.)

“Where were you injured?”

She struggles to slide the hoodie up, wincing and letting out a pained hiss through her teeth. Not quite able to bend her arm anymore and she grits her teeth as tears begin to prick her eyes again. When she finally does manage to pull it free, the horrifying gasp Recovery Girl let’s out is a little gratifying. Makes it feel like she hadn’t been overreacting after all. And, well, now that she’s gotten a good look at it, she can certainly see that she wasn’t.

“Why didn’t you say anything-?”

It catches the attention of the Hero Student, who looks a little green at the sight of her arm, and she tries not to blush. Tugging on an earlobe, looking away from Recovery Girl’s reprimanding gaze. “I-I figured other people needed help more. I mean, it’s fine. It- It doesn’t hurt so bad anymore-?” A lie. Very obviously a lie. “Someone just grabbed me in the hallway. I- I think they had a strength quirk and didn’t realize...”

She trails off.

Recovery Girl scowls. “Of all times for the Security Cameras to fail, we could’ve at least figured out who the student in the crowd responsible for this was...” 

(Medama pointedly doesn’t mention that she hadn’t been injured by the crowd. And that’s why she’s secretly glad Shinsou hadn’t been able to stay, because the insomniac wouldn’t have let it slide, she doesn’t think. And Medama doesn’t want to spill her guts. Not over something so... so stupid.)

“First a kid with a finger nearly bitten off, now this!”

(Medama fails to not smirk.)

She eyes her arm. It’s swollen, to nearly twice it’s normal size. The skin is such a dark purple that it’s almost black and yellow and red lines the outside of it. Honestly, pain-wise, she could only describe it as... burning.

“B-But, I mean, an ice pack and some pain killer to bring down the swelling and I’m sure it’ll be fine!”

Medama’s grin is shaky.

And Recovery Girl gives her a flat look.

“Your elbow is broken.”

“...aa.”

She feels her heart stutter a bit.

“Oh no, no.” The tears on her face spring forth are genuine and not a byproduct of pain this time and she feels her shoulders hunch in worry, brows furrowing. “How will I work on my music like this?!”

Okay, so maybe her priorities are a little wacky.

She does not appreciate the taken aback look Hero Student!

...

...

“Three days! Three days, Shin-sou!” She lets out a frustrated shout. “I can’t do anything with my arm for three days.”

“...If it wasn’t for Recovery Girl, it would be longer.”

She presses a pillow to her face and lets out a scream that’s thankfully mostly muffled. “I’m going to go crazy. You don’t understand.” She wheezes. “And I’m going to be so behind schedule and I won’t be able to stream because the stuff I have pre-recorded isn’t finished yet! I just had a piano piece to do and- augh!”

“You seem to be forgetting the fact that someone broke your arm.”

Shinsou seems very hung up on that fact.

Unfortunately, Medama was not the same.

“So? People hurt each other all the time, I’m not special.” She huffs. “But my piano...!”

Shinsou squints at her through the computer screen. The two were video chatting, because Medama hadn’t wanted to hold her phone the whole time, and she was currently stuck on her bed, hugging a pillow to her chest while avoiding her arm and sitting crisscross-applesauce. She'd struggled to throw on a pair of pajama pants and had, very painfully, managed to toss a tank top and Shinsou's hoodie back on.

Shinsou's eyes followed the deep purple that was one shade away from clashing with her hair. Unable to keep himself from fiddling with the hair on the back of his neck, a nervous tick that Medama couldn't help but notice.

"I'll return it tomorrow morning. No worries." Medama assured absentmindedly. Shinsou blinks ever so slowly, eyes crinkling as he frowned and didn't point out how 'that wasn't the issue he was having.' She tucked the pillow under her chin and let out a long sigh. "Still. Can't believe I can't work on music for so long."

"You said you stream...?"

Medama flushes, shoulders tensing.

"Um. Yeah. It's- I'll show you sometime. Maybe. It's kind of embarrassing, you know?" She played with a strand of hair, eyes shifty. "I, uh. Haven't really ever shown anyone before so I-"

"It's cool. You don't have to."

"...Thanks. Are you heading to the gym tonight? Sora asked me to give you her number if you were going to keep it up."

"Sora-sensei did?"

"Mn."

So far, Medama really liked video chatting with Shinsou. She had never been a person who enjoyed talking to someone over the phone without being able to see their face, well, except for texting, sure, but she had to say that she enjoyed this far more than just a simple call.

Her room was a bit of a mess. Peeling music posters that were torn at the edges, of bands she wasn't particularly attached to, a couple clothing items still strewn about from where she hadn't been able to decide on her outfit, and guitars and a stack of guitar picks knocked over on her desk. Her piano- keyboard, really, if she was being literal- was pushed up to the wall on the other side of her bed, right next to the closet she used to record and stream. Though, not much anymore, now that UA had much better equipment.

It's a major difference to Shinsou's room. Which she can't see much of. It looks like he has a couple hero posters on underground heroes, a music poster here or there, and a bike up against his wall, but otherwise most she can see is his face and part of his bed's dark purple comforter in the background.

"Are your parents angry about the arm?"

"Huh?"

His voice grows dry, "Your arm, Medama. How'd they react when you came home?"

"Oh! I live alone. For the most part." She says it so casually that Shinsou actually doesn't catch it at first. "They're in Tokyo, actually. I mean, my mom came to visit me when I first went to school, but I haven't seen her since."

He takes a deep breath, notably taken aback and let's it out with an odd glint in his eyes that Medama... doesn't know how to describe. "There's... no one there with you." He asks dully. "At all."

"My aunts live fifteen minutes away and check up on me every week?" Her head tilts when Shinsou makes an unhappy noise in the back of his throat. "And it's not like I don't call my parents or they don't visit. They just had to move because of a business-"

Shinsou takes a deep breath.

"-and have been really busy lately-"

And pinches the bridge of his nose with a growing weariness that has him even more tired than usual.

"-it's not like it's unusual. There's plenty of people living alone because they had high school in another prefecture."

She... has a point there. And Shinsou can't really fault the situation. There's just something uncomfortable knotting itself in his stomach, paranoia, he guesses, because the thought of her sitting at home all alone isn't exactly a comforting one.

Unbidden, his eyes drift to the cast and sling her arm is in. The green cast is a bit of an eyesore already- 

("She only had this really ugly yellow and this green to choose from. I wanted orange." Which would've been an equally terrible choice but Shinsou doesn't point that out.)

-and Shinsou didn't like how his attention seemed to always be coming back to it.

He opens his mouth to say something, maybe voice his concern, but instead jumps when Medama gasps, leaning into the camera and asks: "Is that a cat?!"

Shinsou has barely enough time to push his keyboard out of the way before his cat is leaping onto his desk and trying to shove his way into his face for attention.

"Damn it, Espresso!"

Medama breaks out into mad giggling. "Oh my gosh, is he named after coffee? That's amazing!" And grows immensely more delighted by the second as Shinsou struggles to keep him from accidentally tabbing out of the video chat. "Ooh, I think I can hear him purring! Hehehe~!"

"I'm glad you're enjoying this."

Shinsou deadpans. Before abruptly turning-

"Espresso, no! Don't shove stuff off my desk!"

Medama laughs and laughs. A rambunctious and twinkling noise that contains such incredible joy that's such a far cry from the tears she'd shed earlier in the day that Shinsou has to hide the fact that his face is burning red and the disappointment in his voice when he has to end the call. 

If he's more determined than usual when he approaches Sora then that's his own business. If he hits twice as hard and if Sora-sensei has him go to town on a punching bag for a while, that's also his own business.

If he imagines the face of that guy that'd broken Medama's elbow, well, that's his own business.

(He grits his teeth, frustrated.

How could someone like him be a hero if his reasoning for wanting to take someone down is because of a petty revenge trip? He should've been able to stop it in the first place, instead of standing there and doing nothing but stare.

Shinsou does not think about how his reasoning is born from protective instincts. Or how Medama hadn't asked for help. Or even seemed to truly want it. If he had, maybe then he wouldn't be as frustrated at himself as he was. But he doesn't think about that and so he carries on with negative thoughts in his head and-

"Shin-sou! Shin-sou! Look, one-handed!"

Medama sends him a shakily taken video, he has a feeling, given the angle of the video, that she has it tucked into her sling, and is trying her damndest to play a version of Mary Had A Little Lamb with only one hand and is actually succeeding.

"Yes, oh shi-!" 

The video flips over on itself as she drops her phone and it cuts out.

The buzzing in his head doesn't seem so loud anymore.)

-0-

Halo @Halo_Official

Important Announcement: I was recently defeated in a battle to the death and broke my arm. Streams will be rescheduled for when I expect to be able to bounce back and the Album may be delayed by a few days. Sorry for the inconvenience!

Halo @Halo_Official

The- The battle to the death bit was a joke. How would I be typing this if I was dead? DO NOT MAKE ME A MEMORIAL STOP TELLING PEOPLE IM DEAD why are you all like this

Halo @Halo_Official

No. The arm being broken was not a joke.

Halo @Halo_Official

Important Announcement: I AM NOT DEAD STOP ASKING and YES I DO SEE THOSE ARTICLES POPPING UP IN MY FEED AND I DO NOT APPRECIATE BEING USED AS CLICKBAIT

-0-

Shinsou waits in class, pencil tapping against a blank page in his notebook, as he impatiently looks for a head of familiar curly pink hair to arrive. 

His body is aching, muscles burning, but it's a bit less than it was the day before. This time he'd made sure his alarm was turned all the way up before going to bed and had set multiple reminders- glad that his insomnia had gone away long enough for him to actually close his eyes and truly rest- and had been extra careful with the time. 

He doubted he'd have the reporters to use as an excuse to come in late again. From what he'd heard there were several news and media companies that were facing assault and harassment charges, as well as obstruction of justice and trespassing, after what had happened yesterday.

(Shinsou thinks of that smarmy reporter and lets out a scoff and a "Good riddance.")

"What's up with you?"

Shinsou blinks, pausing in his tapping as spiky blonde hair and a scarred face peer down at him. Gaiaku Raizuma. Kiroku's friend, if he was remembering correctly.

He keeps his face blank, voice carefully droll. "Nothing in particular."

For some reason, that Shinsou honestly can't comprehend, this seems to annoy Gaiaku. "Oh? Then why are you watching the door, huh?" The amount of aggression in his voice is uncalled for. But doesn't seem entirely out of left-field, at least, he didn't seem like the type of guy who was polite after all.

Shinsou gives him an infuriating slow blink, gaze blank.

Gaiaku looks ready to blow a gasket.

"...You... Have anger issues. I'm guessing."

"What did you just say?!"

Shinsou doesn't know why Medama could think he was any good at this whole friends thing. Emotionlessly, Shinsou points out, voice slow and clearly enunciated: "You're blocking my view."

(He doesn't see it but Kiko has buried her face in her hands and is letting out a small, pitiful moan. "Oh, why are you making him even worse?" With the sort of fed up existence of someone entirely too used to Gaiaku's presence.)

Shinsou's shoulders tense, prepping for an onslaught of cursing or arguing or, hell, even accusations of villainy. But Gaiaku just suddenly presses his lips together and then shakes his head with a scoff that has Shinsou bristling slightly, "Whatever. Not even worth trying to talk to-" And Shinsou has to wonder if... that was his attempt at friendliness?

The sheer aggression wafting off the dude was enough to have his hackles raising and hair standing on end.

Not... violent. Or anything like that. But definitely sharp.

"Oh-kay…?" Shinsou mutters under his breath, pencil going back to tapping on his paper softly. Fidgeting in his seat as the clock got closer and closer to the bell, there were only a few stragglers left and Medama seemed to be one of them. Despite usually being one of the first people in class.

It made him wonder if something had happened.

"Ikimaru, right?" 

It seemed something had.

"U-Um, y-yes-?"

"Cool. You're friends with Kiko, aren't you-?"

Ignoring Ikimaru's presence, Shinsou was too busy snorting at Medama's appearance. Her uniform was a complete mess. Even more so than usual.

Her shirt was almost completely untucked from her skirt, which was at a slight diagonal angle, and the buttons were only done up to her collar bone. Her tie was just thrown over her shoulders, laying there, and she'd completely foregone the stockings she usually wore under her skirt.

She'd clearly struggled getting dressed.

Hell, even her hair was done up slightly off center.

And, of course, she didn't care. Too busy lighting into Ikimaru Hisoo with an enthusiasm that was not befitting the early morning. She'd clearly gotten well-rested over the night, given that there was nothing to keep her up now that most of her normal activities were off limits, and Shinsou was slightly jealous of the sleep she'd managed to obtain.

He doesn't notice the smile on his face. Soft and easy, a warmth that he didn't usually show coming through. It only grows as she laughs at how Ikimaru is reacting to her prodding, and he can't help but notice the knitted hoodie she had folded and pressed against her chest, her hold on it tight and as if it were precious. 

It has a slow elation beginning to build somewhere deep in his stomach.

And Shinsou catches her eye, briefly, watching her smile only grow when she sees him. Ushering Ikimaru in through the door as they seemingly spot Kayama-sensei on the way in and-

(It's a nice feeling. To not have someone afraid of him. Someone who could smile at him so genuinely. 

And Shinsou has to wonder how he ever could have lived without it before.)

-that's when a bucket falls on Medama's head.

...

...

Dead silence.

Then laughter.

...

...

Medama is frozen.

Stock still.

Her heartbeat is in her ears and her breath has completely left her, a suffocating feeling descending on her as her mind registers water- water in her mouth- water in her nose-

(The sound of rushing water around her. The drip of droplets off metal.

She's scared.

She doesn't want to admit it.

She's terrified.

She doesn't want to die.)

The moment is brief. Terrifying, but brief. 

And then suddenly the rushing is gone and she's unfreezing and she can breathe again- and she hopes beyond hope that no one had noticed her moment. No one had noticed her hands begin to shake and her lungs begin to seemingly collapse on each other inside of her.

The room is chillingly cold.

"Are... Are you okay?" It's the quiet voice of... of... Suddenly her mind is whirring with disjointed and disorganized memories and the name doesn't come to her, even though she knows she knows it. She'd just been talking to him.

Her hands twitch.

She can move her limbs, she can move and she can breathe. There's nothing to worry about.

Tentatively, she lifts the bucket off her head. Or, really, she mostly just tilts it, just enough that she can glance from beneath the upturned brim and spy the classroom of people.

They're almost all laughing. Some even laughing and pointing. Some look too shocked to do anything and a few look genuinely confused.

Indigo eyes meet hers and she wants to pull the bucket back down and hide because all she can think is he saw!

She doesn't.

Instead, she pulls it off all the way, ignoring the uncomfortable scrape of it against her horns, and joins in on the laughter with a surprised one of her own. "That's kind of a super childish prank, isn't it?" She makes it seem like she's rolling her eyes, unworried and flippant and brushing the entire thing off with a practiced ease. "Come on guys, be more creative!"

She doesn't look at how Shinsou shifts in his seat, looking distinctly apprehensive.

She doesn't react beyond trying to get the water out of her clothes, arms crossing over her chest to keep from flashing her undergarments now that her white shirt was drenched and sticking to her skin, and waves off the laughter and the few playful jeers tossed her way.

She doesn't notice some of her classmates share a look and a thought process: That wasn't there before.

(Because it wasn't. They'd all walked in that door and none of them had seen anyone set it up. Not one.

Hell, even Ikimaru had walked in through it. And that was just seconds before her.)

What she does do, is apologize to Shinsou, who looks stiff and completely out of his element, because his hoodie is now equally as drenched as she is and she offers to hold onto it until they both dry. He doesn't say much, only gives her a nod, and she pretends to not be confused by the sudden silent treatment. This part she fails a bit at, not quite able to hide the furrow of her brow.

(It was intended for her, Shinsou grimaces. That much was certain. And he hoped that it was a simple prank, something stupid one of their classmates pulled to be a jerk.

But...)

He glances over at her seat. Her notebook that she's always writing in is wet. Not too badly, but even from his seat he can see the ink bleeding through the pages. 

Her hands seem to grow even more shaky and her eyes blink rapidly a couple times.

As if she had something in her eye.

Shinsou looks away. Refusing to watch her cry when he knows she wouldn't want him to see.

(...he can't shake the feeling that it wasn't meant to be a simple prank.)

...

...

“It wasn’t enough. Think we need more pain? And she didn’t even run back out for us to grab her. She wasn’t embarrassed or anything.”

“Hey, why is her arm in a sling?”

“Do you think she got free yesterday? After we pulled her aside, and that- that villain broke it?”

“That must be it! He must’ve used the fact that the security cameras were down and the emergency yesterday-”

“You know, I know they said it was just the reporters. But I can’t shake the feeling that... a real villain had something to do with it. I don’t know about this, guys. I think he’s way more dangerous than he’s worth-”

“C’mon! We can’t give up now! Hurry, let’s go before they notice-!”

...

...

“What’s got you acting so strange? You’ve been staring at me all day.”

“Can you- Just- Let me-”

She laughs as his hands reach out to her and grasp the ends of her tie, pulling her along until they're in a quiet spot in the hallway, next to the vending machines. Her eyes dance with mirth as she freezes, head tilted towards the ceiling as he begins actually buttoning up the top buttons on her shirt for her and trying to tie her necktie.

“Was that what was bothering you?”

He grumbles. “...Part of it.”

“Silly.”

“You’re still damp.” Shinsou changes the subject. His hands fumble with the length of her tie. He'd only ever done his own before and so, when trying to do hers, he was essentially stuck doing it backwards. It was a nightmare to work with and took way more concentration than he thought it would. "...Shit. How does this even work?" He muttered under his breath.

Medama smiles, eyes closing as he struggles to figure it out.

She can't exactly show him, her own hands full. "Almost dry. So's your hoodie."

"Tch. Doesn't matter."

He's not talking about the tie, which he is quickly growing frustrated with and is beginning to see it as a challenge to complete.

"Who do you think dropped it on you in the first place?"

She presses her lips together thinly, smile falling.

"It's a bucket of water. It's not a big deal."

"What about your notebook then?"

"I..." That, at least, seems to have her faltering. Biting her lip. "I can rewrite it. I have a perfect memory for a reason, it's..." She squeezes his hoodie closer to her chest, the soft fabric beneath her fingers helps to keep her from stuttering. "It's fine. I didn't think you noticed-?"

He scoffs.

"...I'm willing to bet it was the same guy as before."

Medama frowns. "Does it even matter? So someone wanted to be mean to me. It's not a big deal."

Shinsou bristles, hissing- "He broke your arm."

They both share a glance as someone comes up to the vending machine in search of a drink and they peel away from the corner. Shinsou quickly tightens her necktie, finally managing to complete the look and have her cleaned up so she doesn't look like a complete mess. "Thanks." She muttered lowly, voice petulant as they made their way to one of the cafeteria lines that, by this time, had shortened significantly.

"And I don't think it was an accident." Shinsou mutters into her ear. Confirming what she was beginning to find was his thought process. "He hurt you on purpose. He's probably still trying to."

"With a bucket of water?"

They grab their food, each eyeing each other with looks that may be misconstrued as glares if people didn't know they were friends. Friends that were concerned for each other.

Medama takes a deep breath. "Why are you trying to convince me that someone is bullying me? You... You don't have to." Her gaze shifts and Shinsou is suddenly struck by a horrible thought- "...Look. I know that already." -that this was already an ongoing problem. "It's... I can deal with it."

“What.”

She kicks at the grass, straw of a juice box in her mouth and face pinched. “It’s not so bad. They just- It’s only sometimes. Not everyday.” Her shoulders rise with tension, coming up to hug her neck as her head bows. “The arm is the first time that- that they ever touched me. And I don’t think he meant to hurt me that badly.”

“Medama.”

“It’s just a pack of idiots, okay? Besides, it’s not like anyone’s going to help, they didn’t before. Why would they start now?”

The last bit is muttered and Shinsou would have almost completely missed it if not for the fact that he’s practically shoulder to shoulder with her. She shakes her head, as if hoping it’ll get her to stop thinking about all her worries. And she just... sighs, voice turning pleading as she looks at him, “Can we just... drop it? And eat our food? Please?”

Shinsou doesn’t want to drop it. But she looks absolutely desperate for a change in subject and so, through gritted teeth, he growls a terse: “Fine.” That implies that ‘no, it is not fine’.

The relief on her face almost makes up for it.

“I- I think your hoodie is almost done drying? If that helps?” She offers, looking exceedingly hopeful now that they weren’t talking about her anymore. “Sorry about taking it home the other day. I didn’t think Recovery Girl’s quirk would make me so exhausted that I slept through the rest of the school day.”

“It’s just a hoodie.”

“W-Well, I know, but it’s still yours.”

Medama lifts a knee up onto their bench to slide into a half folded seat, her thigh pressing into the back of the bench as she leaned down. The yelp that escapes her and the mad scramble to throw herself off the bench startles Shinsou enough that he lurches back a couple steps. “Son of a... For the love of...!” It’s like she doesn’t know what curse to even go with, eyes squeezed shut and teeth bared in obvious pain.

“Medama-!”

“I-It’s nothing.” She shoves him away, lips curled back and Shinsou let’s her. “I... I’m going to go. I just- I- Don’t sit on the bench. I’m gonna... Okay.” And she stumbles away, leg limping as she walks off and Shinsou watches, scowl curling across his face and- he looks back on the bench. There’s... There’s nothing there.

No object. No nothing that would explain her reaction.

But...

His gaze narrows.

There’s a single spot of red, where she had put the side of her leg into the corner of the bench. Shinsou doesn’t have to be a genius to realize that it’s blood. And that, while he can’t see any evidence of what may have happened, he knows that it’s not a coincidence either.

...

...

“Did she just shove him away?!”

“Did we do it already?!”

“Yes, I knew the tacks would work!”

“C’mon, let’s go follow her. We can take her to the teachers!”

Chapter Text

Ikimaru Hisoo doesn’t know what to think about Tasatsu Medama. He doesn’t really have any negative thoughts about her- (she’s too overwhelming, she’s always hanging out with the scary guy with the scary quirk, she doesn’t seem to struggle on any of the tests despite him never seeing her study-) but he doesn’t really have any positive ones either- (she laughed off the prank on her, she seemed easy going, she had a nice laugh and she made that scary guy with the scary quirk not seem so scary whenever she was around). After practically being attacked by her in the morning, he was still trying to calm his heart down; she’d jumped out of seemingly nowhere, looking like a mess and way too enthusiastic for someone with one arm in a sling, and she’d given him a mini-heart attack.

“Ooh, Komorebi, I don’t know...!”

“Kiko.”

What’s worse! She’s infected Komorebi with her forwardness and now his shy, calm new friend was insisting that she be called by her given name and Ikimaru was just too embarrassed at even the thought. “A-Are you sure they want to be friends with us- w-with me? I k-know she approached me this morning but what if it was a mistake. And that guy, Sh-Shinsou, has such a scary quirk. I don’t think he’d want to even try to be friends with someone like me-!”

Kiko rubs her face, expression growing pained.

“You’re just nervous. A-And he’s not so scary, remember what I told you?”

Ikimaru flinches.

Yes, he remembers what she told him.

How Shinsou had stepped in to save her from reporters and he hadn’t been there to help at all.

“Ow! You hit me?!”

“I could see your thoughts going bad again.”

Unfair. Apparently Kiko had a really cool quirk and the ability to read his thoughts. Ikimaru wishes he could do that. Guess he’d just have to stick with having a really cool friend who could do both... “But... are you sure?” He insists on asking again, and the flat look Kiko gives him is enough to have him deflating. Because, even if he was right, he knew she was going to win anyway.

“I’m sure.”

Now, it just became a question of who was going to approach them, they both side eyed each other with a fierceness that was comically intense given how nervous they were before. 

Ikimaru’s voice lacks its usual shakiness. 

“Why, I don’t mind at all if you want to be friends with them. I insist that you introduce me.”

Kiko’s was equally flat.

“I could never hope to take the honor away from you to introduce yourself.”

They stare at each other, eyes narrowed with tension that could be cut by a knife. They’ve reached a stalemate already, haven’t they?

“...It’s your idea.”

“You want friends too!”

“So? I’m soft and oh-so shy! You do it!”

“I would hate to impose and you know I’m too shy to do it too!” Kiko sighed, feeling her frustration suddenly disappear. They were at an impasse because neither was particularly people savvy and that was why they’d been brought together in the first place. Oh why did they have to catch the eye of the most intimidating students in the whole class. “We’re a couple pieces of work, aren’t we- Medama?”

Kiko can’t help but blink in surprise as one of the so-called intimidating students walked by, not even sending a glance their way. But that's not what made her blink. It was the fact that she was limping towards the bathroom, rubbing at her face furiously, and gripping one of her legs with her uninjured arm. And bleeding. It trickled down the side of one leg, near the edge of her skirt, and Kiko felt immediate concern well up inside her.

Ikimaru looked as green as he could be, tongue sticking out from between his teeth, as they watched her hurry by.

“Where’s Shinsou-?”

“I don’t know...”

They shared a look.

...

...

There’s a sucked in, pained breath and whimper and Kiko nervously calls out. “M-Medama-?”

And feels her stomach clench at the sudden devastating, unnatural silence.

“Is that Kiko-?” Medama says, not a hint of a tear in her voice. It’s chirpy, happy, and Kiko is suddenly reminded why she found her so intimidating in the first place. “Bit of an odd place to make conversation but that’s fine!”

“I- I saw that you were bleeding.”

There’s a long, long pause.

“...Womanly troubles.”

Kiko doesn’t think it would be appropriate to laugh. Especially because of how obvious the lie is. She still wants to though. “...On the outside of your leg?”

“...Aa.” Medama knows she’s been had and Kiko winces as one of the stall doors creak open and she hops out on one foot, the other raised off the floor and paper towels pressed against the outside of her leg. Her eyes look especially dark today. Tired and exhausted. “I- Um. I think I sat on some tacks and I...” She trails off. “Well, I’m bleeding. Obviously.”

Obviously.

“Do you... need help?” Kiko asks, tentative. “I have some bandages leftover from yesterday when Recovery Girl had to wrap my hands. They’re fresh and... and it’ll be better than nothing.”

Medama’s face scrunches and she looks like she really wants to say no. Really wants to ask that Kiko leave and say that she’s fine and that she can take care of it but- “Please.” She instead says, voice so soft that it’s more of a whisper, and Kiko wheels herself forward.

The tacks, thankfully, are already gone.

Kiko has the bad feeling that Medama had ripped them out and thrown them in the trash the instant she’d entered the bathroom. Because, not only was the bleeding worse compared to what she’d seen outside, but the pierced skin was also raised and looked slightly angry. Like she’d done something to be rough with it. It’s a bad case scenario but Kiko is glad she doesn’t have to help take them out herself, she doesn’t know if she would’ve been able to handle it.

“Th-The sink-”

“Right.”

They sit in silence.

Depressing silence.

Kiko is unnerved as Medama doesn’t even flinch as they wipe blood free and try to stop the bleeding from getting even worse, cleaning the small wounds as best they can before they wrap her leg in the gauze that Kiko had pulled from the bag hanging on the back of her chair. “I-Ikimaru is waiting outside.”

“Is he?”

They don’t say anything for a long time.

“First, the bucket, now this! You must have some pretty bad luck today, huh?”

“Yeah. Luck.”

Kiko feels her face pale at the tone that Medama takes on, the sardonic tilt to her voice implies something that Kiko doesn’t want to imagine. "...It's not... It's not Shinsou, is it?"

That seems to snap Medama out of her funk. "What? No! No, of course not, he would never." That's reassuring at least, and Kiko feels a tension she'd been holding finally release. "I... It's just- Jerks. I guess."

"You should tell a teacher- Kayama-sensei would..."

She shifts, the blood had begun to ebb away, slowing down immensely. Kiko grabbed the gauze off the edge of the sink and some cotton to put over the entrance of the wounds. "I... I can't."

"Why?"

"Why?"

Her tongue feels like lead in her mouth, impossibly heavy and twisted, like the words are threatening to be spoken but there's something holding her back. She knows what it is but... "Promise you won't tell him?" At Kiko's look, she clarifies. "Shinsou, I mean."

Kiko isn't one to go spreading other people's secrets so her agreement is fairly easy.

Medama is still hesitant, her mouth opens and then closes, and there's an unusual tension in her face. When she finally does manage to speak, it's with a frustrated curl to her lips and a cold look on her face.

"They think he's controlling me. With his quirk."

The admittance is slow, each word articulated and almost robotic. And she sounds small and weak and tiny despite the furious note underlying her tone.

Yet, her words are spat like they're a curse of the highest degree.

"They somehow got it in their head that pain will snap me out of it. And, I mean, they're not wrong. But he's not controlling me, never has, never even tried to- So it's just-" She runs a hand through her bangs, pushing them back, and it's the first time Kiko's ever seen her full face. She looks... ten times more expressive than before. And a sick feeling curls in her gut. "It's just they're trying their damndest to prove something that they can't!"

Her voice raises slightly towards the end, hoarse with something that isn't quite a yell. She sucks in a deep breath, stabilizing herself, and falls quiet.

Kiko doesn't say anything.

"I don't know him well. We're friends, sure, but I... I don't know him. But if I... If he found out, Shinsou would... I think he would be horrified. Devastated." It's not his fault, it wouldn't be, and Medama would never claim that it was. But she knows enough. She knows that he'd still take the guilt, bear the weight of it, and she can't stand the thought. "I know what you and the others think of him. Chikuchi is only the most vocal and I know how that can... How that makes him think of himself."

Kiko pinches her skirt between her fingers, knowing that Ikimaru can overhear them just the same and is likely feeling the same emotion she is.

Guilt. Horror. Ashamed.

Because Medama was right. Even if they'd been trying to change. They'd still bought into Chikuchi's ravings, no matter how small the amount that they did.

"To learn that I'm being tormented because of people prejudiced against his quirk...!"

She trails off, letting it hang in the air.

His hoodie feels like a weight in her hands, one that she's desperate to not lose hold of. Medama seems to droop, standing there, and Kiko can't help but feel like she looks so- so lonely. "Do you think he would hate me...? For making people think that I'm being controlled-? Do you- Do you think he'd start avoiding me? In- In some sort of misguided attempt to be helpful-?" She opens her mouth to try and assure her that she doesn't think either of those things would happen but Medama just carries on. "I was homeschooled before coming here."

The change in subject is so out of left field that it completely knocks the wind out of her sails. Kiko blinks. "Um."

Thankfully, Medama clarifies.

"I'd asked to be, you know? I couldn't do schooling again. Not only because I was more mature but because I… didn't want to replace those memories of before. Nothing could have... Nothing could have compared." She murmured. There's a deep, unspoken pain in her voice. A terrible wound that lays open and unhealthy. Still, she smiles, so vulnerable and real that Kiko has a hard time looking at her. "He's my first friend. In a long, long time. And I don't want to do anything that could jeopardize that."

There's a determination in her that Kiko can't help but admire.

"That's..."

Medama lets out a tiny laugh, it's not humorous but it's real and she falls back against the bathroom wall, sliding down it. "I'm being silly, I know. He's just... It's not worth taking the chance; of a teacher handling it wrong, or someone not believing me, or... Would they even keep it quiet? It's UA and you saw the reporters from before- It'll turn into a whole mess and some stupid hero will try to play the glory hound when I didn't even ask to be saved."

"You're.. You shouldn't have to ask." Kiko insists, quietly, not knowing what else to say. "To be saved, I mean."

"And so I should just assume? That's not how the world works and I'm not going to let myself be disappointed."

Kiko- doesn't really know what to say to that.

"You're... a really pessimistic person, aren't you?"

She snorts, "You know, between me and Shinsou, I think he's the one with the more optimistic mindset. I try but... I just can't."

Kiko chews on her lip and wonders if Ikimaru is listening in on them. Wonders what he thinks about Medama's shaky vulnerability and very real fears that they couldn't even deny were somewhat founded. The lack of response that Kiko gives has her releasing a wet, mirthless laugh and curling around Shinsou's hoodie, as if it might shield her from her problems.

"You're... you're..."

Kiko struggles with her words.

Admirable.

She doesn't say it. Because she doesn't think Medama would appreciate it but there's definitely something admirable about how firm Medama is in her resolve. How the tacks in her leg seem miniscule, just a symptom of a far larger problem that she was focused on, and how Medama appears to be unworried by what happens to her. Far more concerned with the plight of others and... It's stunning, if Kiko is being honest with herself.

Their culture lauds heroism but it's so rarely found in individuals. Not as some prize to win, or competition to face, or some petty grab for attention and power- just honest compassion that is- Special.

And Kiko realizes, with a weird sense of jealousy towards Shinsou, that she wants that.

That she's willing to protect it. Even only just having seen it. Even if it's not directed towards her anytime soon. So long as it exists- she eyes Medama- she doesn't want it to disappear.

"I..."

She freezes.

There's talking outside the door.

Medama's head seems to hang, as if awaiting the guillotine to come down. It's what kills Kiko's hope that it'd just been Shinsou finally coming in search of Medama and Ikimaru waving him down. Instead, it's arguing, hushed and slightly furious.

"I- I'm saying you can't go in-!" It's Ikimaru, she'd know that stutter from anywhere. "Besides, this is the girls bathroom and I won't have some... some pervert peeking on my friend!"

(She feels her heart swell in fondness. He didn't even stammer, not really, and his voice was firm as he played up his protectiveness.)

He squeaks as a gruff, demanding voice fills with anger. "Listen here, you freaky loser-!"

Oh hell no.

"Hey," a feminine voice cuts in before Kiko can come out there and give the guy a piece of her mind, "I'm a girl. It's fine. I'll just go grab her."

And Ikimaru shrieks: "No!"

"What? Why not?!" There's stuttering and stammering and, from the sounds of it, Ikimaru is obviously trying to keep them from storming in and getting to Medama, because that's clearly who they're here for and Kiko doesn't think he's willing to give her up either. "Let me through-! Move, damn it!"

Kiko is halfway to the door when she hears a sigh, much too close, and Medama is limping past her. Her shoulders are slumped and she doesn’t pause even when Kiko tries to hold her back: “W-Wait, you don’t have to...!” But it’s too late, her hand is already on the handle and she’s already prepared herself to face the music.

...

...

The sound of the bathroom door opening has the conflict outside freezing in its tracks. The sight of Medama, half leaning against the doorway to the bathroom, with a scowl spread across her face was what kept it from starting back up again or getting worse.

Ikimaru let’s out a yelp as the ringleader stomps on his foot and shoves him out of the way.

Medama’s eyes flash.

“What do you think you’re doing here-?!” She hisses. “Is it not enough for you? To ruin my work, my mornings, and me?!” It feels like she’s shouting but she’s not. Her voice has hardly raised; it’s deadly calm, acidic, and threatening like a serpent's tongue. Had she been any less in control of herself, though, Kiko feared there would be tears in her eyes and her voice would be breaking and cracking on every syllable. Because it’s not normal to go from a near breakdown on a public restrooms floor to almost seemingly unaffected. “You... keep trying to hurt me. You’re jumping to conclusions and you’re...” Her voice is almost robotic and it’s what has Kiko shivering and grimacing because it’s fake. Incredibly fake. “Shinsou is twice the person you are. All of you combined aren’t even worth half of him, so just...”

Ikimaru rubs his feet, tears pricking his eyes as he sits up and-

Something wet drips onto his face.

He shivers, wiping his face and is surprised to just find more tears on his fingers when he pulls his hand away. Chancing a glance upwards to discover-

“...leave me alone, okay?”

-that Medama’s head has bowed, her hair falling like a drape to protect her from prying eyes that she’d rather not see her. Her eyes flutter, pained, and droplets are too heavy on her lashes to be stopped.

-0-

Her hand cramps, fumbles, and she slams it into the piano with a force that has her ears ringing from the smashing note. It’s discordant. A long sound that only grows longer as she holds her fist into the keys, her teeth gritting and grinding as her head pulses with the beginnings of a headache built upon by stress and frustration.

“Can you stop?”

She asks gently. To no one.

Perhaps her piano.

She grimaces, and then slams her hand back down into the keys before turning on heel and walking away. One-handed was... But it was fine. She only had a day or two more before she could get her cast off, she just- she had to close her eyes and rest. Take a break for once. That’s it- just a mini-vacation.

She sighs.

She doesn’t want to take a vacation.

“Stupid...” The multitude of blankets she pushes herself under helps to block out the world and she hugs a pillow, staring at her alarm clock as the time ticks away. It’s still much too early. For her- she supposes that others would find it late but she’s all too used to incredibly late nights that carried into the early morning of the next day and surviving off of only a few hours of sleep. “This is going to ruin my whole schedule...”

She didn’t dare try and get used to sleeping in. It would only be harder to get back to normal.

Startled, she nearly jumps out of her skin when her phone began to ring, she’d thought she’d had it on vibrate, and her hand instantly reaches out for it but- Her hand hovers over the caller ID and the picture that popped up. Shinsou Hitoshi was in the midst of rolling his eyes and she’d messily drawn cat ears and whiskers on the image, and perhaps a glowing little halo on top of it just because.

She- 

She doesn’t want to talk. Video call. Whatever.

So she instead puts it on silent and rolls over, tucking herself under the covers and yet not sleeping either.

...

...

The next day the sky is pink in the morning, she wakes up with heavy eyes but a well-rested body and her arm doesn’t ache near as much as it had before. She hates it. In a sort of petulant frustration since it would technically be a positive for anyone other than her and she realizes that. 

She gets on her early morning train and hops off at a different stopping destination than she usually does, every few days she’d change up where she got on and off the train. And she wasn’t so naively hopeful to think that after yesterday they would’ve stopped their efforts. So she kept to her usual strategy.

(She had mapped out routes memorized. She had stores and timeframes that would have the most crowds to disappear into. She had plans and scenarios playing in her head and she had her location pinged and ready to be sent to her contacts if something did happen.

They weren’t going to be able to catch her. 

She wouldn’t let them.)

But the morning is met with no difficulty. She glances around corners, looking for any sign of anything out of place- a number of times, she thinks she sees someone, but it’s just the shadows playing tricks on her and she forces herself to relax- and she makes it into class at the very last minute because she had to stop at Recovery Girl’s office to ask if it was time to get her cast off yet and had been told a disappointing no.

And it's... normal.

(Medama is suspicious.)

She exits class during one of their short breaks and eyes the empty hallway she’s ducked into with a horrible sense that she was being watched. The hair on the back of her neck prickles with paranoia and she glances over her shoulder with a slowly growing frown. There’s just... a threat hanging in the air. And the shadows seem to dance around her, making her already bad mood worsen, and-

Shinsou grabs her shoulder and forcibly turns her around. 

"You've been avoiding me." 

He blurts before anything else.

Medama sucks in a furious breath of air, her lungs straining, and somehow manages to hide her flinch of surprise behind a blooming smile. It’s real, filled with relief, and she practically collapses against the hallway wall.

"Well, hello to you too."

She all but chirps. 

Shinsou takes a step closer, straightening to his full height.

"Medama."

"Shin-sou."

It doesn't work in defusing the situation like she thought it would. Had hoped it would. Her smile falters.

"You're pretty intense, huh?" She looks away, tucking strands of hair behind her ears and his gaze briefly shifts to linger on the small movement. "I don't know if I should love it or hate it..." She trails off, jumping back on subject. "I haven't been trying to avoid you or anything."

"You wouldn't answer my calls."

"Was tired." Is her simple, truthful reply. "Just- really tired. I've been sleeping pretty much all my time away. And, I mean, it helps since I'm still on pain killers-"

He eases up a bit, as if remembering her arm, but he wasn't anywhere near close enough to hurting her or even bumping into her, which is what she thinks he fears. His eyes flick over her in worry, taking in her injury with a slight twitch downwards in his blank expression.

"-and I don't have much else to do, but we can video call tonight if you want-"

"Your leg."

"Hm?"

"You have bandages on your thigh." He specifies and she tenses. "There was blood on the bench yesterday. That's the leg you used to sit down with." There's a complicated emotion in his eyes, one that Medama is entirely uncomfortable with and she's desperate to get it away from her.

"Ooh~ nice deduction, Mr. Detective. Don't keep talking like that with me or I'm going to think you want to learn more about me." She teases, voice practically a purr.

Any other time, Shinsou would have been flustered or shocked but, honestly, he doesn't even hear it. The bandages on her leg aren't fresh, but they're spotted with a couple smudges of pink, as if something had just barely begun to soak through.

Her legs shift, crossing over one another and thighs squeeze together, in a poor attempt at trying to hide it. Now that it'd been seen though, Shinsou wasn't about to forget.

He stepped closer and she pointedly wouldn't meet his gaze.

"They hurt you. Again.”

“It’s superficial at best.”

He doesn’t let up and Medama doesn’t like the glare he has on her. Absolutely unimpressed by her excuses and, well, she wouldn’t be either. “Thanks, you know.” The gentle words have his glare shifting away into confusion and genuine bewilderment. “For worrying. I mean. It means a lot to me to know that you care.”

“I...”

Her head tilts, smile warm and pulling at her cheeks until they grow tense with the force of it. “It’s nice.” She murmurs. And means it. "You're nice."

He...

Shinsou falters, not knowing how to respond to that.

"When did you get to be so good, huh?"

"I- Are you patronizing me?"

"I'm teasing you." She giggled at his offended expression. "Okay. So maybe a little. But it got the subject to change, no?"

"...Wait."

The cackle she hides behind her hand is ugly and triumphant. "Medama, this is serious. They- Medama." He makes a noise of dismay in the back of his throat. "Stop laughing. Stop joking around-"

"What makes you think it was a joke? I meant it, Shinsou. I think you're wonderful."

He startles.

(Medama doesn't blush. She won't. She had had a previous lifetime to waste on being embarrassed and she knew how little it mattered and knew how much better it was to simply refuse the affliction.)

"Ooh~ I didn't know confessions started this early in the year."

(I think you're wonderful.' Is not a confession.

But it has his hands suddenly sweaty, his bottom lip trembling with a barely withheld strangled whine-

'I think you're wonderful.'

-and his neck and ears turning a bright red that heats his face and makes it a bit hard to breathe normally.)

Shinsou is suddenly aware of the scene that they make. 

Of how they stand so close that they’re nearly nose to nose, close enough that their breath begins to mix and grow in warmth together, and with his head tilted so he could meet her eyes it... creates a tension that from an outside perspective would have eyes turning away in an attempt to give privacy. It doesn’t help that he's stepped so close that Medama is not quite able to escape easily, not if she truly wanted to at least. The only thing that would have made it worse was if his arm was on the wall next to her head-

He jerks away, as if burned.

"We weren't-"

Medama doesn't help by giggling madly into her hand.

"Aa-aa-aa, no PDA on-campus. Feel free to take it home. And make sure to make responsible decisions, kids." Kayama-sensei, because, of course, that's who would walk in on their little scene and immediately jump to conclusions, wags a finger at them. "Now, off to class, my little students~!"

(Shinsou doesn't think he's ever going to begin to comprehend Medama's open wonder for this woman.)

"Except you, Shinsou!" She catches him by the back of his collar as they both turn to hurry off and his shoulders and hackles immediately raise, rising up to try and brush the hand away. Medama's steps freeze for a moment, and she glances back, worry evident. "Run along, Tasatsu, nothing to worry about, he's not in trouble. It's about the last assessment test!"

When Medama hesitates in continuing, Shinsou shoots her a reassuring look that has her tentatively nodding and walking off, shooting a glance over her shoulder as she leaves. It's only when Kayama speaks again that she picks up her pace, so as to not eavesdrop on something important: "Now, I've heard that you want to be a hero, is that right?" Kayama practically purrs, pulling him around and-

(Shinsou doesn't know why. But he feels a little like a kitten being carried by its scruff. The comparison is a weirdly accurate one.)

"-With a quirk like yours, it's going to be difficult."

He lets out a sigh through his nose, eyes closing as the words rush over him. "I realize that." He says instead, voice flat and deadpan and just- done. "I am willing to work for it." He adds on blandly, no real emotion in his voice.

Kayama doesn't remark on it. But she does look a little annoyed by the dead tone.

(Shinsou can't help but tense, waiting for her to tell him that it just isn't worth it, that he should stick to a quiet path so as to not bother anyone. Or, hell, maybe even to tell him to step off, that there's people with more heroic quirks in the class that are more likely to be transferred.

He's ready for it. Prepped to deflect or ignore, to bury in that bitter place that always seemed to seep through him anyways.)

Instead, she simply says, "Great." And nods. "I've noticed that it looks like you've been working out, carrying yourself better... The UA gym is only really accessible to non-Hero students who have a teacher overseeing them, so let me know if you ever need to practice your quirk and I'll be willing to watch."

He stops himself from proclaiming his shock. And blinks slowly a couple times in just abject disbelief.

"Your quirk is an Emitter though. So you'll have to find volunteers that'll let you use it on them. But I'm sure that if you asked the pink angel on your shoulder, she'd be more than willing." Shinsou doesn't know how to respond to that. In some ways, he thinks that she's right, that Medama would instantly agree but that's somehow worse than if she'd just say a flat-out no. 

(Because she wouldn't want to be his friend anymore, if she knew how it felt.

To lose control.)

"Speaking of her..." 

Shinsou waits for some vaguely sexual comment that will probably make him uncomfortable and unable to look Medama in the eye anymore. It was Midnight's whole image, after all, and he wouldn't be surprised if she was just the same as she was in the media as she was in private.

Kayama just pinches the bridge of her nose, glasses pushing up slightly with the action. She'd long since let go of Shinsou's collar and was now just walking with him.

"I must admit that I... lied. A bit. When I mentioned the assessment. There's actually counseling sessions we have planned sometime in the next day or so to go over the results of them alongside the Principal, sort of a one-on-one, so expect something more in-depth around then. Don't tell anyone, it's supposed to be a surprise. My apologies, for leading you on."

Shinsou is only a tiny bit miffed, more bemused than anything. "...Oh-kay...?"

"I couldn't help but overhear-"

('I think you're wonderful.' )

"Aa?"

"-that someone was hurting Tasatsu?"

('Why?'

Shinsou feels the words on his lips, the hint of a whisper, terrified of the answer. 'What did I do to deserve any good thoughts from you? I sat back and watched them hurt you. I did nothing.'

He has a bad, bad feeling that Medama doesn't even care.

He has a worse feeling that her answer would make him even more undeserving.)

Shinsou's mouth is dry and he hesitates for only a second. And that hesitation is only because his eyes flick back, to the classroom, where he knows Medama is. Wondering if this is a betrayal on his part, of her trust. Because as much as he wants to help her, wants to fight off her bullies, he... doesn't think she wants him to.

"Shinsou. If you know anything at all..."

Kayama- Midnight- notices his reluctance and her eyes sharpen, glasses falling back into place.

Medama will be angry at him.

She may even hate him. If he breathes a word of it. 

(But he wants to deserve her words.

Wants to be someone that deserves to be thought of as wonderful. And he won't get that by being subservient to those that harm her, even if it's herself letting the harming continue without a fight.

Shinsou has never been one to let others' feelings get in his way. Even if those feelings are about him. And... if she hates him afterwards, he thinks he can live with it. If it means she doesn't flinch anymore.

Like when he'd turned her around and she'd tried to hide it. Her fear.)

He gives Midnight a suspicious look. And hopes there's a good reason behind why Medama seems to fangirl over the controversial hero. "...Fine." He grunts, voice low and dark. "I'll tell you."

-0-

Midnight, because she's firmly stuck in hero mode, storms into the teachers lounge with such fervor and hate radiating off of her that it's like a storm had just rushed in.

"How dare they?!" She seethes, teeth grinding and hands twitching for her whip, fiddling with it. Curling it around her fist before letting go and repeating. A habit born from being ready for an attack at any given moment. "How dare they?! To one of mine-!"

Toshinori makes the mistake of trying to defuse the situation and is immediately quelled by a terrifying glare that has him squeaking and falling back into his seat with a: "Yes, ma'am, whatever you say!" That would be hilarious any other time. 

Or would be, later. After things had calmed a bit.

"Shouta! Hizashi!"

Both men are already tense and wide awake in their seats. An impressive feat since Aizawa had been previously on the floor, dead asleep in his sleeping bag. Neither seemed to be aware of what exactly was going on but both knew Nemuri well enough to know that this wasn't her just being dramatic but being, honestly, legitimately pissed.

There were very few things that made her angry. Legitimate and real anger.

And this was, very obviously, that.

"Someone on this campus," she growls, absolutely livid, "has been hurting my sweet, little pink student."

Aa, yes. That would do it.

Mic sighs. "If your student is being bullied, we can have a parent-teacher conference with both parties and find a solution. I'm sure it's not anything to get too upset over."

See, here's the thing. Normally this response would have her calming down a little. Because, if there was one thing that she and Aizawa had in common, it would be their protective streaks a mile wide. Both had a habit of overreacting a bit when it came to their students. Kayama in exploding revenge and Aizawa in a creepy, quiet revenge-fashion.

"Upset." Her eye twitches. "I'm not upset."

"Uhh, I don't know about you but-"

"I'm about to kill some kids, Mic." She spits. "Am I livid? Yes. Am I murderous? Very much so. But am I upset? Oh no, I assure you, I am far beyond that already."

Okay, so not nearly as easy a situation as he thought it was going to be.

"Wait, what happened-?"

"They broke her arm!" She shrieks. "They dumped a bucket of water on her. They put tacks through her leg! And, what's worse, there's no proof beyond testimony from one of my most untrustworthy students- oh, not because he's anything but lovely, I can tell you that- but because they'd call him a villain for his quirk and try to arrest him on the spot!"

Aizawa's face is dark and with little remorse. "Why is there no proof-?"

"Because they broke her arm when the security cameras were down because of the reporters! And the tacks and bucket-" If anything she appeared to somehow grow angrier. "They appeared out of nowhere! Complete nothing and then, suddenly, there!"

So a quirk was at play. That was... well, if they could figure out what the quirk was, then they'd very easily be able to charge them with Quirk Misuse and Misconduct- of course, that was relatively minor considering the assault. 

But it was something else to add onto the list.

"What's worse is that I had to hear this all second hand because she's too much of a sweetheart to bother people with her problems and it could be even worse than what's already happening-"

Midnight is panicking a bit.

Heart racing in horror.

"-and I didn't notice until I overheard. I mean, I suspected something may be going on but I'd hoped that it was just..."

"Who's the suspect?"

"Suspects. And I... don't know. He could only give me the description of one. With a possible strength quirk." She moaned, head in her hands. "Not even a class or a name. And it sounds like they're starting to back off just as I'm noticing...!"

It'll be okay. They'll catch them.

There wasn't much that went on in this school without someone, most likely Nezu, knowing about it.

But they could tell that it was the fact that it'd even happened in the first place was what was eating Midnight up.

-0-

Tasatsu Medama comes to school the next day with bloodied knees and a scraped up hand and the excuse that she'd fallen down the concrete stairs outside.

Kayama is about ready to cry.

And when Mic and Aizawa re-examine the footage alongside her from outside, they both watch grimly as Medama seems to jerk forward halfway down the stairs, her foot catching on something- nothing- and goes toppling down. Just barely managing to roll so as to not damage her already injured arm even worse.

She's back up within seconds. In fact, it doesn't seem as if she's even registered the pain, already moving to carry on without even a pause.

There are only a few students in the vicinity but neither have a quirk that would suit the situation. A minor telekinesis and the ability to contort preexisting shadows into shapes. Not exactly what they're looking for.

They pause the footage on the image of her foot on... something. Seemingly caught on nothing, anyone else would think that it was simply the air she'd tripped on, but there's a friction to the soles of her shoes, a slight squish of her definitely stepping on whatever-it-was she stepped on.

Something they can't see.

Chapter Text

"What are you doing?"

"Walking with you."

"...Why though?"

She seems so honestly mystified that he's almost offended.

"Do I need a reason?"

"I suppose not." She's flattered, honestly, and she would welcome it with a giddy pep to her step normally. "You just never have before. Or even asked to."

He sighs. "Would you mind if I walked to the train station with you?" There, he asked and everything. It wasn't even that big of a deal anyway. While they didn't live in the same prefecture they were both on the edges of their respective ones and were still fairly close and would probably even take the same trains if Medama didn't usually hang around after school most of the time.

Medama hums.

"Hm. You know, I think I do mind actually."

"What."

"Well, you see. I had actually planned on stopping by that arcade on the corner of 5th and if you walk to the train station, why... I'm afraid I'd be all alone." She smiles as Shinsou stops in his tracks and looks at her blankly, unimpressed by her blatant manipulation. "I 'spose I could go by myself. But it wouldn't be much of a celebration of getting my cast off, now would it?"

She holds up her arm, freshly freed and fully healed. No longer bound by that gaudy cast that the entire class had been obsessed with trying to sign and doodle on.

(His own had been a small little cat doodle on the back of her elbow that Medama had desperately wanted to see the entire time but had never been able to. Even when she'd asked him to take a picture and show her, he'd refused.

Jokes on him. She had asked Recovery Girl if she could keep the cast pieces and his dorky drawing was currently buried, hidden away in her school bag.

Seriously. 

Who unironically wrote: 'Don't fur-get to feel better.' Under a small drawing of what she was pretty sure was supposed to be a saddened Espresso.

She loved it.)

He twitches.

"...Fine."

"Wait, really? I- I mean, of course!" She's practically vibrating with excitement. "You... I'll pay-"

"I can pay."

"D-Do you even have money? Sorry, that sounds rude! But people don't usually bring cash to school-"

"Me-dama." His lips pop over the pronunciation of her name. "I can pay."

"I-" She's nearly stumbling over her own feet, still looking surprised. "T-Then, yes, huzzah! Hur-freaking-ray. Let's hurry before all the good games get taken!" If he knew it was going to make her this happy, he may have even suggested it himself. Because as sarcastic as those exclamations were, her eyes were still blown wide in sheer delight. "I... want to hang out with you more. I guess it's good you want to too then!"

Shinsou ducks his head, rubbing the back of his neck, pretending like his ears aren't burning a fiery red.

"Yeah... huh. Good."

He feels bad for having an ulterior motive. Even if it's for her safety in the first place. 

Shinsou hadn't been able to bear the thought of leaving her to walk home by herself. After she'd come in with bloodied knees and a big grin on her face, sheepish but much too wide, his stomach had been rolling over itself and he'd felt sick. A little like he might even vomit his own breakfast. Because this was far out of hand, far too much, and a quick glance at Kayama-sensei all but confirms the necessity of the situation.

There's... Just something that makes him want to work harder. Now that there's someone else who knows.

(He knows how selfish that is.)

Medama has no time for him to let bad thoughts, guilty and ashamed thoughts, consume him. She's grabbing his hand and tugging him along and neither bring attention to how easily their hands fit together, how easily their fingers thread with one another, and how the warmth of the connection is enough to have them stepping closer to one another. As if that might make it spread.

Shinsou feels his already small grin grow shaky with nerves.

(Medama sticks her tongue out at the ones that watch from the shadows, ignoring how their faces grow livid as she leads her and Shinsou to the most populated area that would be the easiest to get lost in.

She hadn't expected him to join her.

Hadn't even wanted to head to the arcade all that much.

But she hadn't wanted him to see them try and chase her, didn't want him to get caught up in it, and she could always use an excuse to hang out with him more.)

-0-

There were things that Shinsou was still learning about Medama. Small, tiny inconsequential things that he... couldn't help but notice, even though they honestly meant, probably, nothing in the long run.

Her nose scrunched when she was concentrating, wrinkles would form along the bridge of her nose and would make her eyes squint. Her brows furrowed downwards to follow the move and it made her almost seem like she was glaring, if it wasn't for her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth then, perhaps, he might've even mistaken it for anger.

It breaks away too easily for her to be angry, and she falls into a beaming smile before long. "Shin-sou, I did it! I beat you- yes!"

It's some Hero Fighter game. In fact, it may literally be called Hero Fighter now that he's looking at the side of the machine. Like, the fifteenth iteration of it too. A simple, old fighter game where you picked a character and went to town on an opponent; Medama had mistakenly called it Street Fighter when she first saw it.

She knocks into him, grin cheeky, "Can't believe you just let me kick your ass! C'mon, let's go again." And he rolls his eyes, already going back to the Player Select screen.

He's already beaten her three times at it.

That wasn't even to say she was bad. It's just that she admitted that the last time she played an actual arcade game was when she was eight years old. And given the past tense of how she phrased it, he assumed that was only in her previous memories. The worst part is that he knows that she'll be beating him before long. That her quirk is passively helping her pick up the buttons and moves at an astronomical pace, committing it to muscle memory, and making her learn faster than he could ever compete with.

If this was something he cared about, maybe the thought would make him frustrated and angry. But, honestly, it does nothing here but make him play a little looser, because he's likely going to lose anyways, and takes the chance to stare at her from the corner of his eye, watching her scrunched up face and the way her cheeks grew warm and rosy-

"Shinsou," he blinks out of his stupor, and realizes that her eyes are on his, that her hand has snuck to tap on his frozen ones, and her voice is unusually soft, "I won again. You want to switch games?"

He doesn't know how he could hear her. There was so much noise in the arcade, crowds of students and those younger than them squealing and cheering, and yet- He can't help but listen. The vibrations of her words were so startlingly clear that he had to blink and wonder if there was some part of her quirk that he hadn't known about.

(His own can't help but reach out.

The hum of her voice low in his ears and prickling at his senses, calling out to him. He almost wants to pull her under, to hold her in his hands and savor the feeling.)

"Sure."

He agrees easily enough, glancing back at the screen to see the large letters declaring Player 1 as the winner. There were a couple of kids behind them that looked to be growing impatient with how long they were taking to decide and Medama tugs him by the sleeve of his uniform.

"Oh, and Shin-sou?" 

"Huh?"

"I like your smile."

There was also that about her, which made him shift awkwardly and feel almost uncomfortable. Because he didn't know what to react with, what to think. Not when she said things like that so casually and without a hint of embarrassment, ignorant of how flustered he truly got- wanting to press his hands to his face and hide away from any possible onlookers.

"You don't know what you're talking about." 

He says instead, hands in his pockets as she rolls her eyes and pulls them over to the next game.

Shinsou shifts from foot to foot as he lets her drag him along, nerves buzzing low in his stomach. He tries to focus on making his way through the crowd, rather than her hand loosely hanging on his wrist, or perhaps on the music that'd come on in the background.

It was an unusual choice to play Halo in an arcade, which was more likely to have remixes and soundtracks without lyrics. But he couldn't help but be glad for it, the soft voice was relaxing, insurmountably so.

And, as he listened to the lyrics, he couldn't help but realize that he hadn't exactly needed it either.

It was strange-

"Ooh~ A racing game will be fun, don't you think?"

-but Medama's voice was just as soothing, if not more so.

(It was a strange dichotomy. To realize that the root of his nerves was also the most successful at easing him. And, now that he was thinking about it, he couldn't remember a time where Medama's voice had been anything but... peaceful.

Like something he'd heard a thousand times before. Like a lullaby on the tip of his tongue. Like a nostalgic memory he couldn't quite recall but could still remember the tranquility it'd inspired.)

"Tell you what, I beat you at this game and we'll say that I actually do know what I'm talking about."

She smirks at him, so proud of herself and so cheeky that he has to scoff at her, mirroring her smirk. "You're on."

He loses.

He loses horribly.

But he'll blame it on Halo's song getting stuck in his head and distracting him, on the scrunch of Medama's nose and her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth before he'll admit to anything else. He'll blame it on how Medama seems to mouth the words to the song as they play, lips so at ease with lyrics she obviously knows well, and he'll wonder if they're pointed. If she means them for anyone in particular.

("You really caught my eye

I'm usually not this shy

But my heart's going through some kind of change

You see, we've always been just friends

But lately these feelings for you have gotten in the way~")

Because when she looks at him afterwards and grins like a looney until he smiles back, he can't help but think that they were.

("So when the stars a~lign

I'm gonna make you mine.")

And that's crazy and stupid of him and he has more important issues and things to focus on. Like training and the Sports Festival and that assessment meeting Kayama-sensei had mentioned.

But Shinsou really, really wants to be right on this one.

("Just tell me, my darling~ do you feel the same way?

It may be crazy but just give it a chance

'Cause what we have is good and I just want this to last

So take my hand and we'll never part

We're meant for each other, this is only the start!")

...

...

"Medama? Shinsou?"

"Kiko?"

It's honestly not all that strange to find Shinsou and Medama in the arcade. It's one of the more popular places outside of school, one of the many places set up outside of UA to try and target teenagers on their way from home or younger tourists. Just looking around she could probably spot plenty more UA students, typically those older, up and about- not just her and Ikimaru. Still. She can't help but find it a little surprising.

"I figured you two would be off... doing your own thing."

"What. Why?"

Because they were what Kiko was going to be calling: the 'cool' kids.

And she says that as fondly as possible. All the while imagining them doing drugs in a dark corner and wearing leather jackets that just emphasized their 'cool kids' personas. Suddenly, she's embarrassed. Because the image looks so distinctly out of place even in her own head. "...No reason."

"Is Ikimaru with you?"

"Um, yes."

"Sweet!"

There had been a very specific image in her head of the pair when Kiko had first arrived at Class 1-C and she's ashamed to admit that they hadn't been particularly flattering. Not really. Considering how quickly Medama beams and hurries off to drag Ikimaru from whatever corner he had found to hide in, shyness completely taking him over, the shame only grows.

"...Medama is..." She trails off and notices Shinsou huffing a little in laughter.

"Overwhelming."

"Yes." Kiko nods rapidly, even though it's rude, and she begins to twiddle her thumbs. They’re both watching after her, watching as she manages to get a high five out of Ikimaru and is loudly trying to figure out what game at the arcade is his favorite and get him to play it with her. “She’s scary.”

“I’m sorry.” 

Shinsou blinks, absolutely bewildered. 

“She’s... scary.” His gaze flicks back over to pink and laughter and friendliness and he... feels his expression turn flat with just- sheer disbelief. “Tasatsu Medama. Is scary. To you. Medama.”

There’s a long pause.

“Medama.”

Kiko can’t help the small chuckle. “I’m sure she’s told you. About what happened in the bathroom when those guys followed her there. She was... She was terrifying.” Not because she wasn’t upset, not because she didn’t cry, not because she wasn’t scared, but because she was. And she stood up to them anyway. “And after they put tacks in her leg...”

Kiko jumps a bit, suddenly aware of the intense gaze that Shinsou pins her with. The horrified and deadly curve of him not knowing whether to simply be angry, enraged, or to hang his head in his hands and wonder how much else has happened to her in the span of just the last couple days. That he hadn’t seen. That he’d seen the signs of and just simply ignored. “Actually,” he sucks in a shaky breath, “she didn’t tell me a thing. ”

Oh shit.

Kiko pales.

“Really?” She squeaks, realizing that she’d said too much and oh wow, oh no. Oops. “Not anything at all?”

“I could guess the tacks.” He says bluntly, “Since I was there when it happened. But what do you mean they followed her afterwards?”

Her mouth slams shut and she sweats.

And he...

Shinsou flinches, realizing what he’d done. That he’d asked a question. “I’m not going to use my quirk on you.” He says it quickly, before she can scream or call for help or take anything the wrong way. “I just want to help my friend. Please.” He’s tired. He doesn’t have time to be dealing with this.

Kiko shivers, lone green eye shimmering as she glances over to Medama and Ikimaru: “That... I wasn’t scared of that.” Sure, he snorts, he’ll pretend to believe her. “But- I want to be her friend and she asked me not to tell.”

“To not tell me.” His eyes are dark, bitter. “She doesn’t trust me.”

Kiko shakes her head.

“She doesn’t want to worry you. She looked like she wanted to punch me for even trying to help her.” That, at least, has his scowl easing a bit, not quite a smile, not quite an anything. “She’s trying to keep it as her problem, I think. I think she thinks she can handle it.”

The problem with that was...

“I don’t think she can handle it.”

“She can.” Shinsou says. It’s not confidence, it’s simply a matter of fact. And Kiko is taken aback. Because that sounds like he’s planning on doing nothing, saying nothing, and the thought has her infuriated. “She could. But I... won’t let her.” That sounded more like something she would expect to hear from him and Kiko ducks her head.

“Good. I don’t think I will either.”

He blinks, surprised and their eyes meet. They share a look that neither can put into words but there’s a camaraderie that wasn’t there before. Kiko smiles, “You two are... A bit of a match made, aren’t you?” She sounds almost impressed as she says it, even though Shinsou has no idea what she could possibly mean. “I like your styles. I’m... not going to watch you do it alone, ‘kay?”

The arcade is bustling and Medama drags Ikimaru over to them, the boy blushing so hard that he’s turned purple, “What are you two whispering about over here? Commiserating?” She doesn’t care to wait for an answer, so long as it seems like they’re getting along, it’s probably not important anyways. “C’mon, a game for four just opened up. Let’s grab it before someone else can take it!”

...

...

Shinsou is quiet.

It’s a bit disturbing, for one so focused.

“What’s got you pouting, kid?”

Sora stands over the kid, hands on her hips and half wanting to walk away so she could go grab her water bottle. The kid needs her weight to hold down his feet though, her shoes covering his and keeping them to the floor as he could keep doing sit ups. His expression is unusually tense and blank. She wasn’t even sure if he was breathing properly, so hyper focused on something in his own head. She waits for an answer, but receives none, not even sure if he heard her.

What a student she’d taken on.

The kid is someone she would liken to an abandoned kitten or a particularly young doe, all wide eyes and ready to freeze as soon as the spotlight fell on him. Still, he could have sharp claws if he wanted. Little needles that didn’t do much harm quite yet but still hurt.

(She’s heard the wit on the kid, the personality, he had a silver tongue just waiting to be sharpened into its own personal weapon.)

“Is it because Medama isn’t here again?” Sora hums, carrying on, and the name does seem to snap him out of his reverie. “Where is that girl... I know she hasn’t been coming in the mornings either. Is she getting lazy? Didn’t you mention her arm had healed after she broke it?” Probably not a good idea to immediately go to exercise afterwards, but Sora had been looking forward to testing her strength and getting her arm back up to par if need be.

“She didn’t break it.”

The mutter is something that she doesn’t think Shinsou meant for her to hear. And the emphasis has a frown growing on her face and her eyes narrowing.

“Sora-sensei, you’re strong, right?”

“...I would like to think so. I mean, have you seen my arms?” Shinsou isn’t in the mood for her jokes, clearly, because he doesn’t even react with some quip like he normally would. She finds herself missing the usual sass. “Kid, c’mon, talk to me.”

“I know you said I should do some training first, build up muscle and stamina, before we get into the harder things, since I have...”

“Complete noodle arms.”

“That.” He makes a face, distaste evident. “But I... need to learn how to fight. How to beat someone.”

Need. Need. Need . She doesn’t like that phrasing.

It’s not that she hasn’t been teaching him how to defend himself or how to fight back, it was just that she hadn’t been teaching any actual fighting styles. Partly because she was unsure what would suit him best, but also because she felt a good understanding of the basics would help him better in the long run. Especially if he eventually got another instructor sometime in the near future, who could teach him live-combat and likely teach differently than she would.

Rather than the safety net of fighting in a safe place where a slip up was just a slip up and where people would fight by rules and didn’t usually intend to seriously injure one another.

“Fight dirty.” She says, in lieu of actual instruction. She would get there with him. She would. But he needed a faster solution to his problems and this was something she could offer him that was... better. “Fight like...” The scars on her arm ache. Memories of street fights and people who had no qualms about using their quirks coming back to her. “Don’t fight like you’re trying to win. Fight like you’re trying to survive-”

“Is there a difference?”

“Yeah. One of you gets to walk away.”

Shinsou is quiet.

Sora sighs.

“Heroes... so much of their battles is just a show they put on. It convinces people that they can do it too, that with just the right quirk, they could win any battle. That’s not true. It never has been. The stronger ones don’t survive, Shinsou, and you take this to heart, you hear? The smart ones do. The ruthless ones do. The stronger ones just stall for time and when they inevitably fall...” She pauses. “They fall hard. ”

“I...”

“This is about Medama, isn’t it?” She asks because she can tell that it is. “Not about the Sports Festival. That hasn’t been on your mind as much.”

(He hasn't forgotten it, certainly not. But there's not much he can do at this point in time- he doesn't think. He doesn't know what else he can prepare or plan with when there's so much he just... doesn't know yet.)

His face scrunches, his hands running through his hair and he’d long since stopped his sit ups. He’s frustrated, so very frustrated that it looks like he may scream. “...They broke her arm. And I didn’t do anything.”

So that’s what happened.

“You froze.”

“I froze!” She nods, because she expected as much. Not enough time had passed for him to change the base instinct. He’d gotten better but- “I didn’t even realize what was happening. Medama got him away all by herself and I... Just let it happen.” It’s clearly weighing on him, likely has been for awhile, because the despair on his face is so real that she’s surprised tears aren’t already dripping from the corner of his eyes. “And bad stuff keeps happening to her, it’s just getting worse. And all I could do was tell a teacher.”

Oh, she can't let this fester.

It may rot if she lets it.

“That’s good, Shinsou, that’s good. You hear me? You did something, you didn’t do nothing, you- You’re still friends with Medama, right?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“You know what her quirk is? She told you?”

“Yeah.”

“That means she trusts you, okay. She wouldn’t tell that to you lightly,” Sora affirms, “she trusts you. It took me and her family years to get her to tell us. But I know what she thinks of you. And, trust me, so long as you keep doing what you’re doing, you will not hurt her. You didn’t let anything happen.”

He rubs an arm over his face, head ducking to hide the redness under his eyes. “I... still want to know how to fight. Need to know.”

“That’s fine, kid, that’s fine.” She pats him on the head, like a kitten, and watches his face turn cherry red and indignant. She can’t help it. The kid’s just too precious and even she knows how patronizing she must come across. “But I’m going to teach you to fight dirty, got that? I don’t care if you win your battles, I just wanna make sure you survive them. Medama would be pissed at me if I didn’t teach you at least that much.”

He sniffs. “Okay.” Determined.

And she sucks in a breath and begins.

“Go for the throat, go for the eyes, go for the previous injuries if you have to-”

Sora grew up on the streets. Fighting for food, fighting for life, and she didn’t make it this far because of some heroic morality or sweet mentality. Shinsou is a nice kid. He has integrity, honor, intelligence, and a hint of conniving that she really wants to see in action- but he’s not naturally ruthless. He hasn’t needed to be. He feels too guilty about taking things too far, he second guesses himself too much, and Sora- as much as she loves that kindness in people- doesn’t have time for it.

“Do not apologize for using all of your tricks and cunning.” She growls when he makes a move to go for her eyes but instead punches her in the gut and sees the instant fear and concern and shame on his face. “It is your opponent's fault for falling for it, got that? And they knew what they were getting into- when they decided to fight you- or to commit a crime- never apologize."

“...Right.”

“By the time I’m done with you, you’re going to beat all those Hero Students into the ground. And you're going to make everyone regret hurting Medama.”

He nods, rapidly, and perhaps it’s because she’s glowering at him but she thinks it's more to do with the fact that he’s actually listening to her. That he wants the same.

“If you need to lie, you lie. If you need to use your quirk, you do. If you need to trick them into thinking you’re weak- or trick them into thinking you're something you're not- it’s more power to you.”

She likes to think that she can see the gears in his mind turning.

"And, no matter what, never tell them your weaknesses."

Because there’s an idea forming in his brain that has his eyes gleaming a little and her grinning back.

"Never, huh?"

"Never."

He leaves for home, limping a little and bruised.

And she makes sure to watch him leave, that no one gives him any trouble, because he’s young and it's late and her gym isn’t exactly in the best of places.

“Hey, love,” she quietly says into her phone, having dialed a number, and waiting for the other person to pick up, “there’s been something happening to Medama at school and I want you to take a look into it.”

There’s a pause.

“She didn’t tell me. Her crush did.”

She laughs slightly.

“Yeah, he’s a sweet kid. Wants to be a hero. No, Underground from the sounds of it. The one I told you about? That I’m training.” Sora sighs. “He said someone broke her arm at school. That they’ve been hurting her and it... sounds bad. Yeah. I don’t know why she would hide it from us. But... because of how fast Recovery Girls' quirk works, we wouldn’t have even noticed when we visited at the end of the week.”

There’s silence on her end for a second as she listens.

“You know how she is. Our niece... Gosh, she’s definitely a stupid one sometimes, isn’t she?”

...

...

“Holy shit, Shinsou, that’s genius.”

“So you’ll do it?” He asks, biting his lip. “I know it’s a lot to ask of you. To lie. Especially with all that you have going on with you right now…”

“Don’t even have to ask. Are you kidding me? This sounds hilarious.” She’s lying on her bed, scrawling away in her notebook while it’s destroyed copy is next to it. She’s carefully copying everything over in a journal of the same make and size and he can’t help but wonder how her hand hasn’t cramped by now. “Can you imagine Chikuchi’s face? Oh my god. Get Kayama-sensei in on it. She’d so do it too.”

He fiddles in his seat. Wonders if it was a good idea to video call about it so soon after he had the idea.

“That’s the plan. And you’re sure?”

“Shinsou. I will absolutely prank the whole school for you.”

“It’s not really a prank.”

“It’s a prank.”

“It’ll get us a lot of attention...”

“Correction. It’ll get you a lot of attention.” Well, she was right about that. “Wanna pull Ikimaru and Kiko into it? They seem like the type who’d be on board with this. And Kiko and you seem to be getting along.”

“We… have an understanding.”

“I’m going to pretend that wasn’t creepy. So- do you?”

“I- Do you really think they’d help? They probably want to be heroes too.”

“Ikimaru doesn’t. He wants to go into Child Therapy.” Shinsou blinks, wondering when she’d learnt that. “And Kiko... I’m unsure on her part, but I think she’d be down.”

“...Okay. If you think they’ll keep a lid on it.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Medama smirks. “Ooh~ I can’t wait. This is going to be so much fun!”

-0-

Kayama-sensei struts into class with Nezu not far behind, all the grace that she can muster as she sashays.

(They both pretend not to see Kiroku yelp, practically squeaking in fear, and try to hide behind a book at the sight of the Principal.)

"Ooh~ my lovely class, all your efforts are coming to a head!" She licks her lips, overly seductive. "And I have just the most... titillating of surprises. I hope you're ready to handle it."

They tense, waiting for the whip to snap. A pop quiz? A test? With the Principal present, they couldn't be sure.

Shinsou sits up in his seat a little straighter, receiving a wink from Kayama-sensei that tells him that this 'surprise' of hers is exactly what she'd mentioned before. What he'd been hoping for.

"Career Counseling!" 

She cheers and the students all groan, for the most part.

"Based on your assessment tests!"

Even more groans.

Shinsou- he shares a look with Medama as Kiko and Ikimaru fiddle in their seats, nervous grins at the ready as they eye their classmates. If they were going to have a successful ruse, they needed the backing of the teacher, because one word from her would have it imploding in seconds.

Shinsou had been waiting for the moment he'd be able to bring it up in private without gaining suspicion, now he had his chance- and what's even better is that Nezu will be present. He'd be the one he'd really have to convince, because if the school board caught wind then... he didn't know what would happen. If they could get the Principal's interest, they could at least try to keep him from vetoing it outright.

"We'll be doing it one-on-one. Or two-on-one, I suppose. The rest of you have a free period until your turn comes up. Only half the class will go today, so that means we stop at... Seat 10. Kiruude Kinto. You'll be last."

Which meant that Shinsou, Seat 7, would be able to speak with her today.

Medama, Seat 14, blew a raspberry in disappointment. The only one from their newly formed quartet that was excluded.

"Tomorrow we'll start with Tobira and end with Chikuchi. For now... Tsutsutaka Agoyamato! You're up first!"

And, then, it was just a waiting game.

"Shibori Ayaaya."

"Kiroku Eiga."

"Sansho Hakusho."

Or it would be.

If they hadn't a plan to enact and prep for, starting now. With or without the teacher's permission. They were going to try and make it work.

Medama starts it off as they descend into conversation and the usual clique's of the classrooms, with laughter and a lie so easy on her lips that Shinsou is a bit shocked. "I can't believe she believed that's how your quirk works, oh my gosh. Is she dumb or what? I mean, take the hint."

He rolls his eyes. "...I mean, it does sound plausible, doesn't it?"

If Medama hadn't caught her attention, then Shinsou asking a question definitely did. And he tried not to let his discomfort of grabbing Chikuchi's attention show. Even if it was their intent.

"I guess but sarcasm exists."

"Don't answer him!"

Hook.

Chikuchi bristles, "I thought you knew what you were doing trying to be friends with him. Do you want to be brainwashed?!"

Medama stares at her briefly, then... snickers.

Chikuchi turns a humiliated red. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Line.

"Oh, I just can't believe that you still think that's how his quirk works."

"W-What?"

Sinker.

And here's where Medama is supposed to turn away and jump into conversation with Kiko or Ikimaru, signaling the end of their little ruse for the moment. Just enough to plant the idea that Shinsou was lying about how his quirk works, just enough to plant a seed of doubt.

Because, here's the thing about Chikuchi, she never shuts up.

And if they could get her to start second guessing how his quirk works, to make her think one thing for one day and then convince her of something else, there'd be enough rumors flying around by the end of the week that no one- absolutely no one in the school was going to be able to figure it out.

“I... thought he said that if someone responded to him he could control them.”

Medama doesn't turn away immediately though. Doesn't play it off as just being especially loud with gossiping behind her back. 

(This was the part of the plan that Shinsou was worried about. The guise that Medama would have for a bit. He wouldn't be surprised if the class thought she was rude or belligerent or just a straight-up asshole by the end of the day, something he knows she's not.

Could never be.)

Instead, she decides that she has a bone to pick with Chikuchi.

And Shinsou never knew she could be so... petty.

Medama snorts, “That was just to get you to shut up. Fat lot of good that did us, didn't work for even a moment." And rolls her eyes before going to Kiko, hips practically swaying as she walks off, ignoring Chikuchi’s gaping face and the deep offense written into it. "Honestly, some people...!"

Shinsou stares, unable to keep himself from watching her go, eyes following the sway of her steps.

He actually startles when Chikuchi jabs a finger in his face, fumbling with his pencil, and demands, "Then how does your quirk work?!"

He smirks. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

The fact that it's a question is the most infuriating bit and appears to be too much for Chikuchi to handle because she lets out a yell and stomps her feet like a child before storming off, back to her seat.

"Maguro Hi-do."

"Ikimaru Hisoo."

Aa.

"Shinsou Hitoshi."

It looks like he was up.

It's time to see if everything would go as planned. If every piece on their board was going to take its place without a fight. Shinsou receives a thumbs up from Medama as he makes his way over and he takes a deep breath, bowing his head-

"I want to be a hero."

He says, firmly. This, they both already know, but it needs to be restated.

"I don't particularly care what my assessment tests say, it won't ever be able to tell you what I can do now. As I am." He doesn't let his voice shake. Even if his nerves are fraying and so much is riding on this. "It won't tell you how I'll work for this. How much I have already prepared." He knew what was on those tests, the questions it asked.

He may not have understood the point of all of them.

But it doesn't matter.

"I'm going to decimate the Sports Festival. I may not win, but I will come out on top." It isn't about winning. It's about being seen. It's about showing his worth and if he had to fight dirty to do that, be ruthless, then he would be. "I have a plan."

Kayama-sensei's brows have risen into her hairline, she's so surprised by the sheer intensity of him that she... can't help but be a bit enamored. The passion was- She knew there was a reason she liked this kid.

Still.

She never would have expected what came out of his mouth next.

"For that, allow me to request that the nature of my quirk- how it works and it's typing- be redacted from file."

He doesn't look at her when he says it. Doesn't see the lost expression on her face. Not understanding how that would help... anything.

Instead, he stares at Nezu.

Who stares back and then-

Shinsou's shoulders rise with tension. This is it. The yes or no. Maybe he'd be able to try and convince him more, explain his reasoning and what he'd meant, maybe they'd be able to meet each other halfway.

Laughs.

-0-

Medama feels shaky with second-hand nerves. They can't hear a word even being breathed from the meetings and, quite honestly, she doesn't know if it would even be better if she could eavesdrop or not. Maybe it'd even make it worse.

"Hey, Kiko," she whispers, throat suddenly dry, "I'm going to head over to the water fountains. If Shin-sou comes back or Sensei asks for me, can you let them know? It should only be a minute."

"Yeah, no problem."

The plan was a simple one. Hide Shinsou's quirk and possible weaknesses behind trickery and deceit, it was too late to tell people that it wasn't Brainwashing, but it was not too late to make people second guess how it worked.

(He would start wearing gloves and avoid touch, making it seem touch activated. He would pretend to make eye contact with her, Kiko, or Ikimaru and would act like he was controlling them. They'd exaggerate what he could and could not do. He would make it seem like he was a puppeteer controlling them by strings. They'd figure out other possibilities- scenarios-

And Chikuchi would sing like the cat that got the canary and the rumor mill would go wild with theories and conflicting information that even the Hero Students would never be able to figure it out. If they even tried.

And, well, they have yet to declare war on them. But there was a plan for that too.)

The only problem was- A teacher could simply look it up and figure out the answer themselves.

The non-Hero teachers would go out of their way to ruin Shinsou's plan if they weren't careful.

(They never called on him in class. Never asked him to speak. And looked at him with disgust that Shinsou was, quite honestly, so used to it, he hardly saw it anymore.

But Medama saw.

And she was angry.)

Which is why they needed Midnight's support- maybe even the Principal's- to get the information out of the other teachers hands. Because, without proof, they would second guess themselves too.

Medama hums and hopes for the best.

At the very least, they could just mess with Chikuchi. Which would be a plus either way.

And... And maybe the bullying would get worse. Now that she's going to be actively faking Shinsou controlling her, but- but that didn't matter.

(It didn't matter that her heart beat a little harsher.

It didn't matter that her throat constricted and she felt horribly cold.)

She wanted to help him. Screw those jerks. She wasn't going to let them stop her from doing what she wanted to do!

E-Even if she was starting to get exhausted, even if her paranoia was starting to get so bad she was starting to see people out of shadows, dancing in the corner of her vision, mocking her. She swallowed, head hanging. She knew they'd get bored eventually, they had to, and they'd mostly stayed away since she confronted them, only really watching her from afar or tripping her up every once in a while.

She hasn't even seen them ready to chase her outside of school anymore.

Maybe... Maybe they already were bored. And she'd have nothing to worry about. Medama tries not to let herself hope, shadows making her jump as she trails down the hallway towards the water fountain.

She sighs, rubbing at her face, leaning down to take a drink.

The problem was, she just didn't know how determined they were and how far they would be willing to take it. Because she didn't know what they were even trying to get out of tormenting her-

Her finger hovers over the button to press for water. Not pressing it.

Frozen.

Her eyes snap open and flick behind her. The hair on the back of her neck is standing on end, prickling and her instincts are screaming at her to move- move- move-  

(Shinsou's instincts may be to freeze but hers has been, and always will be, flight.)

She can't move.

Not with the hand- a strength quirk that could so easily break her without him even realizing- on the nape of her neck, holding her in place. "So... you're not going to leave me alone then."

"Not a chance." He growls. "Not so long as you're being controlled-"

Medama wants to scream. For the love of-

And when his hand tightens on her, she does.

-0-

Shinsou is giddy, so giddy that he can practically feel himself shivering with excitement. If this works- If this works-!

"Oh, wait-" He pauses just before he leaves, and his exuberance is put on hold for something more serious. "Sensei. You told me to come to you if... something happened with Medama."

He notices her hands spasm, the way her grin tenses.

"The day she had bandages on her leg. She went to the bathroom sometime during the end of lunch- they followed her there." Shinsou makes a fist with his hands, opening and closing them. "I... don't know if the cameras were back up by then but-"

"They were." Midnight says sharply. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Shinsou. I'll take a look at them personally and see who the perpetrators are. Rest assured, I- UA... We take this very seriously."

He nods.

Once.

And hopes that, finally, maybe, a teacher will keep to their word. He doesn't know what to do if she doesn't.

"Hanzengi Kigen, you're up next!"

Shinsou walks back into class and pauses, thankfully, Kiko sees his silent question. "She went to go get a drink from the water fountain."

"Aa."

He supposes he just has to wait to tell her.

Chapter Text

He comes so suddenly around the corner, all wild purple hair and tired eyes, that- had Aizawa been anyone else- he would’ve been laid out flat from being so caught off guard. As it is, he takes the practically-a-punch-to-the-gut with a straight face and nothing but his eyes twitching in pain. Even Hizashi, who was busy chatting off his ear, and a few paces back, seemed startled by the sudden, accidental running tackle.

“Don’t...”

He bites out slowly, letting out an annoyed breath through his nose.

“...run in the halls.”

The reprimand catches a bit. Because the kid is... frantic. Already trying to dust himself off and even offering Aizawa a hand, though he clearly doesn’t need it. The kid seems even more surprised by the collision than he was. “Sorry, wasn’t checking corners- Eraserhead? ” The bewildered and confused look isn’t unusual but the recognition definitely is. The kid seems to catch himself and what he said and looks a bit embarrassed as he shakes his head, “I- Right. Sorry. Yes, sir. Of course.” 

Finally, it seems that his words had hit him.

(Hizashi is mouthing ‘Sir’ from behind him, he’s sure. He can feel the disbelief wafting off him.)

The kid shifts from foot to foot, looking nervously between them and more than a little overwhelmed. It’s then that they realize they’re blocking the walkway and step to the side to let him through, waving off the collision. “So-Sorry again.” He mutters, a pained look on his face- like he’d rather be anywhere else- and is quick to try and hurry away, not quite running but not quite not running either.

But they stop him. Hizashi- Mic- gives a small shout. “Wait- Listener-!”

Because the look on his face was... worrisome. It was an understated panic but one that was definitely growing on him. Making him look increasingly distracted, eyes flicking to and fro, checking the halls and the classrooms and the looking- incredibly suspicious.

Just really suspicious.

“Shinsou, right? You’re in my English class?”

Aizawa blinks as the kid- Shinsou, apparently- hunches his shoulders in clear tension, eyeing the both of them with obvious distrust and an impatient look on his face before its- wiped clean and he nods, almost completely blank of expression. Aizawa squints. That’s... not normal.

(Shinsou’s got deep bruises under his eyes, slightly purple- indicative of a lack of sleep, though the alertness in them is certainly telling of a lack of need as well, and, to be perfectly honest, they may be less sleep-related and more punch-related looking at them more deeply. There’s splashes of purple and red of broken blood vessels over his skin that are a little worrying to see. He doesn’t even seem to be bothered by it, so neither react.

There’s also a bandage on his elbow, likely because of scrape, but they don’t comment on that either. They don’t seem like anything he’s trying to hide and so they have no comments on any of it.

What’s more concerning is how he looks like he’s one step away from turning on heel and running, though whether that’s because of them or because he wants to be somewhere, they can’t quite tell.)

Aizawa, and only because he knows Hizashi so well, can see there’s a bit of sweat on his brow as he catches the kids' attention. “What’s got you in such a hurry, huh? I don’t think I remember seeing you in any of the after school clubs!”

“...You haven’t.” He confirms slowly. Like he’s waiting for something. Possibly to be yelled at, since he really wasn’t supposed to remain on campus without a place to go or someone to vouch for him. “I’m not in any.”

“Oh, well-” Mic chirps. “-You gotta be in a club to be here after school, or have permission-”

“I know.” Shinsou snaps and he seems to realize that he has a second to late. And they can both see the instant regret pass over his face and the apology on his lips as they press into a thin line as he quickly tries to explain, a brief flash of dread on his face. “That’s why I’m in a hurry. It’s my friend-”

“Friend?”

He hesitates. And before he’d looked ready to run but now he looks ready to bolt. “...she-” He grimaces. “She went missing during class. Left and didn’t come back. I was looking for her.”

“Did it cross your mind that she left for home early?” Aizawa asks boredly, picking up on Mic’s concern that there was something else going on with the kid. “Or was expelled?”

Shinsou seems to find the idea absolutely ridiculous. “Kayama-sensei wouldn’t have expelled her. She's one of her favorites.”

(Was it their ears playing tricks on them or did they just hear him mutter: “I’m far more likely to have been expelled this soon in the year… ”)

Mic pauses.

“Pink hair? Horn-halo-thingy? Perfect English Score? Creepy eyes?”

They weren’t supposed to pick favorites but it was certainly telling that even Mic had a student come instantly to his mind.

“Her eyes aren’t creepy.” Shinsou mutters under his breath, absentmindedly, as if he didn’t even realize he’d even said it. He still nods to the description though, so they suppose it's apt. “Yeah, that’s her. Tasatsu Medama."

"And her leaving for home early is out of the question?"

It's then that they notice what Shinsou's hands have been fiddling with this whole time. He lifts the strap of a second shoulder bag he had tossed over his chest the barest bit, the buttons covering it and the obnoxious orange didn't exactly seem like something he would have, when compared to the light grey of his own bag. "She wouldn't have left without her bag. Or her phone." He taps one of the pockets where there's a rectangular shape sticking out. "Or her journal. She doesn't even have her train pass with her. And she lives in Kanto." Yes, they can see how that would make it infinitely more difficult to head home. Especially considering it was about an hour long train ride just to get into the first few prefectures of the region.

Aizawa, however, is not entirely convinced. Though, at this point, his needling is more to see Shinsou's reaction, or lack thereof, rather than finding the explanation flimsy. "This required you to run because...?"

His eyes flicker away, not able to meet their gazes, and they can see one of his legs grow jittery with impatience as his voice thins. "I... wasn't thinking. Sorry." He deadpans. And something told them that was a lie, it didn't help that he was rather obviously not sorry.

"Right."

And, somehow, they supposed it all had nothing to do with the fact that the very same pink haired student he was on the lookout for was also the one being cruelly harassed. By students they didn't know the look or identity of, nor the exact quirks, and--

Well. Mic does know that Shinsou spends an awful lot of time around her. He can't say for certain, because he typically doesn't see any Gen. Ed. students outside of the classroom setting, but he clearly remembers seeing pink and purple heads of hair up and about together.

In fact, he thinks he remembers spying someone that looked strikingly similar- exactly the same, that is- to Shinsou glaring at Tasatsu in the cafeteria the other day, the both of them clearly unhappy with one another. At least from what he'd seen. Just before the tack incident and… it wouldn't be so much of a stretch in the imagination that Shinsou was-

Shinsou shifts from foot to foot, mouth slowly morphing into a frown. "...I should go look for her-"

"Actually, young listener-!!" Mic fist bumps the air, grin easy and wide, and the motion completely overshadows whatever Shinsou had been about to say, "Allow us heroes to be of assistance- we'll help you search for her."

The distrustful look is back ten-fold and it's clear that Shinsou definitely doesn't trust the offer. This, unfortunately for him, only makes him look more dubious in their eyes. 

But...

Mic can't help but tilt his head in curiosity as indigo eyes trail over to Aizawa before he nods. Noticeably relaxing. Which is a-

Strange. Reaction to say the least.

Because many people, even those who only met him in passing, would say that Aizawa was easily one of their more intimidating staff members.

(Mic had done a poll with the students once. Aizawa had scored unreasonably high.

And, when Aizawa learnt of the poll, he could add his own vote to the numbers.)

"She was supposed to be heading to the water fountains." Shinsou informs them simply. Even though they're nowhere near any water fountains and he'd actually been heading away from there. "She's usually in the Music Club after school most days, so I checked but... I couldn't find any sign of her. Especially not at the water fountains."

"No sign, huh?"

He deadpans. "There was water all over the floor." Not exactly all that indicative of something having happened given that teenagers were complete messes. Shinsou squints at the both of them, hands still fiddling with the strap of her bag. "The only other places I can think of is the emergency lounge near the cafeteria and the empty classroom setup near Class 1-C but I checked the second one already and the first is... pretty unlikely." Because of how out of the way it was.

"Emergency lounge?"

"She frequents those?"

He nods.

(Emergency lounges were just the term the school coined. Essentially they just played the part of quiet spaces for anything other than studying or school work or a social event.

And they were, honestly, pretty rarely used. Most students didn't even know they existed. Quite honestly, they were more of an excuse to use up space on the massive campus. Really, it was just glorified empty classrooms that they'd stuck an extra couch and table in and spruced up a tiny bit.

But there were a few students they were aware of that used them quite a bit. Amajiki Tamaki for anxiety attacks, Kaminari Denki for quirk overuse, likely Tsuyu Asui once it started to get towards winter- those were just a few examples. Apparently Midoriya Izuku as well, whenever All Might tried to speak to him 'in secret.')

(...How they hadn't blown their cover wide open already, nobody knew.)

"It's where she goes for her seizures. I thought you knew." Here, Shinsou is looking directly at Mic. "Her watch monitors her health and can alert her to when one is coming on. So she usually can prepare in advance..."

...Oh. Huh.

(Neither mention how that is a highly, highly expensive piece of medical equipment. Likely even fresh off the market in both concept and design. But they do have to wonder if she's rich or something and perhaps that's why she's been being attacked.)

Suddenly, it's not so odd to learn that the kid had been running around in search of her. If he'd thought something bad may have happened then, of course, he would have been a bit out of sorts and frantic. More concerned about his friend and where she was at, as well as her general health and safety, rather than playing up social niceties that neither of them were particularly fond of holding themselves to.

Mic taps his chin, "Oh, right! My mistake, yo! I remember Midnight mentioning that but I don't believe she's had an emergency come up while I was teaching class.” Shinsou nods, because they overall were pretty rare and Medama was almost always on top of them, though he supposed that was only to be expected. “Eraser, why don’t you check with Recovery Girl to see if she showed up there? Shinsou and I will pair up to search the building-”

From the disgruntled flash on Shinsou’s face, the arrangement isn’t to his liking. But he doesn’t even try to argue.

“-I’m sure she’s on one of the Gen. Ed. floors. Come now, listener~!” 

Shinsou spares a final glance towards Aizawa, as if wondering if he’ll speak up and say something, but he doesn’t. And so Shinsou slumps and quickly follows after Mic, looking even more like he’d love to be anywhere else than where he currently was.

The hallways are a bit darker than usual. Now that the day is starting to descend towards evening. And Shinsou continues to fiddle with the bag strap slung across his chest, glancing every now and then towards Mic during their search. They ducked between classrooms and quickly checked for any sign of anyone. Most of the places were just dead empty, which was to be expected, but there were a couple clubs up and about. None of them even stopped to really answer their questions, just shaking their heads before going back to their work. It was only once they got to the Art Club room that someone finally recognized Shinsou and-

“Oh, Shinsou, is that right? Shibori Ayaaya.”

They were in the same class and Shinsou vaguely recognized her, if only because of what was on her face.

It looked almost as if someone had tossed paint at her, but he knew that was just a sign of her quirk- a simple color camouflage where she could shift the colors of her skin and things she touched to whatever she wanted- it was the only thing about her that had stood out. Otherwise, she would’ve just looked like any other girl, dull brown eyes and hair in a simple bob.

“Yeah. Looking for Medama.” 

The familiar usage of the name is not lost on Mic. He hides his brief startle behind a wave to the other Art students who were mostly non-hero students who didn’t often run into the heroes on campus and were eyeing him with a bout of shock and fangirling and boying.

“‘Course, ya’ are.” Ayaaya’s eyes rolled a bit, like she didn’t expect anything else. “Haven’t seen her. I don’t think. Honestly, I’m surprised you aren’t with her already.” She had a slight accent. Possibly from Osaka. “Yo, anyone see a girl with the prettiest curly pink hair around? Like this?” She wipes a hand over her own hair and they watch it turn into a startling accurate mimicry of Medama’s own.

There’s shaking of people's heads before they go back to whatever project they were working on.

(Mic can see half of them pretending not to look at him with wide eyes. And was desperately trying to keep from laughing.)

“Oh, that sucks, sorry, Shinsou.”

He waves her off with a small thanks and goes to continue down the hall but Mic stays behind after mulling it over for a moment. “Yo-yo! What’dyou mean earlier? When you said you were surprised he wasn’t with her?”

“Huh? Oh- Mic-sensei! I thought you left.” She shrugs, running her hands through her hair and wiping the pink out of it. “Well, it’s Shinsou and Medama- don’t think I’ve ever even seen one without the other. They might be childhood friends or something! I’m not sure. Haven’t you seen for yourself yet?”

He was, unfortunately, a little bit in the dark when it came to the Class 1-C's interpersonal relationships. He didn't interact with them enough in an open environment to really tell.

Mic checks that Shinsou has gotten further ahead, out of hearing range, and drops his voice low. “And… you don’t think he would happen to- be mean to her, would you?”

Ayaaya blinks at him. “What- like bully?” She snorts, then laughs. “Shoot. If he ever was mean to her, he’d be beating himself up about it. There’s a reason those two are always hanging out. And it’s not because Shinsou has a winning personality.”

He... does not know what that means.

“Wait- what?”

Ayaaya does not seem impressed by his lack of understanding. “Can’t say. Girls Honor, you know?”

If anything, that makes his confusion worse and he nods, keeping it off his face. Turning back to follow Shinsou, who’d managed to pull pretty far ahead, and wonder what the hell that even meant. “Hey, listener,” Shinsou gives him that same suspicious glance he’s been giving him this whole time, “Do you know... what ‘Girls Honor’ means?”

...Apparently, it’s so out of left field that Shinsou trips over his own feet. Absolutely bewildered.

“I- isn’t that-?” He opens his mouth, closes it, eye twitching. “It’s like a girl not telling people another's crush. Or something.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

“So like the Bro Code?”

“Sure, whatever.” He scowls. “I’m... going to see if I can call Medama’s home computer or something. And tell Sora-sensei I won’t be in today.” Shinsou mutters, shaking his head, clearly not at all happy with how off-topic the question was. “And double check the Music Room. Kayama-sensei said she’d also look into the school's camera footage when she got the chance, she might’ve seen something...”

Ooh.

Mic understands now.

“Yo, no problem, listener! I’ll check the lower floors! I’m sure she’s somewhere-” He pauses. “Wait, before you go- how long have you known Tasatsu?”

Shinsou, again, doesn't seem to appreciate the questions that don’t seemingly pertain to actively searching for his friend. But he answers anyway. “Start of the second week of school.”

He shoos the kid off to make some calls on his phone and go through the checklist he’d clearly been building up in his head. Mind working to try and put together the situation with what he’d seen and what he already knew about what was going on. He hums as he skips down the hall, playing it off as him just making rounds around the school, rather than searching for anyone in particular. The students that do see him are a bit surprised by his presence but quickly ignore it as he walks off, maybe only sparing a word or two here and there, just enough to ask if they’d seen a pink haired first year up and about.

The answers he gets are either a no or about someone else, but given Tasatsu’s rather distinct appearance, it quickly becomes obvious when that happens.

So- Shinsou is clearly not one of her bullies. Which is a relief. Mic had jumped the gun a bit there but, well, he’d been acting suspicious and his instincts were telling him that there was something wrong.

(Given how that feeling doesn’t go away, he thinks it has more to do with wherever Tasatsu is. Rather than who put her there.)

Medama has a crush on Shinsou, from the sounds of it. They’re friends that recently met that are especially close despite them only being two and a half months into the school year. Other people don’t particularly see why Medama has a crush on him but, from how Shibori was acting, it was a fairly obvious one and people viewed her as out of his league.

(And, given how Shinsou was acting, he wouldn't be surprised to learn that the kid was nursing one for her too.)

Which makes Mic think that he may be the student with the ‘villain’ quirk Nemuri had mentioned, that’d told her about the bullying, because- quite honestly- outside of the tired eyes, the kid probably had a couple people with crushes on him. Unless there was a reason they didn’t. And a quirk was usually the reason, outside of appearance and personality. Though, it didn’t seem like he was going out of his way to be charming either.

And so they were at a bit of a square one.

Because that would mean that Tasatsu Medama had disappeared at some time during school hours and hadn’t been seen since, not even by the one person that was most likely to have seen her last, and had left all her stuff behind and was unlikely to have left the school grounds.

...Who had unknown perpetrators that could- would- hurt her and who may have found her already. If they were not the direct cause of her disappearance.

His hum falters, he pinches the bridge of his nose.

He’d search through the final couple rooms of this building and then send out an alert to all staff. Hopefully, he would find her, or someone that had at least seen her but-

“U-Um, Present M-Mic, sir-?”

“Yes, listener?”

It’s a student he doesn’t recognize, clearly not one of his own, and the uniform puts them in Class 1-F. So definitely not someone he’s interacted with before.

The student looks uncomfortable.

“I- Um. You said you were looking for a pink haired girl, right?”

“That’s right, young listener! Have you seen--”

“No! But- um.”

They’re nervous. Shifting from foot to foot, and he takes a careful approach, “No need to worry. We’re just trying to return some things she forgot in class today.” It’s a lie, but the immediate relief on the kid's face is evident.

“R-Really? So- She’s alright then?”

“Oh,” Mic chirps, way too happy to be real, and he looks down his nose, glasses falling a bit, “now why wouldn’t she be alright?”

“A-Auh. Auhm. Um. That is...” The kid realizes he’s been caught and runs his hands through his hair. “Well, I just- overheard some of my classmates- they were talking about a girl with horns and pink hair and I... It- It didn’t sound great and they sounded upset. And they’ve never really been all that... nice. So I-” He trails off, noticing how Mic’s smile falters a bit.

“And these classmates of yours are...?”

The student looks horrified.

He bites his lip, suddenly realizing that he was going to have to sell his classmates out because Mic was not about to let him wander off after mentioning... that. The student's shoulders slump and he mutters, “Hano Dai. Osaki Izumi. Miyoshi Sho. Okimoto Satoshi.”

Those last two names sound vaguely familiar. “Miyoshi has a telekinesis quirk and Okimoto has a shadow quirk, is that right?” He recognizes them. Not because he’d ever spoken to them before but because they’d shown up in some of the camera footage that Nemuri had them look at... they’d just been two bystanders that’d stood and done nothing when... when...

Medama had tripped down the stairs outside the school buildings.

“Y-Yes, um. How did you-?”

“The other two wouldn’t happen to have a strength or invisibility quirk, would they?”

“Hano gains strength based on the intensity of his emotions and Osaki can turn objects invisible...? But- H-How- Um. I’m sorry. How did you know that?” Mic is no longer smiling. Not even attempting to. “Pr-Present Mic...?”

“What were they talking about? Specifically. When they mentioned the girl?”

“Oh. They- It sounded like she was refusing to help them with s-something...? It sounded like- um. They locked her in a closet... But- I mean. She probably got out already and I haven’t heard...”

“Thanks for the help, listener, if you’ll excuse me!”

Well, that explains some things. Mic felt his teeth click together as he walked back down the hallway he’d just come from, making sure to try the handle on any of the storage closets he comes across this time, opening them only to find brooms and mops and cleaning supplies for the janitors. None of them appeared to be locked but, then again, he wasn’t sure if they were even lockable in the first place considering they were also used by whichever students had cleaning duty for their classes that day.

He walks back up the stairs, towards Class 1-C and begins to check that floor and it’s closets, passing by the classrooms before he started to get over to the water fountain area that Medama had most likely been near and reaches out to one of the few closets and-

His hand crumples.

He curses the worst profanity he knows under his breath, thankfully in English, and shakes his hand out, blowing on it. 

It’d hit nothing.

Nothing he could see at least.

Before he’d even managed to make it to the doorknob and- he winces at the sight of red knuckles and splinters in his hand.

That explains how they locked the door then.

He felt around the area, trying to figure out what they’d even used. It had shelves, it was rectangular, and it was- A bookshelf. An empty bookshelf. This was just getting worse and worse. He grimaced. Because he knows how heavy the bookshelves they used for the school were and the fact that they’d had a strength and telekinesis quirk helping them out was definitely explaining things-

“Mic-sensei?” It seems Shinsou was making sure to double check the area as well. “What are you-?”

“Yo, come help me with this!” He gestures.

Shinsou blinks at him. Clearly not seeing anything. “The... door...” His expression is flat, impatient, and annoyed and Mic understands- he really does, but he is trying to help this kid. Who is clearly worried if the rumpled nature of his uniform and hair was anything to go by. His eyes narrow.

“Invisible bookshelf blocking it!” He presses on it and it creaks, giving away its presence. That- at least- seems to help Shinsou stop being so apprehensive. “Someone used their quirk on it- Your Tasatsu got locked in the closet from the sounds of it.”

At first, there’s no reaction. Just a bit of disbelief.

Then Shinsou sucks in a sudden breath. "That is- no." The alarm and horror suddenly making him pale is enough to have Mic know he's freaking out. "Medama! Can you hear me?!" He calls, voice impossibly tense. "Respond!"

“Hey, hey, listener- Shinsou, calm down! There’s no reason to worry, we can get this out of the way and...”

Shinsou is rapidly shaking his head.

“She- She only mentioned it once- But she always understates everything- So I almost forgot but she-”

He pushes on the bookshelf and it groans.

“She’s claustrophobic.”

...

...

-she thinks she hears something. Something absent. Something familiar.

"-spond! Or something! Shit!"

She doesn't know how much time has passed. Can't think, can't feel, everything is numb and twisted and suffocating. She doesn't know much of anything, it's like a dark miasma has clouded her head, destroying her thoughts and ability to comprehend. There's just darkness.

And then, suddenly, there's not.

It's a soft light. But, to her, it's almost blinding as it pierces through the shadows that surround her. It makes her eyes flutter, twitching in the barest of responses-

Hands on her face, warm. Cupping her cheeks. "You're trembling." The voice is soft, concerned, and somewhere in the back of her mind she registers the words as correct. She can't stand, can't even think, and her whole body seems to shiver. "Tasatsu-"

Something in her... just breaks.

And she can’t hold any of it in anymore.

The cork in the bottle she’d been desperate to keep closed and hidden comes loose. There’s just too much- too much for her to handle- so much pain and unwanted suffering and mental anguish- it’s bubbling, frothing at her mouth, and everything in her just...

Overflows.

Medama, trembling, traumatized, and tormented, latches onto the first person she can and breaks down with a broken wail. 

(Her voice is hoarse with pain. Her throat tight and bruised.)

Tired, exhausted, frustrated. Her scream causes her voice to crack, her throat to creak unpleasantly and dangerously- "Why?!" She howls. Because it's all she can do, crying. "I didn't- I didn't do anythin-thing wro-wrong-!! Wh-Why would they-" She can't even hold herself up with their help, legs collapsing out from beneath her as she sinks to the floor. " -why would they hurt me...?"

She sobs, hiccuping.

A hand falls onto her back, comforting- as best that it can.

"...I don't know, kid. I don't know."

Chapter Text

Medama remembers her death vividly.

It's an image that paints her eyelids every time she closes her eyes. It's a memory that doesn't seem to fade. Only one she can try, and fail, at pushing away.

This is not her death.

She knows that. She knows.

There are factors that are different. There are things that make it so, so, so different.

(There is enough that is similar. There is not much, but there is enough.)

But the fear is suddenly the same, when she gets pushed into that closet after her scream is cut off by a hand at her throat, and she can see the light silhouetting Hano's large frame. Her knees feel weak and the shadows twist in shapes that make her shiver and flinch, and she fumbles, trying to stand up but they're shoving her back down. The supplies clattering all around her and only not falling because of that glow of the telekinesis quirk keeping them in place.

There's walls around her, and she can't move, and it's not like the closet she uses to record in at all. This isn't something in a safe place. Something she created. Something she had to spend time in and learn not to panic- learn to see as different-

This is just- The door slams shut on her and the sound she makes is terrible to even her own ears, like a wounded animal being shot while it was already down.

"N-No-o-!! Please, d-don't-!"

She feels like her throat is constricting and she suddenly can't breath, hands slamming into the door and struggling to find the door knob as darkness- darkness- fear- tightness- can't move- falls all around her.

There's laughter. The door is held closed. She can't breathe. They're placing something heavy in front of the door and she's weighed down and-

Laughter. Cruel. Loud. Echoing.

It's not her death. It's not.

But she's here- she can't escape- she- she-

Everything is tight. She can't move. The walls are closing in. She's trapped. 

She can't breathe.

She does not scream. She couldn't, even if she tried. There's no oxygen in her lungs.

(She's felt something in her throat break when he'd grabbed her.)

Her head is light headed and her vision is swimming and- Medama begins to hyperventilate, unaware of the fact that she's even doing it, palms and fists scraping on the walls around her until they begin to bleed, and she trembles-

Her vision spots before long.

She passes out.

-0-

Shinsou reaches out to her, crouched next to her collapsed, sobbing form and...

And...

He pulls his hand back, unable to commit. Unable to reach out. To help. Biting his lip. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know if he should even touch her.

She seems so...

Delicate.

That he doesn’t know if his touch will break her. More than she already has been.

She trembles like a leaf and Shinsou had never seen her look so... so... Even when she had been coming out of a seizure she had looked more aware, alert, and ready. Here, though? Here he wasn't even sure if she could form words anymore.

The only good thing to note is that Mic is handling it shockingly well. Really, he doesn't even look annoyed at being used to cry on and, for that, Shinsou is thankful. The last thing Medama needs is someone trying to shove her away. Though he doesn't think Mic could, even if he tried, Medama is clutching onto the front of his jacket, face buried in his chest, so tightly that her knuckles were starting to creak.

(Shinsou feels a tiny bit of his heart break.

He has to swallow the nauseous feeling building in his stomach and throat.)

The sobs are starting to turn into hiccups and her shoulders are beginning to shake a bit less as she falls quieter and quieter and then silent.

And somehow it's worse.

Somehow it's so much worse.

Because she's still crying, still won't let go, but she won't say a word or make a peep and it sends a chill down both their spines. It’s the only sign of awareness coming back to her that they get and it’s clear that she doesn’t like the position that she’s in.

...

...

When Medama hadn’t shown up for class, he’d made the assumption that she’d simply had to run into one of the empty classroom-lounge areas because of her epilepsy causing a seizure. Then, he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her for the rest of the day and neither Kiko or Ikimaru could say anything about her lack of show. The entire class day had continued with them exchanging glances and wondering what could possibly have been keeping her- others suggested she was skipping but Shinsou knew that was wrong- and just...

The more he thought about it.

The more a bad feeling began to come over him. Just a terrible, horrible feeling that made his instincts scream and put him on such edge that he’d snapped at anyone who’d come close to him and, by the time class was over, he was practically going to fall out of his seat. He wanted to say something. To point out how odd it was that Medama hadn’t returned, but there was a wedge between him and everyone else and- and-

It was one of the civilian teachers for their last class of the day.

A man with dark eyes and a sour expression who, upon noticing his approach, had looked at him with such vitriol and hate that Shinsou knew even a word spoken would have him in trouble. Even if it was just to try and figure out where Kayama-sensei was to try and get a message to her.

“I’m sorry,” he wasn’t sorry, and Shinsou had felt like he’d been struck by lightning, “but class is over and I have no time to... speak with you.” He says it with such emphasis, as if it were the worst curse in the world, and Shinsou could do nothing but nod, face blank and carry on with a sigh.

Gathering up Medama’s belongings, placing them on his shoulders as if they didn’t weigh with an untold paranoia and wrongness, he’d taken a step outside of class and had waved off Ikimaru and Kiko because they needed to head home and didn’t have near as much concern as he did-

(They had a bad feeling, yes, but nowhere near the same as Shinsou’s. Nowhere near the same in concern and fret. And, had it been any other day, they would have stayed behind to help as well but they'd both made promises after school that they had to stick to. It would be better anyways, if it was Shinsou alone, they felt Medama would react better to just him.)

-he promised to message them if he found her. Or figured out where she’d gone. 

A search. A search that had him running into his childhood idol, his distrust for teachers making him skittish, and he had seen the suspicious glances Mic had kept sending his way which only seemed to steadily worsen his already terrible mood. But, also, the stupid questions that had nothing to do with finding and helping Medama-

The bad feeling had only gotten worse as more time had ticked away.

Until he was jittery and jumpy and wondering what those bastards had done to her now, because that’s the only thing that could’ve happened, in his mind. And if it wasn’t- well- he was going to be angry for unnecessary fear and concern and anxiety. But... But it wasn’t unnecessary.

He’d seen the bruises on her neck when they opened the door. Had seen the dead, even more dead than usual, look on her face, and suddenly he can truly see why others find her eyes creepy and frightening; if they haven’t seen how they can light up- how much emotion can well up in them- because if they haven’t seen how Medama can be excited and tired and tittering with unshed laughter, then all they would be able to see was simple emptiness and vacancy that was… that was horrifying to meet head on.

Her hands and nails were scraped and broken, like she’d been trying to get out, and he thinks that, somehow, that may be the worst bit of it all.

That she’d needed help, needed someone-

And no one had come.

It makes a lot- a frightening amount of sense- to him why she hadn’t tried to reach out. Why she hadn’t said a word if she could help it, and it reminds Shinsou of a dark memory from a long time ago that still chokes him and still makes him hate and bitter and cold- helplessness is something he knows, something he hates.

And sometimes doing something alone is the only kind of control you can have because she expected them to say no- to not help- to not do much- and, if that was the case, then she’d just be losing another option.

...

...

“I’m sorry for crying on you, sensei.”

It’s quiet, polite, and tense. And so filled with the wrong emotions that he has to keep himself from holding her tighter and trying to say ‘no, cry as much as you like’ because she’s pulling away with shame in her voice and humiliation on her face. There’s still tears running down her cheeks; sloppy, fat tears that completely smear her face and positively drench her. They make her eyes blink furiously and her voice hiccups as she tries to suck it all back in, trying to hide it from view and-

“I... I...” She presses the palms of her hands into her eyes, teeth gritting and jaw clenched. She shoves herself away, across the hall, until her back slams into the opposite wall and she tugs on her hair furiously. “Oh god...!” She groans, in such unnecessary horror that Mic doesn’t actually know how to respond. “I’m so- so- so- sorry.”

It doesn’t help that she’s still sniffling and her voice cracks halfway through the apology.

He shakes his head. “No worries, listener, nothing to be embarrassed about!” Because she seems far more concerned with that than the actual reason it happened in the first place. She lets out a low, broken whine that is just a note off of the wail from before and-

Mic has to take a deep breath as he stands up, dusting himself off.

She’s just a kid.

Sometimes he forgets. With how mature some of the students are, how skilled they are, how strong they are and full of life and prepared for the world they are- she’s just a kid and someone tried to just pull her world down, has been trying to, and he hates that he hadn’t done much up until this point. 

“Tasatsu, kid,” she wheezes with a shuddery breath, “...You’re not alone, you know?” Even now, she trembles with unshed tears and shakes with fear. Refusing to even glance in the closets direction as she huddled in on herself. "It's okay to ask for help."

"I..."

He can't see it, because her eyes don't move like a normal person's do, but he thinks she spares a quick look in Shinsou's direction because, soon, her face is turning a bright, embarrassed red before she's curling back in on herself.

He's about to tell Shinsou to leave. The kid just wants to help, just wants to be there for her, but he definitely wouldn't be helping seeing her in this state when she doesn't want him to- but-! But. Medama reaches out a tentative hand, refusing to look up as she sniffs, towards him. Her other wiping at her face and trying to rid herself of signs of crying, even though she still is and can't help it.

And Mic doesn't say anything, just nods and takes a step away.

Medama's hand remains, shaky and fearful, waiting for Shinsou to take it.

(Her knees are bloody and bruised, from where the scabs had broken open from them tripping her down the stairs the day before. There's purple marks on her cheeks and beneath her eyes, deep bruises that make her tears change color in the dim lighting, and there's a handprint wrapped around the back of her neck.

She'd bitten through her lip at some point. Perhaps when she first realized she was trapped.) 

It takes a moment, a pause, but almost as tentative as she was, he gently places his hand in her own and-

Mic has to look away.

This is clearly a private moment and he's uncomfortable just being there but he can't leave. Can't leave her alone when she's in such a state. Instead, he takes a couple more steps away- as Shinsou follows her pull into a seat beside her- and gets to work.

He catches the barest of whispers, "...I'm sorry. I didn't want to worry you-" Before he can ignore, ignore, ignore- with a resoluteness that others would find impressive.

"Oy, Midnight..." He mumbles quietly into his phone. "I have a situation here with one of your... two of your students. And I know who's been hurting your kid."

It's all he needs to say.

This doesn't go any further.

...

...

Shinsou falls into a seat next to Medama, trying to hide how awkward he feels and is. How his hand is sweating in hers. She seems to notice because she doesn't keep her hold on his hand, just crosses her arms over her knees and looks ahead.

He watches her, for a bit. Watching the stream of tears overflowing and wishes that he could do more. Say more. But the words catch in his throat.

She was always the one reaching out between the two of them, he didn't know what to do when she wasn't.

"I'm sorry."

He instantly feels worse when she's even the first to speak.

(Her voice sounds broken, hoarse with a cough. An undertone of rasp that's... unnatural.

The finger shaped bruises wrapped entirely around her neck are horrifying to look at.)

"I didn't want to worry you."

"You didn't want to bother me." He snipes back, teeth gritting. He can't do this- he's not good at this- he- he- the first thing he did was snap at her and he wants desperately to shut his mouth, he's usually so good at it too.

She smiles. "No... I didn't." Her hands squeeze her arms, bloodied nails clawing at her skin. "It's stupid. It's drama. I'd rather it not exist at all."

"You and me both." He mutters. "That doesn't change the fact that it does-"

Her head bows, ducking into her arms and she hides behind her bangs.

"...Sorry. I didn't mean it like that- You... You're not a bother. And it's stupid, you're right, but it's still hurting you."

He sighs, running his hands through his hair. "Are- Are you okay?"

"...I'd say yes-"

"-but that would be a lie, wouldn't it?"

It's the first time she's never responded to one of his questions but it was rhetorical anyways. He knows the answer already. And he knows not to fault her.

"When you first said you were claustrophobic, you weren't just mentioning it for the hell of it."

"...No."

"It's something to do with-"

"Please. Please. You can ask me anything, just... don't ask me that. I will lie to you." She murmurs. "I- I can't- but... y-yes. Whatever your thinking, yes."

He swallow. "...They made you relive a part of your death." He feels sick. He feels gross. And his hands shake as they come up to run through his hair. "This is not good."

"Heh, stating the obvious much."

"Medama. Seriously. Shut up." Her lips quirk and she laughs, light and airy and tired. It's not strong and in no way is it happy, but it's still a laugh and he- takes a deep breath, turns to her. "Why?" He asks. Because she said he could ask her anything. "You were right to ask and I was an idiot to not think about it before- but why are they...?"

She seems to pale.

And her hand tentatively reaches out for his, he doesn't take it. But he does let his get close. Just enough to feel her warmth. "...I can tell you. But you won't like it." She says thinly. "I don't... want to tell you. It's-" She sucks in a deep breath. "It's stupid, Shinsou. Oh God, it's so stupid. It doesn't even make sense and it's just-"

She pauses as if looking for the word and then says.

"Not nice."

He gives her a flat look.

Because- really?

Really?!

That's the best she comes up with?

She notices his look, for the first time actually looking at him, and her hands loosen in the fistfuls of her hair and she- snorts on a laugh. "I- I, well, I mean- Am I wrong?" And she's laughing while she's crying, head nearly knocking into his own.

(He doesn't mention how that may knock him out. He was pretty sure her horns could put a dent in medal.)

"You're... crazy. You're insane." He says, but there's a laugh in his voice. "Why am I friends with you?"

She shrugs, forehead pressing against his. She's a touchy person, he knows that- noticed it every time she grabbed his hand to pull him along and practically glomped Ikimaru in attempts to get him more used to her presence, it was just something that she was- but it still surprises him how easily she falls into it, how it washes over him and he can't help but reciprocate. 

(The touch is soft, kindly. There is nothing that it's asking, it's not trying to be anything more than it is. And he shivers at it, desperate to hold onto it.)

He doesn't know how they got like this. Foreheads pressed together and his hands threaded over the back of her neck to keep her in place, her own hands loosely holding one of his wrists and the other fisted into the collar of his uniform. 

She's crumpling it.

"You're crumpling my uniform."

"Sh. I don't care."

"...So I guess you're going to be the one to deal with ironing it later, is that right?"

She snorts. "God, Shin-sou, please. You're such a dork." It would be an insult to most people but she says it with such intense fondness it has him laughing under his breath. "Why am I friends with you?"

"Hell if I know."

Her eyes are closed, shut with exhaustion and puffy redness as his eyes flicker over her face. So incredibly close. "You've stopped crying..." He murmurs, grin shaky but real. "That's... good. You look- better." She bites a still trembling lip, as if him pointing it out made her realize there was still more inside of her, and he watches and waits. No more tears shed themselves. "I'm not gonna make fun of you for it."

"I ugly cry."

"Yeah, right." He rolls his eyes. "As if."

She just sighs and unfists her hand from his uniform. He shivers as it slides up, to wrap around his neck and pull him gently closer as she ducks her head- careful to not hit him with her horns- and tucks her chin over his shoulder. It's a one armed hug. "This is stupid- I'm stupid... I should've just gone to the teachers."

"Yeah, you should've."

"Made it so much worse than it had to be. Dragged you and Kiko and Ikimaru into it."

"I wouldn't say dragged."

"You're terrible at being comforting."

"Thanks. I'm trying."

She giggles and tightens her hold on him, eyes still closed before she seems to sag. He had long since moved his hands to wrap lazily over her back, giving her the freedom to move however she pleased, but she seemed resolute to stay half slumped over him. "Shinsou, m'tired." She whispers. "I wanna go home."

"...Okay. Okay."

His hold on her briefly tightens and he looks up at the ceiling.

"That is something I can do."

...

...

Quite honestly, it's a blur to her.

She remembers sitting on the floor, in Shinsou's arms, until her tears stopped and she remembers a conversation that will slowly morph into one of her favorite memories somewhere down the line. But the world is a blur. She recalls it clearly, she can't do anything but- yet, it seems more like the world was passing her by on fast forward after that moment, numbingly empty and vacant of personality and color.

She knows that she answered questions from Mic and the other staff. She knows that they took pictures of the bruises on her neck and documented her statement. She knows that she shared with Kayama-sensei the reason everything happened in the first place and pleaded with her not to share it with anyone who would spill, who would tell Shinsou, but, truthfully, she doesn't know if that promise will be kept. She doesn't know if something outside of Kayama-sensei's control will leak it. And she knows that Nezu promised that everything would be kept away from the media; confidential, secret, that no one will know her identity- she got the feeling he wasn't just saying that because of the incident- and that even the school won't hear a word.

For that, there is a small bit of relief. 

There is even more, to know that, when she finally leaves the school, denying all offers for rides home in a school provided vehicle, that Shinsou has been sitting on a bench waiting for her. 

She practically collapses on him, saying: "You're too nice." And he says something about how she's heavy and she says that his arms are just weak and asks him how much Sora has him lifting and... It's a blur. The train ride home. The walking to her apartment. The letting Shinsou in and saying goodbye.

"-dama?"

She startles, eyes blinking sleepily. "H-Huh?"

"You should go to bed."

"But I wanna keep talking with you…" She rubs at her eyes, head resting in crossed arms as she looks at her computer screen from afar. "And I'm already in bed." She's lying under her blankets and using a stack of pillows to prop herself up, her keyboard just an arm reach away since her desk is so close. "How's Espresso?"

He glances off camera. "Doing cat things."

(She had been given a healing kiss from Recovery Girl and he could see the exhaustion weighing on her.

Her throat was still a mess. Her voice as well.

A stress fracture caused by Hano. He was lucky he hadn't broken her neck. Medama was lucky she could still speak, even if it would be horribly raspy for awhile longer.)

"Mn-hm. I want to-" She yawns. "-meet him. I bet he wants to meet me."

"He doesn't even know you exist."

She lets out a playfully exaggerated gasp. "You don't talk about me? Shin-sou, I thought we were the kind of friends that we talked about each other to our pets."

"You don't have a pet."

"Lies. I have a fish."

"...You do?"

"Uh-huh. A yellow one." She pauses. "No idea what kind it is."

Shinsou leans his cheek onto his fist, his own eyes tired and struggling to stay open. Today had been exhausting and stressful and he doesn't know how it can end so simply. "What's its name?"

"Don't laugh. But I named him Fishey." He laughs. "Hey! It's a perfectly good name." She blushes. "And he's a sweet lil' fish. I love him." The intensity in which she says it is more than a little funny.

"You don't need to convince me. But... my pet would eat your pet." Medama's indignant look as him laughing again, a soft sound mostly under his breath as he tries to stay quiet.

He doesn't ask if she's feeling better. If she's angry or if she's sad. He can see the exhaustion in her eyes and how it weighs on her. 

It's just soft murmuring until late in the night.

Shinsou falls asleep on his desk, the video call still up, and Medama is the same- wrapped up in her pillows and blankets.

"She seems like a nice girl." He doesn't hear his mother's whispers from outside his open door, still awake despite the late hour, watching through the doorway. "They've been talking the whole time. For hours. I think something happened at school."

"...He didn't say anything again?"

"Not a word."

There's a deep sigh and the door creaks open as heavy steps inch into the room, quietly as they're able. “Our kid’s a damn stubborn one...” He feels Espresso slide in between his feet, face bonking into his ankles and threatening to trip him up, as he reaches over Hitoshi’s slumped over form to turn off his computer. Only briefly catching a glance of a head of pink hair on the other screen. And slides him from his seat, picking him up with a grunt and laying him into his own bed.

Eyes flutter open, glazed over with sleep. “Dad...?” The question is soft and his voice is hoarse and lacking clarity.

“Yeah, it’s just me. Go back to sleep.”

“Are you on the alternate schedule yet...?”

“Starting tomorrow. Don’t make me use my quirk on you.” He warns and Hitoshi just nods, eyes closing again as he falls back into a deep slumber. “Huh. Don’t even think you need it tonight.”

There’s a snicker from the doorway. “Stop threatening to use your quirk on him, seriously, if other people heard they’d think the worst-” His eyes roll as he leaves the room, making sure to shut the door behind him and gather up the cat, who looks desperate for his attention. “I can’t imagine what his friend thinks.”

“Nothing. She was asleep too.”

“Aw, that’s cute.” A warm smile quirks her lips, teasingly: “Are we sure she’s just a friend?”

“Don’t start teasing him. He’ll get all defensive.”

“I know, I know.” She leans against the wall and he waits for her to say what’s on her mind. “He hasn’t even told me her name yet, you know? She seems like such a sweet girl. She makes him laugh. Think I can get him to invite her over sometime?"

"If you do, make sure it's when I'm here."

"Oh, Hitomu, don't scare the poor thing off."

-0-

Shinsou is on his way to school. To class.

Medama is texting him in their group chat. Absolutely blowing up his phone with fish pictures that she had saved of her pet and he, in turn, responds with his own of Espresso. It's silly. An attempt at getting back to normal and he only pauses when he has to watch where he's walking to avoid running into people.

And that's when he sees him. By now, he knows his name.

Hano Dai.

The one that broke Medama's elbow. He's alone, none of his other... friends with him, and Shinsou can see that he's not in uniform anymore. That he has his things collected into a UA-issued bag that tells him everything he needs to know.

He's been expelled. And he's returning his things to the school. Because they won't allow him to represent or keep anything affiliated with it anymore.

A cruel smirk slides across his face.

Good.

It may not seem like much, but Shinsou knows how these things work. Being officially expelled from UA is absolutely devastating, to both reputation and future, and he can see how it hits the strength-quirk user. His eyes are red with previously shed tears and there's deep bruises under his eyes from lack of sleep.

Shinsou doesn't say anything. Doesn't make a move to approach. Just shoots him a deadly glare with that smirk on his face and walks by.

(Oh, he wants to punch him, wants him to experience the pain he caused Medama seven-fold, but he doesn't. It won't help anything. And he'd only get in trouble for attacking him in anything other than self-defense.)

"It's your fault, you know."

His feet falter on the sidewalk. He shouldn't respond, he shouldn't, but Medama had never actually told him why. Had refused to say much more other than 'it was stupid and, while he knew she would tell him, if he pushed, he hadn't wanted to. She didn't need it. In her state.

"...Excuse me?"

"Everything." Hano waves one of his big hands in the air, as if it clarifies anything. Shinsou has to wonder if it does. Taking a deep breath, turning on heel and stalking towards him. 

Hano flinches back.

Shinsou, for once, is glad to see someone doing so. Because Hano should be scared of him. He actually has a reason to be.

"W-We should've known that she was just crazy. That pink bitch." Hano stammers. Shinsou waits. He waits. His fists are clenched at his side. "You were the whole reason we tried to help her in the first place."

"Help...?"

Shinsou seethes at the notion.

"Y-Yeah." He doesn't know how his quirk works, is Shinsou's vague realization. He could crumple his mind within his hands, he wouldn't even know it. "You and your villainous quirk. Figured you were controlling her. Figured pain would break her out of it."

Shinsou is suddenly aware of his own heart beat, thumping in his ears. The heavy breath in his chest suddenly hitching and choking him.

Medama was right.

It is something stupid.

He blinks rapidly. Once. Twice. Eyes prickling with something unshed. 

And it's because of him.

"Should have known that she was just faking it for attention, or whatever it was she was doing." Hano snorts. "I heard that it was me that broke her arm. To be honest, I wish I had done worse. Because- that? That was just an accident. Next time, it'll be on purpose."

His heart beat is louder. ""Next time."" He repeats numbly. Hano seems to gain confidence, realizing that Shinsou hasn't made any move to use his quirk on him.

"She got me expelled. She deserves everything that happens to her. I was just trying to be a hero, snap her out of a villain's control- anyone else would've understood." Hano grins. "And, hey, as crazy as she is, she's kind of cute. Maybe I'll take a crack at her. Even if she's a mutant freak. I can see why you let her stick around, if she was putting out-"

Shinsou doesn't even have a split moment of disgust as the words register, or anger, really. That hits later. Afterwards.  Instead, he's just numb as it all washes over him, a sharp edge- like a knife stabbing him straight in the heart.

Then he sucker punches Hano in the face.

And feels his nose crunch beneath his fist.

Chapter Text

Shinsou slumps.

He slides back in the uncomfortable plastic chair, until he's practically sliding out of it, legs kicked out in front of him and the lower half of his face slightly buried in his sweatshirt. Arms crossed furiously over his chest and eyes lazily roaming the room.

His phone screen was cracked in the corner now, thankfully it still worked, but the battery had long since died. And he didn't think they'd appreciate him asking them to charge it for him.

"...Yes, yes, we're contacting the school-"

"Why? Isn't it cut and dry? Take a look at his quirk... he's also clearly the one who started it."

"It's UA-" They hissed. "-they'll have our asses if we don't. You know how they get, especially with the bad apples.”

Shinsou scowls, eyeing the handcuff that keeps him rooting in place. They hadn't allowed him a phone call as soon as they figured out what his quirk was, even though they were supposed to. The only relief is that he was in his UA uniform and this was a situation that he'd found himself in before, so at least he wasn't panicking. Completely.

He shoots a livid glare over to Hano.

Who sticks out his tongue. He's not even handcuffed to a chair and the police had been more than helpful when he'd asked to make calls to his parents, who were already present and eyeing Shinsou with disgust. And who've already made it known that they'll be pressing charges against him.

Shinsou looks at the ceiling, wondering how he's going to get out of this one- if he even is. He closes his eyes. Ignoring the throbbing in one of them, he's bruised beyond belief, because Hano has a strength quirk that he can get away with using passively, and he'd taken more than a few hits.

(He's pretty sure his jaw is dislocated.)

But he'd managed to get a few dirty ones on him and, between the two of them, he's pretty sure Hano is worse off.

The guy's bleeding from the eyes a bit, where dirt and rocks had gotten into them when Shinsou had tossed it in his face, his nose was smashed into an ugly purple mess of broken blood vessels, it was hard to tell he even had a nose anymore, and one of his ankles was clearly either twisted badly or broken.

Is it wrong that Shinsou is feeling proud of himself?

He doesn't regret it. Maybe he regrets punching first, because that's something he couldn't deny the police when they'd first asked, but- damn- if it didn't feel good to feel his face cave under his fingers.

He was starting to understand what Sora-sensei meant by not apologizing. Hano should have known what he was getting himself into the moment he opened his big mouth. Because Shinsou was far past the point of wanting to hold back.

Plus Ultra.

-0-

Midnight is partway through Art History with Class 1-A when she gets the alert. It’s a simple, singular beep that has her phone screen flashing red on the podium and she glances at it and- “Please read through section 5 on page 78.” Which is a bit of a jump into the next subject, but it’s not so far ahead that she won’t be able to tie it into what she was currently going over.

And takes the chance to pick up her phone and... and...

What. The. Fuck.

“Midnight-sensei? Are you okay?”

“A-Aa, Yaoyorozu, I have something urgent I must attend to, so you’re in charge. Everyone, please review Chapter 3 and Chapter 4.” Her eye may be twitching as she speaks. And she may be giving off a deadly aura, given how the students shiver, but she doesn’t rightly care. “Oh, and Iida! Please let me know if anyone misbehaves while I’m gone!”

There’s a pause with the class and Jiro twirls her earphone jacks around her finger, frown on her face. “Was it just me... or was that weird?”

“Yeah, but I... can’t place my finger on it.”

They exchange glances.

Then jump when Mineta let out a shout, “Ah, I got it! It’s because there was a perfect opportunity for her to make a seductive joke about punishment and-!”

He’s ignored from there.

“You know, he kinda has a point. Normally Midnight wouldn’t miss opportunities like that...” Midoriya mutters. “Do you think something is wrong? She got an alert on her phone. Maybe there’s some kind of emergency and she’s needed for hero work. No. But she seemed shaken, right? That can’t be it. She’s probably so used to hero work that most stuff isn’t surprising anymore-”

“Breathe, Midoriya! Breathe!”

The class briefly descends into chaos before Iida stands up with a shout and Yaoyorozu takes control of the classroom, deciding that the best way to study as a class was to read directly from the book herself. The oddness of Midnight's leave is quickly forgotten, especially when one of the civilian teachers arrives to substitute.

...

...

"We'll be moving you to a cell." The officer begins to say, "Until a representative of UA arrives to speak- meet with you, seeing as how this is a conflict between their students, they have jurisdiction over you unless they waive their right to contest. Please stand."

(He wonders how Hano managed to convince them that he was still a student when his bag is full of things to be returned.)

Shinsou closes his eyes briefly, then opens them with a deep breath out through his nose, and stands. They remove his single handed handcuff and twist his arms behind his back, unnecessarily painful and aggravating to his injuries.

He wishes he could say something. Even if he knows that it'll only be used against him, but his jaw is killing him and he doubts he'd even be able to open his mouth without screaming in pain.

"Hold on, that- that won't be necessary!"

There's the sound of someone struggling to catch her breath, her eyes are wild and she's sweating with her hands on her knees, like she'd run and-

Shinsou is beginning to understand why Medama thinks so highly of Midnight, as a hero and as a person.

He blinks. 

"Shinsou Hitoshi, is under the protection of UA and will be provided bail- as well as any attorney necessary for his situation. Furthermore," Midnight sucks in a deep breath, wheezing slightly, "any and all charges pressed against him by Hano Dai are rendered void."

(He feels his lips tremble. Not in pain. 

And something in his heart swells.

He didn't actually believe he would get out of this, he'd thought- he thought everything was over. Officially, legally. That his dream and his future just stopped. At this moment.)

There's gasps from the Hano family and they quickly try to argue with Midnight, going on about how they're pressing charges against the villain that 'your school has let run wild' and how 'they heard all about the boy's quirk usage'. Shinsou wants to scream.

"Yes, I do have to ask- why?" The police officer holding him looks noticeably confused. "Are you aware of the situation? Shinsou Hitoshi physically attacked Hano Dai in public and-"

Midnight raises a finger. "Hang on," she struggled with her breath, eyes twitching with barely kept anger, "I managed to bring someone... who was in a meeting with Nezu- who is much, much more qualified than I am, for things like this."

Shinsou doesn't care who she brought to help. It just matters that she'd showed up at all. Personally. It's... He feels like it sounds exaggerated, but it means more to him than she could ever possibly know.

His respect for her grows.

Shinsou barely notices a woman stalking into the room, the Principal not far behind her with a wide grin on his face that tells him that he came for a show, and Midnight quickly ushers him away as soon as the cuffs are off his wrist and pulls him aside. Checking him over with a critical eye and a professionalism that he didn't often see from her in class, he wipes his sweaty palms against his pants. "You okay, Shinsou? Where are your parents? Did you try contacting the school and couldn't get through-"

He struggles to speak, words slurred from his pulsating jaw and a bitten tongue. "They... didn't let me- make a call." He mutters lowly, bitter. "'Cause of my quirk."

Her whole body seems to freeze and her eyes spark. Nezu's ears twitch, somehow his grin growing wider as his face considerably darkens. "Aa, did you hear that...?"

"Yes, I did. I will make a note of it for later. For now, however..." A thin, cold voice that cuts like knives and makes him shiver speaks up. It's the first time Shinsou really notices the woman that Nezu had come in with and that's all it really takes for him to jolt in surprise.

She clears her throat. "Due to there being a warrant out for his arrest, Hano Dai and his testimony are considered untrustworthy as of this moment, given the nature of his accusations. Hano Dai is being charged with assault, assault with a quirk, harassment, and attempted manslaughter-"

Shinsou feels sick. He doesn't know how she can say it with such a clear voice, as if it was something she was disconnected from. Especially since...

"-and we have reason to suspect that, due to Shinsou Hitoshi's involvement with the victim, that Hano Dai went out of his way to instigate the conflict this morning between the two. What's more- Hano Dai was expelled from UA as of yesterday and no longer receives any protection the Hero institution may have provided otherwise."

Especially since Tasatsu Medama was her daughter.

Because that's right, isn't it? Medama had mentioned before his phone had run out of batteries and before he'd gotten into a fight, that her mother had come down from Tokyo to discuss the situation with Nezu and she'd been surprised that it hadn't been one of her aunts handling it. Only to mention how one of them must've told her mom that something was happening because she would've known it was important then.

She'd only mentioned it because she was going to have to discuss with them everything Hano Dai and the others had done and Shinsou had borne witness to her anxiety and nervousness over the whole situation. Telling him how she wished she didn't have to say anything, anything at all, and could just move on. 

He'd told her that was a stupid idea.

The not saying anything bit, not the moving on. Though he thinks she's trying to make it pass by too quickly.

"That- That can't be right- Dai would never-!"

Shinsou watches as they pale, seemingly to finally realize just how bad the situation had gotten and Tasatsu doesn't even twitch. "Assault: Holding the victim by their neck, choking them. Causing a stress fracture to their neck." She begins, a list on her lips and he wonders if she has it memorized before realizing, thinking about Medama's own quirk and how it could have come to be, that she probably did. "Assault with a quirk: Utilizing his strength quirk to break the victim's elbow. Harassment: Stalking, chasing, and acting in a threatening manner towards the victim. Attempted manslaughter: Recklessly and unthinkingly, locking the victim- who has severe medical issues that could potentially be life threatening- into a space for a significant period of time. A victim, who has claustrophobia and cleithrophobia, both of which your son managed to exacerbate, and PTSD related to those issues and who's potentially life threatening medical issues get worse with stress."

Tasatsu let's out a shaky breath, the first sign of just how much this is affecting her, and clenched her fists. Meeting the gaze of the Hano family with her own eyes, ones that look exactly like Medama's but lack any of her warmth. "Would you like to take a moment to contact a lawyer?"

The answer to that is yes.

Shinsou tenses as she- the woman in business clothes that looks slightly familiar because he thinks she may have taken the same train as him once, sometime- turns to him with a still cold expression on her face. "Tasatsu Sakuragi. Prosecution attorney. If you would like to press charges against Hano Dai, then please let me know."

Indigo eyes flicker his way. "I... think you have it covered already." He winces at the throbbing in his jaw.

She nods. "Let me know if you change your mind. I presume UA will look into the police mishandling of your situation, as well as the obvious quirk discrimination." She pauses, long enough that Shinsou shifts uncomfortably. "Shinsou Hitoshi. I've heard quite a bit about you..."

Tasatsu Sakuragi is a cold woman. Her nose wrinkles in distaste as she side eyes the Hano family, brows twitching in barely held contempt.

Shinsou can't help but notice it. Because it's just the same as Medama and... somehow not.

She has Medama's eyes. Medama's expressions. She has the same pink colored hair. But it's the differences that make Shinsou tense and unsure. She is not, in any way, bubbly like Medama is. Her hair is straight and long, falling past her elbows, and carefully styled to frame her face. She is tall and thin and her suit and skirt are a completely black combination, void of any splashes of color; she is put together, pristine and regal. And she is looking down at Shinsou with a look that he had never seen from Medama before.

She was assessing his worth.

He feels himself straighten and stubbornly meets her gaze head on, not so much as blinking as her eyes twitch- a sign of her gaze flicking over him, as Shinsou has learned to recognize how Medama's eyes move, how she exaggerates her brows and how her eyelids twitch to make certain emotions come across. Sakuragi does not have the same exact habit, in fact, her face is rather understated, but he can begin to read it all the same.

She answers his silent question.

"Medama overshares when she's not trying to keep a secret." She clarifies. 

He doesn't know how to feel about the fact that Medama has talked about him to her mother. He settles on being simply embarrassed and doesn't let it show.

She hums, before turning away, "Midnight, if you wouldn't mind taking the pleasure of...?"

Kayama-sensei's eyes have never lit up like that before, Shinsou notes. "Oh, yes. I would love to." She practically purrs, "Hano Dai, you are under arrest. This arrest is being done, officially, by the R-Rated Hero: Midnight. You have the..." There is a special brand of humiliation to being arrested by someone entitled the R-Rated Hero, Shinsou thinks, and would grin if he could.

There's a moment of silence as they watch Hano look close to crying. 

"Thank you, by the way," Sakuragi suddenly says, he can't hide the jerk of surprise before it's too late, as she points to Hano Dai's injuries, "I assume that's you. I take it Sora's lessons have been working out."

He nods, tentative.

"Good." She smiles. It's the first honest emotion he sees from her. "Then I know you made it hurt."

...

...

"Hitoshi!"

"...Mom?"

"You got arrested again?!"

He squints. She really didn't have to add the 'again' there. It doesn't exactly bode well.

(He has been arrested three times in his life. This is the fourth time. The first three were entirely because of prejudiced cops, not actually his fault, and the only reason he got out of it was because it was fairly obviously not his fault and they had the money to get good lawyers.

This time was a bit... less cut and dry.

Even if someone with a normal quirk, a more heroic quirk, would have only gotten a slap on the wrist.)

To make matters worse, Kayama-sensei is still waiting with him while Tasatsu Sakuragi and the Principal argue with one of the police officers who wants to arrest him just on grounds of him having potentially used his quirk on Hano- Thank God, Nezu had mentioned knowing detectives with truth quirks, because that's an argument that Shinsou wouldn't have been surprised to learn Hano was trying to use. Or any one of his friends. Who also, apparently, had warrants out for their arrest.

"What happened?" She stumbled slightly, her elbow crutches briefly catching on the lip of the door. "Would they not let you call?" Kayama noticeably frowns. Wondering why and how that could be her first question- "Oh, your face-!"

"I'll tell you what happened. Your son attacked mine!"

He watches his mom's face turn blank, eyes flicking to the family of Hano that were looking increasingly horrified, upset, and furious.

"Mrs. Hano, please do not-"

Kayama-sensei is cut off.

"Your boy is a demon, a monster. He has been using his quirk on innocent, future heroes and controlling them to do his bidding... and the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, we will be pressing charges as soon as this- this- mess is solved!" Hitoshi ducks his head, avoiding all the eyes on him in the room. Doesn't want to see his mother's face. "I bet you're just like him too...!"

Her eyes are dark: "So what if I am?"

(Static. It feels like static humming in her voice. Shinsou shivers at the electric feeling. It's not the same as his own, much, much stronger, less subtle, and feels ten times more dangerous.)

"Excuse me-?"

"Mom-"

She takes a deep breath and it's sucked back in. The buzz of electricity in her voice begins to fade and she turns to his teacher, face pinched. "Midnight, I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting just yet. Shinsou Fumiyo."

"Kayama Nemuri. We contacted you as soon as we could." Is it just him- or does sensei look nervous? She doesn't have any of the same confidence that he normally sees from her and is, instead, standing with her back ramrod straight and a cool look on her face. "I'm sorry that the school was unable to stop the conflict before it started."

She glances over towards Principal Nezu, "From what I heard, it started before they even got to the school's campus. The fact that you've involved yourselves at all is enough. Most wouldn't even think about it."

Kayama hesitates, "Has something like this happened before-?"

"Yes. Not bad enough to make it on any records but, well, you have a quirk that puts people to sleep, I suppose you can imagine it a little bit."

She does give a small nod to that, frown growing deeper before she shakes her head. "If I may, allow me to escort you to the nearest hospital. UA will provide for medical expenses given that this was the result of an ongoing problem with an expelled student. If you would prefer, we do also offer Recovery Girl's services-"

"The Saitama General Hospital is fine." His mother cuts in with a small smile, "I know a good doctor there."

And Hitoshi feels himself grow a little pale, a small piece of his soul dying. Oh great. Now he was going to have to explain everything.

And his face was starting to go numb with throbbing and he imagined that he didn't look great, so he couldn't even really try to argue that Recovery Girl was fine. Given how his mom was hesitating to even try to touch his face, he could tell that it probably looked worse than it honestly felt.

He hesitated, glancing back over at the police and Principal and quickly pulled away from his mother, pushing past the Hano family, "Mrs. Tasatsu..." The woman was standing with her arms crossed over her chest, she's got a stern expression on that is in no small part intimidating. He doesn’t know how he manages it but he slowly begins to inch out a proper sentence without his words coming out stuttered and slurred, just a hiss of pain between teeth. “...Is he really being charged with attempted manslaughter?"

His voice is, however, more of a croak then anything.

Her hand noticeably tenses on her bicep. "Oh, it's unlikely to be fully considered," her voice is whispered so as to not let anyone else overhear, but his mom and Kayama-sensei have wandered close enough to listen, "it will, however make it easier to charge him for the other crimes. Even if he would have deserved it."

"Manslaughter...?" His mother mumbles under her breath, looking horrified, and a bit green in the face and Shinsou is quick to shake his head and reassure her that it wasn't him that they were talking about.

"Tasatsu Sakuragi. I believe my daughter is best friends with your son?" She looks to him to confirm and, embarrassed by the sudden attention on him, he nods. He watches as his mother pauses and then lets out a small 'ooh?' That has him pointedly looking away. "...Yes, well. I have to commend you-" Tasatsu's gaze flicks to him and he straightens. He doesn't know why but he doesn't want her to see him hunched, wants to be able to look her in the eye and- "You've raised a wonderful young man."

Hitoshi can't do it. He looks at his feet, eyes startled and wide.

Wonderful.

He does not know how he feels about that word anymore.

"Medama has told me plenty to know that even before this whole incident... should you ever need it, feel free to contact me anytime. I know how difficult it can be to get by with... subtler quirks that others don't normally appreciate." She offers his mother a business card. And watches his mother lean on one crutch before taking it, eyes blinking wildly. "I would recommend heading to that hospital now."

He watches his mother's face go through a range of emotion before she turns to him and gives him a slow, purposeful blink. He feels his ears and the back of his neck slowly begin to burn in embarrassment. "Of course." She smirks slowly. "I assume you overheard me introducing myself?" At the nod, she smiles a bit wider. "Then I hope we can get in contact sometime. Even if it's not business related."

"...Sure."

And Hitoshi does not want to touch that with a stick. At least they're quickly leaving to make their way towards the hospital, Kayama-sensei offering up a UA-provided car since his mother had had to take the train and walk over, and now he only has to think about his painful injuries, being arrested, and how the hell he's going to explain this to his dad.

...

...

Shinsou Hitoshi is not afraid of his dad.

Sure, he's intimidating as hell and, considering that he looks almost exactly like him aside from, maybe, having sharper features, Shinsou has a pretty good frame of reference for how scary he himself can be, but Shinsou has never been afraid of his dad. That doesn't mean he's not afraid of what he'll say about seeing him beaten to a pulp and having been arrested-

"I sure hope they look worse off."

The deadpan stare makes him shiver.

And he tentatively nods. Which gets him a contradictory flat look. "You got into a fight with someone." Reprimanding. He droops. Aa, he really wishes he could talk right now but it's as if his jaws have been sealed completely shut with swollenness. His father sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Hitoshi. Why."

Kayama-sensei is still present. If only just leaving. And helpfully provides, "The expelled student does seem to have instigated it-"

She gets a brief glance of distaste and Hitoshi wants to hide his face in his hands.

"Oh, so it was purely self-defense then?"

At that, he glances away, sweating. The part he wasn't planning on mentioning if he could speak for himself. His expression is pinch, and not with pain, but guilt instead. Shinsou Hitomu notices and his lips thin into a disappointed line. "I see. What... Midnight, what was the fight about?"

She actually pauses. "I presume about an ongoing situation with one of my other students, Tasatsu Medama. We were going to wait to get an official statement until he can speak properly."

His father nods.

"Then, if you wouldn't mind waiting a few minutes? I have a few Quirk Licensed Doctor's on staff that can fix his injuries fairly quickly," he pulls at a chart, writing down a few things, "it would be better to get this over with sooner rather than later." He adds on with a mutter under his breath: "I bet they'd hope to hold it against us, if we provided a late official statement... Midnight?"

"No problem," she salutes, "I'll be waiting in the lobby for you to call me."

There's a moment of quiet as they listen to her heels fade down the hallway, to return to where his mother had decided to wait, because as soon as she and his father got together he wouldn't doubt that they'd start muttered arguments about it all. One that would last for hours.

(He always hated it when it happened, not because they were arguing per se- no, they handled it rather well and he knew that they never truly got angry at one another or were arguing for just the sake of it- it was just, once they started, he didn't think they'd be able to stop. And he'd rather it not be done in a public space where other people could hear.)

As soon as she's deemed far enough away, Hitoshi winces as fingers slide over his face, gently checking the damage to his jaw: "What did they do to you...?" Hitomu sighs, voice quiet. "I'll put you to sleep when we fix it and wake you up afterwards. You alright with that?"

He gives a thumbs up.

He never really minded when his dad used his quirk on him. Sleep was a fairly simple quirk. With a touch, he could make someone fall asleep and with another he could make them wake up. Hitoshi had never been under the control of his own quirk before but he had hoped, in some ways, that the feeling that it gave off was similar. The deep miasma of sleep taking over, it was... nice. Relaxing. Easy to fall into. With the only side effects typically being a bit bleary eyed and dizzy afterwards, though that would wear off in seconds to maybe a couple minutes.

(To be honest, a fairer descriptor was that Hitomu was giving up sleep, in exchange for someone else. Every time he used it, it seemed to give him horrible, horrible insomnia that could keep him up for weeks on end, depending on how much he used it. And the only good thing that came from that was that he was practically made to go without sleep.)

Hitoshi was so used to it that he didn't even feel it anymore. His dad had used his quirk a lot, especially when he was younger, when his insomnia had first started acting up and he hadn't been used to it yet. Just enough to keep him from collapsing during the day as his brain recognized that he was actually fine.

(He remembers cold, winter days, curled up in his father's arms and drooling in his sleep. He remembers being carried around everywhere whenever he was tired, groggily rubbing at his eyes and yawning. He remembered comfort, support, and safety- and that feeling had never gone away.)

"Was it worth it? I know you're not the type to pick fights." Hitoshi doesn't even need to pause, simply gives another thumbs up and looks away. Waiting for the disappointed sigh. It doesn't. "Well, so long as it's not something you'll regret."

He regrets not punching harder.

"Let's heal you up."

When Midnight returns, he only has a few bruises left and swelling to really deal with. His jaw is tense and feels a little shaky but it's no longer throbbing, twitching in pain, or keeping him from speaking. He's blinking a bit of sleep from his eyes, but can otherwise speak and finally answer the questions that Midnight is allowed to conduct- as a hero, she could stand in for police, under special circumstances. And it wasn't even as if this was an interrogation, simply taking a statement and interview.

Hitomu stands by the curtain, looking over a chart and very obviously listening in on every word but looking away so as to not put any added pressure on him. Even if he was required to have a guardian present since it was a minor, and he preferred that he was there, it helped to not have him staring him down the whole time.

It goes well. At first.

He gives a brief summary of the events revolving around Medama, trying not to let his shoulders slump in self-hatred for not fixing it sooner. "-thought she told Recovery Girl when he broke her arm, that's why I didn't say anything sooner. I ended up telling you the day after the tack incident 'cause I figured out she didn't. Her being locked in the closet happened earlier yesterday and when I was walking to school I saw Hano going to return his things."

Six days. It was a period of Six days. With today being the sixth. It was... It had felt longer than that. It'd felt like way more time had passed.

"What did you think?"

"That he'd been expelled." He shrugs. "It was kind of obvious. He looked like he'd been crying about it too."

"Did you approach him in anyway? Try to get revenge, go out of your way to talk with him?'

"No. I walked past. He called out to me." Here, he tenses, fiddling with the sleeves of his jacket.

"Why? What did he say?"

"...Said it was my fault." He mutters bitterly, noticing out of the corner of his eye that his dad was staring back at him, looking distinctly pissed. "Accused me of having... I don't know. He thought I had been using my quirk on her, because we're friends, and that the whole thing was just him trying to be a hero."

Delusional garbage.

"Have you? Used your quirk on Tasatsu Medama?"

"No, never." He snaps before biting his lip. "She... I thought she didn't even know what my quirk was, when we first met. She never even asked. I wouldn't..." Use it on her, he doesn't finish. Not without her permission.

"So, Hano Dai falsely accused you of using your quirk on Tasatsu Medama and called you a villain- that's when you punched him, is that right?"

"No."

(His father looked distinctly proud. He understands why, vaguely, but also... Hitoshi is so used to it at this point that people really need to try harder. Because he wasn't about to blow up if that's all they had to say.)

That... seems to actually stump Midnight because she startles and her brow furrows. "Then when did you- what happened next?"

"He... ranted a bit." Hitoshi picks at the cloth of his sleeves. "Just generally. About how he was a hero in the making and how people should understand where he was coming from. Then- He said something else. About Medama."

He feels his lips shrivel into a scowl, eyes darkening. "At first, it was just him calling her crazy for hanging out with me. Because my quirk is 'dangerous' and 'villainous'-" She looks like she's about to tell him it's not but he just shakes his head. It was Hano's words, not his. He knew he wasn't a villain, he just wished other people could see it too. "-and that she was only doing it for attention. And that... because she was 'crazy' that the only reason I must be keeping her around was for... for..."

He runs a tongue over his lips, his mouth is suddenly dry and he presses a fist to his forehead.

"Well, for sexual favors."

"Excuse me-?!"  

(In the background, he can hear his dad rip the sheet he was looking at and begin glaring down at it, he shivers. Practically feeling the deadly aura coming off him.)

Oh, it gets worse. "And threatened to- he implied it, at least, he didn't say it directly and I cut him off then- but he threatened to... assault her. Like that." 

Midnight looks positively livid. Her phone, used to record the conversation, creaked in her hands.

"...And that's when you punched him?" Her voice is tight, dangerous, and no-nonsense.

"Yes."

"Good. Ignore that last bit from me for the record." She pinches the bridge of her nose, eyes wound shut tightly. "Anything else?"

Hitoshi quickly adds on: "He also made just some general threats. That he would get back at her. Make her pay, I guess. Because he blamed her for the expulsion."

"And, I have to ask, for the record, was there truth to any of Hano Dai's accusations?"

"None whatsoever."

"Right." Midnight pauses, taking a moment. "Moving on. From there, you were fighting with Hano? He has a strength-quirk, and yet you sustained a minimum amount of injuries-"

His father raises two fingers to his temple and asks, "Hang on, a minimum amount?" Rightfully, he seemed a bit disbelieving.

"When compared to Hano Dai, yes. For clarification on the records- I just got a report from Nezu- Hano Dai sustained a broken ankle, severe facial trauma," She pauses then says more specifically, "a broken nasal bone and cracked orbital fissure," and Shinsou guiltily looks away because he doesn't feel any guilt about it and he doesn't want them to notice, "multiple corneal abrasions and, finally, a... testicular rupture."

(Midnight seemed distinctly pleased by this discovery.)

So he may have made sure to kick him between the legs as hard as he possibly could. Hano was asking for it.

"Shinsou Hitoshi, meanwhile, suffered from a dislocated jaw, a small orbital fracture, multiple abrasions across his hands and arms- though those can be attributed to the act of punching- some minor scrapes, and a severe concussion. Oh, and a twisted wrist, but I believe that may have been from the police when they detained him."

His father's brows crept up slowly with everything she listed with Hano. And Hitoshi felt himself begin to sweat again, especially when his eyes turned to him in an obvious question of 'hey, what the hell' and 'since when could you do that?' Which he just kind of shrugged to.

"So, Shinsou Hitoshi, how did this fight play out? With a strength quirk, Hano would typically have the upper hand. Did you at any time use your quirk?"

"No. Not once."

"I see. To state, when your quirk is activated, the one you are using it on will be released from its state upon registering pain, is that right?" 

"...Yes."

"The fight lasted how long?"

"I'm not sure. I hadn't been counting. We only stopped when the police showed up and broke us up."

"If you had to guess, when would you say it started?"

"...seven twenty-something? I can check my phone. I had been texting Medama and the last one I sent should be within a minute of when we started fighting?" There's a brief pause as Midnight allows that, since his phone had been charging since they entered the hospital, and she checked it over his shoulder. Only briefly flashing a smile at the cat and fish pictures. "The last one I sent was at seven twenty seven."

"And the police report states they arrived at seven thirty five. Eight minutes total. Not enough time for you to utilize your quirk multiple times whilst fighting Hano, given the severity of both your injuries and the requirements of your quirk." Midnight looks... a little impressed actually, he squints, if he was reading her correctly. "Yet, Hano has already been proved to have been using his quirk on you, given a previous statement he made to police. How did you not receive worse injuries?"

"I... dodged. Mostly. He wasn't exactly the fastest and I mostly tried to stay away."

"Could you retell the events of this morning from the first punch thrown to the police arriving?"

Hitoshi closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

-0-

When he felt his nose cave beneath his fist, a crunch that made his hand hurt, it was as if something in his brain had just- snapped into place.

And then he was on top of him.

Quite honestly, Shinsou had never felt such clarity and such fury before. Not at the same time. He had also never sat on someone's stomach whilst punching them in the face over and over and over again, but today was a day of firsts. When Hano raised a hand to try to defend- Shinsou was breathing heavily, his heart jumping in adrenaline as his ears buzzed- he would switch hands and knock him across his temple before going back into a continuous set of punches that had Hano's face practically squelching with blood.

It's not even a minute. He doesn't think. It feels somehow like a long, long time, but he knows he couldn't have kept it up for that long.

And he didn't even spend all his energy on it- because one of Hano's large hands come up to bat him across the face, sending him into a bit of a sprawl off of him.

The strength behind it has him dizzy, has his gaze briefly dotted with black spots, and he numbly registers a dull pain in the lower half of his face that's... incredibly intense. But Shinsou has been hurt before, knows how fights go, and he's already scrambling away- his legs slide uselessly against dirt for a bit but he eventually gains traction to pull himself to his feet.

Hano lunges, missing his head and instead manages to get a fistful of hair and- well, Shinsou is already throwing his leg up between his legs. As hard as he can. The noise Hano makes is something close to a wounded dog, deceptively high and whiney, but Shinsou thinks that's an insult to dogs.

"You... bastard-!" He squeaks. And Shinsou sucks in wild, erratic breaths, heart thundering in his ears and jaw aching. Hano manages to get back to his feet and- he manages to slide out of the way of a kick but Hano comes back around to swing a fist into his face and-

Stars. He's seeing stars.

He falls, collapsing onto his back. A punch to the eye that has his head swimming, he's- frankly- a little surprised he wasn't just completely knocked out from the blow.

His fingers grasp, desperate for something to defend himself with and there's nothing but dirt and pebbles and- oh? What is he thinking? That's perfect.

(Fight dirty. He thinks he may have taken it a bit too literally.)

Shinsou tosses it- as much as he could gather into one hand- directly into Hano's eyes, as close as he can get. And he doesn't think about the rocks and pieces that could have gotten mixed into the mess.

Because Hano howls, like a blind lumbering beast, and still tries to grab him.

And Shinsou sticks out a foot, slamming it into his ankle, feels something give and Hano goes crashing to the ground. A sobbing, angry mess that's still trying to grab him- he manages to throw an accidentally well-aimed punch into his gut and Shinsou feels his stomach lurch before he swallows it down. He doesn't have time for it, not with Hano's hand's catching the same place on his jaw, and Shinsou just tries to punch him away- managing to get a few good hits onto Hano's bloodied face before-

Arms are wrapping under his, yanking him off and away from Hano, it's when he realizes that he'd been almost on top of him again- he'd completely beaten him down, until all Hano could really do was pathetically try and hit him off, and, because he'd been using his quirk to strengthen every blow, Shinsou had masterly assumed he was still ready to fight back- and he doesn't regret the sight of him. Not even for a moment. Not even when there's shouting and the police are kicking his feet out from under him and slamming him facedown on the ground and cuffing his hands behind his back.

It is, however, a solace that they do the same to Hano. Even if they do it a bit more kindly given how Hano is still crying and trying desperately to rub at his eyes.

Shinsou Hitoshi, cheek pressed into the dirt and someone reading him his rights behind him, feels the weariness begin to catch up and he lets out a small, exhausted groan as the pain finally registers in his brain.

"-Couple of UA kids fighting like it's a battle to the death, going to bring them both into the precinct, should get in contact with-"

"UA? Really? Against each other? We'll have to contact the heroes there if that's the case, they try to handle everything themselves and have jurisdiction over their students-"

"Enroute with some basic medical aid, unsure of the reason for the-"

"-got a villain quirk, doesn't he? Guess that solves it-"

"-idiot. Can't jump to conclusions, also UA will be pissed-"

"-don't throw 'em in jail, both minors. Keep them cuffed to the desk until someone arrives."

"-I am not talking to that kid. Do you see the way he's been staring? Did you see what he did to the other one? He's freaking creepy."

Shinsou slides down in his chair, the lower half of his face tucked into the sweatshirt he'd worn over his uniform to stave off the early morning cold, and feels himself smirk despite the pain. Indigo eyes flicking over to the sobbing Hano on the phone with his parents, watching him flinch and scoot as far away as he could- obvious fear on his face.

And Shinsou thinks- Good, he has a reason to be afraid.

And wishes that he didn't feel as borderline euphoric over his vindictiveness as he did.

...

...

Midnight knows the feeling in her students eyes. Not, maybe, in so many words. But she knows it. He doesn't even have to say it, really, because she can see it clear as day.

Can see it a bit in his father's eyes too. 

And is that pride there, that she sees? She thinks it is. Would like to think that it is. 

It's a bad feeling to have, a bit like running an adrenaline high, and something that people can get addicted to. It's a bad feeling to let it stay on it's lonesome- but she can also see the guilt in Shinsou, not over hurting Hano, but over not feeling bad about it. And she knows, somewhere, deep down, that Shinsou Hitoshi is a good kid and he's good enough to recognize when to stop.

And so she says nothing. Neither reprimanding nor congratulatory- even though she kinda wants to congratulate him. Even, if only, because of it being the first fight he's won.

(That she knows of.)

"Have you had any previous fighting experience?"

"Not... really. Not where I haven't tried to run from a fight, I mean." Shinsou says after a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. "I've been training. After school. At a gym that does mostly quirkless-fighting."

"Do you have a teacher?"

"Yeah, Sora-sensei. I... don't actually know her full name. I never asked."

"Quirk?"

He opens his mouth, then pauses, seeming to realize something. "Unsure. The gym's pretty anonymous when it comes to quirks though." Her eyes sharpen a bit. Anonymous gyms were typically... either very expensive and trustworthy or cheap and not trustworthy at all. And someone who taught him to fight like that would not be at an expensive gym, which was all about rules and regulations. "Medama showed me it. Awhile back. She's been going there for years, apparently."

That does, for some reason, have her relaxing a bit. 

Maybe it has to do with the fact that Medama had actually taken the time to show Shinsou it. That she'd deemed it trustworthy enough to share with a friend that she was obviously protective of.

"...When Hano Dai threatened Tasatsu Medama to you, do you think he would have gone through with it?"

The question seems to surprise him and he... actually has to take a moment to answer. Closing his mouth, thinking it over.

He knows what she's really asking.

If he had seen Hano as an actual threat, or if it was all just an attempt by him to get him to fight him. To try and get Shinsou expelled or in trouble too. A plan that had- almost worked. But... He can't shake the queasy feeling deep in his stomach. "Yes and no."

"Clarify."

"I think he... I think he would've tried to hurt her, yes, but not... Maybe physically or... maybe to just intimidate her." He starts, stopping every once in awhile as he gathers his thoughts. "I don't think he would have set out with actual intentions to seriously injure her, even after his threat. I... Now, after the fact, I think it might've just been to piss me off but-"

Hano Dai is someone that is almost all talk. He is posturing and he's annoying jabbering in the ears. It doesn't make him less of a threat, but it does make it seem less... perhaps, premeditated.

"But, I think, Medama would've fought back." He rubs his hands over his legs, his hands feel sweaty. "And I don't think he would've liked that. And I think it... know it would've turned into something- just like his threats."

Midnight seems to notice the pain and horror on his face because she nods, slowly, and asks one final question.

"And is there anything else that you would like to state, for the record?"

"Yeah... One thing." He blinks, slight hesitancy showing on his face before his gaze grows stubborn. "He- his whole group- they would have deserved it and more."

.

.

.

Chapter Text

hot firewood created the group chat FIGHT for her honor

hot firewood added insomnicat and trash boy to FIGHT for her honor

hot firewood: this is Kiko

trash boy: ikimaru???

insomnicat: shinsou

insomnicat: ...did you not invite medama on purpose or?

hot firewood: that's what the school buddies chat is for

hot firewood: who do you think HER in the title is

insomnicat: aa

insomnicat: I thought it was named school buds <3

trash boy: maybe when it was just you two in there

trash boy: lol

hot firewood: iki no you've said too much

trash boy: oh no

trash boy: um.

insomnicat:

insomnicat: what

trash boy: I'm sorry ignore me I

trash boy: misread it nvm

trash boy: me stupid, please ignore,,, plEase

hot firewood: ANYWAYS

hot firewood: back on topic but shinsou did you or did you not kill a man for our dear medama

trash boy: im sorry did you just say kill

hot firewood: y e s

trash boy: haha im in danger

insomnicat: I didn't kill anyone

hot firewood: but did you eviscerate them

insomnicat: …

hot firewood: throw them into the sun

hot firewood: slam dunk into space

hot firewood: defeated the devil but then tangled with the law, mayhaps

insomnicat: how did you even find out

hot firewood: medama is worried

hot firewood: apparently you talked to her mom??? and she wants to know if you got hurt but doesn't know how to ask because she called you, and I quote

hot firewood: a prideful moron sometimes

insomnicat: I won

hot firewood: she knows you won, that doesn't mean you didn't get hurt

hot firewood: she's also kinda pissed

insomnicat: why?

hot firewood: she's also a prideful moron and didn't want you FIGHTING for her honor

hot firewood: hence, the title of this group

hot firewood: you two are really a match made you know

He rolls his eyes, tapping out of the group chat and goes about creating a new one, just for the two of them now that Kiko and Ikimaru had both been invited to the group chat they'd been using previously.

insomnicat created the group chat Cat and Fish

insomnicat invited musicclubonly to Cat and Fish

musiclubonly: am I the fish?

musicclubonly: hang on, need to get with the theme

Read 10:12 PM.

musicclubonly changed their name to sympfiny

sympfiny: there we go :D

Read 10:22 PM.

insomnicat: it took you ten minutes to come up with a pun

sympfiny:

sympfiny: don't call me out like this

sympfiny: im not that good at coming up with stuff off the top of my head

sympfiny: what's the group chat for? besides our spirit animals i guess

insomnicat: kiko mentioned you were freaking out

insomnicat: and angry at me

symfiny: she didn't

insomnicat: she did

Read 10:26 PM.

Shinsou squints at his phone screen as the minutes tick by, absentmindedly listening to the Halo stream he has playing in the background- she was apparently recovering from an attack by 'not villains because I feel like that would be an insult to villains' and was mostly just playing video games and answering questions about her upcoming album rather than singing. 

(Something that happened fairly often, admittedly, because her voice would die or she was still making things but still wanted to create content that people could watch regularly.

In this case, she blamed it on her voice dying. Considering it was hoarse, he could certainly see what she meant.)

"Hang on, guys, I just got a text and I need to go yell at a friend for being a bloody snitch." She muttered and her chat exploded as she just stopped in the middle of the racing game that she was playing and let her opponents pass her. "Don't worry about it, I got time." She giggled.

There's a pause as the mute icon on her stream pops up with a small guitar tune. Sort of the elevator music of her Streams.

She pops back in only a couple seconds later and chirps. "Okay, okay. So the stream is going to end a couple minutes early- " Boos from the chat. "-I know, I know. How could I? If it helps, I will be coming in first place during this race. Watch this."

He doesn't see how that's possible. She'd given up the lead on the race.

"Let you in on a little secret. I am. Very good. At racing games. In my past life, my death must've been car related because I am just killing it."

He glances at the stream in time to see her somehow overtake all the fans that she was playing against and just barely manage to beat out the final car. 

"Sorry, Decay God, my round! If it was anything but a race, you would've won. Good match though! Actually, DM one of my mods, I'll give you a prize-" She hummed. " -I have an album premium I was planning on announcing in a couple weeks. I'll make sure you get a copy. Want it signed?"

The stream whines about how they weren't aware of there being prizes but Halo just ignores them.

"Sorry to everyone else that was hoping to play a round, but I do have to go. I'll see you all in the next one!"

And Shinsou shuts it off, closing out it's tab, just in time to see a text from Medama in the group chat.

sympfiny is typing...

sympfiny: video call?

insomnicat: fine

...

...

She sucks in a deep breath when she gets a good look at him.

By now, all that remained were deep bruises coloring his skin, but they were a rotten and eye-catching color. One that immediately had her eyes zeroing in on them and had her biting her lip, her face distinctly pinched. Truth be told, he was on quite a bit of pain medication, just for the night, to help him sleep- He didn’t think he was going to be sleeping tonight though, he could already feel it, the bubbling and antsy feeling from staying in one place too long, it was going to keep him awake all night- and most of the injuries didn’t feel like much of anything unless he pressed down on them. Hell, the bumps, bruises, and scrapes that he’d gained from training and not from the fight, were actually hurting worse.

“You look... terrible.”

Medama says, not at all sparing his feelings.

His voice is as dry as the desert, “Thanks.”

Her hands seem to tentatively reach out to the computer screen before realizing that she couldn’t actually touch him before freezing. “It was worse though, right? Shinsou-”

“Me-da-ma.”

“I... Don’t like the thought of others- of you fighting for me.” She mutters, head slightly bowing and eyes drooping, her hand is still outstretched towards the screen but he can see how it trembles. She suddenly clenched it, pulling away, letting it fall into her lap. “I'm not worth it."

He has to stare at her.

Has to wonder...

With a bit of anger, a bit of hurt, and a bit of wild fury; he has to wonder how she could say that and mean it. "You are." He bites out, lips pulling back in something like a sneer, and she blinks, brows still furrowed as she bites her lip and looks back up at him. The screens suddenly seem so impersonal, like a blockade. "Don't say that you're not. It wouldn't be the truth."

(If she wasn't worth fighting for, then no one was. Because they couldn't hope to meet her standards.)

"I..."

Medama's lips tremble around her words and he watches the shaky quiver, watches and waits for the words to fall out.

"Can I come over?"

-0-

It’s nearing midnight.

Shinsou bites the inside of his cheek, face tight. He doesn’t feel the want or need for sleep. In fact, even if he wanted to, even if he hadn’t insomnia- he doesn’t think he would even be thinking about it. His heart is beating in his chest, fast, spiked with adrenaline and his leg bounces in something like impatience.

He knows that it would take awhile. He knew that it would.

But he was still waiting anyway. In the middle of his apartment, sat on the floor by the front hallway, with a cat in his lap who is trying desperately to shove itself into the palms of his hands in order to get attention- but his attention can only be absentminded, he can't take his eyes away from the door. The minutes tick by and his heart only seems to beat faster-

There’s a soft knock.

He’s never been so relieved and panicked at the same time.

...

...

She stands in the doorway, shivering and sniffing from the cold night air. Despite that, she doesn't make a move to take a step into the warmth of his apartment. She's an intruder here, a guest that is both invited but unexpected and her timing couldn't be worse, she knows, with how late it is. How close it is to turning into the next day.

She rubs at her arms, goosebumps popping up all over her skin.

She doesn't know if she should knock or just turn right back around and walk home. She knows it's a bad idea either way.

She just-

She bites her bottom lip, eyes drooping. 

Medama knocks lightly, as soft as she can manage it, and flinches at the door as it quickly comes open. "Medama?" It's then that it hits her how truly bad of an idea it was to seek him out, especially when she could've just waited for school after the weekend or even invited him out in their spare time. But somehow that feels less private. Less important. Like she's making light of the situation.

It may have something to do with the fact that, by then, most of his bruises will be gone. By then it will be easy for others to forget the injuries that'd marred his skin. The pain he'd gone through for her.

(She has an unreasonable and tiny hate towards healing quirks. How they made people think... so little of taking care of themselves.)

And maybe that's selfish of her, wanting to see him when everything was fresh in both their minds, but...

Others can forget. But she doesn't. She doesn't know if she even should.

"...I'm sorry..." She breathes heavily, not quite able to meet his gaze. "It's late... If you want me to leave, I can. I- just." 

Her voice is a croak, a whisper; she wipes her arm over her face. 

"I wanted to see you. In person."

"It's fine." Shinsou says quickly, it's when she first looks up at him. "I wouldn't have agreed if it wasn't."

"You look..."

"Terrible?"

"Beat up." She says instead. Because it's what she meant. "Hurt."

"You should see the other guy."

She has. And it just makes her think about all the things that could've gone wrong. Medama doesn't say anything. Doesn't know what to say. Doesn't know whether to thank him or tell him to never get hurt on her behalf again.

(Oh, he wants to be a hero. He wants to fight and save and help. And she will support him in that, even through the injuries and mortality rates that she knows are only worsening-

But it's so much worse when it's because of her. When it didn't need to be.)

The tension between them isn't something she can put into exact words. Oh, it's awkward and uncomfortable and has them struggling to meet each other's eyes, but it also keeps them from wanting to step away. From wanting to leave.

It's the first time she's ever been short of words around him, the first time she doesn't even have an idea for a conversation, the first time that her head is buzzing with a stuttering mess she couldn't hope to get out. Medama just... doesn't know what to do. For the first time with him. She doesn't know whether to acknowledge the butterflies in her stomach or the homely warmth somewhere deep in her chest or just push it all aside.

She shivers.

"Did..." Shinsou swallows. "Did you walk here in pajamas?"

"...Yes."

A white tank top, loose blue pajama bottoms with some sort of yellow plant on them, and an old pair of flip flops and that was it. Well, other than the away-bag she had slung across her chest, she was exceedingly bare for someone walking around in the middle of the night.

She doesn't rightly care.

She'd just grabbed the first few things she could, stuffed them in her bag, and began to make her way over to the address he'd sent her, even though it was a good few miles out of the way, with just the clothes on her back.

"...Your lips are starting to turn blue." He points out with a note of surprise in his tone. "I- Come in already. Don't just stand there, stupid." It's not said in any way but soft and she shivers for an entirely different reason as his voice washes over her, shuffling in quickly and shutting the door behind her.

Suddenly, the crickets, cicadas, and nighttime air are shut off from them completely, and somehow that odd tension between them grows worse without the buffer of noise. The dead silence, the empty quiet, only works to make that awkwardness grow worse.

She ducks her head, arms crossing over her chest as she still tries to shake away the cold, shoulders rising with their own tension: "I know you said I could come but that... still doesn't mean it's not inconvenient." She whispers. In the quiet of his apartment it feels so much louder than it really is. "Did you-" She doesn't finish the question, figuring out the answer for herself before she even finishes. "Are your mom and dad home?"

She knows that he didn't ask their permission when he'd accepted her self-imposed invitation. He'd replied too quick. Had done so far too easily and reasonably.

For that, she feels bad.

"My mom's asleep. My dad switched to the night schedule with the hospital for the next couple weeks so he'll be back in the mornings. Otherwise," he swallows the lump in his throat, stuttering, "o-otherwise... it's just us."

It's a testament to how much this is affecting him as well, because she's never heard him so nervous before, never heard him stutter, or heard even a quiver in his voice before.

"Just us..."

She repeats, sounding almost reverential.

It doesn't mean anything, not really. But it has her easing, if only a little bit. It had her feeling like less of a spectacle, perhaps.

Her eyes wander, anywhere but at him. She doesn't know how she can meet his gaze. He twitches, the direct opposite of her, he doesn't know how he can look away. It had gotten so late, he didn't know why he'd said yes to her request, he's just glad he did. Even if it means they just stand there for a little while, both trying to work up the words or the courage-

They are awkward. They are anxious. And both are so overcome with it that it seems to permeate the whole room.

Usually this would be a bad thing.

He can't say that it is. Not truly. And he doesn't know why not.

(Neither can be upsetted by the others presence.)

"I..." He swallows, rubbing the back of his neck as embarrassment threatens to flush his cheeks pink. "You said you wanted to meet Espresso?"

"Please."

She seems almost desperate for the change in subject. Honestly, he’s about the same at this point. The atmosphere between them had never devolved to this point before and he doesn’t know what could’ve caused it- maybe it was because it was night, maybe it was because they both knew she wasn’t supposed to be here, maybe it was because it could quickly descend into arguing if one of them said the wrong thing-

(Maybe it’s because of things unspoken.)

“I... I don’t know where he went, he was just here.” He mutters, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, as he turns around. Trying not to think about how he can hear Medama pad after him on now bare feet, his neck burning red with the knowledge of her watching him as she follows along. Listening to his voice. “He’s usually pretty good with strangers. But he also usually tries to hide from them-” He licks his lips. “He’s pretty shy.”

“Oh.”

He searches almost desperately for any sign of the cat. Hoping that he’ll show his face and they’ll have an excuse to focus on that won’t have Medama standing in the middle of his living room, still shivering and rubbing at her arms and watching him as he looks around. He knows his face is beet red by this point, that his eyes are wide and he’s sweating with nerves, he quickly hisses under his breath- “Espresso? Come here, where are you-? Espresso?”

“...Is that him?”

He nearly jumps out of his skin at Medama’s words.

Whipping around, he sees her head turned to spy down the hallway leading to his bedroom and spies a fuzzy face peeking out from around the corner of his door. Espresso’s head tilts, Medama tilts her head in return. Shinsou tries not to think about how charming the move is and quickly hurries to Espresso before he can run off and get lost somewhere, making sure not to startle him into running away. “Y-Yeah, that’s him. I- Come on.” He doesn’t know why he does it, it only makes it more awkward, but he turns to offer her his hand. “We should be quiet. I don’t want to wake my mom up.”

Medama takes his hand.

And he’s shocked by the feeling of her ice cold fingers sliding over his palm, absolutely frozen to the point that it causes him to almost yank his hand away. The thought that he’d just left her to stand and shiver by herself was one that made him bite his tongue and feel bad: “Do you... I have...” Her fingers tremble as they tangle with his and he pulls her along, arm bending behind his back a little awkwardly. “Blankets and a heater and stuff...” He mutters, shoving his door a bit more open with his foot as Espresso runs deeper into his room, so they can both easily make their way inside.

(He is pink in the face. Trying not to think about bringing Medama into his room for the first time, he doesn’t think it should be a big deal- it’s just his room- but it somehow is anyways. It has him embarrassed and his nerves worsening.

He bites the inside of his cheek as she takes a step in. Suddenly wishing he had ripped all his posters down and hidden away his things, even though his room was already dreadfully simple and well-organized. Hell, he’d even cleaned it up before she’d gotten here.

He doesn't know why this is what has him shifting from foot to foot.)

“It’s way more colorful than I thought it was.” She murmurs lightly, “Your computer is kinda in the corner, huh?”

It was probably the darkest corner in the room, where his desk and things were, so yes.

His room is primarily purple, because his family had a theme and his mother loved to make everything match if she could- it helps that his favorite color is purple anyways- but he had a mish-mash of blankets in bright neons and, quite frankly, the ugliest patterns he could find, tossed up and about and clashing horribly with everything.

(They were comfy, sue him. And he liked the terrible patterns.)

“It’s very cat themed.” Medama giggles, picking at one of the patterned blankets that has a group of kittens chasing a ball of yarn and then eyes the stupid inspirational quote cat posters he had on his walls with a steadily widening grin. Because, oh, it gets worse. “I... love this.”

He looks down at his feet, trying not to squeeze his eyes shut in humiliation.

The only thing that really eases it is the fact that she’s giggling and her hand is still squeezing his own and her fingers don’t seem... as cold anymore.

She leaves her bag by his now closed door and takes a seat on the floor at the end of his bed.

“I want to be a ball of blankets, Shinsou. Make me a ball of blankets.” He shakes his head, quickly grabbing from his pile of brightly colored and ugly blankets, and watches her beaming grin quickly disappear underneath the comforters and quilts. “Ehehe~”

He has to bite his lip to keep his grin from growing too wide as she giggles, completely hidden from his eyes, before her head pops out and she takes a deep breath. As if she’d been suffocating beneath them all. Her hair is wild, even more so than usual, and her curls frame her blushing face- “I...” She blinks, gaze drifting to the floor with a shy smile. “I’m being silly, aren’t I?”

“Yeah.” His brows raise as he crouches next to her, absently pulling the blankets around so they’re not going to slide off of her. “But that’s fine. It’s just you.”

“...Mnh.”

He turns on the heater in the room, as high up as it’ll go because Medama still looks a bit blue and shaky, and steps over her to take a seat. She scoots to the side as he sits down, leaning against his bedside, pulling one of his legs up to his chest and slinging his arm over it.

They don’t speak at first. Not really.

At least not to each other.

“Espresso... come here, come on.”

Espresso is curled up on the floor, eyeing Medama suspiciously, even as Shinsou tries to get him to come to his lap so she can at least try to pet him. “...Geez, what’d’you tell him about me? He’s looking at me like I’m evil.”

It takes a while, a fair bit of time, but eventually Espresso shyly pads over to Medama and rubs up against the blankets wrapped around her. Making a discontented noise when she tries to pet him, slightly hissing, but it's not the worse Espresso has ever reacted to a new person.

"He's sweet." She murmurs, hesitant to reach out to Espresso as he curls up in Shinsou's lap, when he doesn't come to her of his own volition. "And cute." Her head tilts. "I don't think he likes me."

"Nah. He's just being a little asshole."

"Shin-sou!"

"Bastard cat."

"No~!"

"Stupid, trash man."

"Noo!"

He snickers. Medama gives him a deeply offended look. It falls away with the ensuing silence, entirely playful and not at all serious. This time the atmosphere feels less- uncomfortable. Now that they've had time to relax and get comfortable and Medama sighs, flopping forward and out of the blankets.

Shinsou... stares after her.

"Uh, you okay?"

"Yeah, I just..." She's flopped onto her front, the majority of the blankets having fallen off of her, now curled around her ankles. Shinsou eyes her curiously. "I wanted to lay down..." her voice is soft and slightly muffled from being pressed against the floor.

"Join me?"

He flushes, her voice is oh-so sweet and captivating. And, with only a small amount of reluctance, he does so. 

Shinsou lets out a small grunt as he lays on his back right next to her, feet up on his bed because otherwise he wouldn't have been at the same height as her. Trying to keep his eyes firmly on the ceiling and not on the warm body that lays next to him, still somehow shivering despite being curled under blankets for an hour and the heater on.

He can't manage it. Can't manage to keep his eyes off of her. His gaze flickers to her and he-

Freezes.

"Medama...?"

She's not shivering.

She's trembling.

She's turned onto her side and meets his gaze with teary eyes, large droplets that slowly grow heavier and heavier until they fall from eyes that do nothing but blink slowly, unable to stop.

"I- Uh. I just."

Her bottom lip quivers.

(Her hair is free of its bun, for once. Left to fall free. It tangles on the floor around her face and the pink strands catch his eyes, making him want to follow it- making him want to reach out and curl his hands into her strands.

Her tank top seems to hang off of her, the low cut of the fabric only making it more wrinkled around her waist, and he pointedly avoids looking at the slips of flesh that aren't fully covered.

She doesn't seem to know what to do with her arms. Her hands curled and hesitant, like she doesn't know whether to wipe her face free of tears or to reach out to him.)

"Why are you crying-?"

"I don't know." She whispers. "I really don't know, honest." Her eyes are wide, as if she'd just realized the fact when he'd pointed it out.

Shinsou sits up, turns on his side and-

He blinks as a hand catches on the side of his face, soft fingers light against his cheek and he flinches as it prods and subsequently hits one of his bruises. She flinches back and he- stops her from pulling away, catching her wrist, and eases back into laying down. "No, it's fine- you didn't hurt me-" 

She hesitates, so he holds her in place as he stares at her, keeping her teary gaze. He only relaxes his hold when her fingers crawl back over his skin, cupping his face. And he feels her thumb begin to rub circles on his cheek. There's no pressure, none at all. Just her soft, feather light touch that has him leaning into her hand.

"-you didn't hurt me. It's just a bruise anyways..." He murmurs, voice hushed. "You're fine."

(Medama loves his voice. She knows she's mentioned it before, but she's never emphasized exactly how much it draws her in. How it hypnotized and entrances her.

He doesn't talk near enough for her liking. She just loves the way it washes over her, a deluge to pull her down- and that tension in her heart relaxes as she lets out a trembling breath.

It's captivating.

She can only liken him to a siren, drawing her in- stealing her away- offering an endlessness at just a single word, at just a yes, and it's something that has her shivering- shuddering- and wishing she could just fall.)

Her tears slide freely from her eyes, heavy and unbidden.

Shinsou, tentative, and unknowingly nibbling on his bottom lip, curls a finger under her eyes to catch her tears. She sniffles.

He doesn't pull his hand away. He wipes away her tears, despite the distinct feeling that he shouldn't be touching her. The feeling that he wasn't allowed to.

(He knows somewhere in the back of his mind that Medama is in no way fragile. That she can handle life and what it throws at her, that a touch from him won't break her. Yet somehow he feels like he's committing some great sin, breaking some rule by touching her like this- that, by touching her, he's sullying her. Breaking her.

He knows it's in no way true.

But he's shivering.

Because, in this light- it's only the brightness cast by his lamp, really- it catches on her horns and makes her tears glitter like gems. The light falling over her face and skin and bathing her with an almost angelic glow that he is not deserving to see.)

"You're hurt."

She croaks, her voice is a whine really, a stuttering noise and he winces.

"It's fine-"

"It's not fine though." Her thumb circles, her fingers tighten, and her other hand reaches to his other cheek. He tries not to melt into her hold. He can't stop himself from doing anything but. "I know you're-"

She struggles for words.

"I'm strong. Enough." He bites out, frustrated. Because if he could tell her that he wasn't just some weakling, that he was training to become stronger so that he could actually be something- he tries not to feel a deep offense somewhere deep inside, tries but fails not to- then maybe she would understand. Maybe she would stop crying. "I can take care of myself. I'm not that weak. And I don't need you telling me that I am-"

"I know that!"

Her voice crackles.

He falls silent.

Her tears are back, frustrated. And he almost can't wipe them away fast enough, touch still somehow gentle as can be- even if this is a... fight? An argument? He doesn't know what it is.

He wipes her tears away anyways.

She sucks in a deep breath. Heaving. Like she was out of breath, struggling to keep it straight. "I know you can handle it. I k-know you can. Don't ever doubt that I do, Shinsou. I know that you're not weak. And it's irrational, but I-" She whimpers. "I keep imagining how things could've gone wrong. It doesn't matter if you're strong or not, that your three steps ahead- it was fine when it was just me. Just about me."

"...It was never just about you." He whispers and watches her flinch away, eyes widening in realization. "He told me. It was about me too. I... don't know why you would try to hide it-"

"I didn't want it to hurt you."

He laughs, bitter.

"It's how it works. How it's always worked. I'm... just not one of the lucky ones. So don't try to spare my feelings, I'm used to it."

"You shouldn't have to be."

"But I am anyways." He says sharply and Medama whimpers. "Do not get hurt on my behalf-"

"Only if you don't on mine."

He opens his mouth, words fail him. Because he can't argue that, not reasonably. And he thinks they've reached the crux of the argument, the whole reason Medama had wanted to come over in the first place- the reason the atmosphere had been so tense and awkward. Because they were both just avoiding the inevitable. 

A request that neither would agree to.

Medama shudders, closing her eyes and leaning into his hold. "People like that... who only have eyes on a goal. Who don't think of anything else but the end result." There's a hardness in her voice, a painful tone that he'd never heard from her before. It makes him twitch and his stomach roll. "They're the scariest. Because you never know how far they'll go before stopping- if they'll ever even stop. And they won't take no for an answer- only try to clean up when they realize the consequences."

(He could get anything he wanted with his quirk. Anything. He only needed to find the right people and it would all be his.

Anyone else would be tempted.

Tempted to take and take and take-

And, yet... he doesn't. In fact, Medama had never even seen him hint at it before. And maybe that's part of the reason why her feelings are so intense- that her respect only grows and she only falls deeper into the crush that she knows has only gotten worse-

He has integrity. He has honor. He has morals, strong ones despite being a bitter boy, crushed under the weight of others who try to claim to be better.)

(They aren't better.)

"Shinsou, I died like that once before. I can do it again."

His hands freeze.

Her eyes have snapped open to stare into his own, a stubborn and determined ferocity in her gaze that makes his heart stop.

"But I can't let you too."

Her hands twitch on his face.

"Not for me."

It's two in the morning on a Sunday and Shinsou feels his blood run cold like it never has before and her tears weigh heavy on his hands. And, quite suddenly, he feels like he could never stop them.

(They are icy crystals, catching the light.

They shimmer with pain, worry, and everything that makes them weigh heavy. And there's just so many of them, so many droplets that they slip through his fingers.

He doesn't know what to do.)

"Ha." He laughs, the sound is hoarse and breathy and his vision blurs just a bit. "You know, I keep forgetting. That you've lived and died before." There's a pain in his voice that he can't keep contained. "I don't like the thought. That you had to go through that and I just... forget it. That it'd even happened. Like it's something small."

There's a shaky tremor in his hands.

"Something simple."

He swallows.

He doesn't know how to explain it to her, thinks she already knows what he's getting at, so he changes the subject.

"...It's selfish of you to demand that I standby when you're being hurt." He says thinly. Like it helps anything to call her out. "You can't ask me that. Not when I know you won't do the same."

"But-"

"It was my fault that they attacked you. It was my quirk. It was them thinking that I was a villain-"

"Shinsou."

"You should be blaming me. You should... You should hate me-"

"I don't."

"I know." He blinks, refusing to cry himself, even if his eyes are red. "Why don't you?"

He feels like he's coming down from a high. There's too many emotions in this room, too many and it's suffocating and he wants it all just to stop.

It doesn't matter that his legs have tangled with hers, knees locked together and their faces have come so close together that their noses are nearly touching. You would think that a conversation like this- an argument, really- would've involved shouting of some kind. But, honestly, neither of their voices have gone above a hushed whisper.

A quiet intimacy that is hopelessly delicate.

"I..."

Words fail. As they always do.

There are things that can be said. Feelings on the tip of her tongue and worn on her sleeve that are true. Perhaps, they would be understood, but they would not be returned.

(Not in the ways that mattered.

In the ways of sewing broken hearts and making sweetheart dreams a reality.

Not yet, at least.)

They couldn't be. 

They're much too fresh, raw to the weariness of the world, and to say them with hurt would sully them. Would taint their innocence and naivety. An attachment marred by pain and sadness in its infancy would only collapse in the future.

(When she thought of him, when she thought of them together, she didn't want it to be with hardship and trauma in her veins.)

"I could never hate you. I promise." She murmurs. "I know that's not a proper answer, but I- I don't know what else to say." Her voice feels weak to even her own ears. "I'm here with you, aren't I?"

He falls silent, searching her face.

And she whispers: "What does that tell you?"

(There's a sort of helplessness in love.

A heart is a fragile thing. It breaks easily and is prone to falling.

It's inevitable, really. The only solace is that it can remain coddled in safety, heavy in her hands; perhaps, she can give away her heavy heart one day, with nothing but trust and dreams. Hoping that his hands will be ready to carry hers when that day comes.

But she doesn't want to end up shattered. Not ready to take that chance so soon.

So, she'll hold her heart in the safety of her own hands for just a little while longer.

And hopes that one day she'll be strong enough to carry his heart instead.)

.

.

.

Chapter Text

She wakes up to an overwhelming warmth that has her eyes heavy and her almost unable to move; she's impossibly comfy. There's weight on top of her. Blankets and comforters and quilts that wrap around her and make it even harder to shift around, and not just because she's still blinking sleep from her eyes.

She lets out a soft groan.

Her back popping as she stretches.

"Mnhff-" Medama usually lies in bed in the mornings for an extremely long amount of time with her eyes closed, too many late nights making it hard to get up, and finding it impossible to move with drowsiness still aching through her bones. Her mind is often so groggy, sorting through memories of the day before and slowly building up her mind's protections from itself, that it takes awhile for her to be able to actually think and compute.

This time is honestly no different.

It's why she doesn't think much about how her legs are tangled with another's, her ankles crossed to wrap around a leg and trapping it against her. How she leans up against someone's side, an arm loosely tossed over them, hooked across the top of their torso. It's also why it takes her a good amount of time to notice that her face is pressed up against skin, her head tilted just so - so that her lips and nose could feel a steady heartbeat, and so her horns were carefully turned so as to not knock painfully into anything and cause a bruise.

Her eyes come open, crusted with dried tears, red and puffy. And she sucks in a couple sleepy breaths that have goosebumps prickling up over his skin, she can feel his pulse on her lips- they're faintly pressed into his neck, soft and light and leaving a feathery touch as she pulls away with a surprised blink.

Brain still trying to work through all her memories of last night.

(Of how his hands wiping at her tears had lulled her into a gentle slumber. Of how she could vaguely remember reaching out to pull him closer, how he seemed to try to pull free without waking her but failed. Of how her eyes blearily opened for just a couple seconds at some point to see him lazily scrolling through his phone and she had quietly asked: "What time is it?" With slurred words against his skin that made him shiver.

She remembers being told a soft, "Four in the morning." Before she groaned and cuddled back into him.

"Too early..."

And she remembers his tired chuckle rumbling deep in his throat.)

She sits up slowly, careful to not put too much of her weight on him when she pushes herself up.

An arm curled around her waist keeps her from going too far, a hand grasped onto her hips to hold her tightly in place.

It looked like Shinsou had finally managed to fall asleep sometime in the early morning despite it all. His phone was clutched to his chest, like he'd fallen asleep while scrolling through it, and his head had been tilted to lean his cheek atop her head.

Medama couldn't take her eyes off him.

He looked so calm in his sleep. Relaxed and lacking the tension that she's used to seeing from him. She rubs at her eyes, legs slightly tightening in her tired hold on him, and just stares. Committing the scene to memory.

The gentle rise and fall of his chest. The way his mouth is slightly parted and he's even drooling, just a bit. The messiness of his hair and how some of it falls into his face, a few pieces having lost the ability to stay up, small tresses that she wants to push out of the way.

"Shinsou...?" She murmurs quietly, the surname feels impersonal on her tongue, but she doesn't think to try his given name. Afraid he might wake and hear her testing out the syllables. She thinks if she says it out loud, that she won't be able to stop herself from saying it again. "Shin-sou?"

She feels bad for needing to wake him up. But she can see his clock in the corner, saying ten in the morning, and she really, really needs to pee.

She lightly taps his cheek, careful not to poke any of his bruises.

"Shin-sou, I'm sorry, but I think it's time to wake up now?" She murmurs, poking him. "I don't..." She glances towards his closed bedroom door, where she can also hear voices quietly talking on the other side and makes a face. "I don't think your parents will be all too happy about finding me in your room."

She shudders, rubbing at her eyes. Even if nothing happened. She really didn't think they'd be all too impressed with her. And... she really didn't want to find out how they'd react.

(Badly, probably. A teenage boy sneaking a teenage girl into his room in the middle of the night was the stuff of nightmares for most parents.)

She hisses.

"Shin. Please."

And watches as indigo eyes slide open, barely anything more than slits as his eyes flutter, trying to rid themselves of sleep. He looks so tired, the bags under his eyes heavy, and she instantly feels like a terrible, horrible person for waking him up. "Did... you just call me... Shin...?"

"Yes."

(Something in him goes a little wobbly.)

Medama blinks once. Twice. She's a little breathless. With her eyes stuck on his as she leans over him, hand still hooked around his cheek as she just tries… tries not to think about how close they are together. How warm he feels against her.

She bites her lip, looking back over at his door as his arm finally loosens from around her waist- she tries not to miss the comforting weight- pulling blankets off of them as he sits up and rubs his eyes. "When did you end up falling asleep?"

"I don't know-" His words are slightly slurred and she can see him trying to swallow a yawn. "-like, seven, or something?"

"Huh. Three hours. That's not bad for you, right?"

He nods. 

Three hours? That's better than he usually got.

His hair falls in his face, and she tucks the pieces back without a thought. He freezes. Eyes blinking open and twitching towards her with a, frankly, baffled expression on his face. "I- Sorry, I... wasn't even thinking. I- uhm." She pulls her hands away. She's embarrassed and a sudden feeling of shyness begins to make her stutter. She refuses it. "How much trouble do you think we'll be in if your parents find me?"

(It's not exactly the best change of subject. Damn it.)

She gives him a shaky smile and his eyes snap open for real this time. As if the fact that they can hear his parents talking in the living room was only just hitting him now, along with what the implications of them already being awake meant and- he sucks in a deep breath, turns to her with a blank look and says: "You have to go."

"Gee, I couldn't figure that out myself." She rolls her eyes before pausing. "Can I... use your bathroom before I leave?"

And Shinsou puts his face in his hands, falling back with a groan.

"We're fucked."

"...So-" Medama is not helping, she knows she's not helping, but this is actually kind of a problem. "Is that a yes? Because I really do need to pee."

...

...

He creeps out of his room with a bored expression. He’s still wearing rumpled pajamas- a white long sleeve shirt and black drawstring sweats with coffee written up the leg- and he has one of his blankets wrapped around his shoulders when he steps out, rubbing the sleep from his eyes still. That, at least, is true.

“Oh, Hitoshi, did you manage to get some sleep last night?”

“Yeah.”

“How’d the quirks heal all your injuries?”

“Still aches, I guess. I’s just bruises...” They hurt still, yeah, but in a vague sort of way. Medama was right to be worried about how it could’ve gone worse, how he could’ve ended up seriously injured, especially given Hano’s quirk, but he’d never admit that to her. “Nothing I couldn’t sleep through.” Even without pain killers, which had long worn off, it was all just a dull miasma that only hurt when he tried to stretch or opened his mouth too wide.

His mother nods, humming a bit under her breath and his ears prickle with something like static as it vibrates with undertones of her quirk. He can see his father drinking coffee and flipping through a book at the counter; he likely wouldn’t be sleeping for a good while, even despite the fact that he was off work, because of the sleep he’d previously forced onto Shinsou and whomever other patient required the use of his quirk.

“I figured your insomnia would be acting up. Did having the heater on all night help?”

“Think so.”

He reaches out to pet Espresso, a yawn on his lips, when something in the back of his head realizes the... wrongness of the situation.

He noticeably pales.

“Well, that’s fine, but your father and I have been talking...”

Oh no. Oh shit. Oh no.

His father takes a long sip from his coffee, a massive smirk spreading across his face. “We’re starting to think this friend of yours is a bad influence, you know. It seems like every time she comes up, you’re doing something you normally wouldn’t be doing.” His father is practically purring. “Getting into fights is one thing but I honestly never thought that you would be the type to... well. You are still young.”

Hitoshi feels his face grow hot and he tugs the blanket tighter around his shoulders. “I’m... I’m going to go...” He tries to come up with an excuse, a lie, anything. And settles lamely on: “Check the mail.”

His mother had known he’d turned the heater in his room on.

Espresso, who had been locked in his room with him and Medama for the night, was in his mothers arms. And Hitoshi does not remember opening his door to let him out.

And then... Shinsou Hitomu and Shinsou Fumiyo are both staring at him with wide grins, laughing eyes, and raised brows that tells him- everything he needs to know. 

He burns beet red. Picking up the flip flops that Medama had left by the door when she’d first come in, trying not to think about how that was honestly just the icing on the cake-

("Shin-sou," she hisses, practically jumping on him and feels him wheeze in surprise beneath her, the bed he’d been lying on to try and gather his thoughts creaks beneath their combined weight, "my sandals. I left them by the door."

"...Aa."

His brow twitches.

"Shit."

"Yeah, I know." She rolls off him with a groan, face buried in her arms.)

-and feels himself break out into even worse embarrassment as his father rests his face on his hand and gives him a pointed look. “Not even going to grab a snack from the cabinet? Take two. Kids your age are usually pretty hungry and it would be terrible to miss breakfast.” 

He feels his cheeks, somehow, turn even redder. Turning around and shuffling to one of the cabinets and grabbing two energy bars blindly, his feet shuffling across the floor. He feels robotic, absolutely mechanical in his movements, and he really just wants to run.

His mothers voice hums and he stops in his tracks, cursing. His legs don’t move, even though he wants them to. Son of a-

“Oh, and honey?” There’s laughter in her voice. “Let the poor girl leave through the front door next time. The window is kind of small.”

His father grins. “And, perhaps, the next time she comes over- you invite her for dinner first? It’s only polite.”

“We’d love to meet her!”

With that, he comes free of his mothers control and nearly trips over his own feet trying to get away, neck burning and face a humiliated red as he struggles to open the front door and go running outside. He makes a face, trying not to think of his parents' laughter following after him or their disbelieving looks.

(“He snuck in a girl, Hitomu!” His mother is practically gasping for breath. “Ooh, I didn’t know he had it in him. Is this a milestone? Do all teenagers do this? We certainly didn’t.”

“That’s because we didn’t meet until college, Fumi. Trust me. I would’ve tried otherwise.”

She slaps his arm.

“She was such a cute thing. All curled up around him.” Fumiyo sighs in delight. “He knows we know he didn’t actually do anything with her, right?”

“...Probably not.”

Hitomu snickers.

“Aa, well. We should ground him for sneaking her in without permission.”

“We should.” Hitomu flips through his book, only half actually reading it. “...You took pictures, right?”

“Who do you think I am? Of course I did.”)

Shinsou nearly runs over Medama who is waiting on the street outside in a yellow sundress and blue jeans, having changed into day clothes when he’d let her sneak into his family's bathroom to use- the few clothes that she’d actually brought with her in her bag when she’d been throwing things into it before leaving her own apartment the night before.

When he gives her the energy bar and tells her what happened she just throws back her head and just laughs and laughs. She hugs him before leaving to head back home.

And he stares after her in absolute bewilderment; bare feet on the pavement, stuck in his pajamas, wrapped in an ugly blanket, and... and face still flushed pink. Feeling the warmth of her arms squeezing around him, an afterimage of the quick hug she’d wrapped him in, face briefly having pressed into that same place on his neck where she’d tucked her chin and had been held against all night.

(He gets grounded.

Somehow, it feels worth it.)

-0-

Medama has to struggle to keep her warm smile down. Has to struggle to not lean her cheek on her fist and let out a small, besotted sigh- she's stupid, she's infatuated and stupid , and she's been just a mess. Unable to take her eyes off of him, they always seem drawn back again and again, and she’s caught herself more times than she can count watching him from afar. It’s always embarrassing to realize and it only gets worse when she has to then force her focus back on whatever it was she was previously doing.

Math. English. Art History. Law.

She just couldn't keep her eyes from trailing back over to him, nor the flush creeping onto her face and... and...

"Medama?"

She startles, pencil falling out of her hands.

"Are you okay?" Kiko gives her a raised brow from across her desk, the group project for their law class had ended up with them partnered up. "You've... hardly spoken this whole time. I thought this was your favorite subject too."

It's a lucky grouping. Especially considering how Ikimaru is just a mess around the guy he got- he was a mess handling people generally, he got even worse when he was stuck around a cute boy- and Shinsou is busy trying not to strangle the life out of an obnoxious Chikuchi.

(A pairing that she thinks was purposefully done by their civilian teacher who knew Chikuchi's hatred for Shinsou. Apparently, he seemed to think that everyone else in the class was much too neutral to Shinsou to be paired with him.)

"Sorry, sorry. I- Guess I'm distracted."

Kiko's eye flicks, following her gaze.

Medama looks away at the pointed brow raised her way.

She doesn't like to think that she's obvious but she knows that she is. She just... can't help it. She bites her lip, face flushing a deep red that she hopes will fall away soon. Kiko looks like she's seconds away from sending her the widest grin in the world, definitely seeing through her.

Unfortunately, she doesn't seem to be the only one either.

Medama nearly jumps out of her seat as the person in the desk next to her leans over with sparkling eyes, "Psst~ Hey, you prefer if people call you Medama, right? Shibori Ayaaya. And I don't know if you've met Kiruude?"

A boy of silver and odd, sharp-looking protrusions sticking out of his skin gives her a tiny wave. Looking distinctly out of place among the small group of girls, especially given how he easily towered over them all by a good couple of feet.

Medama actually hasn't met him yet. Not that surprising, considering she hasn't met, like... half the class yet.

She returns the wave with a small one of her own.

"So, like, what do you even see in him?"

"Huh?"

"Shinsou." Ayaaya rolls her eyes, as if she can't believe she doesn't know what she's talking about. Medama does know what she's talking about. She just can't believe that she's bringing it up. "You're super into him. Anyone with eyes can see it." Now. On the one hand, Medama could call her extremely rude for sticking her nose into her business, especially considering that she was basically a stranger. But then, on the other hand, Medama is... Very much a mess.

"You noticed...?"

"Oh, Medama, I wouldn't be surprised if the whole class has noticed."

She looks to Kiko. Who tilts her head and pointedly doesn’t meet her eyes.

"...Aa."

"Hey, don't be so down. You're not out of the running yet or anything. And I seriously doubt he's figured it out himself, people tend to get dense and stupid when they're not lookin' in from an outside perspective." Ayaaya says wisely, tossing a couple strands of now-blue hair out of her face. "Besides, most people think it's sweet as hell."

Medama sinks into her chair, her humiliated face in her hands, as she glances back at Kiko for confirmation and only receives a shaky smile in return. "They do?"

"Well, most." Ayaaya shrugs. "He's rude, isn't he? Has quite the attitude on him. And with that scary, mysterious quirk of his I think... well, everyone is kinda worried-?"

"If that's all you came over to say then you can go ahead and back right off." Medama bites out, bristling. The bruises on her throat still ache and she's had enough of this self-righteous bullshit to last a lifetime already. "Don't go sticking your nose into other people's business and start deciding what's right for them-"

"Woah, woah, woah-" She raises her hands in defense. "Okay, geez. Didn't realize you felt so strongly about this. I had good intentions, honest-"

"That's the thing though, people always seem to think that they do..." She huffs, muttering under her breath and crossing her arms.

"Sorry." Ayaaya sighs. "We were asked to talk to you about it by Chikuchi."

Of course they were.

She looks to Kiruude with a raised brow and he grimaces, nodding.

"Chikuchi needs to mind her own business and get a life." Medama grumbles. It gains a chortle and a nod of agreement from Ayaaya. "Why are you even doing her dirty work anyways?"

"She was ranting about it at lunch the other day-"

"About me having a...?"

Medama squeaked, horrified. Had she been airing out her dirty laundry all over the school?

"Nah, just about you trusting him. To be honest, I don't think she's even realized you've got a crush on him either-”

"Don't say it out loud!"

“-but maybe she’s a bit colorblind to the truth, since she’s got a crush on you.”

Medama hisses.

(That is... new information.)

Ayaaya huffs. "I just offered to do it for her, you know, since you kinda hate her..." Hate was a strong word. Medama disliked her but- she wasn't sure if she could say that she hated her quite yet. She hated Hano and his goons. Chikuchi was... not in the same category. "'Cause, well, I've been curious."

"Curious...?"

Kiruude and Kiko watch the unfolding conversation with shared bewildered looks. It's rather entertaining, if they're being honest. Medama's facial expressions were constantly shifting from horrified, to green, to embarrassed, to pale, and then all the way back around to shy before she’d glance over to Shinsou with a red face and the whole thing would start over again. And Ayaaya, heavy handed and loving to just run her mouth, bulldozed right over it all- they don't think she even realized what she was doing to Medama, who was looking pretty close to passing out from being so overwhelmed.

"Yeah, what'cha see in him?" Ayaaya asks, endlessly blunt. "Don't get me wrong. I can see it. He's a good-looking fella, totally hot." Medama is going to ignore that she'd just said that- and to her face too. "But, like, I've seen him talk to people before and- wow. Talk about bitterness."

"Hey," Medama frowns, "don't be mean."

"But you don't deny it?"

Shibori is honestly bewildered.

Even more so when Kiko adds on, unhelpful: "I think it's part of his charm."

Medama doesn't help when she shrugs, hunching over her schoolwork with pursed lips. "He's... sweet. When he wants to be. That's all I'm going to say. And don't go around telling Chikuchi anything, okay? She shrieks enough as is."

"That's it? He's sweet? "

She doesn't rightfully believe her. But Medama didn't know what she expected her to say. She wasn't about to tell all her little feelings and secrets to someone that might as well be a complete stranger to her.

(She's not going to discuss how he smiles nervously. How his laugh is usually quiet, hidden under his breath but she's also made him nearly fall out of his seat laughing when they're alone.

She's not going to tell how he's warm. How he's funny and a dork. How he loves cats and stupid inspirational cat posters. How he's horrible at button-mashing games.

How he has terrible taste in blankets.

How he makes her feel sick to her stomach and light on her feet all at once.)

"Come on, you gotta give me at least a little more than that." Ayaaya is incredibly nosy, always has been. The only thing about it, though, is somehow none of it comes across as rude or just for gossip. It feels almost as if she was just trying to solve a puzzle and was determined to gather all the pieces. "I met Shinsou the other day, you know? After school. He said he was looking for you."

Medama definitely doesn't want to say a word about this-

"Mnhm."

"Did he find you?"

-but, ooh~ maybe she could answer just one little question.

Medama rolls her eyes and sighs, nodding. "Actually..." She trails off.

And, once again, her eyes are drawn away. To a head of messy purple hair, to indigo eyes, and a voice that has her melting.

(She briefly catches his eye and can't even look away despite obviously getting caught. Shinsou meets her gaze with fierce eyes, as if to say 'can you believe that they partnered me with her?' And can't help the giggle as she watches him then roll his eyes and turn back to angry mutterings with Chikuchi.)

Ayaaya looks noticeably surprised. Her eyes blink; once, twice. She shares a look with Kiko and Kiruude, as if wondering if they're seeing what she's seeing, and she mouths a small 'wow' under her breath.

Medama doesn't notice the looks she's getting.

Too busy chewy on the end of her pencil absentmindedly, her cheeks a light pink to match her hair and her eyes fall half-lidded, only broken by a rare few, slow blinks that seem almost lazy. There's a small smile on her face. A tiny curve to her lips that's quivering with warmth and sweet lips that look two seconds away from being bitten.

(She looks infatuated. She looks like someone caught in a spell. She looks so completely enraptured, as if looking away hadn't even crossed her mind.)

That... is not the face of someone with a simple crush. Like what Ayaaya had been thinking.

"Yeah. Yeah. He found me."

That was the face of someone who was falling.

Hard.

...

...

“Now, I suppose that I am a bit behind in the class schedule-” Midnight calls over her class, grinning widely despite the fact that even Aizawa had gotten to this part earlier than she did. “-My apologies, I had some important business to attend to. You know how it goes, some students to- mn~ punish. ”

Shinsou smirks in his seat, teeth showing in that creepy smile of his. Medama sinks into hers, face flushing pink and eyes downcast. Kiko and Ikimaru share a look that tells her that they know the situation that had been going on behind the scenes. And the rest of the class... thinks she’s full of shit.

“We expelled four students.”

She deadpans with as much seriousness as she can convey, expression sadistic.

(She had never enjoyed expelling students before. Never. But she had savored every single one of the fours tears with a wide, unprofessional grin and had laughed in their faces when they had tried to ‘callout’ Shinsou’s so-called ‘quirk usage’.)

The class realizes she’s serious and pales, exchanging glances with each other.

“W-What for-?”

Kiroku begins to ask and she snaps a ruler to the board behind her- “Moving on!”

With an overdramatic flourish and a showmanship that rivaled Mic's, she spun the whiteboard around and let it fall on the prettily scrawled words.

She cheered. "It's time to select your Class President!"

Oh.

Well.

Yay?

Medama smiles, a bit confused by her classmates suddenly whispering to each other in excitement. Watching as people raise their hands and say 'pick me! pick me!' It was... really odd. Because in her, admittedly limited, school experience, she didn't much remember any students being particularly gung-ho about getting more work.

Midnight grins. "We'll put it to a vote!" She calls. "Do not vote for yourself~ and don't vote for anyone who's name is crossed off!" She taps the list of everyone's names on the board. "Who wants to be removed from the running?”

She tentatively raises her hand, and is very thankful that she's not the only one.

Tasatsu Medama. Komorebi Kiko. Kiroku Eiga. Kiruude Kinto. Sansho Hakusho. Shinsou Hitoshi. Are all crossed off before long.

"And now~ we vote!"

...

...

Medama thinks it's telling that one student comes out on top that she, quite honestly, didn't know existed until now. Or, well, she's seen her in passing, but she doesn't even think she's heard her name before.

"Umino Me! With six votes is the Class President!"

She claps as a girl with midnight blue skin, teardrop marks beneath her eyes, and eyes so pale that they almost look like Medama's own stands up and gives a smile and a wave.

"Thank you. It is an honor to represent a class at UA."

Medama can already see why she was picked.

Regal, put together, and perfect in both inflection of her voice but also in her movements and mannerisms- she seems almost princess-like. It doesn't help that her skirt falls down to her ankles and her shayla falls in patterns of blue, making it seem like she wore the ocean around her head, and her gaze was perfectly raised to meet everyone's eyes head on. She looked like she was dressed in one of the most beautiful of gowns, despite it only being an altered version of the school uniform.

(She can hear mutterings around her, disappointment from people who wished they had won, but seem alright to give it up for the 'Princess of 1-C'. 

And Medama really, really wants to know what the hell she had missed.

She didn't realize the class was handing out titles- apparently? The only relief she gets is that it doesn't look like Shinsou knows the context either. But it does look like Kiko and Ikimaru both do and she has so many questions already.)

"And, by her side, with four votes, as the Vice President: Ikimaru Hisoo."

The round of applause is noticeably hesitant.

Ikimaru looks very out of place and out of his element, cheeks puffed from how his lips pressed together and how his yellow eyes are wide with shock.

Someone leans over to whisper in her ear. "Hey, I know you and those other two-" Shinsou and Kiko. "-voted for him, but who's the fourth?"

"No idea."

There's a loud cheer from the back. "Woo! Iki, you go, dude!"

"...Oh, it was Tobira."

Okay.

Medama doesn't know who Tobira is but good on him.

(She briefly catches sight of fuchsia skin and red hair and an almost void-like appearance before she can't see him through the throng of classmates anymore.)

She giggles slightly as Ikimaru turns purple with the force of his blush. Admittedly, she hadn't just voted for him because of him being her only friend on the board, but because she thinks that the position would be good for him. He needed something to help him gain some more confidence and being the Vice President for Class 1-C seemed like the perfect place. Just enough responsibility but not high enough stakes for it to be too overwhelming.

"Welcome our new representatives, class!"

All and all, it was just... a nice break. To get back to something that was simply normal.

-0-

In line with 'getting back to normal', Medama's throat has long since healed from the abuse it'd taken at the hands of Hano. There was a bit of scratching left over, yes, but it was nothing that a sip of water, some tea, and a tiny bit of coughing couldn't get rid of. She wished to never need to head to the nurses office again because she has gotten enough kisses from strange, little old women to last a lifetime. (Also, she kept making comments about her skin care routine being really good and she didn’t know how to feel about it. They were just on the side of being... extremely odd and out of place.) But the fact that it’d healed so quickly had her, finally, able to return to her regular schedule.

Except-

(She’s just letting her emotions get to her. The weight of everything on her shoulders is heavy, overwhelming.)

-she’s angry.

It's what has her nervously padding in a circle in the UA's Music Room, so out of sorts that she is only half paying attention to her surroundings. Why- she's nearly almost tripped over the same cord three times in a row as she walks, a guitar slung over her chest as she absently tunes it.

It felt like she’d spent so much time on being sad, of letting the pain and the hurt get to her, that she hadn’t really had time for other emotions. Hadn’t been acknowledging them. And they’d been left to boil somewhere deep inside her.

(Shadows dancing on the edge of her vision. Invisible objects to hurt her, moved with the power of telekinesis whenever she least expected it. And a strength that was untrained and left to run uncheck, a power that might have meant something to someone else, but had been left to rot in the hands of someone with too much arrogance and narcissism to ever be truly honed.)

She wants to scream. She wants to hit something.

And, for a moment, she is jealous of how Shinsou was the one to fight for her. And she wishes, wishes- that she could have been the one to make his face cave-

(She doesn’t know if she could’ve done it. She doesn’t think she would’ve walked away without broken bones or something worse.)

-but Medama likes to think she has a good handle on her emotions. So, she doesn’t scream.

Simply takes a deep breath as she pulls up the program she has on her laptop, which is sat on one of the stools nearby, connected to the UA Music Equipment- it’s not complete. Just a quick demo that she’d been building on the side, but it’s enough- and steps up to the microphone she’d set up in the middle of the room.

Her eyes close.

She takes a deep breath. Another. Trying to calm herself down, trying to sort her mind and her memories as lyrics fall on her tongue- freshly written in the pages of her notebook, proof of them in this world, proof of them created by her own hand and newly introduced- she plays the strings on her guitar, fingers filled with some untold tension. Her voice is tight and just... rough when she begins but it’s gone before long as that deep, deep anger- that feeling to scream- slowly eases from her body as the seconds count and the song she sings grows stronger.

(She doesn’t see the light turn to green, signaling the arrival of someone on the other side of the studio.)

“You say I make you nervous, a tragedy;

I'm a beautiful disaster, a reckoning.

You wonder how I got this way- ”

(You wonder how I got this way.)

“You think I'm someone to be saved, someone to clean up and tame

Oh some things never change, 

Never change, oh~”

Her tongue briefly flicks out over her lip and, had she opened her eyes just a second before, she would have noticed the light turn from green to red. And, had the walls been any less soundproof, she would’ve heard the wild steps as someone stumbling through the hallway at a speed that had them tripping over their feet.

“You think I would look pretty on your arm

Once you cover up my bruises and battle scars

But it always ends the same.”

(But it always ends the same.)

“Can't bear the things I've had to face

Got you crying on your knees in pain

Oh, some things never change, 

Never change, oh.”

She feels her voice strengthen as she glared ahead, her voice rising-

(It covers the sound of a door opening behind her.)

“You'll break your back to make me feel again!

Suffocate to make me breathe~ again!

Lose your mind from endless pray -ing-NNG! ”

There’s a scream behind her, loud and high pitched, and it has her jumping six feet into the air, her singing cutting off with her own high pitched scream in response as she ducked back and tried to scramble away- her feet catch on cords, she knocks the stool over and her laptop goes crashing to the ground; the microphone hits the floor, a long and painful whine ringing from it, her legs tangled with cords sends her falling straight onto her ass, and the guitar she’d been holding onto makes a dangerous, definitely ‘not good’ sound-

The words that had been screamed at her. That had her ears ringing, to the point where she’s briefly made deaf, finally managed to register within her scrambled brain.

“YOU'RE HALO-?!”

And she pales, meeting the shocked and dumbstruck look on Present Mic’s face. His glasses look seconds away from falling off the bridge of his nose.

(Fucking Nezu must’ve unlocked the electronic doors.

She could practically hear his cackle, miles away.)

Chapter Text

Surprised.

He can't help but feel it, eyes flicking across the room as his breath comes out in heavy pants. 

A punch.

Another.

Inordinately violent. They aren't weak hits, but they're not exactly the strongest either; they're intensely focused, sharp, and clearly something that has been trained to be done quickly and efficiently. They're often followed by bouncing on heels afterwards, as if practicing leaping away in fear of retaliation, but, otherwise, they don’t stop.

Punch.

A dull thud of a fist against a punching bag, followed by another.

His eyes aren't quite able to leave her, the image already painted in his mind- of sweat collecting on her brow and dripping down the side of her face, nose scrunched in concentration, as her curly pink bangs slick to her forehead with sweat and the bobby pins holding her hair back begin to fail in their efforts- and his expression is incredibly bored. To be perfectly honest, it’s not until a few seconds later that he even realizes that he’d been watching her, too focused on his own training to really think about hers. At least, that is until-

Medama's tongue slides along her lips, tasting the sweat on her skin, as she takes a moment to catch her breath.

Shinsou blinks.

An... odd shiver runs up his spine and his tongue feels weirdly heavy in his mouth; without thinking about it, he slides it over his own lips in a vague imitation of her actions and, somehow, it feels a little less numb afterwards.

His feet pick up their pace and he’s oddly aware of each step that he’s taking, unconsciously feeling himself straighten out in his running just a bit- spine just a little straighter, shoulders just a little further back, and head held a tiny bit higher.

(It deflates a little, when she doesn’t cast even so much as a glance in his direction.)

Medama’s break doesn’t last for long before she’s punching again.

He has no idea what has her so... he doesn’t know if he should say that she looks angry. She doesn’t feel angry. She just feels like- he doesn’t know, like she had a lot of pent up emotions and no way of getting them out. He just knows that, usually, between the two of them, he was normally the first, or the only one, to arrive at the gym everyday and he...

Hadn’t been today.

And the whole thing felt strange, for multiple reasons.

Medama primarily stuck to gymnastics, stretching, or running. In fact, he'd never seen her go to the punching bag area unless she was looking for some hand weights to lift as a bit of a warm up. So seeing her there was a bit... out of place. Even if it did look like she had experience with it.

There was also the fact that, when he'd gone to greet her, she'd given him basically nothing else other than a mild nod and a slight wave from her wrapped hands. It had been disheartening, initially, but then he’d seen her go to punch the punching bag and was just glad that it didn’t seem in any way pointed towards him. And, almost instantly, it didn’t feel like that big of a deal.

Besides, he needed to focus on his own training- though, it wasn’t as if she usually bothered him during it anyway, either joining him or helping Sora-sensei out with whatever she needed- so he hadn’t said much in response to Medama doing her own thing. It wasn't his business anyways.

He just- He’d never seen her look so much like she wanted to punch someone before. Even with Hano, she was mostly just frustrated and sad, which was a combination that he hated to see on her face. This one, though, was... a bit easier to stomach. Because she seemed more focused, more unimpressed- and less like the world was falling down around her. It was a look that seemed oddly at home on her face, as if it was just a visceral reflection of her more dark thoughts.

At least here, she seemed calm.

Medama punches and it’s weak and she-

She heaves, hands on her knees as the repeated exercise seems to finally be catching up to her. Not surprising, considering it seemed like she'd been at it for what felt like hours. Her arms are shaking with obvious strain and the punching bag is mushed with the shape of her fists- it's an old one so it's not so surprising that it would cave, it’s insides long since losing their ability to hold up under pressure- and she wheezes slightly with a deep ache in her muscles.

His steps slow and he almost matches the rise and fall of her chest with his own breath. And he's careful not to lose the practiced control on his breathing, the exhaustion of running laps around the gym, enough to meet Sora-sensei’s high standards, catching up to him a bit and making his legs a bit wobbly. He can feel the burning in his thighs and arms from the constant movement-

But it's not why he slows.

Quite honestly, he doesn’t know why he slows down.

He just knows that, when he sees her falter, her face is flushed pink from overwork and, while her expression is noticeably frustrated, it also has her nose wrinkling as she obviously loses herself in her own thoughts. Her mouth open as she pants. And his eyes trail without his consent to the line of sweat beading down the side of her face, to how she shifts uncomfortably and tries to wipe it from her forehead but fails, and instead tugs the bottom of her tank top up- bending down to meet the fabric halfway, wiping her entire face free of sweat instead, and exposes a generous portion of her stomach in the process.

(It’s not anything incredible. It’s not even something he hadn’t seen before- he’d definitely seen her in less than the tank top and sweats she was currently wearing, considering Medama liked to wear sports bras and shorts to the gym typically- but his feet stall, refusing to pick up their pace. And, for some reason, he feels a little clammy-)

Shinsou swallows, spit catching in his throat, and a bundle of nervous laughter bubbles somewhere deep inside him. It’s an airy chuckle- one that he tries to keep quiet because it’s filled with a slight wheeze and a strangled noise- but he knows instantly that he’s too late when Medama’s brow twitches, the edges of her eyes scrunching slightly. A clear sign that she was glancing over his way.

“What’re you laughing at?”

Oh, on paper, it may sound rude- but she says it with a slightly bewildered smile, head tilting.

(And- oh.

He’s suddenly aware that he’s stopped running. He’s also suddenly aware that the blush on her face borders on matching the color of her hair and he has the oddest urge to reach out and fix the curls that’d gotten frizzy and the small pieces that’d fallen free. It was the same frustrated and growing feeling that had had him previously wanting to fix her tie. As if having something to do with his hands would keep his nerves from growing- keep him from tripping over his own feet or doing something stupid-

That, if he has something to do, it could hide the creeping redness on the back of his neck, the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, and that... maybe, it wouldn’t be so hard to have her eyes on him.)

He looks away for a brief moment.

Unaware that his lips have formed something of a pout before he’s turning back to meet her gaze head on, something like a smirk spreading across his face: “I take it the punching bag won then?” It’s easy, he thinks. When she rolls her eyes at him and shakes her head with a snort. To not think about the hair falling on her face and how he wants to run his hands through it.

“Oh, haha. Very funny.”

“You seemed pretty pissed at it.”

“It said something rude about my mother.” She jokes, the dorkiest smile growing on her face. The frustration in her eyes is still there but it seems like she’d pushed it to the back burner. “Heard it talking to all the other equipment and had to teach it a lesson.”

“Must’ve been some lesson.” He mutters, eyeing the hanging bag and the shape of where it’d been hit. “The punching helped you then? It seems like your less...” He trails off, gaze drifting down, not really knowing what to say. He eventually settled on a somewhat distracted-sounding: “Pissed.”

“I’m always angry.” She says with a shrug and he blinks. That- didn’t sound like a joke. “At least a little bit. I... guess I’ve just been thinking about the thing with Hano and those others and...” She scratches the side of her face. “Guess I needed to punch something.”

“I thought that’s why you were going to the Music Club today. I seem to remember you saying-”

“-that singing helps me relieve stress? Yeah, I did. I- got interrupted by Present Mic and, well,” she blushes, shoulders coming up to hug her neck, “Let’s just say I got really embarrassed and this was the only other thing I could think of ‘cause I didn’t want to go home.”

“I’m sure your singing isn’t that bad.”

“Hey!”

He’s teasing, of course. Medama’s voice is soft and smooth and he can’t imagine her being in any way bad at singing. “Is it... ‘cause you cried on him?” He keeps his voice light but she can still hear the seriousness underlying his tone. There’s a slightly annoyed twinge to it, as if he doesn’t want to hear her say yes. “You know, he’s not going to judge you for that, and it’s not as if your crying was unreasonable-”

She knocks her hand against his arm. “He asked for my autograph.”

“...What.”

Medama grins. “For when I become famous, you know?” Her eyes are practically sparkling and there’s some mysterious, secretive curl to her lips that has him immensely curious. She doesn’t elaborate on it though. Breathless with the laughter in her voice. “How’s the hero feel about being friends with the future celebrity?”

“Don’t you mean 'future' hero?”

“Mnh, no."

There is something playful in her expressions, something teasing, but it’s not a joke. He can tell that it’s not and he makes a quiet noise in the back of his throat in response. A simple and lame: “Aa...” That has that breathless giggle returning and her looking like she was fighting down the widest grin imaginable. “What... makes you say that?” He says lightly, words stilted. His head is buzzing with some unclear emotion and it feels like he can’t quite think.

(She looks like she’s seconds away from smirking, head tilting and twiddling a lock of pink hair between her fingers.)

“I hear heroes are supposed to defend people's smiles, aren’t they?” She hums. “I didn’t realize that they could give them away.”

And Shinsou-

He scoffs.

(Her fingers freeze in their twiddling- that smile on her face, so soft and so very real, falters slightly.)

“Stop messing with me.” He rolls his eyes, head clearing as his smirk comes back strong, showing off his perfectly straight teeth in a grin he knows can be intimidating- can be massively creepy. Medama doesn’t so much as twitch at the sight, so used to seeing it- (so in love with seeing it). “I gotta go back to running now before Sora-sensei starts to yell at me.”

Medama nods.

(There’s a slight disappointment to it that has him confused. But there’s also a relief that has him... even more confused. )

“Sure. Oh-! And Shin-sou?”

She’s chirping, but she’d drawn out his name into the usual nickname that she always did.

“You don’t fight for someone else and not become their hero, you know?”

(His eyes widen, just for a moment, but it’s enough.

It’s enough to have him stumbling a bit over his feet as he tries to refocus on his training. It’s enough to have that wobbly feeling that makes him want to bury his face in his hands and hide away from any eyes- but most definitely hers- and it’s enough to have his mind struggling to form proper sentences for the rest of the night.) 

And so distracted he is, so thoughtlessly pulled into her gravity, Shinsou doesn’t think to ask about why she had been frustrated- why she’d been upset- why, of all the emotions she could have, that she’d settled on those when... when Mic had simply wanted an autograph from her for posterity's sake.

-0-

His eyes are bloodshot.

It’s what he gets for staring at his phone all night long, a sleepless night- a restless one as well, not a good combination- that he’d spent the whole night researching. Wondering- wondering desperately- how he was so far off in all of the presumptions that he’d made. In all of the playful guessing and discussion that he’d had on his radio show, whenever the Star Musician named Halo came up- as she often was prone to do, whether it was some controversy or some new song that completely broke through the polls, being voted into rankings despite never actually being ‘officially’ signed up for them.

Finding out Halo’s identity, it was something that he’d entertained with some light-hearted musing. Wondering, like many, who was the face behind the name and if she really lived up to all her independent work like she’d said she did.

He never imagined actually figuring it out.

He also never imagined that Halo was a fifteen year old girl but here he is.

White knuckles, still gripping his phone, as his other hand grips a coffee and he scrolls through the feed and all the threads and all the little rabbit holes-

A pit forming in his stomach.

.

lovemelikeyoudo @lightrider

I want Halo to step on me! UGH HER VOICE, HER SKILL, MARRY ME QUEEEN

.

Mindy @theoriginalmindy

Hey, has anyone else been really worried about Halo recently? She keeps mentioning injuries and there were those villains that she talked about

instaramen @onlygottaquarterforfood

I thought she said they weren't villains?

.

halosuxs @musiiclover

Good riddance. Maybe she'll finally shut up for once.

.

d-RAW-la @theartcorner

Guys! I drew more fanart of Halo~ enjoy! NSFW 18+

.

TheCryptoCurrency @cryptidinvestigators

So a couple friends and I were investigating into Halo's identity and we think we may have found someone in New Zealand~

Magnifying Glass @sherlockHOAX

Idiots. I thought she was confirmed to Japan after that Kanto fiasco?? Unless it was an international call

.

Gil @TheFishHero

Can we stop talking about Halo? Like, let the actual celebrities make music- Heroes are supposed to be the one on top, she's just some wannabe

.

killthekill @oilandwater

Can't wait for Halo to just die

.

endlulver @gogonumbertwo

Have you heard her talking about heroes? That's some villainous philosophy of hers- isn't there some serial killer that says kinda the same thing??? Stain??

SpinSpinster @Spinster

She's been saying that heroes need to be held to a higher standard! Look at all the property damage and injuries that heroes cause over small-time villains- they should be punished for it.

Nervous Pudding @jelloo

Also, to add on to @Spinster's point, Halo is super against violence?? Like,,, how have you not noticed that? And she's also been picking up after heroes for years via charities? Like,,, she's paid for thousands of dollars in damages because the Hero Commission refuses to pay for a lot of the damages? And most heroes usually blame the villains for things that they broke?

.

HeartHerb @growlove

Can't wait for the new Halo album! We Stan A Queen <3<3

.

HaloLovesMe @haloboyf

Who is this guy Halo keeps making love songs for?!! I'm her number one fan and I'm not about to let some asshole steal her away!

.

HaloPlzDM @ultimatelistener

Hey, @halo_official I got a bed I can't wait to get you into

.

He comes stumbling into the teachers lounge an absolute mess, his hair isn't quite all the way in it's usual style, his jacket is on inside out, his headphones are slightly askew, and- for a hero who prides himself on his presentation (it's literally in his name)- it's a bit of a shock to the other teachers.

Nem and Shou in particular eye him with concern, looking on in askance, waiting for him to go spilling his guts about this-or-that-or-something else.

He just stares at his phone. Wide eyed. As if his entire world view had been knocked off kilter. And in many ways it had.

"Hey, guys." He asks, face terribly blank as that horrible pit in his stomach slowly grows. "What do you think the likelihood of Halo being underage is?"

They exchange a glance.

"There's no way, right?" Nemuri's head tilts. "I mean, she's been around for years and her voice is so mature. Besides, you've heard her talk before. No teenager would have the outlook she has."

Shouta is silent, squinting at him.

"Uh. Zashi?" He hums noncommittally at his phone. As Nemuri grows noticeably confused by his line of questioning, "...There's no way, right? And, I mean, you wouldn't know anyways."

He pauses, freezing: "-Ah, yes! It was just something that I read that got me thinking!" And he'd never lied so obviously in his life before.

Neither had he been so relieved for the bell, signaling five minutes before school officially started, gathering up his things- resolute to ignore all the looks he was receiving- and hurried to his first class of the day. Immensely glad that he'd prepared a period long test the week before that he could give them and let his mind just calm, think, and go over all the facts rationally-

Oh, who was he kidding?

Mic was very, very, very distressed.

...

...

It had started with the best intentions.

He had been whistling happily as he practically skipped through the hall, waving at students and briefly being stopped by Jirou Kyoka from Class 1-A to sign an autograph that she nervously asked for, before making his way to the music studio in the other building- glad to see that Jirou was looking like she was interested in joining the Music Club and it’s... very small current membership- and had stepped into the Recording Studio to see if the young listener, Tasatsu Medama, was in.

From the few times she’d been in, it seemed like she’s been focused on compiling audio and editing it together, rather than actually producing anything and he’d never managed to catch her doing much other than tuning a guitar or struggling to write music on one of the piano- she’d never offered to show him any of her work and, given how she would turn horribly nervous every time he showed his face, he had never asked either.

He had only wanted to check on her. He had only wanted to make sure that she was okay-

(A trembling body clutching onto his hero costume, broken sobs and terror- horror- despair gripping her entire being.)

-because people didn’t bounce back that easily. Not in a day. Maybe even not at all. And he’d seen how distracted she’d been in class, how she seemed to have her head in the clouds, even more than usual, and how she’d been even quieter than normal. Hanging onto her friends- specifically onto Shinsou- and only seeming to relax when she was with them.

He doesn’t know if the Class 1-C students had noticed it- all of them, if he was being honest- but they seemed to sense that something had happened. That something had gone terribly wrong. And he could see the way they all took steps to stick together, the cliques a bit closer than they were before. The students standing as if to guard one another.

(They had seen the bandages on Medama. Had seen her bloody knees and scraped hands and the faded bruises- had even signed her cast when she’d worn it, written proof that they acknowledged her injuries.

They had heard rumors of broken sobs after school.

And they had seen Shinsou’s bruises and the way the best friends had turned protective. Had seen Kiko and Ikimaru whisper in worry and try their best to support-

They aren’t idiots. Not completely. They may not know what had happened exactly but they had seen the bucket fall on her head, even if a portion of them had laughed, had seen Medama quiver and shudder and struggle to hide her pain, and had known that something had happened. Knew that, at the very least, it was the result of someone outside their class.)

He doesn’t know if he should worry.

It was a little... strange, if he was being honest. How 1-C fell into their friend groups and seemed suspicious of anyone outside of themselves, the only reason he noticed it was because he was an outsider- the barriers between classes were already significant enough that it was rare for them to mingle, especially with the other courses- but he’d never seen a Gen. Ed. class grow so... isolated from the rest of the General Education branch.

Maybe that was a bit harsh, it wasn’t that much different from before, but he didn’t think it was healthy for a single class to grow so disinterested and skeptical of others. And he only really noticed because he had been keeping an active eye on them all after Tasatsu’s breakdown.

(Kayama couldn’t be prouder of them.

He doesn’t want to point out how she’s obviously, completely biased. Both her and Aizawa had a bad habit of getting... attached. And maybe he’d understand, if he’d had his own homeroom class, but he didn’t and so he just- didn’t get it.

“They’re my kids.” She had said once, drunk off her ass and swirling her drink with a small smile on her face. “They’re mine- and they may not be for long. But- I still want to see them succeed. I don’t want to see them hurt. They’re mine.” She repeats, an emphasis that she’s struggling to get across, a significance that she can’t quite put into words. “The world’s going to hurt them, ‘Zashi. The world is going to break them. And all I can really do is let them be kids- my kids - for a little bit and hope that I’ve given them enough knowledge that they’ll be able to live.”)

The class didn’t need to know what happened. They just knew that their classmates had been hurt- even if they hadn’t been the most liked within their class, they were still theirs.

And the threat had been someone from their own school.

(“I expelled four students.” Kayama had sung.

And there had been horror and worry on her students faces- but not for the reasons she had expected.

They had been shooting worried glances towards Shinsou and Tasatsu for the rest of the day. Giving them a wide berth as they whispered and wondered and glared at anyone that stepped too close- at anyone that spoke an ill word or touched on a bad rumor.

The most surprising one had been Chikuchi, who even Mic knew had an immense dislike for Shinsou and his quirk, but who had snapped at someone for spreading the very same rumors that she was prone to chittering on about.

“Hey," she had growled, "why don’t you talk about something you actually know about? You don’t understand the first thing about our class.”

Before immediately turning around and muttering about how Shinsou was scary and she was still trying to figure out how his quirk worked. That girl was an odd one.)

And Mic was worried as well.

Tasatsu Medama. Homeschooled. There was actually surprisingly little information in her file as a result of that, even her medical information and quirk was a bit... disturbingly vague. At a first glance, it wasn’t immediately discernible that she was essentially a reincarnation, and something tells him that Nezu had been the one to edit it. His handwriting is all over the file.

(He knows now why that is. Because if Halo was revealed to the world, he didn’t want her information readily available to whoever decided to wave around her information for the glory of it.)

High Entrance Exam scores. A good review on her Assessment Tests. Anything based on memorization was perfect- to a, frankly, creepy degree- and anything that wasn’t was... surprisingly well-thought out, mature and vaguely cynical, especially to any questions that involved ‘what-would-you-do’ scenarios. 

There was a note from Nezu, a small and quick script that gave a basic idea of what he thought of her responses and what it meant for her personality: Independent. Hard working. Cynical. Protective. However, it seems she values the lives and opinions of individuals when deciding life-or-death situations. For example, in the Trolley-Based Scenario on Page Eight, Test B, she was more likely to trade the lives of people she loved for a larger group if that person asked her to. Seems to hold the concept of ‘honoring one’s wishes’ in high regard. There was more. But Mic didn’t need to read more.

Well, maybe other than Kayama’s note: Sweet but always has her head in the clouds. Would be at the top of the class if she was paying attention. 

Which is about the same thoughts he had on her himself.

And a sweet kid with too many thoughts in her head wasn’t best left alone. They had a habit of losing themselves in their own fears- just look at that Ikimaru kid- and Mic had resolutely decided to check up on her. Offer to take her to the school therapist or counselor if she needed it, or to just be someone that would listen to her if she needed it-

And then he’d heard her sing.

And all his worries were drowned in shock, excitement, and squealing. He dragged a hand down his face at the memory, embarrassment catching up with him. He had asked for her autograph. He had completely disregarded everything and, to make matters worse, he hadn’t even realized it until he’d gone home and started scrolling through his phone in search of any evidence of her slipping up as Halo. Listening to compilations, reading tweets, and...

Slowly becoming concerned.

Slowly becoming scared.

(Halo- Tasatsu Medama- says it breezily, the voice changer on her talking voice just slightly off from her normal voice that a passerby shouldn’t take a second glance if they weren’t looking for it. “I receive a ton of death threats, actually. About daily. No worries though. I kinda expected that.” She laughs a little. “You don’t really see it in chat because my Mods are really good- send them love, guys! -but I like to think it’s a sign that I’ve hit it big.”

Another time, she sounds startled but unsurprised: “O-Oh, that’s a great drawing! I love how you did the hands and the colors are really nice. But- um. I do try to keep NSFW out of my stream so if you want my opinion on something, please, keep it PG?” A rather tame drawing by internet standards, but even then it was still... wow, okay. 

The little pink character that she used as her icon depicted in some very uncomfortable and sensual ways. And he only noticed now- now that he was acknowledging- how horribly often that was. Because people loved Halo... a bit too much sometimes.

And the fact that it's just a fictional icon somehow makes it worse, because Mic knew that it wouldn't stop even if she did reveal her face. It would just give them a new target to lock onto. A realer one.

Halo laughs, “A cryptid? I’m a cryptid? I can’t say that I don’t find the thought funny. But I’m not that mysterious am I? I’m just a person after all.” Before the chat explodes with praises and compliments that has her laugh petering into discomfort. “I- Really am just a normal person. I don’t do anything that someone else couldn’t do.” 

She's uncomfortable.

She just wants to be seen as-

Real.)

Mic knows the stress he goes through, as a spotlight hero, but he can’t imagine handling the levels that she did- he doesn't know how she does it... when it seemed like the whole world was looking at her.

The free period is filled with students hurrying through the halls, of others focused on their work, and students falling into their usual friend groups as they fully take advantage of the break that they were given. The idle chatter is noisy and calm and the random bouts of laughter in the background is nice to hear and brings a grin to his face, even though his thoughts were disquieting.

“-has she just been getting worse?”

“No. She’s just the same as usual. Still...”

“It drives you up the wall?”

“Mn.”

“Seriously don’t know what the teacher was thinking putting her with you...” Medama muttered, fiddling with her notebook and tapping the thick stack of paper against her chin lightly, chewing on her bottom lip. “I mean, I do- of course. He’s an...”

“Ass.”

“Yeah, that. But- like, isn’t it completely counterintuitive? Chikuchi, at this point, is going to fail on her own because, well, you said it yourself. Law is her worst subject. And by putting her with someone that she’s proven she can’t work with- she’s totally going to fail that upcoming mock exam.”

“I think your trying to find the logic in the stupid and you should just give up trying.” Shinsou is rolling his eyes, leant up against the wall in the hallway some ways away from their classroom. The two had managed to find a somewhat private corner to talk, free of most eavesdroppers. But not Mic. “Trust me, I’m used to them acting like I’m the bad guy, it’s nothing I haven’t learned to work around.”

He can see Medama hiding her frown behind her notebook, brows furrowing. “I... Well. I could ask the teacher to switch you and me if you want? I don’t think he’d let us partner with each other, but I think Chikuchi would be all on board with working with me and having her back me up would definitely help to convince him-?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He huffs, then raises a brow: “Why would she want to work with you anyways? No offense. But I’ve only ever seen you argue with her or insult her. It’s... actually kinda unusual. You don’t do that with anyone else and I know part of it was because of the plan but it seemed like you’d been saving that one for awhile.”

“...She’s mean to you.” Medama is pouting, voice a grumble. “What else is there?”

“Is that... really it?”

She changes the subject. “Apparently, according to some of our classmates at least, she’s got a crush on me. I figured, if nothing else, it’ll help to distract her from-”

“No.”

It’s instant. And his refusal is vehement.

There’s an obvious note of surprise on his face, his eyes blinking widely at her before he’s scowling. “Then definitely don’t worry about it. I can handle doing a group project with her.” Medama looks a little like she wants to protest but the harsh look on his face keeps her from saying anything. “Besides, the last thing we need is more people coming up with delusional nonsense about how I’m controlling you-” Medama winces.

He freezes.

“That’s... not your fault.”

He says it softly, like it’s something he’s said before- or thought before. A practiced ease to the words that don’t make them any less true and Medama hums under her breath- now that he knew what to look for, now that he knew what to recognize, all he could hear, all he could see was Halo, like puzzle pieces coming together- as she scuffs her feet against the ground.

“But, as far as I’m concerned, Chikuchi is just shy of being in the same category.” Shinsou continues on, voice stronger now that Medama doesn’t look like her face is filling up with a deep guilt. “I can handle whatever she throws at me. It’s just comments, really. And they’re mostly either idiotic or lame.”

“...You would think people would at least try to be creative.” It gets a chuckle out of Shinsou, an agreeing sound. “I once had someone call me ‘a musical in the form of a walking virus’ and I think about it daily. It somehow comes all the way back around to almost being a compliment-?”

“At least you know you're catchy.” She giggles. Even though the joke is, frankly, terrible. “Did they call you that because of your humming?”

“Nah. Just about my singing in general.”

He nods, rubbing the back of his neck. His scowl had softened back into a more neutral expression as the conversation had continued: “Chikuchi doesn’t even try. It’s mostly just annoying, really. I can handle whatever she comes up with; be it villain, lame, or just her calling me ugly-”

“-I think you’re pretty...” Medama sighed, her smile soft and eyes half lidded, as if in a daze. She’s clutching her book to her chest, arms crossed and squeezing it like a lifeline, her attention rapt and... she looks so absolutely enamored. To the point that it looked as if she hadn’t even realized she’d spoken, until something in her clearly startles as she realized where she’d trailed off and- “Cool!” The recovery is quick, somehow managing to be smooth enough that it didn’t seem like she hadn’t planned on adding it. “You’re pretty cool, Shin-sou.”

Her face is pink. As pink as her hair.

And Mic’s heart hurts. And his hands cover his mouth as he tries to keep his grin down-

Shinsou doesn’t notice, his eyes rolling. “Yeah, but you don’t count. You’re weird.”

-he’s struggling to hold in a scream to the heavens. Because Medama is adorable, her flush is lovely and breathless with her adoring gaze; she looks like the textbook definition of someone with a crush, cute and sweet and everything in between. And Shinsou is ruining it all.

Or, at least, Mic would have thought so- because teenage boys were often dense and foolish when it came to matters of the heart and he’d certainly been a prime example of “idiot'' when he was Shinsou’s age- if Medama hadn’t playfully tapped him on the nose. Causing Shinsou to blink in surprise and return her grin with an absolutely dorky one of his own. Oh, it’s bordering on creepy, teeth too straight and a bit too wide- but it reminds him of how Shouta grins and maybe that’s why he can see how charming it's actually supposed to be- “Better weird than stupid.” Medama laughs. “If being weird means I get to hangout with you, then I’d choose to be weird every time.”

Mic’s cheeks are hurting with the force of his smile.

(He could feel flowers and butterflies fluttering in his heart because this was just too much sweetness for him to handle.)

And, damn it, Medama was smooth. He’s mildly impressed to find that Shinsou just snorts, as if it was something he was used to hearing from her, and waves her off. “Whatever. I should... probably go join Chikuchi and see if we actually can get something done.” He lets out a clearly irritated sigh. “See you later?”

“Yeah, good luck, I guess.”

She doesn’t sound like she expects him to receive any of that luck. And Shinsou doesn’t look like he expects it either from the suffering look on his face- painful group assignments, Mic could sympathize, even if he didn’t know any of the context- as he leaves, offering Medama a sort of lazy half wave that she returns with a shy one of her own.

It’s then that she’s alone and Mic prepares himself to finally approach her about what he came in search of her for. He starts with a wave and opens his mouth to kindly ask if she could possibly speak with him for a moment, more than prepared for her to run and hide away in fear of him spreading her identity or trying to get something out of her-

He doesn’t get to even breathe a word in her direction before Medama is burying her face in the bound cover of her notebook, the move eliciting a small little scream of what sounded like pure happiness. He could practically see the hearts jump off her as she squealed under her breath, trying desperately to keep herself quiet but failing miserably.

She bounces on her heels, cheeks a bright red, and she looks just shy of jumping around with her hands pressed to her cheeks- which were undoubtedly hurting from the force of her smiling- as she stares after where Shinsou had disappeared with an absolutely spellbound look on her face.

And Mic... freezes.

(She’s biting her lip and she looks so overcome with emotions that her eyes are wet and her smile is quivering and shaky. Overwhelmed and just... happy. Just happy. There’s no fancy words needed to describe it. It’s just a soft happiness, one that seems to leak from every facet of her being.)

That raw innocence, that newborn intensity of emotion; it’s pure, truthful, and it’s so strong that it feels like the very air is choking with its magnitude. It’s bewitching in its sweetness, like walking on clouds, and oh-so soft that it has him wondering how she can keep it contained inside her when it seemed like she just wanted to scream herself.

“Aa, Tasatsu...?” He nervously calls and watches as she jumps out of her skin- he still felt bad for scaring her the first time because he’d let his own shock and excitement overcome his thinking- as she whips around to look at him with wide eyes-

She droops a little. 

Like the inevitable had finally come for her. And, in a way, it did.

“Oh, Sensei. You’re here.”

She seems so absolutely disappointed that, if he didn’t know the reason behind it, he would’ve been offended. It’s a shocking change that has his stomach dropping, because he’d caused that, he’d completely wiped all the joy and the love off her face and- It makes him wonder, and this isn’t the first time this thought had crossed his mind, considering all the hero work he’s done over his life, how people can be so cruel to try and snuff a light like that out? How can there be villains and murderers and criminals and stupid little high school bullies- when there was so much happiness in the world, just waiting to be found- and how people could ever wish ill will on the sweet, pink haired student who felt things so acutely, loved so deeply, cared so, so much that she wanted to share it with the world-?

(Because that was Halo there.

That was the girl that created charities and moved mountains with her voice. That tried and tried and screamed and spoke with such a love for living and others that she just wanted others to share in it with her-)

“I would like to apologize, Tasatsu.” He says softly, bending slightly so he can look her in the eyes and she can see his sincerity. “I know that I must’ve caused you a lot of unwanted stress and that it was not something you wished to share with me.”

She seems surprised. Too surprised.

(-like she knew how horrible the world was, despite her love for it, that she knew how quickly and easily her life could fall apart with just a wrong word. With just the wrong person recognizing her. And how she’d prepared to face it head on, knowing that no matter how hard she fought- that she would lose.

It’s what had him horrified.

The knowledge of just how many people had been touched by Halo, by the girl behind the voice, and just how many people would want to ruin- take advantage of- hurt- objectify- and how it would all get so much worse if they knew who she was.)

(A sweet girl that just loved and tried and who had bled for a friend for something as simple as she didn’t want him to blame himself.)

Mic’s gut swirls darkly with an edge of animosity. It’s a quiet rage. One that he doesn’t really acknowledge. And he feels weak with the thought that he couldn’t prevent her from getting hurt, couldn’t offer her more than a shoulder to cry on and a few practiced words of ‘heroism’ that he now knows probably did nothing to help her-

And nothing but a strong desire to be a safe place when the world caves in remains.

“Do you mind speaking with me for a moment?”

(“They’re my kids, ‘Zashi.” Midnight shows through, the persona wild and protective, and her eyes are dark with a rare seriousness, the intoxicated flush to her cheeks seeming to disappear. “And I don’t want to share them with the world.”)

Maybe Kayama was onto something. With this.

...

...

“...You’re not going to ask me for my autograph again, are you?”

“No.”

He says simply as he takes a seat on the opposite couch in the room, the coffee table between them. Medama seems very at home within the side room- as she should be, he wouldn’t be surprised if this was the room she typically ran into whenever she was warned of a seizure coming on. Speaking of, she was fiddling with her watch, it hadn’t beeped but... if stress often led to seizures, then Mic had to play it carefully to not accidentally exacerbate her already tense mood.

She looks down. He can’t actually tell where she's looking though- she may even be looking up at him through her lashes- he just knows that her head is bowed and her mouth is set into a small frown.

“So you’re...”

“Don’t say it.” She frowns. “You never know who’s listening.”

Fair. He nods. “How many people know?” Before hastily adding: “You don’t need to answer if you don’t want-”

“Five. My parents, my aunts, Nezu and... well, you would be the sixth.” She sighs. “Nezu figured it out when I joined the school. I- He recognized pieces of my voice and, well, he figured out the connection to lawyers I had through my mother. Tasatsu Sakuragi.”

He didn’t need the clarification.

Tasatsu Sakuragi was infamous. She was well-known to be one of the most bloodthirsty and uncompromising of lawyers, one that wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty, and had pointed out others for taking bribes and had never given in to attempts to intimidate her. Even when it was probably better for her if she did sometimes. Honestly, the only reason he thinks no one had tried their hand at assassinating her was because she was incredibly active in public and civilian spaces and, if she died, people would notice. And they would ask questions.

(Mic was not so naïve as to think that it wasn’t a possibility. Wasn’t so naïve to not know about the darker aspects of the world, he was best friends with Aizawa Shouta after all. And that man was well-known in Underground spaces for a reason .)

She also had a habit of going after heroes whenever she was prosecuting, if she had the choice of her case, and considering how sought after she was, she usually did.

Medama seems to notice the look on his face and gives a small smirk, “Yes, she will absolutely sue you, if you reveal anything.” Oh? An implied threat already. She certainly had guts. “It’s a secret identity for a reason-”

“As she should.”

She startles.

Looking up for the first time since she walked into the room with him.

“I won’t say a word, if nothing else. You can trust that. And it’s not through fear of repercussion-” He hopes that his voice is strong, that it’s real. There’s no radio host lilt. No showmanship. Just gentle truth. The person in her that was Halo would only appreciate him being genuine, because she had no time for empty platitudes and no need for them. “-I... see how they talk about you. To you.”

Something catches in her throat.

An emotion so buried and ugly that she can’t quite place it.

“You don’t deserve that.”

“...I-” She seems at a loss for words. Her mouth opening and closing as she looks at him, nose scrunching and brow furrowing with bewildering thoughts and confusion on her face: “Then you’re not.... here to try and get something from me, are you?” She seems so lost. As if she hadn't considered the possibility. Hadn't let herself hope for it.

Okay. So he is a little offended by that.

“No! I would never, dear listener-!” He lowers his voice when he notices her left eye twitch in response. “I’m not that kind of-” He almost says hero, he almost does, but he can see her guess what he’s about to say and sees her check out of the conversation almost instantly. “-person.” He says instead and it has her coming back. “You’re a student of UA. You’re one of ours-”

And, oh - Kayama’s vehemence suddenly makes so much sense.

“-You being... who you are. Doesn’t change that. It just gives us something else to protect you from.”

“...You don’t have to protect me.”

“I want to.” He says it easily, because it’s an easy thing to say. “Your friend, Shinsou, wants to. Midnight wants to. And if that means I have to start yelling at the world online for you- not revealing you, but telling them to stop- telling them how it’s damaging to young little listeners-”

Is that a smile he sees? He feels his grin broaden at the sight.

“-to treat you like you’re an object or not a real person with thoughts and feelings. Then I will.”

“That’s... You’ll completely mess with your career.” She points out. “People will start coming after you. It’s better to just not say anything. Besides, I tell people to stop when it gets out of hand- my fans can get... a bit rabid, you know?”

He knows.

He blows a raspberry in the air, waving his hand. “Pshh~ I’m Present Mic! I can take whatever they throw at me-” To be perfectly honest, he doesn’t know if he could, but he was willing to try. “-we voices need to stick out for each other!”

“We... ‘voices’? ” She repeats with a raised brow.

“So the name needs some work. That’s fi~ine!” She doesn’t seem fully convinced. Doesn’t seem like she knows exactly what to say even and he can tell that she’ll probably need some time to think about it- to wrap her head around it all- because revealing her secret identity to him had never been a part of her plan and he knew that it wasn’t. But still... He didn’t want to see her suffer in silence. Not when the world was already out to get her, she didn’t need anymore on her plate than she already had. And he lets himself fall back into calm, real, and everything that she needs: “It’s okay to ask for help, Tasatsu.”

(She needs a safe place.

She needs someone- an adult- outside of her immediate family, someone mature enough to help her, someone that won’t judge her and won’t take- take- take- It can’t be someone her age that she relies on alone. Because she’s barely held together at the seams and she can’t spill herself onto them. 

They wouldn’t be able to bear the weight of it. Too young, too inexperienced, and too concerned about the smaller things in the world to realize how much Medama would need support.)

She bites her lip.

“I’ll be here to answer you.”

(And that is what really seems to catch her- seems to draw her in- the promise that... if she reaches out, if she cries, there will be someone there to grasp her hand and pull her back up onto her feet.)

"...You don't want to promise that." She sniffs. Rubbing at her face. "But..." Her eyes flutter and there’s a wetness there that wasn’t before. She grips her watch tightly, mouth dry and voice a croak: “Can I... Can I think about it?”

“Of course.”

She nods. Wiping her arm over her face and he offers her his hand to help her standup-

“Level Five Security Breach. Alert: This Is Not A Drill. Level Five Security Breach. Alert: This Is Not A Drill. All Hero Personnel Please Proceed To The Unforeseen Simulations Joint. Alert. Alert. All Hero Personnel Please Proceed To The Unforeseen Simulations Joint. All Non-Hero Personnel Please Follow Level Five-Red Procedure. All Students Please Return To Your Classrooms-”

Medama looks up at him and meets his alarmed gaze and he’s proud to see her completely calm. Even calmer than he was. “That means villains are on campus, doesn’t it?” And he doesn’t really have time to talk to her, already pulling her out of the room and towards 1-C as students hurry in. “They’re at the USJ, at least?”

“Yes-”

And she nods. He’s mildly alarmed at her simple calm, as she pulls from his grip and enters the 1-C classroom to join her class, just in time for a non-hero teacher to come running in, muttering memorized procedures under his breath and look like he was about to pass out from fear-

He gets a second to see Medama greet a relieved looking Shinsou, who looked like he'd been about to run out of the class in search of her, before Midnight is popping out of the classroom with her gear in hand and they’re both running as fast and as calmly as they can, trying not to panic the students still up and about as they hurry back to their homeroom classes.

And Mic doesn’t get to wonder about how her calmness seems to be a little too experienced, a little eerie, before he’s being told that they have eyes on Eraserhead and everything is falling apart a little bit around him.

.

.

.

Chapter Text

It’s scary, she thinks, and quite honestly she doesn't know why-

After facing down villains, one would think Momo would have gotten better at steeling her nerves. At facing her adversaries head-on and- quite honestly- this isn’t a situation that should be making her stomach swirl and her feel like she’s facing down the worst of enemies. But after that morning- with the entire school seemingly at their doorstep- her anxiety had steadily worsened.

It wasn’t even that anything particularly bad had happened. There’d simply been a crowd and students whispering behind their backs as they pushed through to try and get to lunch, oh- sure, there had been a couple insensitive questions here and there but other than a member from 1-B, a Tetsutestu if she was remembering correctly, there hadn’t been any grand declarations of war. At least, other than the ones amongst her own classmates, but she supposed that was just Todoroki and Bakugou’s personalities, really.

Still. The thought of the whole school whispering behind her back- of knowing about what happened at USJ- the media talking their class up like a storm- it felt a little like they were being thrown to the sharks and, if it wasn’t for Aizawa-sensei’s blunt and candid remarks that morning, she thinks it would feel way worse.

(“There’s no use worrying about it. People will think what they want to think, you have more important things to worry about.” He’d rasped boredly through his bandages and she couldn’t help but wince, thinking of the similar ones wrapped around Tsuyu’s arm and shoulder from where the Decay villain had batted her away- it hadn’t left much more than a mark after quirks had been used to heal it, nothing but a long scratch of a scar grouping; thin and white, she was marred by five lines with a slight starburst shape around the edges, each spaced perfectly to fit the spread of a hand and its fingertips.

They were faded, like nothing more than a birthmark, only partly visible, the skin wasn't even raised and Momo had worse scars on her feet from when she had been a little kid and tripped while running.

Tsuyu had said that it didn’t hurt, that she couldn’t feel a thing, but it had still left evidence that they hadn’t been able to keep him from hurting her.

They’d been lucky even for that much, she thinks. Because if he’d held onto her... then Tsuyu may not be here anymore. If it hadn't been for Aizawa lifting his head at the tail-end of the attack, maybe she wouldn't be.

The thought had... shaken all of them.

The villain leader hadn’t seemed to particularly care about any of the students, not unless they got in his way, and had only turned to them when Midoriya had tried to get in the way- to defend Tsuyu as she quickly disappeared, terrified and in pain, into the water beneath, completely unaware of how much damage Shigaraki had done to her. Mineta had managed to drag her back to the surface as she seemed to fall into some frozen state of shock.

Killing them- The students- It hadn’t been his first thought and, for that, she can only be glad for the small- terrifying- mercies.)

(Somehow she thinks that worse.

That he managed to do so much damage to them, all the while being completely disinterested.)

The fact that both Aizawa and Tsuyu had been in class was what had her- and the entirety of the class, really- sinking into their seats in relief. The fact that both seemed okay, even if Tsuyu was a bit quieter than usual and mentioned having an appointment with Hound Dog after school today, had Momo's hands finally stop shaking in muted horror.

But, the stresses of the day had been building, and the meeting they'd set up to convene with all the appointed Class Presidents and their Vices had only been something to add to her nerves.

(She'd had three people ask her about the villains they fought, about what she did, and she doesn't know how to tell them that she still smells the burnt flesh of Kaminari overusing his quirk.)

“If you would like to step out for a moment, that would be more than fine.”

She startles.

Looking up in surprise to meet Iida’s gaze. It’s stern- but she can see the spark of concern in his eyes and she realizes, albeit numbly, that she had been chewing on the nail of her thumb. A bad nervous habit that her parents had tried to teach out of her but had never completely managed.

Her finger stings. The nail was bitten down to its quick and spotted with a drop of blood.

“N-No... I’m fine. I’m just...” She glances over the rest of the table, the other students either completely silent or chattering quietly to themselves. “Thinking.”

“Yes, I suppose it is quite rude of 1-F to be keeping us waiting. Hopefully they have a good reason-”

She didn’t point out that that wasn’t what she was thinking about.

And she couldn’t help the smile that grew on her face. She could always trust Iida to have a one-track mind at least, it was incredibly soothing- to have him worrying about something that was more… present.

Like the fact that the representatives of Class 1-F were running behind, closing in on the ten minute mark.

It’s what... honestly has the tension rising in the air.

And she spares a glance to the direct cause of it- the representatives of Class 1-C, who hadn’t said a single word beyond introducing themselves. Umino Me, the Class President, was sitting with a regality that Momo was, quite frankly, envious of and she would not be surprised to learn that the girl had gone through similar manners training as she had done in her early years. Ikimaru Hisoo, the Vice President, and who had stuttered through his introductions after nearly tripping over his own feet in the doorway, had initially been wringing his tail out in his hands- impossibly nervous. Then the minutes had ticked by as everyone filed in and waited for 1-F to arrive and something like a dawning realization had come over him and he had just... stopped.

Now his tail swished behind him, his ears drooped, and there was a slightly animalistic look on his face as he glared at the door. He seemed to grumble and grow more agitated and something told her that it wasn’t just because of the waiting.

Umino had given him a glance, a thoughtful frown on her face, but hadn’t said a word about his attitude. Even if they could clearly see that it was something out of place for him. Out of place enough that it had Umino steadily getting more and more tense and agitated herself.

Everyone in the room startles as the door opens and- “Sorry about that! We lost track of the time.”

Aa. Finally.

1-F had arrived.

But Ikimaru seemed to only grow worse, his ears flicking even further downwards- and Momo didn’t know a lot about animals, nor what possible creature his mutation may be compared to, but she thinks he was half a second away from growling. The thought was one that made her belly churn.

“As a student of UA and a representative of your class, you should conduct yourself in a more orderly and punctual fashion-!” Her smile wanes a little as Iida goes to confront the pairing, hand chopping in the air. “Or at least make us aware that you were going to be-”

“Woah. Dude. Take a chill pill.”

Momo startles. That was rude, and she can’t help the frown that grows on her face.

“Hey, aren’t you in 1-A? What was that villain attack like-?”

There’s interested looks as Momo and Iida both sink a little into themselves, becoming closed off. And Momo briefly catches sight of the scowls on the 1-B and 1-C representatives as they take in the newcomer with considering looks- "Yes, perhaps the next time you decide to show up late, you could let us know, so we can know when to waste our time." That’s Umino. Her voice is thin and cold and Momo would describe it close to ice with it’s frigidity. “It seems that UA chose correctly when they placed those two in 1-A. They managed to show up early to a meeting after a villain attack on their persons and yet you simply couldn’t be bothered to check the time.”

Momo can’t help but blink.

“You disrespect them and the heroes that work here.”

She gives Umino a small, thankful smile and the girl only briefly glances her way, focus mostly stolen by 1-F, but she hopes her gratefulness had gotten across to her. 

That’s partially why her nerves are so frayed, she thinks, because Umino was scary but in a way that... Momo frankly wanted to be. And she feels a respect for the 1-C Class President that she hadn’t before, when all she’d felt before was intimidated.

“1-C.”

The level of animosity is surprising.

It’s close to a snarl and they can see how it makes Ikimaru tense and stare with wide eyes. Umino’s head tilts, her eyes flicking to her Vice, and then back to 1-F, and she seems to come to a realization without even a word being shared between them because she meets the angry gaze head on with her own: “...1-F.” But hers is defensive, personal.

(Protective and vicious in a way they don't understand.)

And Momo can’t help but wonder, at a loss for words, what had been going on with the rest of the school while 1-A was busy training to be heroes and had minimum contact with anyone in any of the other classes.

"Still have that villain in your class, do you?"

Iida and her can’t help but tense, sharing a glance between each other.

"He got four of our classmates expelled. What’d’he do-? Brainwash the staff-?”

Ikimaru’s voice is rough: “He wouldn’t need to. And that’s not how his quirk works.”

“Oh, and how does it work?”

(There’s a strange look in Ikimaru’s eyes. Like he both expected that question and hadn’t at the same time.)

There’s a moment before he answers. “He can only Brainwash people so long as they hear him sing. Idiot.” He snarks. “Did you hear anyone sharing a tune-? ”

A pause, especially as the room of Class Representatives takes in that information.

Umino blinks, looking confused for a moment, then she seems to realize something as 1-F blundered and blustered. She turns to Ikimaru with a raised brow, asking a silent question they couldn’t hope to understand- He gives a single, quick nod. Teeth baring. And Umino turns back to 1-F without even seeming the slightest bit disturbed: “I can assure you, that the expulsion of your classmates was a necessity.”

"A... necessity-?!"

Her calmness is infuriating and Ikimaru squints by her side, a smirk growing on his face as he glares at the other Class President: “Yeah. Disposal services are very important to maintaining a healthy and functional society. It's a respectable job, cleaning up after others-"

Kendo Itsuka coughs to try and muffle her laughter.

And Umino quickly cuts in. Even though they can see her eyes sparkling with humor. “Now, let’s get down to actual business. We’ve been kept waiting by you long enough-” She raises her head and the expression on her face dares anyone- but especially 1-F- to try and interrupt her, “-the upcoming Sports Festival and the safety procedures our classes will be taking so as to allow us to move more smoothly during emergency situations in the wake of the villain attack on the USJ.”

There’s nervous swallowing throughout the class.

“There’s no reason for us to suspect that villains will use the Sports Festival as a means of attack. But there’s no reason for us to suspect that they won’t.” She says simply. “Seeing as this affects all of us, not just the hero course, Kayama-sensei- Midnight- has given me information on how our classes should proceed in the future-”

Momo nods in determination. Aizawa had already mentioned that he would be going over how they were expected to act moving forward, especially on the off-chance that they would end up in another villain attack- it was coursework that wasn't supposed to be seen until the middle of the year, but they felt it necessary to have, just in case. He even mentioned how they’d be going through scenarios and theoretical work and that other classes would as well- though the General Education classes with a more... civilian perspective.

“-as representatives for our class, it’s our job to not only be their first line of defense but also to act as their directors. Especially in situations of emergency.”

(And, oh, Momo agrees with her.

But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. Both her and Iida. Who are struck with feelings of… uselessness. Because they hadn’t been able to do much but run and hope for the best while their classmates- Tsuyu- screamed behind them.)

Umino Me and Ikimaru Hisoo are scary.

They scare her.

Because, she thinks, and wonders, how they can seem so strong- when they’re treating 1-F like they're an active threat and they don’t seem afraid to stare them in the eyes and meet their anger head on. Not even flinching as the obvious line in the sand gets drawn between them and… 

Class 1-C seems so very far away from all the rest of them.

So very in their own world.

(When they leave, Momo can just barely catch the hushed conversation between the two. Umino seems just the same as always, though there’s a worried look in her eyes, and Ikimaru seems to have lost any and all forms of his aggression- now back to wringing his tail with his hands, the feather-like additions twitching and shuddering with each move.

“-not supposed to say.”

“I already know. Everyone knows.”

“They’re gone now. That’s what matters.”

“But 1-F clearly let them run wild if that was their attitude, they weren’t exactly quiet-”

More whispers and Ikimaru looks close to tears, wiping at his face.

“-they hurt them. Both of them. I wasn’t able to do anything then but I can at least stand up for them now.”

And that, at least, get’s Momo thinking. Thinking about the future and the threat on her classmates. If villains are going to be like that, if hero work is going to be like that, then she wants to be more prepared. She wants to be tougher. She wants to be stronger. So she doesn’t have to let others- Aizawa- fight and almost die for her.)

...

...

“You lied about Shinsou’s quirk.” Umino points out with a note of surprise in her voice. “Every time it comes up. It’s always something different nowadays. Why?”

Ikimaru licks his lips. He’d been afraid of people pointing that out.

“I- um...”

She clearly notices his hesitation. “Please, I... I wish to be a Class President that my subjects can come to. So something like with Tasatsu... Medama- won't happen again under our noses.”

He laughs a little nervously.

That’s where her nickname as the... “Princess of 1-C” had come from. A joke gone too far at the lunch tables that had her humorously calling those that were there with her “her subjects” and it had them bowing out of mock-respect. It’d come from her regal disposition, yes, but not much other than that and was now something of a running joke that he hadn’t clarified to Medama or Shinsou just yet.

Kiko had suggested they not say a word and, well, it did sound like it would be funny.

The mystified looks on their faces had certainly been worth it.

“I mean it, Ikimaru.”

“Fine, but... promise you won’t say anything. I- It’s important. And I- I- Don’t want them to stop being friends with me.” He twists his tail. And doesn’t know why he agrees, maybe it’s because Umino is technically his higher-up, maybe it’s because she’s honestly very convincing- he knows her quirk also has a general empathy element that let’s her get a good vibe on other people and their mood- but it’s also probably because, while Umino has expressed a want to become a hero, she also hasn’t spoken about her own participation in the Sports Festival. “We- Kiko, Medama, Shinsou and I- are trying to make it so that no one will be able to tell how Shinsou’s quirk works. It’s... He’s got a really strong quirk, you know? But once people know how it works...”

“It’ll be easy for them to work around?”

She finishes for him and he nods. “That’s all I’m saying. I won’t- I won’t tell you how it actually works. That’s what I promised, for sure, that I wouldn’t tell.”

“That’s... hm.” Umino takes a moment, seemingly surprised. “That is certainly a strategy that... I can’t really disagree with. Even if it seems a bit disingenuous. But I won’t fault others for their methods.” She smiles slightly. “It’s also very- I think it’s amazing that you would support your friend like that in his endeavors.”

“R-Really?”

He’d been half expecting her to demand for information on how Shinsou’s quirk worked and, if she had done that, Ikimaru was pretty sure he would’ve cried.

“Yes, it seems like... Everyone is competing to become a hero. And we lose a lot of personal connections as it becomes nothing but a competition. The fact that Shinsou has managed to find such friends in the meantime, all the while acting as one of the most determined in our class, is quite impressive actually.” Ikimaru blinks. “It shows that he must have incredible networking capabilities.”

“...Aa. Right... Shinsou does.”

Ikimaru does not think about Medama and how she’d been the one to actually reach out. Ikimaru does not think about how it’s a struggle for him to keep a conversation going with Shinsou most days. Ikimaru does not think about how Shinsou, despite being his friend, and, despite also being borderline charming when he wanted to be, would also, rather obviously, prefer not to socialize at all.

(Ikimaru was much closer to Medama. Kiko, on the other hand, seemed to prefer Shinsou. It was a bit weird how they both seemed to have chosen a preference.)

“Alright!”

He startles as Umino’s eyes sparkle. 

“Let’s support our classmate in his path on becoming a hero.”

“Wait, what-? ”

And Ikimaru screams internally as she walks up to the first gossiping group of students she can find- who just so happen to be talking about a villain quirk in 1-C- and says: “Oh, yes. Our classmate Shinsou. Brainwashing-” She looks so incredibly happy as she smiles and Ikimaru dies a little on the inside. “-it’s actually very impressive. It works through eye-contact.” She turns to give him a bright smile and a look on her face, as if to ask; “Did I do that right?”

Oh-

That’s right. 

He’d nearly forgotten to mention that Umino’s nickname had also remained very strong because she seemed to be completely inept at most social cues. Much like a princess from storybooks, isolated in her castle, perfectly polite and happy to speak to her subjects, but unable to quite understand that she doesn’t relate to them as easily as she would like.

He doesn’t know why her quirk has an empathy aspect to it when she seems to constantly ignore it.

Because she should know that he’s close to a heart attack right now.

(“-So- S-So I didn’t say how i-it worked-”

There’s a long pause and he can practically hear Shinsou twitch with something like frustrated anger.

“-but I-I think Umino might b-be helping us now?”

It gets him pausing. Shinsou’s mouth opens and closes as he seems to come to the realization that, at this point, he can’t do anything but accept it. “...What happened exactly?”

Ikimaru squeaks and he’s so glad that Medama arrives just in time for him to hide behind. His pink friend listening to his explanation and then laughing.

“Oh~ Shin-sou. This is the best idea you’ve ever had. At this rate, we’ll have half the class helping us out.”

He has a dark glower on his face: “Keep in mind that they’re still my competition.”

She frowns at him. And Ikimaru squeaks as she shakes him off and then drags Shinsou a couple steps off to the side, they’re not far enough away that Ikimaru can’t hear every word they’re saying, but he still turns his head at the very least. To give them the semblance of privacy.

“Shin-”

“Don’t.”

“It’ll be okay. This can work in your favor-"

She says it quietly, a rare seriousness to her voice that Ikimaru hasn’t seen much of... only when she had been talking to Kiko in the bathroom,  nursing her wounds. And he swallows back his tears that this would qualify that amount of gravity.

Shinsou doesn’t seem surprised by the tone. If anything, it has him tilting his head and listening to her with an attentiveness that hadn't been there before, “-and trust Iki’s judgement. He’s our friend. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you or your chances-”

“And if he did anyways? Even if by accident?”

“-then we would play it by ear. Neither of us expected this to run smoothly.” Shinsou scowls, rubbing the back of his neck and gaze flicking between her and Ikimaru. “Iki tried to defend me when they followed me to the bathroom.” She whispers.

And, oh- She's playing dirty if she's using that. Medama didn't seem to care that she wasn't pulling her punches. She seemed much more focused on keeping them from fighting. Or of Shinsou deciding Ikimaru really wasn't worth his time.

She watches as he tenses. “He couldn’t do much but he tried . Do you really think he would sell you out?”

“...Others have for less.”

Medama seems to droop at that knowledge, but doesn't seem surprised, biting her lip. “Is he them?” And that has Shinsou’s expression wrinkling with a familiar sourness. “...We- I didn’t say I wanted to be his friend because he’s just another cute face, Shinsou.” Ikimaru feels himself turn purple with embarrassment. “The first thing I ever heard out of his mouth was him telling Chikuchi to knock it off with her attitude. Remember? It was just before you offered her the position of Class 1-A’s pet-?”

Yes, he remembers.

Shinsou huffs, though there’s humor in his eyes now. “You were there for that...?”

“I had been in the doorway for awhile, Shin-sou.”

“Me-da-ma.”

Ikimaru is glad that he’s looking away. He feels as if he’s intruding on something that he really shouldn’t be.

(Shinsou is glaring at Medama but there's no real heat in his gaze, and Medama's own face is perfectly determined, a warmth in her expression.

It doesn't explain why their heads are bowed, almost as one, noses so close that they were practically touching, or how their hushed conversation had ended with them so close together that Ikimaru was wondering how they couldn't be touching.

But it feels like it makes sense anyways.)

Shinsou finally lets out an annoyed sigh, running his hands through his hair before turning to him and there’s no longer a bitter, tired anger in his eyes. “What students did Umino lie to?” 

And then it’s a race to find them before the bell rings and, when they finally do manage to locate them, the sight of Shinsou has them whispering in horror and avoiding his eyes and-

“We go with touch-based?”

“Yeah.”

Shinsou clears his throat, catching the attention of the other students as he drags his hand pointedly down Ikimaru’s arm, “Go buy me a coffee from the vending machines.”

Medama slaps her hands over her mouth to keep from exploding with laughter.

And, well, if buying him a coffee with his own money is what it takes for Shinsou to still be his friend at the end of the day, Ikimaru is more than happy to act like a robot as he turns to go buy one in clear view of the students that Umino had previously talked to. Now looking... very confused by what they were witnessing.

Shinsou smirks as he sips his free iced coffee as Medama giggles madly once they’re out of sight of the other students, knocking against his shoulder with her own. Her smile is so wide that it looks like it's making her cheeks hurt. “Shin-sou, that was so mean!” But she doesn’t ask him to apologize. And Ikimaru just nervously grins, saying nothing. “...I almost choked on my own laughter."

That only seems to make his smirk grow wider: “Good. ”)

-0-

Shoving through the extras is an easy feat, especially when they begin to give him a wide berth, a few even stumbling out of his way, which was fine, the faster they left- the better his mood got. Though not by much.

"Seriously, wait up, Baku-bro-!"

"I said, don't call me that!" He grumbles, eyebrow twitching. "You assholes need to learn to follow instructions." It gets a bout of laughter and his teeth click in aggravation.

"That's rich, coming from you!"

He grunts as, fuck, he can't remember his name for the life of him, they hadn't been talking loud enough for him to hear them when he’d introduced himself and whenever they talked it was like they were going out of their way to make it as difficult as possible to follow-

"Shitty hair! Get off me!"

His hands spark without him meaning to, ridding himself of excess nitroglycerin in the process.

"Oh, sorry, Bakubro!"

The red head, who had thrown an arm around him, in what was probably supposed to be a friendly gesture, but only served to piss him off, slid off of him.

"Seriously, you're just going to let him snap at you like that-?"

He doesn't care to even try and follow whatever conversation Shitty Hair is having with the Pikachu-asshole, not only is it probably something he couldn't care less about, but they were enough steps behind him that their voices were nothing more than a muffled and annoying buzzing in his ears. And it was getting on his nerves- "Yo, extras, shut the fu-"

He slams into someone, cutting off his words, and he lets out a string of curses as he whips around to glare at the bastard that didn't know to get out of his way.

"Self-entitled much?"

Yellow eyes, ringed with a circle of purple, stare down at him. They're crinkled in amusement, as if he had found something deeply funny-

"What the hell are you laughing at, extra?"

A soft snicker. 

The guys got an infuriating smirk on his face. Teeth oddly straight in that catty grin that Tape Face and Aizawa-sensei had. "Anyone ever tell you that you project your emotions with all the quiet of a freight train?"

"Hah?!"

"I'm saying you're noisy."

Yeah, he figured that much. He opens his mouth, palms ready to start crackling, and then- "Woah, man!" Shitty Hair. "Sorry about us bumping into you but there's no need to be throwing insults around."

A blink from droopy eyes- in fact, that might be what Bakugou calls him, the Droopy Eyed motherfucker- as he takes a step back and scratches the side of his face, grin only widening. "It wasn't meant to be an insult. I was just pointing out the facts."

Pikachu makes a noise in the back of his throat, rubbing the back of his head, sheepish. "Well, he does have a point there..."

"What was that?!"

Droopy Eyes laughs slightly. It's a mischievous noise that instantly rankles him, "Sounds like your bad attitude is pretty well known."

And, really, it shouldn't be nothing but an argument, another extra that he has to blast out of his way, and Bakugou is more than prepared to curse the guy into next week and just shove past him, but there's something making him twitch. Something that's making his shoulders tense. Making him suspicious-

A hand reaches out.

(Pale fingers, reaching out. Leaving nothing but destruction in their wake.)

It feels like a threat.

"Hehe~ what's with the reaction? I was only going to help you out."

He's taken two steps back, arms raised defensively, at the hand that hangs uselessly in the air. Bakugou can feel his teeth gritting, eyes narrowed with suspicion. Shitty Hair has moved forward and he's a bit lower to the ground, like he was seconds away from going into a full running tackle, and it's a familiar position that they fall into-

(Red at the front. The defense and point break. Him at the back, maneuvering to take enemies- villains- off the record with one well-timed blast to the face.

Bakugou may want to be the one to defeat all the fodder in their way, to stand triumphant, but he's also not an idiot.

Shitty Hair- and he really should learn his name- was not made for high speed battle, not like he was, and it would've been a bitch and a half to strategize a way he could follow in Bakugou's steed whilst they were fighting, a struggle for him to keep up- and it wasn't like he could just leave him for dead either. Since he couldn't trust half the people in his class not to be terrified weaklings ready to kick the bucket at a moment's notice.

So Bakugou had worked around him.

Because it was the most effective and efficient and he'd be damned if he trusted some weakling to have his back, when he could instead use them as something like a battery ram- and quite literally too, if he was being honest- and go from there.

Thing was… Shitty Hair had picked up the slack and then some, something that he honestly hadn't been expecting when he first showed up in their area at the USJ, and Bakugou was impressed as much as Bakugou could probably get. And he didn’t think he would have a problem with working with the hardening user again. He just wished he wasn’t so annoying though.)

Droopy Eyes, now that Bakugou is actually getting a good look at him, is a short boy around their age, at least a couple inches shorter than Bakugou himself, and he’s got flat black hair that looks seconds away from swooping over one of his eyes and the rest of it pulled back into a tiny ponytail at the base of his head. The uniform seems to hang off of him a bit, his limbs skinny and his fingers bony and bordering on unnaturally thin.

(If Bakugou hadn’t already settled on Droopy Eyes, he may have had fun calling him Skeletor.)

“Aa... jumpy, aren’t you?”

“H-Hey, did you just try and use your quirk on Bakugou? That’s really unmanly, dude!”

“Maybe I was trying to make him a bit less of an ass.” He laughs, that mischievous sound that makes him want to punch him in the face. “Or maybe I wasn’t planning on using my quirk at all-” He’s smirking. Like he’d accomplished everything he set out to do in the first place. “Did I need to? To make him flinch?”

“I didn’t flinch you fucker-”

“That’s really unmanly of you coming after a guy like that-”

For the first time since Bakugou ran into him, Droopy Eyes frowns. There’s an incredulous look in his eyes and he raises a thin eyebrow. “Was it? Was it really-?” He laughs, though there’s no humor in it this time. “Is it really so different compared to him popping his hands at every... what was it you called them? Aa, extras. Is it really so different from you scaring off anyone that just so happens to step in your way?”

(Here’s the thing. It’s not. It’s really not.

Even if Bakugou has to do it half the time to keep his sweat from building up and turning him into a ticking time bomb, he purposely does it whenever there’s someone in his way. To be as threatening and intimidating as possible.

And Kirishima can’t deny that there is some hypocrisy at hand.)

Droopy Eyes goes back to smirking, but it's a bit crueler now. A bit less friendly. “Let’s see how we... extras stand up against the lauded Hero Class 1-A, and then we’ll see if you really do belong in that course of yours.” He makes a show of yawning into his hand. “The Sports Festival’s coming up. And you’d be surprised at how frequently UA does transfers and expulsions. That Sensei of yours is infamous, you know?”

And he walks away, throwing up a lazy wave over his shoulder as he approaches a group of students in the same General Education uniform as his. A large, blocky girl with short, closely cropped pink hair- a boy with red hair and thick red marks beneath his cold brown eyes- a tall and thin girl with thick glasses- Each looked about ready to throw up their hands and start fighting, like a sour bunch that was more than prepared to do battle at any given moment. And yet... They welcomed Droopy Eyes into their clutches, their little clique, as if he was their leader returning home, and gave the 1-A students a deep glower before marching off in their own directions.

Bakugou lowers his hands, teeth clicking. “Tch.”

Pikachu is tugging at his hair, looking terrified. “What the hell was that about-?!”

“Our competition, dumbass.”

“What?!”

“I don’t have anything to worry about but maybe you do.”

Pikachu shrieks. “Don’t mess with me like that, Blasty! What were they talking about with the transferring-?”

(“‘Zengi, that was kinda uncool of you. Even if he’s angry all the time.” She’s the tallest in the group and so her head has to tilt at an odd angle to meet the gaze of the shortest, who doesn’t exactly make it easy for her with him glaring at his feet in thought. “Especially after...”

He scratches the side of his face. “He’s not going to calm down if he doesn’t have anything to focus on, I can feel his anger and frustration from across the school. It’s annoying. ”

“Still.”

“Well, maybe he should start thinking about whether or not he’s even going to stay in the Hero Course anymore. Those other two are so filled with self-doubt that it’ll be easy pickings. Especially for us.”

“Maybe for you three.” She sighs. “I missed my opportunity with the Entrance Exam, robots would have been so easy. But now I have actual competition and... My quirk is so specific.”

“Denji. That’s your own fault. For being an idiot.”

“I didn’t mean to sleep through it!”

She sighs, pushing her glasses backup as they slide down the bridge of her nose.

And the pink haired girl beside them huffs, “Tch. Even if you had shown up, Poke would’ve just tripped you-”

"Do you think I regret it, Kanmon-?!”

Hanzengi groans. “Not again you guys.” Their arguing was going to give him a headache at this rate.)

...

...

Jirou plays with one of her jacks, the quirk mutation twirling around her finger, as she absentmindedly picks through her food. Fork scraping against the bottom of her tray as she-

(Adrenaline. Her heart is beating. Louder than she’s ever heard it before and, for that, she’s thankful- because then it’s more effective as a weapon-)

-her hand fumbles slightly with her utensil. “Oh, hey, Shouji, Tokoyami, what’s up?”

She moves to greet her much taller classmate as he and Tokoyami arrive at the lunch table she’d found herself alone at. “Kouda went to go see if he could find anything easier on the stomach to eat.”

“Oh, is he not feeling well?”

They share a glance between each other and Jirou frowns. “...Something like that. You- You’re not eating either, from the looks of it.” And she tenses slightly before relaxing, looking down at her tray. She guesses she wasn’t.

(-terrified, hiding under a blanket, and hoping beyond hope that it will protect them. That Kaminari will be okay and be able to do his part in protecting them.

It brings up memories of when she was a child and her imagination would run wild, conjuring up images of monsters under her bed or monsters in her closet, just waiting for the opportunity to pop out and grab her when she least expected it. Those memories seem so silly now.

And yet- and yet!- when she had gone home, gone home to her family and finally was safe to just cry and let out all her fears, she had laid down in bed that night and she had pulled up her blankets and tried not to think too hard about Momo whispering assurances in her ear or her heartbeat stuttering in her own chest and- the blanket had helped. It had helped to block out all the fears and worries and left nothing but a soft feeling of protection and the thought that, maybe, she’d be alright after all.)

“I guess I’m not hungry.”

She isn’t.

Her stomach feels like a deep chasm, one that she couldn’t be bothered to fill.

It’s probably got more to do with all the chatter and gossip she can hear without even really wanting to. Her hearing had always been exponentially better than most peoples and, usually, she enjoyed it, because it let her be privy to all sorts of information that, while she wouldn’t ever use, she still liked to have filed away, just in case. This time though- she wishes her quirk came with an off button installed somewhere- because she’d rather not be listening to all the things that they were saying about their class behind their backs. 

Shouji gives her a sympathetic look. “Frustrating, isn’t it?”

And she sighs, remembering that he probably wasn’t much better off than she was. “Yeah. Annoying, really.” But, short of standing up on a table and shorting everyone to quiet down, which would only make it worse, there wasn’t anything they could do. It’s not like they could stop people from talking. “Some of it’s just... so ridiculous. And everyone’s using it as fuel for the Sports Festival which is-”

It’s going to be a nightmare and a half.

She feels it, deep in her gut. 

“Well, I can’t blame them.”

Tokoyami crosses his arms, eyes closing as he seems to fall into thought. “Perhaps it’s simply a chance to show our hardship in the face of adversity.”

She’d still rather it- not feel like it was coming as quickly as it was. They had maybe two weeks to prepare and she wished that Aizawa-sensei had brought it up before the USJ, at least then she would’ve already had some plans and had set aside time to focus on it all. Now, though, she felt like her thoughts were constantly wandering, and she didn’t know how much effort she’d truly be able to place in something as simple as a school-event.

Which... didn’t seem as important as it would have, if it had been brought up before their trip to the USJ.

She jumps as the table shifts beneath them.

“-oh, sorry there, dude!” A boy of fuchsia- with the fluffiest of hair- and a... she could only describe it as a void-like appearance, knocked into their table from where he had been running and, consequently, also into Shouji, who looked unnervingly started by his sudden appearance. “I wasn’t watching where I was going at all!” And he laughs, as if it’s the funniest thing in the world. The oddest thing is that it just sounds so... genuine too, not even the slightest hint of embarrassment in his voice.

“It’s no problem-”

“Oh, hey, you guys are Hero Course students, huh? 1-A?”

Jirou tenses but gives him a nod, waiting for the eventual questions about the USJ because everyone in the school seemed to fancy themselves a reporter recently. “Y-Yeah.”

But there’s no question.

In fact, the kid goes surprisingly silent, and they can’t make out any features from his almost incomprehensible face, but they get the feeling that he’s looking at all of them. And then- “Oh! Haha! You must be strong then~” He chirps with laughter in his voice and not a hint of explanation for whatever his random bout of silence had been about. “But I think some of my class could still take you, so watch out! Some of us are hoping to replace some of you all~ it’ll be fun, don’t you think?”

“...What?”

He just laughs. And they don’t even think he’s aware that he’d just, technically, threatened them. Before he’s happily hoping away with nothing but a cheery goodbye and- 

“Gaiaku~ Kiroku~! You’ll never believe who I just ran into.”

-he’s a gossip, from the sounds of it. But one that has Jirou biting her lip with worry and wondering how he can act like there’s nothing wrong in the world when he’d come up to them and said... that.

(“Hey, since when did you threaten people, Tobira-?!”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t act stupid! I was planning on making myself look all cool-”

“-You really think they would’ve found you cool?”

“I- Tobira! ”)

...

...

He's staring at his hand.

The jagged and fresh scars that line it, they're itchy- they're incredibly itchy and they burn like something is just crackling under his skin, and he doesn't know if it's his injuries or if it's One For All, doesn't know whether it's a good feeling or a bad one- and he clenches his hand into a fist to keep it from shaking.

He-

He-

Midoriya feels something in his throat that he can't swallow and it's choking him up. Worse than when the Slime Villain had tried to drown him and possess him, worse than when his anxiety would choke his emotions and his words and he wouldn't know what to say when it seemed like the whole world just wanted to beat him down. It's why he wasn't with Uraraka and Iida today, even though they were so kind inviting him to lunch with them. It's why he'd gone down the corridors of UA, into places he didn't usually go, because there was no reason to, and was spending the time just trying to relax in the mostly empty hallways as he wandered about, the constant motion of walking helping to ease the jittery nerves that always seemed to come at the worst of times-

(Tsuyu doesn't scream.

She just falls into the water. And he's terrified at the thought- at the possibility- that there's nothing left of her-

One For All bursts to life, crackling thunder, and explodes. Uselessly. Completely worthless.)

He wants to be a hero. But, as he is, he's nothing but a liability.

Aizawa-sensei was right. So long as his power kept destroying him, piece by broken piece, he should have never been accepted into the Hero Course. There were plenty of people much more worthy, he was sure, and, perhaps, if it had been them, they would've been able to protect Tsuyu in his place.

(He can't think like that.

Or, at least, he shouldn't. All Might chose him for a reason, trusted him for a reason, and he had to carry that and stand up to his expectations no matter what. He had to show that he was here- that he was going to be able to protect and help and- be something useful.)

He slides to a stop, thoughts whirring, as he tries to come up with ideas or possibilities of what he could have done better. What he might be able to do to help in the scenario of a villain attack in the future. Because so long as Shigaraki wanted to kill All Might and so long as All Might stayed standing, he got the feeling that he would need to be prepared-

"You're blocking the vending machines."

He shrieks, skidding out of the way.

"...Wow. Okay."

And Midoriya instantly flushes in embarrassment. The voice is flat and decidedly unimpressed. "S-Sorry, I didn't see you there, and I was lost in my own head, so when you popped in out of nowhere, I got really surprised and-!"

They don't appear to be listening, 

They just step up to the vending machine, put money in, and stab their fingers on two of the buttons hard enough that Midoriya flinches. The first is a coffee of some kind, one of those unsweetened ones that was all caffeine that he’d never been able to stomach, and the second is an expensive looking glass bottle of strawberry milk that looks like it might have real fruit in it and not just flavoring.

He grabs both, slotting them lazily between the crux of his fingers, so they can hang loosely at his side.

“-I didn’t mean to shout! That must’ve surprised you as well and you look like you have a headache so-”

“It’s fine.” He says shortly, sounding impossibly bored. He’s got his free hand rubbing his temple and an annoyed, slightly pained look in his eyes as he walks past him. “Not the worst it’s been.”

“-still, maybe you should go to Recovery Girl? I don’t know how her quirk would work on non-physical ailments but she’s still a registered nurse and should have something that might be able to help-” Midoriya doesn’t know why he does it. But, for some reason, he finds himself walking alongside the taller boy as he turns to leave the vending machines. He’s receiving a side eye, he knows, but there’s nothing he can really do about that, he thinks. “-but headaches can be caused by a lot of things, so maybe it’s something simple anyways, I guess if you can just find the cause of it then you’d be fine-”

(He’s starting to mutter. He knows. And it’s just getting worse.)

He gets an incredibly bland look. “...You must really enjoy the sound of your own voice.”

Midoriya squeaks, “N-No-! That’s not it-!” And he buries his red flushed face in the palms of his hands. “I-I’m so sorry! I have a bad habit of rambling and it must be really annoying-” The stranger gives a hum and he can’t tell if it’s supposed to be confirmation or not. “-really, I’m sorry! You’ve probably never had that problem before… I don’t think people could find your voice annoying- it’s actually really nice? Has anyone ever told you that you’d make a good public speaker?”

He blinks, minutely surprised. That annoyed look on his face doesn’t seem as prominent anymore. Though it is still there, his expression is mostly blank and he just looks, all around, very tired. Midoriya can’t help but wonder if he’s been getting enough sleep. “Funny. I’ve had more and more people tell me that recently.”

“I can see why!” He chirps, muttering going crazy under his breath as his thoughts turn and twist down routes that he can’t really stop. Unaware that he’s even really speaking out loud as he taps his chin and bows his head slightly, looking at his feet. Thoughts of villains and Tsuyu seem a bit less close to his heart.  “It’s actually a little unusual, does it have something to do with your quirk? ‘Cause it makes it sound really alluring, if that’s the right word? Like, I can’t help but listen to it and it sounds... charismatic? Or maybe it’s just because you are charismatic-? Wait, I don’t know you, so I wouldn’t be able to tell-”

There’s a raised brow sent his way.

He takes a long sip from his coffee and Midoriya squeaks as his eyes drift absently towards the ceiling, clearly wondering if he should say anything. Point out how his rambling words could be taken, especially if someone overheard them.

“T-That’s not to say that I’m t-trying to lead you on or anything! I was just c-curious and I- I could’ve worded it better- I was just rambling and... and...!”

“I ‘spose you missed the lesson on not talking to strangers.” He says, a smirk growing on his face. And Midoriya feels something in him squeak. “Especially the tempting ones.”

“T-The-The t-t-tempting-?"

A sip from his coffee.

Midoriya stumbles over his own feet. “N-No, that’s- um. I didn’t mean to-!” He’s flustered, horribly, horribly red. And he thinks the worst part of it is because his voice really is just that smooth and enticing. Unnatural. “T-That’s not what I meant!"

“Sure.”

He clearly doesn’t believe him.

And Midoriya can’t even blame him.

The problem is that the boy isn’t wrong in his personal description, even if he... thinks he said it more as a joke than anything. Tempting was the perfect word for it. It was an odd feeling actually, one that seemed to make his mutterings and ramblings even worse than they usually were, not helped by the fact that he didn’t get the urge to stop. Not in this guy’s presence. He was calming, in a way, with his quiet and easy disposition. But the worst of it did come from what little he did say-

Midoriya wanted to speak.

He wanted to keep the conversation going. He wanted to speak and respond and every time he spoke again it just made him want to say something more. It was... he wanted to say it’s nice. To feel the need to speak but not the need to close his mouth and shut up, his anxiety and fears telling him “he’ll only freak people out and get them to ignore him” don’t seem quite as loud as before, and he doesn’t know if it’s a good thing or not- because his mouth just keeps opening and he just keeps rambling and, while the guy doesn’t tell him to stop, he’s not sure if he wants to hear what's on his mind either.

(Tsuyu dying. Aizawa-sensei dying.

And he can’t do anything-)

So, he chatters on about something safer because he doesn’t want to spill his heart out to even ‘tempting strangers’. 

“-the Sports Festival is coming up and it seems like everyone is getting really pumped for it. I mean, that’s obvious. It’s such a big event. But Jirou said she ran into someone who said that people could be transferred between courses and someone could take our place in the Hero Course if they performed well enough-”

He doesn’t know why he does it, but Midoriya is slightly aware of the pause in the student's steps as he follows along, not a fumble but just a... pause. Like he’d been struck by a sudden thought. And he notices as sharp eyes- seemingly no longer bothered by whatever headache he’d been nursing, no longer distracted by his own disinterest- turn to him and Midoriya has the oddest feeling that he’s being assessed.

He stutters but his words don’t stop. “-s-s-so I guess everyone will be trying to win the Sports Festival, sin-since it’s such a... such a... uhm. Strong... op-opportuni-tunity...”

“Of course.”

Midoriya takes a step back, his nerves suddenly rising and it feels like all his muscles grow taut. He’s taller than him, easily a full head taller than him, but somehow he seems even bigger than that, and Midoriya takes another step back as he leans over him. He feels like he’s stuck in his shadow. And, all of a sudden, he wants to shrink and hideaway and-

He can feel a shiver running up his spine and the boy, who’s name he still doesn’t know, doesn’t feel so nice and captivating anymore.

Dark, indigo eyes stare down at him, half lidded and cold. There’s an edge to them; a sharp, dangerous edge that makes him think of a knife, ready to be cruelly twisted in his gut. The charming look has turned calculating, focused, and there’s a treacherous tilt to his head, as if he was looking for all his skill and strength-

And he was finding him lacking.

Midoriya swallows heavily. “B-But it’s just a competition, isn’t it...?” He says shakily, and it’s not because he wants to speak. If he was being honest, he just wanted to shut his mouth and never say a word again. But something is telling him he can’t.

It gets him a narrowed look, those dangerous eyes squinting at him as if he’d said something particularly distasteful. “Maybe to you. But a strong, heroic quirk can only take you so far-” He taunts, a mocking lilt to his voice, but it’s quiet. There’s no bravado or arrogance. It’s not a kind of confidence that he’s used to, this one is too... reticent.

And that alluring feeling has been replaced with something different... something less trustworthy. It feels like he’s walking on a tightrope, his legs shaking, and no matter where he looks there’s something sinister- something malicious lurking.

It’s hungry.

Like it hadn’t been fed in years. Like it’d been left to grow and rot, screaming from deprivation, leaving nothing behind but that cold and ruthless urge to tear everything to shreds in its wake. Something that had learned, in its desperation, how to rip and tear and feed on even the strongest- to drown them beneath its weight- to be cruel and ferocious and leave nothing, not even hope, behind it.

“-and we’ll see how it saves you Hero Course students when you’re up against others with something more important on the line.”

Midoriya feels like a bucket of ice has been dumped over him.

It feels like a part of him is drowning.

(He remembers in an early history class, perhaps in his first year of middle school, there had been a section on mythology and legends across the world. Of how different cultures had their own creatures and stories dating back eras and eras and how, some of them, still survived to this day and even grew stronger as Quirks came in, because it was something that could be used as a frame of reference for a lot of the early-Quirks that popped up.

He’d found it incredibly interesting. Not as interesting as heroes and actual, real quirks, but it was nice to see how legends of the past could be used as comparison for the powers of today.

And one of those creatures, he can’t help but think about-)

He doesn’t know where he gets the strength. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s so hypnotizing that his mouth is just moving on his own, no longer with his permission. “You want to win the Sports Festival then.”

Indigo eyes flicker. There’s a brief, amused look that flashes through them, but then it’s just cold and hard. 

“What kind of an idiot goes into a fight preparing to lose?”

His voice catches in his throat. His instincts are screaming at him not to answer, that something is wrong- wrong- wrong- but his mouth seems to want to move of its own accord, and the noise he makes is strangled before he can stop himself. And he thinks- this is it. It’s all over. Even though he doesn’t know why.

He gets a dark look.

Then the boy turns and walks away, his deadly, treacherous and- now he knows- deceitful aura following after him.

(-a siren. 

A dangerous creature that lured in sailors with its voice, beautiful and seductive in some myths, but in others... In others it was a monster that would terrify even the cruelest, most jaded of sailors. A monster that would lie in wait as it called out to any who listened with it’s bewitching, enchanting voice- prepared to drown all who made the mistake of following it, of trusting it, of listening to it’s allure.)

Midoriya feels himself release a shaky breath.

“-Hey, hey, Deku-? Are you alright?” A concerned Uraraka asks, her fingers tapping against each other and her brows furrowed in worry. “You look like your soul is trying to escape your body!”

He opens his mouth-

And nothing but a terrified, intimidated squeak comes out.

...

...

Shinsou comes back to their group with a bitter look on his face and a half-drained coffee as he takes a seat on the bench directly next to Medama, who is fiddling with her notebook and, at first, doesn’t notice his obvious bad mood. “What’s wrong, Shin-sou?” He shakes his head, waving a hand and places the strawberry milk in her lap. “Oh? What’s this for?”

“You said you wanted one awhile ago.”

She had. He can’t even remember when exactly, just remembers that she’d one day said absently that she’d wanted to try one of the cold, sweeter drinks that they kept in the vending machines and how she should probably remember to go grab one sometimes. Apparently, she loved fruit-flavored things, even better when it was actual fruit, and it was hard to get them when it wasn’t the right season for it.

“...Yeah, I- Thank you. You didn’t have to.” Given how she’s smiling, her face soft with the look, he kinda feels like he did have to. “That’s sweet of you, Shin.” She says, with such genuine happiness in her voice that it makes him stop thinking about how it was one of the most expensive drinks they had in the vending machines. The pink liquid was just about the same shade as her, well, everything and he couldn’t help but feel as if it suited her in more ways than one.

His bad mood alleviates just a tad and he- “I think a Hero Course student was flirting with me.” She blinks, looking up as she sips at the glass, her lips slightly stained with the rosy coloring they’d added to make it all the brighter shade. She doesn’t seem the slightest bit startled by the news and he doesn’t even know why he says it himself. “He was rambling about my voice. Said it was alluring.” He quotes with a roll of his eyes. What a bunch of-

“Mnh, well, I can’t say I’m surprised. Your voice is gorgeous and your quirk certainly doesn’t help.” Medama smiles, as if she hadn’t startled him out of his thoughts. “I was actually going to ask if you’d noticed- because I don’t think... most people have? It’s easier to notice when you’re used to quirks not being so prevalent, ‘cause I imagine it can kind of get lost in the- well, for lack of a better word, other people’s quirks are typically louder, so it’s just less obvious to everyone else. I guess.”

“I- What?”

He... kinda gets what she’s saying.

His mother’s voice seemed to vibrate in the back of her throat whenever she used it, but they’d done Quirk Counselling when he was younger and he knew he didn’t have that- it was a striking noise. A hum, like a computer overheating or a bee buzzing in your ear. It would be distinct. Medama doesn’t know about that though and she doesn’t have the frame of reference to compare, so she tilts her head and gives her own description and- “It’s really subtle actually. I think that works more in your favor though,” she laughs lightly, “it’s like- I don’t know. Do you ever have something really good happen? Or you get hit by just the right breeze and it makes you shiver, but in a good way? It feels like that. It gives me chills.”

She leans forward, elbows on her knees as she lets one of her palms hold her cheek, the other clutching her strawberry drink close. Her eyes crinkle with a delighted smile, her tongue flicking out to taste her strawberry-flavored lips. “It’s lovely. Your voice.” She says softly, the shadow of the trees above rustling over her face and spotting her with beams of light. “I love listening to it. And every word you say.”

He swallows, something thick in his throat.

It feels like his heart is squeezing in his chest, it’s a deep feeling and it makes his whole body feel tight. Like he’s about to fumble and make a fool out of himself.

(He feels oddly warm.

His hands squeeze into fists, the feeling of his nails pressing into his palms helping to distract from the urge to just run them through his hair and he looks away from her. Even as she tilts her head and looks confused. And his knee bounces with a jittery feeling of energy that he can’t quite contain, for some reason.)

“-And you think it’s my quirk?” He blurts, not really thinking.

She blinks. “Uh.”

“You think it’s my quirk doing that?”

Her brow furrows, like she didn’t expect him to ask that, and she frowns slightly. “Well, I mean, I guess. But it’s still just a piece of you and-”

He groans slightly, face falling in his hands. Actually, now that he’d said it out loud, he was- realizing how that could prove to be a problem and that jittery, energetic feeling that had come out of nowhere suddenly had his mind turning. “That... explains some things.”

“I- It’s really subtle.” She reiterates, her frown deepening. “Honestly, once you notice it, it’s not like it really does anything. It kinda reminds me of a type of glamour, actually. It’s nice. I like it.”

“Really? Or do you just think you do?” He shakes his head, that frustrated look from before coming back. “If my voice is manipulative like my quirk, even when I’m not using it, then it’s obviously going to make people even more on edge and suspicious of me-”

Medama stares at him. A flat look on her face.

“-damn it. I’ll have to figure out a way to hide it or else those Hero-Wannabe’s will figure out how my quirk works even despite all the work we’ve been doing to hide it-”

And then she takes a long sip of her strawberry-flavored drink, sharing a dull look with Kiko and Ikimaru who look like they’re seconds away from either face palming or laughing right in her face or giving Shinsou the same dry, flat look she was giving him.

“-I’m going to go talk to Kayama-sensei about the kinds of support items allowed.”

“Right...” She trails off. “Have fun?”

“Good luck!”

They watch as he nods, that determination on his face mixing with his frustration and the new knowledge that he’d been given about his quirk, before he’s hurrying away. Making sure to steal an apple before he goes.

There’s a long pause as they watch him disappear.

Medama sighs, but it doesn’t do anything to keep the wide grin from spreading across her face. Nor does it keep the mad giggle from breaking out from somewhere deep in her chest. “He’s... so stupid.” But she says it fondly and there’s a breathless laughter in her voice. “He’s such a dork, I can’t even...” She feels impossibly light and like she’s floating on air itself. And she feels bubbly, like her emotions just want to come falling out of her. She looks to her friends, suddenly aware that they had been watching the whole thing. “Did I- Did I make it sound like that’s what I was trying to say? I-”

Oh, she laughs, hands clapping in delight.

“I mean, I didn’t even mean to say all that, but that was... I was so obvious, wasn’t I?”

Ikimaru pinches his fingers together, not quite touching as he throws her a shaky smile, “A bit.”

Kiko snorts. “And you wondered how the class could possibly know about your crush.”

“Aa, man...” Medama moans, laying back on the bench as her hands cover her face, her heart beating loudly in her chest and her stomach rolling with tumultuous feelings. “I just- It’s so embarrassing. I keep- I keep saying all these things and I... can’t help it. He makes it so easy to just say. ” She blinks from behind the hands cupping her face, she feels absolutely pink and red. So flustered that it was hard to put into words. 

She makes a quiet noise in the back of her throat, vaguely reminiscent of a scream and her legs kick slightly before she sits back up.

The strawberry milk drink is clutched to her chest and tastes oh-so sweet and delicious. The frosty glass is slightly warm with the memory of his hand. “Gosh,” she hums, the taste still light on her tongue, and staining her lips, “why is he so sweet to me?”

.

.

.

Chapter Text

"Are you sure about this?"

"Of course I am."

"...I know you say that. But it doesn't seem like you are." He clenches his fists at his side. "I don't... With what Hano had assumed, is it really a good idea? Others might think the same and- and now I'll actually be doing it. There's still time for me to ask Ikimaru or Kiko-"

"Ikimaru has Vice President duties to attend to and Kiko wouldn't be able to test what we want to. Not to the same degree, at least."

"...I-"

"Hey, hey." She grasps his hand, fingers tucking between his own as she meets his startled expression. "It's just a piece of you that you're sharing with me. I trust you, Shin. I could never be scared of you, promise."

(Oh, there's that wobbly feeling again.)

She gives him a soft smile, easy and simple. So simple. As if there was nothing wrong in the world. Nothing to be afraid of. "If you don't want to, that's fine. It's your decision. But... I'm here. What's that telling you?" It's a repeat of the last time she'd said it, and it makes something catch in his throat and something warm and bubbly fill his chest just the same as it did before.

(He doesn't think it's normal.

To feel like he's going to fall over, just because someone's hands are so soft- their smile so warm- and their voice so vulnerable and vibrant that it causes shivers.)

He sucks in a deep breath. Nods. Determined. Even if still reluctant. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

She smiles, teeth showing with the force of her grin. And his own is shaky in return. He doesn't know how to tell her, how to get it across without experience, just how it feels to be under the influence of his quirk. She seems so excited, he can't imagine why- practically skipping from foot to foot as she pulls away from him-

(He already misses the feeling of her holding his hand.)

-and gives a nod from across the field.

"Are you both ready?" Kayama-sensei calls from where she stands off to the side, watching the whole scene with a critical eye. He's glad that she doesn't mention anything about how he'd frozen before he'd even reached the middle of the field, at the sight of Medama's smile, and instantly regretted everything that had led to this moment. Glad that she doesn't mention how he'd nearly fallen in his panic to step back, step away-

Nor did she draw any attention to the way Medama had reached out to him, voice as sweet as a whisper, and how this didn't seem so daunting anymore.

The problem is. It shouldn't be. It should be easy.

But he doesn't want to see that smile disappear. When she learned just how it felt to be under his control, when she began to think about what he could do and not what he would.

"Medama. Last chance," he warns, face pinched, "do you still want to do this?"

There's something in his voice. Something dangerous and tempting. It's a call that could spell death to those who answer it but could spell something more to those who took a chance on it.

She answers without hesitation. Without reservation.

"Trust in me, Shinsou." She says, voice hard and ready. A determination there that he admires, one that helps soothe the bundle of nerves in his stomach. "I'm all in."

He takes her mind in his hands.

(If she trusts him, then it's only right that he return the favor. That he trust that she won't turn and twist in fear and hate afterwards.)

And.

Crushes it.

...

...

Shinsou kicks at the ground, eyes flicking between his feet and the sight of Medama with a blank face. Her lips are slightly parted, not slack jawed, but he can see how they fail to move from their position. How her face has been wiped clean of every expression, every flaw, and left nothing but a blank slate for him to work off of.

He holds the shattered remains of her mind's connection to her body. Holds her motor functions, reasoning, and every little thing that makes her her in some deep part of him.

He tries to soothe it.

(It's not as if he can feel her panic. Feel any sort of struggle. That's not how his quirk works. In some aspects, it's frighteningly dull. In this, it's terrifying.

He wishes he could feel what they felt. Could understand when loss of awareness became fear and the want to fight back, at least then he would know. Would understand.

But there's none. Because there is nothing.

It's not about Will. It's not about Strength. Not about consent or refusal. It's simply about doing what you're told and everyone- everyone- is bound to listen.)

"Jump."

She jumps.

"Turn in a circle."

She turns.

"Touch your toes."

She does.

Shinsou feels himself grow quieter and quieter as he gives a small order after a small order. He tries not to look at Kayama-sensei, who is tense and who's back is ramrod straight as she watches. She doesn't look at him. Only watches Medama's movements that are only the slightest bit... unnatural.

It's not clunky. It's just- too perfect, almost. If he had to describe it. Like she was doing everything as if she had trained for it her whole life, not wasting a single muscle or twitch on anything that may bog down her movement, to follow his order as directly as possible.

"Does she have to... hear you when you tell her to do something?" Kayama-sensei eventually manages to ask, trying not to look... well, trying not to look creeped out by how blank and puppet-like Medama is. "Or is it just whenever you want?"

Shinsou gives her a look that tells him he understands, that he already knows how creepy this is and she doesn't have to try and hide it for his sake. There is something... intrinsically and instinctively wrong about the sight of someone being made into a puppet by his voice.

It creates an uncanny valley sort of effect.

Those that didn't know what to look for would probably wave it off, especially if he was giving more specific instructions for them to follow, but anyone that took a second to look more deeply- they'd be hit by just... a feeling of something being wrong, unnatural, out of place. 

"As far as I'm aware, they have to hear me." He says thinly between instructions. "But they always seem to have a way of listening." Even when he was whispering, even when he was far away, they could still hear the hum of his voice giving them an order.

""As far as you're aware?""

"...I don't get many opportunities to use my quirk. For some reason, people don't seem to like it." The sarcasm is palpable. "Do a push up."

Medama does a singular pushup.

"Do as many pushups as you can."

Medama steadily begins to do push-ups and he takes a deep breath, turning to Kayama-sensei. "Theoretically, it's possible that I could control them without a direct order-" His mother could, to a degree. "-but I haven't made a habit of leaving my words up to interpretation. Others like to jump to conclusions."

He crouches down low, lazily watching Medama do push up after push up. Counting them. He'd seen her make it up to fifty before with relative ease, so he wouldn't be surprised if she could go beyond it.

"You should test it later."

"Mnh. Yeah."

"What are you looking to test right now?"

"Medama wanted to know, since pain breaks people out of my control, if she'd snap out due to muscle pain." He rests his head on his palms, elbows balanced on his knees as he watches his blank-faced friend do one after another. "See if she'll break out of it due to overwork or if she'll just keep going through it or if, because of the phrasing, she'll know exactly how much she can do and will stop then."

"She asked you to work her until she collapsed?"

"...Not in so many words," he rubs the back of his neck, "but yes."

There's something deeply wrong about seeing Medama so lifeless. So blank. It's... different from the other times he's used his quirk on people, somehow so much more obvious.

It's the eyes, he realizes with a start. It's her eyes.

They don't seem as vibrant.

Shinsou knew that she had to put effort into her expressions; it was obvious after he'd met her mother that she must have dedicated an incredible amount of time, patience, and work into making herself seem... more alive.

He knows that she often exaggerates her expressions, that she's practiced it to the point that those exaggerations had become mostly real.

But it was still upsetting to notice how- dead. She looked. Without them.

(He didn't like that she was blank.

He wanted to be able to see her frown- see her smile- wanted to see every little range of emotion that passed across her face because then it meant something.)

He lets out a shaky breath that he didn't know he'd been holding. "...I'll stop her if she just keeps going. We- She timed how many pushups she could do before this. She could go for a pretty long time overall but she said it started hurting pretty quick." He chewed on the inside of his cheek, focused on Medama and the timer she'd set on her watch. "Said to let her go for fifteen minutes over what she did before at most."

"Aa, good. That should keep her from injuring herself at least..." 

Yeah.

He... He didn't want to hurt her. On purpose or accident, it didn't matter. Honestly, if he had his way, he would've already snapped her from his control and spoken to her about how she felt about it. And, for some reason, she had simply shook her head and told him to keep going.

He thinks she thought he would lose his nerve if they took it step by step. And she told him that it would be better to just rip it off like a band aid. Get it all done at once and then they could discuss it-

He didn't know how he felt about the idea but he hadn't an argument prepared and she had a way of being convincing.

(She was also completely right.

He wants to break her free. He wants to let her go- because some part of him just wants to hold on tight and never let go and that... terrifies him. That he wants to be able to hold onto her and keep a piece of her with him forever.

But this is too big of a piece. When he looks at her, he wants her to still be her. Not some empty husk that bends to his will, not some puppet for him to manipulate and control. 

He wants the Medama that calls him sweet because he got her strawberry milk. He wants the Medama that cries when her friends get hurt on her behalf. He wants the Medama that thinks his cat hates her and he wants the Medama who can tease and joke around with him, who easily gives compliments and says things that make his ears burn, who likes blankets and curling up into his side, and who argues like she wears her heart on her sleeve and makes him afraid that he'll break it.)

His hand is shaking, jittery with nerves and he feels like he wants to punch something. He wants to go grab his bike and run away to the furthest corner of the world and just scream.

He doesn't and the time ticks on.

Medama doesn't stop. Her arms are shaking with stress and he can see sweat beginning to drip down the side of her face- it should be hurting her now. They're minutes away from the time frame they had set and his teeth clench at the discovery that she just- wasn't- stopping-

"How much longer?" Kayama-sensei asks and he can see that she's shifting from foot to foot, her eyes are sharp and assessing and there's a worried furrow to her brow.

"...Two minutes. And then the fifteen."

"Right."

There's a wobble.

Shinsou tenses.

Medama goes down, holds the position and he thinks she finally managed to break out of it, but no- she completes another push up- then another- 

He can see the way her body shakes, pushed far past the point of no return, can hear the slight, unnatural hitch of her breath.

(It feels distinctly out of place.

It feels like a recording. Because it just repeats, repeats, exactly the same every time.)

"...On what level does self-preservation begin to act up?"

He takes a long moment to answer.

Eyes closing, a sigh escaping through his nose.

"It doesn't."

Kayama-sensei swallows. "Not at all. No survival instincts?"

"...None. I'm in control. Only me." He frowns, looking at the ground as his shoulders come up to hug his neck. "I could make a person do anything. So long as it doesn't require mental power, there's no thinking- no will- none of that's even involved. I'm entirely puppeteering them." He gives a short, bark of a laugh, there's no humor. "I could make someone kill themselves, if I wanted to. I could make them kill a loved one. Steal. Hurt. Assault."

His mouth is dry. He feels like something in his throat is squeezing, tight and twisted, and his voice feels like it's a croak.

"I... I could make them walk... directly into oncoming traffic." Everything feels so far away. So very far away and he looks up, the sun blinding him. "If I gave the wrong instruction, if I was even the slightest bit careless... I could hurt someone beyond comprehension." It comes out like a snarl, violent and angry and frustrated-

There's a pause.

Silence between them, nothing but Medama's gasping and the shaking, painful movement of her limbs stuck in an endless repetitive action that she had no control over.

He gives her a cold, cruel smirk- "Are you scared?"

(He is.)

Kayama-sensei shivers. And, really, that's answer enough. Or it would be, if she hadn't blinked, something pained coming over her and- "Oh, Shinsou... " She whispers, covering her mouth and her eyes are wet, he whips back around to stare at her, "Who did you hurt?"

(It's not accusing.

It's deeply sorrowful and empathetic and he doesn't see the instant regret show on her face due to the phrasing.)

He feels a lump in his throat.

His eyes widen and something in him just goes blank. "I...!"

(-there's screaming, he doesn't understand. He's small, too small, and everything is just crashing down around him. 

There's someone grabbing onto his forearm, their hand so much bigger that it easily wraps around it, could wrap around it twice if that were possible, and he feels tears and snot run down his face. He doesn't understand. He doesn't understand why he's being dragged across the ground, his knees scraping against concrete and others hands pulling at his hair, as strangers tug him to and fro and... and...

They look at him with such hate and vitriol.

And he just doesn't understand.

He's too young to. He's too young to realize why they're throwing him onto the ground and why someone is stomping on him and he's just screaming- wailing- and wondering-

"You did this...?"

A voice so familiar asked, so breathless and horrified, and there was no hate in those eyes. Only horror. Only dread. And he would have deserved that hate, he would have expected it, but he's pressed into a warm embrace as he's pulled free from those that would hurt him and he sobs.

You did this.

It stopped feeling like a question. At some point.

And something in him broke into a million pieces.)

Shinsou's expression is blank and dead and he stares at nothing. He says nothing.

Medama's watch beeps.

And it startles him free from whatever memory had been pulled to the surface. "...Mhn." He releases her in the same second, before the beep can even finish, and he feels the connection sever abruptly.

He waits.

Medama collapses to the ground, directly onto her face. A quiet groan escapes her and he can see her limbs shaking from where he is and- He stands up, dusting off his pants as he quietly walks up to her collapsed form in the dust and dirt.

She pushes against the ground, managing to roll over onto her back and just- sucking in a deep breath, her face twitching with pain, and Shinsou leans over her. He's waiting.

And her eyes quietly come open as she just... breathes.

...

...

A shroud.

It's not nothingness.

It's like being asleep and yet, somehow, still aware of her body. She can't seem to form words anymore, her vocal cords are strangely useless, and some part of her is aware that her eyes are open and seeing but it's like a dark vignette has taken to tinge every little piece of the world, casting shadows on it.

It's an endlessness; an eternity.

It feels warm.

Like she's submerged.

And usually that thought would terrify her, would make her want to scream and cry, tears pricking at her eyes as she fought against it all.

But...

It's safe. She doesn't think it's supposed to feel that way. But it does. It feels safe and warm and she's only partly aware of the pain in her limbs, it's dull and distant and, while it's only growing, it feels muted. There is a vague awareness of a conversation going on but it feels so distant that she can hardly pay attention to even a word.

It's like the whole world could pass her by and she wouldn't even notice.

Then, all at once, it's ending. She can hear her watch beep as she gasps and goes face planting directly into the ground. Suddenly aware of exactly how much time had passed because she can certainly feel it. Everything hurts. Everything-

And she pushes off the ground, somehow, managing to roll onto her back and stare up at the blue, very blue sky and it's blinding sun for just a moment before Shinsou's silhouette is falling over her frame. She can hardly see him in this lighting. But she can practically hear his nerves, hear his dismay and trepidation, and all his tiny little fears.

She smiles.

"Shin-sou~ " She whines, voice oddly soft as she shakily reaches her arms up. They hurt. They hurt so bad and it feels like she's made of jelly. "Everything aches. We should have done sit-ups. At least then I would have abs."

He doesn't respond.

She blinks, brow furrowing in worry.

"Shin...?"

He lets out a shaky breath and she feels a hand on her face, she leans her cheek into his rough palm, eyes closing, humming in delight as she lets her hands fall to her stomach. Feeling her chest rise and fall with every tired breath. A thumb rubs absently over her cheek, passing just below her eyelid, as if checking for tears and prepared to wipe them away if need be.

Her smile is honeyed saccharine.

"...Are you sure you're okay?" His voice sounds rough, husky with some thick emotion that he is desperately trying to hide. His teeth gritting as he presses the back of his wrist to his mouth. If her eyes were open, she would see that it looks like he's squinting to try and keep his raw emotions from bubbling out. "I didn't... hurt you? You're not- afraid?"

"Mnh, no." His hands are rough and she can feel the callouses that he'd been building, but the pads of his fingers are untouched and smooth. She tilts her head to press closer. The warmth he's giving off is enough to have her mind foggy and quietly reveling in the small touches. "I know I'm safe in your hands."

He pulls away. And her eyes creak open at the sudden loss, watching as he yanks his hand away. Shaky- trembling, if she was being honest- as he tucks it away and doesn't reach back out.

He doesn't try to touch her again.

She doesn't know why.

(It hurts a little. 

But that's personal, that's her fault- because she's fallen a bit too in love with his touch, to the point that she's craving the most minute caresses, the friendly hugs, and desperate for that fluttering feeling that hits her every time.)

But when he refuses to look at her, to meet her gaze, something in her weeps. Just a bit.

-0-

“Hey, Shin-sou,” she quickly hurries after him, shoving books in her bag and gathering up her pencils, “hey, wait up!” She throws her hand up in a small wave to try and catch his attention, pushing through their fellow classmates to fall by his side.

She taps on his opposite shoulder and watches him turn, only to pop up on his other side with a wide smile. She's walking backwards and organizing her bag at the same time because, in her rush, some of it had gotten crumpled. "I know you're heading off to Sora's today to train. But that's not usually for awhile yet-"

She stumbles slightly and gives him a grateful glance when she realizes he'd put out a hand to try and catch her if she actually fell.

"-and Iki, Kiko, and I were thinking about heading over to that arcade we went to last time? If you want to join us. There was also this really cute cafe that we heard some older students talking about and... Shin-sou?"

She waits for an answer as he frowns.

He's got a furrow to his brow and a tense expression and she doesn't know why but it makes her smile slip away with worry, "...Shinsou?"

"Mnh?"

"I... do you want to come? If it's the arcade and about me beating you," she teases, hoping that it'll help to take that look off his face, "then we can see about doing something different-"

"No."

"No?" She blinks. "So the arcade is fine then?"

He shakes his head, then clarifies, "No. I'm not going anywhere."

"Oh, uh- Okay." She twirls some strands of pink hair between her fingers and wonders why he says it so harshly, like he's biting his words. "Are you going to train early today then? Or just work on homework-?"

He gives a hum.

It's distracted at best and doesn't really answer any of her questions and she trails off, stopping in her tracks as he pulls ahead. "Text me if you change your mind?" She calls after him and then receives nothing else, trying not think about how it felt like he was trying to just... get away as fast as possible.

She's frowning as she returns to Iki and Kiko as they come out of the classroom with their things. “He's not coming?”

“Doesn’t seem like it...”

“Well don’t look so down.” Kiko huffs, giving her a flat look. “What’s wrong with just hanging out with us?”

Medama giggles, “Sorry,” she has a point, it wasn't as if she needed to spend every day with Shinsou. "So you wanted to challenge me on Hero Fighter, is that right? And yet, it doesn't seem like you're prepared to lose." It was just, when she looked back over her shoulder, she couldn't help but feel a little worried.

...

...

Medama has about ten bobby pins that she’s trying to use to pin up her hair and about eight colorful clips to hold back the bigger pieces, the rest of it had been struggled into a braided bun that had taken way too long to actually put up. 

But it was worth it. 

With the requirements of wearing a uniform, there wasn’t much opportunity for self-expression, especially since the rules were rather strict on what few accessories were allowed but, thankfully, hair ties and clips weren’t against the school rules- so long as they weren’t sparkly and they didn’t catch the light and, like, accidentally blind someone with their shininess.

And so she’d found the perfect additions, some dull, but colorful, wood-made clips that came in all shapes and sizes and helped her push just about everything up and out of the way.

...Except for one part of her bangs, which swept over her right eye no matter how hard she tried to pin it back. Her knuckles kept hitting her horns and everytime she thought she finally had it, the pieces would fall loose and back in her face. At this point, it was a losing battle. Unless she managed to find another pair of hands to help her out sometime soon but, unfortunately, she had no such thing.

So, she had sighed, and accepted the fact that her curly hair just wanted to be stubborn for the day and made her way to school.

It's silly.

She's so incredibly silly.

Her nerves are buzzing inside her like static and she can't quite push them down, it makes her feel like an energy is brimming inside her and is just screaming to get out. "Oh, hey, Shinsou," her smile is bright and breathless, "how did training with Sora... go...?"

She trails off as he steps around her without so much as a glance as he takes to his seat, refusing to even look her way.

And she feels like there's a lump in his throat, like all the wind had been knocked from her sails, and... she doesn't approach him, doesn't say anything, not when he so blatantly wants to be left alone. She creeps past him and to her seat and falls quiet, that small hopeful happiness in her chest seems to fall.

And those fuzzy bubbles and butterflies feel stale and unmoving, frozen in her stomach and sickly with a weight that holds them down.

(She's stupid. It was silly. And she knows he wasn't the type to care about, admittedly, trivial things but...

But she had wanted to show him her new clips. Still wanted to share it with him, even if all he gave her was a hum and a glance or nodded along to whatever rambled words she'd managed to get out.

Suddenly, she feels a bit like an idiot and embarrassment creeps up through her chest and, yes, she’s not one to let embarrassment get to her but she’s also not one to seek it out and... Medama ends up removing a large portion of the clips and stuffing them into a pocket in her bag, telling herself that she'll wear them on another day. Because they suddenly seem so very eye-catching, despite the fact that she got them specifically because they weren't and... and has to wonder why she cares so much. Cares so much that it feels like something is burning behind her eyes.)

...

...

She’s got a strawberry milk nestled between her legs, the expensive drink feels sharply cold against her tight-clad thighs and she wipes her thumb against the lip of the glass. Her ankles are crossed over each other, pulled underneath her to keep her from swinging them back and forth, and she leans back- staring up at the sky through the leaves of the tree.

It was a very blue day, bordering on grey, but she didn't think it was going to rain. There weren’t any clouds to be seen. Not for miles.

It just felt... blue.

And the strawberry milk tasted bittersweet and she couldn't quite swallow it.

She has a raw feeling in her chest, slowly growing, little nicks and tears that feel so very tiny but are steadily becoming cracks the more her heart beats in her chest. The longer it's left alone. 

Truthfully, she just feels tired. Or, at least, that's as much as she can put into words. The rest is just a physical and deep aching that feels hopeless and horrible. It's all she can do to lean back and close her eyes, listening to the rustling leaves and the distant chatter of students so very far away.

Her bottom lip quivers.

The unsweetened dark coffee drink that she doesn't even like is tucked against her hip, left untouched as her fingers continue to absently circle the lip of her own glass. She doesn't think she could take a sip without wanting to spit it back out.

The taste has grown too bitter for her to handle.

-0-

"...I don't like your quirk."

"Tell me something I don't know."

He mumbles, flipping through the textbook, not even glancing up at her. The fact that Chikuchi hasn’t let up since the start of the year is, admittedly, a little surprising. Because she just seemed so... intense with it. Usually, all he got was comments and people talking behind his back and the few that decided to make him their business, but Chikuchi was- well, it honestly just felt as if she was going through the motions at this point. 

She was annoying. All bark and no bite.

Some part of him found her stubbornness and the fact that she never tried to hide her dislike for him kind of refreshing. Then she’d open her mouth and he wouldn’t care anymore whether she was different or better because she spouted the same shit as all the rest. 

“That’s not what I meant.” She huffs, she’s long since pushed her textbook away. Sitting with her arms crossed as she glared down at the papers and case studies for their group project that he knew she was having a terrible time comprehending. “I think your quirk is scary and that’s... not going to change.”

“It’s funny how you think you're the first.” He grunts, spinning one of his highlighters in his hands and pulling out a pen to write in the space between paragraphs and add to the sticky notes that were starting to make his textbook creak and groan. “Are you going to work on the project or do you just want to keep on... doing whatever it is that you’re doing?” He waves a hand at her and the fact that she’d accomplished all of a quarter of the annotation compared to him, if even that. She really couldn’t pick out what was important and what wasn’t and he could tell that her lack of understanding of the text was really beginning to bog down her work ethic, which he knew could be good when she tried... but, well, she was working with him, so clearly she wasn’t going to.

Chikuchi rolls her eyes, she’s silent.

Part of her still believes that he and Medama had been lying to her when they’d told her that his quirk wasn’t response based... she was, of course, right. But she also wasn’t completely sure what was going on with him and that was good enough. He’d just wanted her to continue second-guessing everything.

“My point is-”

“Oh, you had a point?”

He gets a furious glare and she continues like he hasn't spoken. “-just because I think your quirk is scary, doesn’t mean other people do. Doesn’t mean you do. I mean, it’s something you live with, so I guess people have told you how to feel about it but it’s not like they can tell you what to think.”

He pauses-

(He tries not to think about how Medama had pressed close to his hand, how her skin had felt so soft beneath his fingers, and how he’d immediately checked for tears, desperate to brush them away and had nearly collapsed in relief when he discovered he wasn’t the cause of any more.

He tries not to think of how she smiled at him. How she seemed so very fragile and real in the palm of his hands. How he’d felt her immediately relax and draw closer to his touch, without a hint of fear or worry or prejudice. How he felt like he could break her so very easily, destroy her piece by beautiful piece-

Him and his quirk had already been the cause of so much grief that the guilty feeling that he’d been trying to bury beneath layers and layers of her warm smiles and his own selfishness had grown suffocating. Burning. Violent. To the point it made his heart spasm and squeeze as memories repeated in his head and that childhood ache, that open wound that he would never recover from, seemed to throb.

And she had just smiled, despite it all, had just smiled and said that she knew she was safe in his hands and he had the horrible, terrible numbing thought that, maybe, she wasn’t.)

“...I’m perfectly aware of how scary my quirk is.”

(-she had never quite looked at him the same and something in him is broken into shards-)

Shinsou opens his mouth, closes it, looks away. “You don’t have to try and hammer it home.”

(It wasn’t the brainwashing that he’d been thinking about, in the end. 

It’d been the reminder of just how much pain and suffering he could cause if he was even the slightest bit careless, thoughtless- because he didn’t have the luxury of making mistakes. Not when he held someone and their life in his hands. Not when he could so easily tear them to shreds, even on accident, if he was even the tiniest bit negligent.

Not when he could be holding Medama in his hand and she would welcome it. Not when she spoke with such a serenity and revelry and an ease that made his body tremble, as if there was nowhere safer in the world for her to be but in his hands, nowhere she’d rather be.

That there was only peace and love when she fell into his arms.

He doesn’t know how she can make it seem so simple. So plain. So genuine. And he’d say that she didn’t understand- couldn’t comprehend what she was saying- but something was telling him that wasn’t true. That she knew exactly the significance, the importance she was placing on him, and she did it anyway. He had always wanted someone to trust in him, to look up at him and feel safe, but that level of trust was... absolutely terrifying.

Absolutely inconceivable.

Because Shinsou didn’t know if he even trusted himself not to make a mistake.)

Chikuchi frowns. “But... other people don’t care how scary you are.” She says slowly and he raises a brow at her, as if his mind isn’t elsewhere. “Okay, maybe most do but Medama doesn’t.”

That was the problem. That she was giving away too much, too much all at once and he didn’t know how to handle any of it.

“So why have you been avoiding her?” He stares at his paper, expression blank. And she carries on like he was waiting to hear her speak. "You have one of the prettiest and sweetest girls I've ever met following after you like you hung the moon and created the stars and you’re just... going to throw that all away?”

“Why do you care?”

“Do you think you’re the only one that likes her-?”

He looks up, his gaze narrowed and his voice venomous and acidic. “...Are you talking about your so-called ‘crush’ on her? That’s superficial at best.”

The genuinely hurt expression on her face startles him and he watches, baffled, as she seems to struggle for a minute before settling on a slightly hoarse, “Screw. You.” And rubs at her face furiously. He bites his tongue and feels guilt swirl in his gut. “I- You don’t know anything- She... She helped me. And maybe it’s stupid and maybe she doesn’t even care but it was- it was still important to me.”

(Chikuchi had been nervous, so very nervous. 

This was her future, about to be put in her hands in the form of a paper test and the scrutiny of teachers and heroes and all those worth more than her, and she just desperately wanted to do well. 

She didn't want to go back home and see the frustrated disappointment on her parents face. Didn't want to see them finally give up on her.

And she had been so very nervous that it had clutched at her heart and her throat and-

"Breathe."

A light voice says.

"Just breathe."

It's angelic with its softness, with its kindness as she tries to follow its calm instructions. And Chikuchi meets an empty gaze that somehow seems so very full of life. Sees pink hair and a crown of horns upon her head and is lifted up by a hand offering itself to her, a thumb rubbing soothingly against her knuckles.

"No matter what happens, you'll have tried your best, right?"

She nods, her throat still tight.

"Then that's all that you can do. And, if that's enough, then you'll do perfectly." She assures, her voice so sweet and so easy, like she had a thousand words to say but only a few to share. And she had chosen her, of all people, to be the one that heard them. "Do you think your best is enough?"

She nods, tentatively, every study guide- every practice test- every score- it had told her that she would have enough to do well.

The pink girl smiles. "Then just trust that you'll do amazing. And, hey, I'll even be rooting for you."

And all too soon she was turning away, but Chikuchi could still feel the warmth of her hand and her beautiful smile and her quiet cheer, that made her feel like everything was going to be okay.)

She sucks in a shaky breath. “I’m not the idiot that made her lose her smile.” It feels like the air had been stolen from his lungs and he presses his tongue against the back of his teeth to keep the noise of remorse from escaping. Chikuchi clearly takes no pleasure in causing it, her lips pressed into a grim line. “And I’m not so blind as to not realize it’s because of you.” Her hands are scrubbing her face and he can only look at her red rimmed eyes and wonder. “I don’t know why she likes you, Shinsou, but she does. And you’d be stupid not to notice it.”

He doesn’t say anything.

But his cheeks burn red and he stares at the corner where the walls of the room meant, biting his tongue. Pointedly refusing eye contact or even to acknowledge that Chikuchi had said anything, as if it might help with that hopeless feeling in his stomach, as he tries not to think about Medama and all her pretty words and confidence and the way she made him feel like he was melting. Like he wanted to run away.

(To the point that he actually had.

He’s still embarrassed that he’d gone so far as to actually talk to Kayama-sensei about support gear. He just hadn’t known what else to do, when she spoke so easily and said things with such warmth that it made his entire being stutter and fail to come up with a proper response, because he didn’t know what to do. He’s not so dense as to not realize that Medama’s pretty words aren’t indicative of- of something- but he’s struggling to rationalize it- to really truly believe that it’s what he thinks it is.)

“I... What do you mean... that she lost her smile?” He asks, pained. “That’s not just some stupid metaphor, right-?”

“No!” Chikuchi seems upset that he would even suggest it. “I mean, she literally hasn’t smiled in days, ever since you started avoiding her. She’s just been... not herself. And all she does is focus on her notebook and her phone and it- it feels like she’s putting up barriers around her and no one can get through.”

He opens, then closes his mouth.

“...You’re hurting her.”

(He tries to pretend that it doesn’t affect him.

It does.

He twitches.)

“So go and get over yourself. ‘Cause we both know that girl doesn’t care about your scary quirk anyways and she’d call you an idiot for freaking out over something so stupid.”

-0-

He hops off his bike, sneakers squeaking against the ground.

He’s breathing heavily, the miles he’d had to cycle catching up with him, and he walks with his bike the rest of the way up the hill. Checking his phone and hoping that she’d received his text, that she would at least respond with something so he knew he wasn’t overstepping his bounds. There’s not even a message that she’d read it and he sucks in a breath, chewing on his lip, and wonders if he should just turn around.

It was just- It was creepy, wasn’t it? To show up kind of out of the blue. And it makes his insides squeeze with the thought that he’s going about this entirely the wrong way.

(Damn it. He’s an idiot. He should’ve just waited until he saw her again but- his bag is heavy with the contents he’d shoved into it, near exploding- and his heart is beating so quick in his chest that he’s not sure if it’s just because of adrenaline anymore.)

“...Shinsou?”

He blinks, startled from his thoughts as he looks up at the familiar voice. He feels like his legs are going to get knocked out from under him. “I sent you a message.” He blurts without thinking, showing off his phone screen as proof. Medama barely spares it a glance. And, if his hands were free, he’d be nervously rubbing the back of his head and refusing to meet her gaze. As is, he... doesn’t think he could look away. “That I was... On my way over here. I know I didn’t ask-”

He stops.

At a loss for words.

Medama doesn’t seem shocked. Or even like she’s angry with him. She just seems... she tilts her head at him, just surprised and confused. She glances between him and his bike and asks: “...What are you doing here?” She seems to whisper her words, her shoulders coming up to hug her shoulders as she looks at him nervously, wringing her hands around the straps of the garbage bag she was carrying.

He swallows.

(It’s hard to take his eyes off her.

And he doesn’t know how he’d managed to go so long without really looking at her. Without realizing how much he had been.) 

Medama shifts, "Um." Her hair is damp and left loose, for once, the curls are darker and tighter than they usually were, and it all fell just past her shoulders. "I... hold on- I have to..." Her tongue flicks nervously across her bottom lip. "I have to go throw this away?"

He nods, awkwardly giving a nod in the direction of his bike, "I'm going to... lock up my bike." He doesn't know why he feels like his entire body is burning hot, nothing in particular had even happened, there was no reason for it. But it makes him want to start cursing and walk away to the darkest corner he can find and just hide, covering his face with his hands and groaning.

Medama opens her mouth, as if to say something, before a rare bout of shyness seems to get the better of her and she shuts it, teeth clicking.

It feels like all his limbs are stiff. He feels like his movements are robotic and his hands fumble with his bike lock and the contents of his bag spill out and he quickly tries to stuff it back in before it can touch the ground, struggling with it and feeling his face just burn hotter and hotter as a humiliated feeling crosses through him and- He stares at his bike, hand still stuffed in his bag to hold the contents in, and feels a deep regret pierce through him.

He wants to-

“...You’re not going to leave, are you?”

-he can’t.

Shinsou turns around and presses his lips together into a thin line. How could he leave-? When she was looking up at him with such wide, hopeful eyes and looked so desperately vulnerable that he had to clench his hands into fists and remind himself why he was even there in the first place, because one glance had his breath stolen away.

She was breathing a bit quickly and he had the sudden vague realization that she must’ve run to get back, her hands shaking as she locks them together and presses them against her stomach, a finger nervously rubbing against the back of her hand. 

He rubs the back of his neck and blinks as her head bows slightly in disappointment and he realizes that he’d... taken too long to answer.

“It’s cool if you do. I’ll just... see you in class, I guess?” She tries, but there’s a tinge to her voice like she doesn’t expect it at all.

He doesn’t know why it’s so hard to articulate his thoughts.

Maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to spill his guts to her. That he knew he was a jerk on the best of days and this was just a particularly bad case of him... doing something he wasn’t even truly sorry for. He felt guilty, yes, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Not when he thought about her-

(-she wouldn’t look him properly in the eyes for the longest time and he could feel her deep, immense sorrow hanging in the air and all he could think was that he was the cause of it-)

-and how easily he could make everything fall apart. And that was selfish of him. To shove her away without an explanation as he closed off and went back to spending his days alone and isolated and focused, but it was something he was used to, even if it did cause his heart to ache and him to struggle with the idea of missing someone.

“I’m not leaving.” He mutters, voice tense. “I’m just terrible at this.”

She gives a small laugh. “You think I’m any better?” She shakes her head and... offers him her hand. And he doesn’t know why he does it, because it’ll only make things even more awkward in the end, but he takes her hand in his own, fingers threading between hers. It feels easy, and- for some reason- he’s expecting her hands to be cold, to be frozen against his, but they’re warm and soft and it makes him clasp on tighter, gently squeezing as Medama tugs him along.

He tries not to shift nervously next to her- tries not to glance at her from the corner of his eye and stare at her- he tries, but he fails miserably. He’s only vaguely aware of her pulling him into the small apartment building, of them climbing a set of stairs and pulling up to a door near the end of the hall and close to an open balcony, because he’s nervously sliding a tongue against the back of his teeth as he watches her focus ahead. Wondering if she’s glancing back at him because, for once, he can’t actually tell.

“We’re here.”

She intones gently, the words feel like an interruption and she doesn’t even know why she says them out loud anyways, maybe because she knows his eyes are on her face and his gaze is intent.

It makes those stale butterflies in her belly twitch to life, no longer cocooned in her efforts to hide them away, but it also makes her so self-conscious that her thoughts are spilling with worry and anxiety. And she’s desperate to fill the silence.

“I don’t know if-”

Her breath hitches.

Medama can’t help but shiver as he brushes her bangs from her face, a slightly rough hand slides beneath the wet pieces that fall in her eyes and pushes them aside, and all she can really focus on is the pad of his thumb gliding across her skin as he tucks it behind her ear. A light noise escapes her and, all she can say is that, it’s strangled. It feels like a hissing wheeze and she can feel her legs tremble beneath her-

(She wants to melt, to collapse, to just sink down to the floor.

It’s not fair. That he can just show up out of nowhere and make her feel like she’s intoxicated. The lack of him over the past few days, the missing him and the worried, hurt ache in her heart at seeing him close off and raise his barriers has only made it worse somehow.)

-and she falls with her back pressing against her apartment door, impossibly thankful for the support that it gives her, even if all it does is make her want to slide down it, unable to carry her own weight. “S-Shin-sou?” She murmurs and she shakily meets his gaze, the pinched expression betraying his own state of wavering confidence. He still, somehow, manages to look so much more at ease than she does and she shivers at the sight of him and his lavender hues and the thought of his voice like honey making electricity run up her spine.

She doesn’t know how she manages it, but she does without so much as a stammer: “...What’s this for?”

The sudden weight on her head, the sudden warmth wrapped around her, has her raising a hand to tighten it closer. Soft fabric meets her fingers and Shinsou, who’s free hand had wrapped it around her in one swift motion, glances away.

(Yet, he’s still somehow so very close and she’s left breathless at the sight of his teeth catching on the edge of his bottom lip, bound to leave a bruise.)

“Just because.”

“...Oh.”

He absently tucks a few more strands of hair behind her ear, feeling her shiver beneath his touch, as he reveals her eyes and the way they twitch with startling warmth. "...They seemed to help last time so I thought..." He trails off and wonders if he should kick himself. It suddenly seems so very odd that he’d made the trip all the way home to grab one of the ugliest blankets he owned, the quilt was large enough to easily be wrapped around her twice over, if not three times, covered in cats and yarn patterns, and he’d struggled and fought to carry it all the way to her with the silly thought that she’d enjoy it. That it would help.

That it would be an apology for making her think that he didn’t care and that she was just something he could push away.

If there was one thing he didn’t want, it was having her think that he didn’t care about her. That he could just stop thinking about her and she would go away. That he hadn’t spent these past few days with a dull ache in his body that refused to be soothed, how it’d filled him with an unfathomable feeling that was only ever relieved when he’d stolen glances or listened for her voice amongst his classmates. And the truth was... he couldn’t. 

He couldn’t shove her aside. Not truly. He was too selfish.

Too selfish to take his thoughts off of her, startled by moments of wishing she was right there to tease him or say a few words that had his head bubbling, and it had him realizing Chikuchi had been right. That it had started to get harder and harder to notice Medama amongst the rest, as she closed off and her words seem to whisper in that quiet way of someone with their thoughts elsewhere and their mind tired. “I didn’t want to avoid you.” He says simply and hopes it's enough of an apology to have her understand that it was something he’d truly felt the need to do, even if he didn’t want to. “I promise. It was just...” He feels his hand tremble and he presses it close to her cheek, some part of him hoping she’ll lean into it in that soft way that makes her close her eyes and just breathe.

She does.

He watches her bottom lip quiver with something raw, his eyes flicking to follow it and he feels, as he speaks, like his words mix with her steady inhales.

“I was a dumbass.” He admits and watches as her lips quirk upwards, just a tiny bit. 

“I’m... not going to say you’re not.” She gives a small laugh, her words teasing, but there’s a sadness tinging it that he can’t quite put into words as he feels her lean closer, they’re noses touching for a brief moment- he can almost feel her mouth light against his skin, and something in him feels like it’s suffocating. “I thought... I’d thought I’d done something wrong. That you didn’t- That you didn’t want to even look at me anymore.”

He feels his tongue flick nervously out, sliding across his lips and is suddenly very aware of how her euphonic voice made a pleasant shiver run up his spine. Very aware of how he’d stepped closer, almost unconsciously, to feel the half-starved affection in him grow with the barest hints of her trembling touch. 

“I take it that wasn’t the case?”

Her eyes creak open with the question and the soft crinkle of them only partly opened, of her eyelashes fluttering, has his own softening and half lidded with something warm and craving. “Never.” He breathes as he caresses her cheek, aware of how she tilts her head to sink into it and how her parted lips shake, so dangerously close to his own. His voice is smoky and rough with something raw. “I couldn’t even take my eyes off you."

The noise she makes is something that has him blinking.

It’s a slightly high-pitched whine, somewhere deep in the back of her throat, and it sounds almost wounded.

“Medama...?” He questions lightly as he takes a step back, it proves to be the wrong choice because she sways slightly, her breath a hitching gasp as he offers his arms up and feels her just barely manage to catch herself. Her head is bowed and the blanket slightly slips from down around her shoulders. “You okay?”

(Some part of him absolutely preens and it’s a bit of a struggle to keep the shit-eating grin from spreading across his face.)

“I-I’m j-just-” She stutters and lets out a tiny little huff that sounds like a laugh. She looks back up, tugging the blanket up around her, “Just... let me know if you need space next time, okay? I promise, I’ll understand.” 

They take a moment to just sort through their thoughts. To pull away.

(Even if both of them just want to reach out and close that distance between them.)

She reaches back and turns the knob to her apartment-

And he suddenly freezes with the realization of why her expression seems so sad, so very hopeful. And he feels sick with guilt at the thought that it hadn’t even crossed his mind, not truly, the answer for why she had seemed so very, very quiet without him- so very somber. 

A lump forms in his throat.

“I missed you, Shinsou.” 

It feels... quiet. Her apartment. Intensely silent. It feels small and tiny and she seems to fit right in, but it feels like there’s a hole- an emptiness, a barrenness. And he’s struck by the lack of personal touches in the living space, the dust on some of the counters and the shut door to a bedroom with boxes in front of it.

(“Oh! I live alone. For the most part.” And she says it so casually that he doesn’t see the tightness in her gaze, doesn’t question the way she had turned her head so he wouldn’t see her smile falter slightly. Doesn’t question how she immediately moves to reassure him that everything was alright.)

And he feels that guilt squeeze at his throat and make his fists clench tightly at his sides.

Her home feels lonely.

She felt lonely.

He pulls his gaze back to her, to that slightly pained crease that makes it seem like her eyes are squinting, to the way her lips curve into one of the most beautiful smiles he’s ever seen, even if now he realizes how bittersweet and somber it is. So warm and so forgiving that he knows he doesn’t deserve it.

There’s something returning to her eyes, some spark that hadn't been there before and she looks up and gives him a look that reminds him why he’d pushed her away in the first place.

(Too much and he didn't deserve any of it.)

"...Do you want to meet Fishey?"

He laughs, it’s a slightly rough sound, but it has that beautiful smile growing and he can’t help but collapse a bit against her. Head falling down to her shoulder as he tugs his blanket closer around her and hugs her tightly.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, you weirdo. What else would it be?”

He feels her arms tentatively wrap around his middle, her hands burying themselves in the back of his shirt. She can feel his heartbeat, his pulse, with her cheek pressed up against his neck. Giving a small giggle that makes that wobbly feeling he got when she called him wonderful, when she called him Shin, when she said sweet words, appear.

But... this time, it doesn’t go away.

Chapter Text

It shouldn't be revolutionary to love yourself.

It is, somehow.

"You are worth something."

It begins when she is young, with baby fat still very obvious in her cheeks, her fingers short and pudgy and her voice trained into maturity- hard with something spoken from experience. She does not say this lightly. And she does not say this with the emptiness of someone who has never known the hardship of being...

Pushed. Estranged. Lost.

There is a seething in her voice.

She remembers why she brought it up. It’s one thing for someone to try and tell her that she wasn’t worth anything. That, because she wasn’t a hero and admitted to not being one, her and her “little songs” wouldn’t amount to anything. Wouldn’t be worth anything. And she can take what they throw at her, will bite back if they try and tear down the songs that she shares- they are not her own, yes, but the person who created them… they deserve for her to defend them when they can’t be there to defend themselves- but it’s when they turn to someone else, turn to someone who has only ever been lovely and nice, that she simply won’t take it anymore.

It’s one of her Mods.

A lovely woman who has made no move to hide her mutation quirk and hide her general dislike for the hero system, a woman that Halo would call a friend, even if she only knew her by her screen name: Starfish.

(She had invited her to stream video games with her. Had her on for a stream where all they did was dork around on guitars because Starfish was still learning.

There was a stream where Starfish talked about her experiences, where Halo had given her almost free reign to speak about how her mutation had caused people to treat her different, to avoid her, bully her as a kid- and how that never changed, how she was treated like the dirt of society, and how she wasn’t sure she would even still be alive if it wasn’t for...

Halo had found her. On a lonely music forum, struggling to keep her little hobby alive as her groups fell apart, the one thing that she enjoyed, singing, that was untouched by her mutation and the world.

Hey, you’re really good at all this music and computer stuff! I was wondering if you could Mod for me?

It was a simple request and she’d only done it, back before Halo was the Halo, because she didn’t have anything better to do. No one would hire her with her face the way it was. At least, here, she was anonymous.

And then she’d slipped up, she’d gotten too used to chattering away with Halo and she’d linked an account that showed her face and she’d waited for the insults and mocking to come her way, but they never did. And then she’d gotten more comfortable, too much, and spilled about how she was basically living in an old internet café and hadn’t eaten in weeks and-

Oh, that’s terrible.

I’m such a jerk, aren’t I?

She’d been confused by the text and then Halo had gone on.

For all the work you’ve done for me.

I’ll start you a good amount above the minimum wage, you’ve gone above and beyond. And I’d love for you to continue to work with me. We can get a contract started? I want you as my lead moderator.

She had taken one look at the contract, at the money sent to her account, at the... hobby that she was doing, had agreed to do for free from the beginning, because it was essentially organizing and chatting and having fun and Halo hadn’t even had any money back then that she knew of, and she had cried.

So- yes. Halo and the moderator Starfish, who had been contemplating dark things as the world caved in, may have a primarily business-centric relationship, but they were also something like friends. Even if they would probably never meet in person. Not with Halo hiding herself and not with Starfish living in another country and facts and information between them was limited to avoid the internet crashing down on their lives- but that didn’t matter.

Halo still thought of her as one of hers.)

And she never wants anyone to point at her and say that she was someone who would allow others to just... walk all over what’s hers.

“How dare you imply otherwise.” Halo is not growling, but it is said in a way that all they can hear is the bite in her tone. The snarl just beneath the surface. “People don’t... People don’t ask to be born. They don’t get a choice. And no one told them what we would be facing until we were already facing it.”

The viewer count isn’t incredibly large.

But it’s a sign of things to come. Part of her is excited and happy- because it means, soon, she won't be alone, not in the same way she was before- but the other part… the other part only feels dread.

(She feels like her tongue is twisting.)

She licks her lips, voice hard and angry, and doesn’t hesitate.

“No one owes the world an explanation for existing.”

It's the beginning of something. 

-0-

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m just... tired.”

He can feel the exhaustion clawing at him, it makes it hard to even lift his head. “Just one of those days?” Medama asks softly and he twitches at the hand that tentatively reaches up to his face, fingers lightly tapping his jaw. As if they weren't sure they were allowed to touch. His blanket is still firmly clutched around her and he can see her hand holding it grow white-knuckled as she clutches it tighter. “You did bike all the way over here.” She points out, chewing on her bottom lip, as he shakes his head.

“No, i’s...” Damn it, he wrinkles his nose, he sounds tired to even his own ears. “Insomnia.” He murmurs and shivers as her fingers run over his jawline, her thumb rubbing circles against his skin. She doesn't seem as shy with the movement as before, maybe because he doesn't even twitch at it. “Haven’t slept in- I don’t know.”

Her lips purse, face shifting to one of concern.

He changes the subject. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re really touchy?”

Her hand stalls and Medama blinks. “Oh, uh... sorry. I should’ve asked for permission first.” She pulls away, tugging on a lock of hair that’d slipped free from where he’d previously tucked it behind her ears. He feels his own burn at the sight and has the urge to rub the back of his neck, lest he reach out and brush it back again. “To be honest, I usually don’t even notice that I’m doing it, most of the time. Just let me know if it bothers you-”

“I never said it did.” He frowns at where her hand fell. Away from him. Trying to stomp down a wave of disappointment that washes over him. “And I wouldn’t let you do it, if I minded.”

Her brows raise slowly and he pointedly averts his gaze. “Oh yeah?” He can hear the smile in her voice. The almost-purr. “That’s good to know.” And fingers thread through his, giving a small squeeze as they curl. It's an awkward hold, if he was being honest, but he doesn't move to switch it around.

Shinsou doesn’t know what does it but, glancing down, the sight of her small hand against his own, larger one manages to steal a breathy laugh from him. Near silent and coupled with a smirk as it makes him fall into his exhaustion and slump against her- “Oof.” -with his forehead pressed against her shoulder.

“You alright there, Shin-sou?”

He nods lazily.

“That's good. Tired, yeah?”

He nods again.

"You feel like you're about to collapse..." She laughs as she says it, breath tickling his ear and the back of his neck.

"Haven't I already?" 

"Well, yes. But not quite." She huffs and he feels a shiver run up his spine. "Need a hug?"

"...Do whatever you want."

He gets the sense that she's rolling her eyes at him. But it doesn't keep her from sliding her hands so they loosely hang around his waist, fingers digging into the back of his shirt and fisting the fabric in a way that was going to leave terrible wrinkles, but neither could bring themselves to care.

"Hey, Shin...?"

"Mnh?"

Her cheek is pressing against his head. He doesn't know why they're whispering, there's no one to hear them, but they are anyways. The quiet is... comfortable.

It's what makes Medama's words sound so incredibly loud and sincere.

"I think you're my best friend."

He freezes, his muscles tensing and- and-

His eyes creak open the slightest bit, vision blurry and he can feel a lump forming in his throat as he catches a whiff of vanilla and citrus on her hair, perfume and shampoo and something sweet, and...

(He can't help but think of that lonely boy who would sit alone at lunch. Who would learn of classmates birthdays and yet never receive an invite. Or the bitter feelings that welled up in him at every crushed hope and every trick and lie and word behind his back.

He thinks of late nights spent with wet eyes and listening to his parents concerned, hushed whispers and the weight on his chest only growing.)

"You have terrible taste." He says, voice thick with some emotion he can't quite swallow. "The worst taste."

But even as he says that, he raises his arms to wrap around her and tug her close. A hand tentatively weaving around her horns to bury in the waves of her hair, the other pressing into the small of her back and just-

He never wants to let go.

He wants to be selfish and hold onto her forever. And, in this way, it’s not scary. Because that paranoid part of him is crushed with the knowledge that this is her choice- she chose this- him. And he can be selfish if he knew that.

(Because that little boy was so lonely, so despondent, angry and bitter- and he's still there, yes- but it feels like, just for this moment, he doesn't have to exist.)

"No." She laughs lightly against him. It's soft and kind and makes him just sink into her, it feels like a dream and the exhaustion overtakes him. "No. I just... I know when to savor this." Medama doesn't say anything about how her shoulder grows wet and she can feel him shake. She doesn't understand his tears, but she knows enough about him to know when to respect them and when to let them just be.

She rubs her cheek against him, hair tickling at her nose.

“Savor you.”

-0-

There’s something about Halo that separates her from all the rest.

Truthfully, it wasn’t too terribly hard to achieve. The heroes that dominated the industry- an industry that they shouldn’t have had any real hand in to begin with, besides, perhaps, on an individualistic level- may have an invested interest, maybe even a love for music, but, even if they did, they were also making music to appeal to the widest audience that they could. Every now and then, yes, someone would break the mold, but the music that they produced was...

Disingenuous.

Half of them were simply in the industry because they had a mediocre voice that their agencies thought they could profit from. The other half were making music that they had no hand in writing, or even a love for, or even an interest. It was music about heroes, saving the day, defeating villains, love songs about always being there, about trust and offering a helping hand, and rising up to fight against the big bads- ironic, considering how illegal vigilantism was- and it… never really tried to be anything different than what it was. An advertisement.

A very good advertisement, admittedly.

And it wouldn’t have been so bad if it wasn’t... the only music.

(Okay, that wasn’t necessarily true. But musicians and artists that weren’t heroes seemed to almost self-sabotage themselves in stress and fear and those that didn’t were few and far between because the world was... defensive against those who broke even slightly from the norm.

It wasn’t so surprising that so many couldn’t handle the weight.

Those that could were rewarded for it, eventually, but it was an arduous process that often left scars.)

The easy thing to spot is how different Halo is, how she breaks from the precedence and- because she’s anonymous, the ones that would drag her down can’t, not in the same way they would for others- how her songs just... feel like they’re from a real person. Not another idol that people couldn’t hope to touch or understand.

“Okay, so I was starting the stream today and I was, like, I feel like something is... wrong.” She starts and there’s laughter in her voice. “So why did none of you tell me that I had the God-Mode voice changer on, I-” She laughs. 

It wasn’t even that the songs were down to earth, or that she didn’t sometimes have one or two that fit the “heroic” criteria. It was just...

“Guys! Guys! I have been blessed.” She’s practically squeaking in excitement. “I have won a carnival game and been given a fish.” She hollers in sheer joy, a dorky laugh escaping her that sounds absolutely righteous. “Oh my god, I love him.” The sniffles she tries to muffle are soft and the chat throws in question mark after question mark. “S-Sorry, sorry. I just... I... This is going to make me sound like a loser but I- don’t really have friends and... I’m kinda alone all the time but, I guess, I just forgot that I don’t have to be.”

...she seemed like a real person. And not some untouchable being that lived on another plane.

(It’s telling that she managed to accomplish this when she never showed her face or any actual, physical part of herself. That everyone else was so commercialized and placed on a pedestal that every smile and every song just seemed... fake, fake, fake.)

And people flocked to that.

Loved it.

Hated it.

And, just like that, they began to idolize her, they began to place her on her own pedestal, to compare her to heroes, and Halo... did not like that. But it’s when the dissonance, the radicalized points of views, began to become apparent that she got pissed.

...

...

“Am I a joke to you?”

She asks and there’s a slight laugh in her voice, but it’s cold and without humor.

“I must be. If this is what you all think of me.” There’s a disgusted lilt to her voice and they can practically hear her lips curl. “I am not perfect.” She says with a deadpan. “Neither are your heroes. And, maybe, just maybe, there’s a reason why people become- god, I hate this term, it’s such comic-book bull- villains.”

And, just like that, she can see her chat turn on her. Can see the love turn to hate in seconds but she doesn’t regret it, not even for a moment. She can handle slurs and curses and threats and baiting because she knows of things so much worse than words. 

(It will get to her, slowly, overtime... it will begin to eat away at her already fragile state but, here, she knows she can take it. Even if just a moment longer. Because she has the opportunity to say what needs to be said and she will take it whenever she damn well pleased.

If it meant that even just one, single person stopped carrying on like this. Stopped thinking of the world like this. It would be worth it.)

“No. No-!” She stares at the chat, eyes catching on words before that laughter is growing and it's cold and slightly wild. “No, you- oh my god, you’re not serious, are you? You can’t be. You-” There’s a snort. “You all are children. Absolute children. Do you have any understanding of the world at all?”

There’s a pause.

She seems to be coming to a realization, and one that she doesn’t like.

“What do I mean? How can you not know-” Halo is incredulous. And they’d never heard her so indignant and angry and like she was seconds away from walking away from her computer, shaking her head. It’s such a break from the usual light-hearted gossip and joking and singing that it’s honestly shocking. “Are your friends worth less to you than your heroes? Is someone who uses their quirk to save you versus someone who simply reaches out a hand somehow... less good? Why are they worth more? Because they went to school and got a job and they’re, what, meeting their job requirements? Seriously? They’re a glorified task force-”

She seems to rethink her words.

“And allow me to specify: I mean Pro-Heroes, not actual heroes. Because they are not the same. Yes, there’s overlap... but, being a hero, that comes down to the individual.” She explains with a deep breath and the voice of someone talking to a child. The ferocity that was there still simmers under the surface. “It’s the same with villains. The fact that all of them are held to the same standard is, frankly, disgusting... a murderer and a thief are not the same. And, yet, because the thief may have had a powerful quirk, they’re treated on the same threat-level... It’s gross. It’s unreasonable. And it shows a clear laziness with the law.”

There’s threats and there’s accusations and she blinks- “Villain-apologist? Are you a fool? Yes, I am calling you out, you know who you are. Do you honestly think that people stop being people when they commit a crime while using their quirk? Because that’s the definition of a villain; it’s what separates them from regular criminals- they used their quirk. They used some piece of their body in a way to try and turn a situation in their favor the same way a quirkless person would grab a gun or punch, if they could.”

She snorts.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if the government was trying to put a stop to a quirkless uprising with their terrible treatment of them... because here's the thing about not having a quirk- you don’t get the weaknesses of one either. And, trust me, there are plenty of weaknesses.”

She mutters it so quietly that it’s only because of the microphone being the high quality it was that it’d even picked it up.

“My point is: I am not worth more than you. You’re heroes are not worth more than you, not worth more than your friends, or your family. Not inherently. And villains- criminals- are not worth less than you. Not always. ”

-0-

“Please.”

She murmurs.

Her shoulder is wet and she can feel her arms trembling underneath his weight. It doesn't help that he's shaky in her hold and, any moment now, she was afraid that she'd drop him. He was almost completely limp, hanging in her arms, and her muscles were straining. “Sit down.” It's a quiet urging, worry evident- and he sinks into it, allows her hands to brush over him and help him slide into a seat as his knees wobble. The exhaustion is worse now, hitting him like a freight train and leaving him crumpled.

He can’t help the tired smile that quirks across his lips. He sits on the edge of her bed.

“Shin-sou. Shin.” She whines slightly, “You almost made me fall over!”

“Not sorry.”

She sticks her tongue out at him. And he just gives a small laugh as he scrubs his hands over his face, trying to ignore how his sight is blurry and how the irritated redness under his eyes burns slightly. “Don’t ask.” He mutters quietly, seeing her face twist with worry and concern. “It’s stupid.”

Medama frowns. “It’s probably not.” He scowls. “But I won’t ask if you don’t want me to.”

Right, good. Shinsou sucks in a deep breath-

His eyes flick to the side, looking for some change in subject. Any way to get her to stop looking at him and seeing what a horrible mess he was. “Your calendar.” He manages, it’s the first thing that his eye had caught when he’d stepped into her room. “Why do you have stars on your calendar?” He asks. “It...”

It seemed notably out of place.

For one, it was placed cleanly on her closed closet door, each day that had already gone by had been crossed out with a sparkly gel pen, but what made him curious was the stickers under some of the dates and he couldn’t make any rhyme or reason out of it. The only consistency seemed to be that the stickers were all hot pink stars.

“Hm? Oh!” Medama barely has to spare a glance towards it. “That’s how long I’ve gone without having a seizure of any kind.”

“You... have to keep track of that?”

He wants to hit himself a little bit. As soon as he asks, it hits him what a stupid question it is. He’s just too tired to really comprehend that that was what she was, of course, implying. 

“Yeah. I’m on a fifteen day streak right now.” She says simply. “The longest I’ve gone without having one though was... eight months. If you excuse when I was really, really young. I hadn’t really had anything that would exacerbate it.”

“Oh, how did you...?”

“I didn’t really do anything but try and re-learn instruments that year and I guess it wasn’t enough to overstimulate my brain or freak me out or whatever. It was actually very nice.”

Shinsou makes a mental note to ask his dad if he had any information regarding epilepsy and seizures, as he lets out a hum of acknowledgement that he’d heard what she'd said. There was enough he’d picked up from that packet she’d shoved at him when they first met that he knew how to handle it if she suddenly got one, but not enough that he felt like he’d know what to do if something went wrong.

He tries not to think about it for the moment.

“Your room is...”

The good news is that her bedroom feels... alive. The dreary atmosphere of the rest of the apartment seems to hang along its edges, a sadness that was still there but didn't quite manage to tear a hole completely through it all, and, for that, he feels himself relax slightly in relief. He sinks into her bed, too soft, too easy; there’s piles of blankets around him, messily strewn, and its covered with so many pillows that they were spilling off the edges.

It’s nice to know that her slice of home wasn’t completely bad. That he could lay on her bed and not feel like it’s something that she’d shed tears in on the lonely nights with no one to listen.

“Nice?”

“Sure, let’s go with that.”

“Shin-sou!”

“Me-da-ma.”

He lets his gaze roam freely.

It was a disorganized room.

Frustratingly disorganized, actually. And, if he didn’t think she would find it weird, and if he wasn’t tired, he might’ve started tidying up the space without even really thinking about it.

To be fair, he wouldn’t say it was a mess. It just seemed like she had a lot of personal items and nowhere to really put them. Paper was in stacks on her desks with flower-shaped paperweights, there were posters in English covering every inch of her walls, they looked... they looked like they were actually commissioned and he couldn’t recognize even a single one of the titles on them and it wasn’t just because they were in another language; then there was what... Shinsou would label them as “girly products” because he didn’t know what else to call them. Makeup, perfumes, fancy brushes, hair pins and clips, scrunchies, lotions. Whatever he could think of was stacked on her dresser.

That wasn’t even the most impressive collection either.

It was the whiteboard with sketched sheet music written on it, the carefully placed stacks of instruments against her wall; multiple types of guitar, a keyboard, and other string instruments. Recording equipment that looked expensive to even the touch.

“Are you studying a Halo song?” Shinsou had taken a music elective in middle school for a brief amount of time, mostly because it didn’t involve a lot of talking and the other electives hadn’t allowed for more independent work. Also, it was sound-based and his quirk was technically sound-based, so he thought it might’ve provided him with something to potentially learn about himself. And, as a result, Shinsou had gotten fairly good at reading music and playing by ear. 

So, when he reads the music she has written down, it takes a minute to play it in his head but he... recognizes the tune. “Is that the new demo she released yesterday?”

There’s a noise Medama is making and he’s not sure what to call it, too tired to properly think about it, before settling on embarrassment. That it simply hadn’t been something she’d meant for him to see.

“Oh, um, yes, it is. The demo, I mean,” She blushes. “It’s, uh, it’s Don’t Walk Away.”

“...The song? I don’t remember her naming it.”

“Right. I must’ve... heard it somewhere.” He can’t see her bury her face in her hands. “I... didn’t know you could read music.”

“Yeah.” He confirms absentmindedly, stuck a little in his own head. It’s why he doesn’t see her suddenly sharp gaze glance behind her at the papers piled on her desk and the sheets of music that were filled with notes that would be instantly recognizable if he ever heard them and paid attention.

“Hey, Medama-?”

She snaps quickly back to attention, clutching his blanket tight around her, as if it might help to hide away all her little secrets. “Yes, Shinsou?”

His hands absently pick at her sheets.

“How...” He struggles for once, pausing. A conflicted expression on his face before it settles into something more firm. “How can I be your best friend?” 

His hands dig into the fabric covering her bed, painfully twisting it between his fingers.

It seems out of place, maybe, but it’s not.

Not with her words playing on repeat in his head- idle chatter could only keep it at bay for so long and his panic was bound to grow. He swallows the sudden lump in his throat, trying not to think about how he’d curled into her shoulder and been so overcome with a hope that he’d thought he’d already crushed, years and years ago, that he'd struggled to handle it all. Too many emotions all at once and he... he hadn’t known how to respond. Especially as it caused his stomach to drop with the horrific wonder of how can that be true.

Shinsou is used to not having nice things.

He knew what the world had set before him, the challenges and hurdles and unfairness of it all, and Shinsou didn’t get friends in that deal. Certainly not a best friend.

His knuckles grow white on the bed sheets.

He was meant to get kicked down at every turn and not get up. He was already pushing it by being stubborn and vicious enough to keep forcing himself back up on his own two feet. Smart enough to prepare for the next punch but stupid enough to just let them keep coming.

Medama wasn’t supposed to come along with her words like a song and her smile like heaven reaching out. She wasn’t supposed to be absently running one of her hands through his hair, her fingers light on his scalp, and making him fall even closer to sleep.

Shinsou, if he followed the rules, was meant to hurt people and push them away until they got the hint that he was bad. And then he was supposed to go back to rolling with the punches and wondering if the next one would be the one to finally put him down. Medama wasn’t supposed to forgive him when he couldn’t even apologize. And she certainly wasn’t supposed to be there supporting him. It just- wasn’t what it was supposed to be.

Somehow, he got the feeling that she didn’t care much for how the world was “supposed” to carry on.

"How?"

She repeats it, so honestly confused that he has to blink up at her and wonder how she’d never learnt the obvious. “I’m self-aware enough to know that I’m...” He can’t settle on the right word, none of them seem strong enough, and his fingers pinch and twist and tense. “Look at how I treated you. These last couple days. All I’ve done is avoid you for some selfish reason and I didn’t even notice that it was hurting you until Chikuchi pointed it out.”

She stares at him.

“How can I be your best friend, when there's obviously someone better than me out there?”

She opens her mouth, closes it, her nose wrinkling in that focused, concentrated expression. It catches his eyes and he can’t force his gaze away, can’t force himself when it was so easy to see and wonderful to watch- her hands brush through his hair and she leans forward to match his gaze. Seemingly finally deciding on her words.

He braces himself.

“...You don’t need to be better. You just need to be you.”

And how can she make it sound so simple?

-0-

Halo rants.

She rants and gets emotional until there’s compilations of videos and entire series' dedicated to compiling clips of her ranting or going off on something- in the same way there were compilations of her giggling and squealing over cute animal pictures and new songs she was working on and was incredibly excited for- and even analysis on her opinions and thought-process because it seemed to... boggle some people. 

When she rants she does not scream, rage, or shout, even as she is met with walls of text and threats and even a couple lawsuits. Instead, she has a calm focus, a scary simmering mind filled with... an unknown amount of indignity that sounds personal. That isn’t to say she doesn’t get frustrated or angry, she just doesn’t let it affect the clarity of her words, just let’s it enforce her ferocity and opinions that were soon to have some gossip article written about them.

It’s not entirely unusual. Plenty of streamers speak their mind. But...

None do it quite as plainly as Halo, who doesn’t seem to care much about the response she garners, or even the way her popularity used to go wildly up and down until it was as solid as it was today. (Because, now, people knew what they were getting into with her. And they were eating it up.)

The thing is- and this truly is an unfortunate aspect of her habit- the fans and dissenters both... loved it. They loved to purposely rile her up every now and then, spamming her chats or relating her songs to some event or hero or social issue that was clearly not what was intended and everyone could see it drive her up the wall. Her mods could only do so much to prevent it, though they all tried very hard, the problem was that Halo didn’t want to just- get rid of people who didn’t agree with her. She thought it was insincere. And she didn’t mind that people didn’t agree with her, it was just when they came at her with a holier-than-thou attitude or it was something proven unhealthy and unfair-

(Like Mutation Quirks apparently being lesser. She’d broken a donation record to a mutant charity in a fit of annoyance when her chat had exploded with spam and random people jumping in simply to cause chaos.)

-and everyone just wanted to hear her explode.

The problem was... They aren’t really ever, truly prepared for it.

...

...

“The world isn’t black and white. Bad things happen to good people, good things happen to bad people, so what? Stop treating it like some game where you can do anything you want-” She growls. “-This isn’t an argument of what's right and what's wrong. Not anymore. Any reasonable person can say that heroes have been left unchecked for too long and any reasonable person can also say that killing people for their mistakes, is also a vast oversimplification.”

It’s Stain that causes it. Not personally. But Stain fanboys and fangirls had gotten together over the past couple weeks to demand Halo’s stance on their murderous “vigilante”- oh, please, he’s a serial killer with an somewhat understandable motive- and her avoidance of the topic had waned as they called for murder and tried to use her silence as a mark of approval. When it wasn’t.

When, as a person with a well-known pacifistic personality, it clearly wasn’t.

"You’re escalating the argument. The philosophy. Whatever you want to call it.” She sniffs. “You’re wanting people to meet you halfway, even though whichever way means slaughter to another person- to another group. Heroes kill. Vigilantes kill. Self righteous assholes kill. It’s easy, it’s... incredibly easy to kill someone. It’s much, much harder to punish them. To make them realize their wrongs..."

Halo pauses.

It sounds like her mouth is open, as if she’s unsure if she should continue. A flash of text and they make her.

"You make it a battle to the death and you ask why it has to be this way? It’s because you chose your hill to die on... and you weren’t prepared to actually lose."

...

...

Her opinion is simple. She gets the ideology, she understands where it comes from- some part of her even agrees with it, parts of it, because there are facts that can’t be denied.

Yet Halo does not approve of slaughter. Never will. Especially not slaughter that tries to be... righteous; justice. She’d always trust the killer that knew they were a killer, admitted they were one, versus the killer that screamed for a cause and made excuses and spit on the name and memory of their victims with their own rationalizations.

She understands the Stain outlook. That society is unjust, that heroes need to be held accountable, that pro-heroes, as they are, are not real heroes- 

But she does not trust individuals to be their own judge, jury, and executioner.

“In this kind of situation,” she sighs as she settles in to just let her mouth move, “everyone is wrong. In some way. Because no one, no one, can be right. It’s not battling philosophies or opinions- it’s a kind of war. And there is no room for discussion on a battlefield.”

She doesn’t want to go down that specific path too deeply. This was a world that didn’t have large-scale violence, not the same that her own had, not with people... heroes acting as the equivalent of a one-man nuclear deterrent. A war between countries would be devastating, apocalyptic, and everyone knew it.

A world of peace and heroes, she snorts, and standing at the top of it all- responsible for it all- were also the highest threats to it.

“If you attack another person, in any context, you shouldn’t be surprised when they try to defend themselves. Do you expect them to just roll over and die? People will always fight. It’s not about heroes and villains. People have always fought to survive, to live, to see another day- it should be expected.” Halo takes a deep breath, like the whole of the one-sided conversation is exhausting her. “Maybe, before it becomes a battle, there could have been a fair compromise- if there had been efforts towards it, from both sides- but, when you make it into a fight... a battle of right versus wrong, black versus white... There will never be a winner. Because there will always be someone who disagrees and that’s not something you can ever really stop. ”

She makes a noise in the back of her throat, dissatisfaction over her own words- “That’s not to say that compromise is always an option. In this case, it’s- if it results in anyone, on either side, dying or losing their life or a piece of themselves, it’s not... An agreement can’t be made if one of the sides is just going to demand for more. If, the moment you offer a tiny little give, and they just continue to take and take and-”

She swallows. 

“Some people are just like that. It’s something you’ll find in almost everyone, but it’s the extent at which they allow it to pervade their being that it becomes a problem.”

There’s a pause and she watches as the chat jumps and lags with the amount of people offering up their own thoughts and opinions, but she doesn’t read them. Not right now at least. Not when she’s struggling with her own words and trying to come up with a succinct way of putting it all. She absently strums on her guitar, letting the chords wash over her and help her relax.

“Heroes need to be held accountable. They need to be trained in de-escalation. In assessing threat levels, and not just in response to a person's quirk-'' She stresses, making sure not to use the word villain, because this was a problem with arrests that didn’t even involve the use of a quirk. People with ‘villain’ quirks stuffed into maximum security prisons for stealing a pack of gum, or murderers with a virtually non-usable quirk tossed in a regular jail. It was all just unfair, disgusting… and, if she thought about it too long, it made her gag. “-but also in response to the person's level of clarity, intent, and crime. Heroes should be performing quick takedowns, safe take downs… these… these large-scale battles, this showmanship for the cameras; it’s ridiculous and unnecessary and causes more damage than the actual person they’re trying to arrest would have been able to. It’s horrific. And, if people took a step back, I think they’d realized that heroes are in a much scarier position than most others...”

She feels sick already. Her stomach is rolling as her mind contextualizes this world again and again. Her own had been scary before but it had felt less... it had felt less like there was conditioning at every corner. Like every neighbor could be a potential enemy when people here had grown up on propaganda and profiling and-

Halo seems to disappear for a moment and Medama clutches at her horns and eyes as she grits her teeth. Trying not to think about how even she had been afraid of her own appearance at first, how it had startled her and made her feel gross, and she was one of the lucky ones. One of the lucky ones that got to have mutations that could be seen as pretty and angelic and exotic- an acquired taste, yes, but still in-taste.

Medama chokes on her words slightly, the microphone ringing as she knocks against it accidentally. "It’s an endless cycle of pushing and shoving and someone- everyone- has a point when they break. Why do you think I donate so much? Because people deserve support and you can’t always trust your family, or friends, or even enforcement, to be the one to have your back. It’s... It’s the only way I could think to help.”

She swallows her tears, the overflowing and raw emotions that she doesn’t want to spill. She’d already let out too much, she knows, and she won’t be surprised to find mocking and concern later on. Piling up in her phone.

“I’m not saying that things can’t get out of hand, that there aren’t people out there that would require- deserve- an All Might or two. But every fight does not need to be a battle of so-called justice.” Halo returns and her voice is hard and thin. “Killing someone with a dangerous quirk because he stole a purse but could have potentially done more? That’s not the way this world should operate and that’s not a hero. That is a man with a license to kill and the freedom to do what he pleases in the spotlight-” Halo looks at the chat and blinks. “You may think that’s an agreement into Stain’s Ideology, it’s not. Because the ideology is hypocritical and imperfect. How are you any better than the heroes you despise, even those you rightfully despise, if you act in the same way that they do? You spit excuses and try to give killing a nuance but, at the end of the day, it’s just the same.”

At the end of the day, someone is dead. And even the dead can mourn.

“Just because you got dealt a terrible lot in life, doesn’t mean you have any right to go around and destroy the lives of others. I’ve spent this time diving into how Heroes can be corrupt, I’ve seen your side of the argument and the ones that do deserve punishment should get it in some ways- but I’ve also seen how you all, with your trigger-happy attitudes, operate. You kill heroes that fail, that couldn’t save everyone, and hold them to such a high standard that it’s unreasonable- do you think they don’t go home at the end of the day and... not think about the people they couldn’t help? Do you think it doesn’t eat away at them and keep them up at night? Do you think that every hero- person- is so... one-dimensional, so unrealistic, that their faults are intentional?”

A rant. A rant is what they wanted.

“You expect perfection but perfection doesn’t exist. People die. Bad things happen. Things outside of your control happen. At the end of the day, that’s life, and there’s nothing you can really do about it.”

She thinks she gave it to them. Not entirely unaware of how they intentionally try to cause it, she just- doesn’t care that they do. If they give her a subject and if they really want her to offer up her opinion, she will. And she won’t apologize even if they disagree, even if the world thinks she’s wrong.

“Stain, ironically enough, sets All Might as his standard-” She gives a sharp bark of a laugh. “-well, I’m here to tell you, that even All Might will fall one day. And no, that’s not a threat. But he’s only a man with power and, yes, power lasts, but men- men die everyday and he will be no different in the end.”

It feels a little like the world has gone grey. A quiet realization seems to come over it, words spoken without accusation and without threat were somehow more terrifying than anything else that could have ever been said. Halo is calm as she forces her listeners to hear her acknowledgement- of an inevitability that it was desperate to put off, because the world had built around assumptions and ignorance's and it’s love and optimism for perfection without the nihilistic understanding that all of it was impossible.

“The world is a terrible place.”

It was sickening to pretend otherwise.

Yet, Halo still takes a deep breath, and she could end it there. End it on a sour, despondent note that will eat away at people and frustrate and anger them because no one likes being unhappy and sad and she’d put herself in the perfect spot to be blamed for it all. But she continues- and the smile can be heard in her voice. Somber, yes, but true.

“But...”

-0-

She gets him laughing.

She doesn't know how. Gentle poking and prodding and finding a ticklish spot and he's gone, collapsing back in her bed as his stomach cramps and he pleads for her to stop through breathlessness that is much, much better than the choking, crippling weight of anxiety and panic hanging over him.

She loves his laugh. It's a rough, boyish noise that he tries to swallow but can't- it's strong. Coming from somewhere deep in his belly.

It seems to always surprise him, whenever he belts it out, but she ignores that sad thought and carries on. Until his cheeks are straining and his tears are crusted over and the panic on his face holds less horror, gripping onto his heart.

He doesn't deserve it. Those terrible feelings.

And Medama tries not to feel a cold rage pierce through her, at the acknowledgment of just how many people have hurt him, in ways she may never know and to an extent that she was only just getting a taste of. A sour, bitter part of him that was tough to swallow, but she did anyways.

"Gonna try and get revenge on me?" She teases lightly, hoping for a response that didn't involve choked words and undercurrents of self-hatred and low self-esteem. "I'll have you know that I am not ticklish. At all."

He pokes her side.

She yelps.

"So that was a lie then, huh?"

"...Maybe."

He chuckles.

He can feel her weighing down the side of the bed that she’d crawled on, his blanket slipping from around her shoulders and he imagined the fabric spilling behind her as she tilted her head down at him. It was long enough that it splayed like a veil and a quick glance showed him how it drowned the contents of her bed beneath.

Some strange, elated part of him loves the sight of something of his so obvious amongst the rest of her things.

“You should sleep."

“I should, I really should..."

He doesn’t know why he’s whispering. Maybe it’s because he’s suddenly deeply aware of the silence in her home, of the vague tick of a clock somewhere he can’t see. Or, maybe, it was simply that dreamy feeling creeping over him, the memory of her hands gliding through his hair until he was able to breathe again. Or the memory of her lips so close to his, playing in his head on repeat, with the reminder of her hot breath lightly brushing over his face.

She’s not as close as she was then. But she was close enough that a pink strand of hair, still damp and dark, fell free from behind her ears and tickled his face. The strand curls across his cheek-

He’s forced to look away as he lets out a small sneeze.

(Medama makes that noise again.

That high-pitched whine in the back of her throat, only this one is coupled with her eyes impossibly wide as she stares at him. If he looked at her he’d be able to see the stars in her gaze and the way her smile slipped away, a deep infatuation that had her mouthing “cute” without her permission.)

“Sorry.”

“...You sneeze like a kitten.”

(Aa. She thinks that’s almost worse than just saying he was cute out loud.

Because he was.

Cute. She wanted to never look away.)

She wobbles with a laugh as he gives her an annoyed look and collapses slightly against him, eliciting a small surprised huff. It’s hard to keep it inside- so she doesn’t, letting her laughter grow bubbly and warm as she leaned her face into the crux of his shoulder, feeling him shift his head back to avoid her horns accidentally knocking him across the jaw.

She can feel her legs kick in barely concealed excitement. She just wants to scream as her insides fill with that exploding, bubbling feeling that just wants to overflow out of every pore of her being.

It’s silly. So silly.

But she likes being silly with him.

(Likes that, even in the dark moments and tear filled conversations, they can still come back to this. To just holding each other close with silent promises to not let go.)

-0-

Halo's voice is sweet like honey.

"The world has good things in it, good moment... things that don't revolve around heroes and villains. The bad and the good. The right and the wrong." She's musing to herself more than to them right now. It doesn’t necessarily matter. They still hear it anyway. "There are moments to hold onto and remember, in the dark times of your life, there will always be something you can look back on fondly... maybe it won’t be the best when compared to others, and maybe it’ll take you some time to find it again and it’ll seem like it’s lost, but it’ll still be there.”

She snorts slightly.

“The world will try and make you forget, will tell you that it’s not something you deserve, and, maybe, it’ll seem like it’s not worth it. Because it will only last so long and life is fleeting but-”

An absent pause, like she’s looking off into space and recalling memories of long ago and feelings of joy that she hadn’t felt in awhile.

"Is it really so wrong to just... enjoy existing for awhile?"

-0-

She’s spilling the carnival story of how she got Fishey before long, just rapid fire talking and wild hand motions that make it difficult to keep the blanket curled around her, before she’s whipping around to turn to him with a thousand words on her lips and- “-that’s how I...?” She freezes, mouth hanging open in slight surprise.

And, oh, it really shouldn’t be so surprising. Not at all.

“Oh, Shin~sou.” She sighs fondly, her mouth quirking upwards as she tries to keep the soft little squeal from spilling out. She just- She just couldn’t help it. It was moments like these that reminded her why she went through all of this, why she continued everyday and didn’t think about previous lives and previous friends and families-

Because the right now was so very wonderful.

It was only mid-afternoon and, yet, she could feel her insides melting at the steady rise and fall of his chest. Shinsou had managed to fall asleep. He'd made a home on her bed, curled up amongst her pillows and legs tossed like a starfish while the rest of him, his arms, curled deep into her blankets and pillows. As if he was trying to bury himself in the softest parts. His head tilted and hair stuck up wildly, he looked absolutely serene and calm and whatever tension that had remained in him had disappeared.

She bit her lip to keep her wobbly, wide grin down. 

"Sweet dreams."

And... And...

-And she wishes she could kiss him.

She wishes she could satiate that soft urge in her belly. To just lean over and press her lips against his cheek and whisper a fond goodnight. Nothing more. But even that... even that would be too much. 

Some part of her fears that he wouldn't see it as a simple friendly gesture. That he would notice all the feelings and words that failed to spill from her lips and he would look up at her with judgement and quiet and all it would lead to was avoidance that her heart- just couldn't take. Not again. Not when he came back and offered sweet words from which she would never recover.

Medama settles in her place beside him, wrapping his dorky blanket around them, and feels her heart squeeze with the hum of music on her mouth, a quiet song that wouldn’t wake him but that would ease her aching heart, “You don’t have to be a hero to save the world.” She sings. “It doesn’t make you a narcissist to love yourself. 

It feels like nothing is easy, it’ll never be... that’s alright, let it out, talk to me.”

The words are almost whispered in the quiet, soft little snores that he let out.

“You don’t have to be a prodigy to be unique.”

Her thumb glides across his cheek, feeling the rough crust of tears dried over.

“You don’t have to know what to say or what to think...”

The urge is so soft, so very sweet-

You don’t have to be anybody you can never be.

-and she’s only half aware of how her mouth has moved, unbidden and without her permission, to press a kiss to his forehead. It’s nothing more than a light peck, unhurried and delicate in nature, and there is nothing but a small smile on her face as she pulls away. Those little worries don’t seem like anything more than a buzzing in her head.

That’s alright, let it out, talk to me.

.

.

.

Chapter Text

A phone rings.

A hand shoots out from underneath blankets to grab it and immediately flips it off the desk. It clatters to the ground. The ringing continues even as blankets quickly shift and a sleepy voice croaks, “Oh, shit-” And a body half slides out from underneath the pile, finally managing to get a grip on it, slamming on the answer button without even checking the Caller ID. “H-Hello, this is- this is Me-” She coughs slightly, her throat scratchy. “-dama.”

(Waking up so suddenly is disorienting and it feels like her mind isn't even properly working yet. It's like the key being turned and the engine failing to start- she needs a couple more minutes before she can even begin to think properly.)

She’s hanging off the side of her bed, her torso completely tossed over the edge of it, so far down that she has to use her elbows to balance on the floor or else it would send her sliding the rest of the way out. It helps that an arm is loosely wrapped around her waist, a hand on the small of her back that keeps her centered, even if it doesn't mean to do so-

She winces at the soft groan from somewhere behind her.

And a voice immediately begins speaking into her ear.

“Oh, hey, Mom.”

She feels the blankets shift and tangle around her legs, especially as she grunts and pushes herself off the floor- "Hang on, hang on..." She mutters and somehow manages to scoot herself back onto the bed. The arm is now draped across her stomach and she can feel it slowly tightening in its hold, trying to pull her closer. "Okay, sorry, I- can I call you back?”

The sudden silence from the other side is enough to tell her no.

“I- no, I wasn’t really doing anything, it was just- Wait a second.”

A face scrunches, eyes still closed, and she can’t help the smile and little laugh that bubbles up at the sight. She pulls the phone away from her ear for just a moment, just long enough to murmur an apology, “I’m so sorry,” for the sudden wakeup call her phone had caused. Especially when he clearly and so desperately needed the rest. “You can go back to sleep, if you want.” Medama let’s her free hand tangle into soft purple locks as he buries his face into her side, using her as a pillow. Careful to not let her fingers catch on any tangles that he may have, feeling a low hum build in his throat that seems to-

Medama could only liken it to a purr. It was a simple hum, yes, but there was a vibrato to it that had her mouth falling open in shock. His throat rumbling against her as she felt him grow lax and those near silent snores began to get interspersed by the delighted notes he let out and-

She stutters. “W-What-? Yes, yes, I was talking to...” She trails off, her voice is barely above a whisper. “Shinsou came over. The phone woke him up and-” She blinks, her face pinkening slightly at the flat tone of voice on the other end of the call. “No, of course not. He just fell asleep and I guess I did too.” She murmurs, pads of her fingers lightly rubbing circles over his scalp.

The “purring” sensation increases slightly.

Her lips press together. Her heart fluttering in her chest and she desperately wants to press a pillow into her face to hide her scream. “Mom,” she whispers rapidly, “Mom, mom. He purrs. It’s- He purrs, I didn’t know people could do that-”

So maybe purr wasn’t the right word. It was very clearly human, comparing it to an animal's purr would be inaccurate; it was reminiscent of a normal hum, but it was… it was an unnatural sound made somewhere deep in his throat and it tickled her ears and made her heart swell with some kind of joy at knowing that he was comfortable and content enough to do so.

Suddenly she understands why he likes cats so much.

It was a sound she could get addicted to.

“-he's so amazing!"

She whispers it as quietly as she can, even as her voice raises in pitch.

Unaware of eyes that creak open just the tiniest of bits and the sleepy, half-delirious confusion in indigo eyes before they're closing again and sinking into the comfortable position they'd found themselves in.

"...No." Medama whispers. Face a hue of pink that wouldn't go away. "I- yes, you know I have a..." She makes a hum to avoid saying the word with him there, biting her bottom lip. "It's not a big deal."

A pause as she listens.

"Do something-? I- but- what if..." It's her head that falls, her shoulders coming up to hug her neck as her blush spreads down in a brilliant color that warmed her entire body and made her stomach swirl. "I- I want to. But, now isn't the time for that, I don't want to make him think that's all I think of him. All I want from him." She sighs and her voice grows even quieter, so quiet that even she could barely hear herself. "And what if... what if he doesn't want to be my friend anymore...?"

A nervous wait.

He shifts in his half-asleep state. Absolutely drowning in blankets and practically cocooned in them all.

Medama swallows at the sight of him.

"O-Okay, I'll... I'll think about it." She will, it doesn't sound like a lie, but she doesn't know how much her heart could afford the space. "What was it that you called about anyways-?"

Shinsou is so addled by sleep that the voice speaking above him sounds muffled and like they’re speaking another language, maybe they even are, he doesn’t know- his brain is fuzzy and it feels like his eyes are being weighed down by rocks, so all he can really understand is the general gist and tone of the voice. A girl, familiar; she sounds happy and nervous and a little like she wants to laugh.

(He feels a little like he wants to hear that laugh.)

Before he makes out an assuring, “-go back to sleep-” and is all too willing to listen.

It doesn’t help that he can feel something soothingly brushing through his hair and over his head and awareness in him just fades. Even more as he buries himself in the most comfortable position he can manage, feeling himself hum unbidden at every little warmth and luxury.

A pleased noise escapes him as the voice turns giggly and joyful and that soothing motion increases slightly.

He catches the word amazing, something in his mind telling him that it’s referring to him, and he slowly and painfully creaks his eyes open to catch sight of pink and more pink and feels brief confusion pinch at his features before- “Oh, it’s just Medama.” Hit’s him and he relaxes with the knowledge of her presence, something unclenching in his stomach with relief as sleep tries to drag him back down and-

Silence. A little eerie.

He muffles something in his sleep, he couldn’t even tell himself what it might've been.

And the tone she has when she next speaks instantly has him frowning, “What.” Her voice is flat and serious and dripping with a cold confusion that has his back tensing as he lifts his head up to wonder what was wrong.

He doesn’t get the chance. The body he was using as a pillow shifts abruptly and is gone from beneath him and Shinsou is left to grunt as he faceplants into sheets and blankets and the soothing feeling is gone.

Shinsou groans.

Much more upset by the loss than he'd thought he'd be.

“The fuck... is... even happening?” His words are slurred and he listens to the distant sounds of bare feet padding across the floor, away from him. They're followed quickly by the telltale sound of someone opening up cabinet drawers and going through papers. “Wha...?”

He curses, rolling over, onto his back, as he grits his teeth and looks up at the ceiling-

His entire body feels heavy and his head is swirling with delirium.

...
...

Medama doesn't mean to be so rough with Shinsou. But it doesn't really cross her mind that she even is as she quickly pushes him aside and hops out of bed, listening to her mothers instructions and memory working to capture every single word.

She doesn't hear Shinsou's mumbled curses as she steps into the hallway and makes her way to the dust-covered door that hadn't been touched in awhile. Sliding some of the leftover boxes that her father had forgotten to grab- and, boy, had her mom had been annoyed when he'd promised that he remembered everything and hadn't let her doublecheck because he wanted her to trust his memory more... they no longer trust his memory anymore- hurrying into the empty bedroom that was, technically, still her parents. Even if it hadn't seen much use over the last couple months.

"Yeah, I'm grabbing it now."

She assures the phone as she hurries to the large cabinet pushed into the corner of the room, opening up drawers until she gets to the right section. Each one had its own place, each organized by year, and thick and heavy as each file looked just about ready to burst.

“I do take my own notes, mom, stop telling me to do it too.” She mutters, failing to keep the annoyance out of her voice. She brought it up every single time she talked to her. “Just because keeping notes on everyday helps you out, doesn’t mean it helps me. And my music notes so count-” She huffs, fingering through the assorted files. “-I choose them based off the day, you know they help me keep my head together.”

A hint of amusement in a slightly frustrated voice.

“I’m telling you, the seizures are because I have essentially double the information, I don’t care what the quirk specialist says- he was an idiot and we both know we agree on that.”

A thin laugh.

She pulls the correct file free. “Damn it, why is this so heavy?” A pause as she listens, leaving the dust-covered room before it can make her start sneezing, returning to her own room. “Yes. I know it’s a full years worth, but still- you don’t have to list the fact that… dad had ten shots of espresso on the first of June? What? Sometimes I wonder how he’s still alive, I mean, what even is he?”

“My hero.”

Shinsou groans from the bed, hands pressed to his face and Medama can't help but shoot him a sympathetic look. "You... do look like you could use a few, huh?" He makes a disgruntled face, the bags under his eyes even more pronounced than usual as he painfully pushes himself up into a sitting position. "Here. Hold this."

“I’m not a table.”

He grunts, shifting under the weight of the folder because, Medama was right, it was incredibly heavy.

“Mnh, I don’t know. You’re sure looking like a pretty fine table right about now.”

“...I could drop this.”

“Please don’t.”

He wouldn’t. But he could.

“Mom, is it okay if I look over it with Shin~sou in the room?” She asks her phone, even as she gestures for him to scooch back to the other side of the bed so she can crawl up on it, plopping down on her knees directly in front of him. “Yeah. No. I mean, technically I slept with him twice-” Shinsou’s ears burn red and Medama gives him a glance with sparkling, mischievous eyes that tells him she’s saying it to mess with him in his still dazed state. “-and he’s been nothing but a gentleman, I assure you. Hey!”

He kicks her lightly with his foot, giving her a simmering frown.

“...Okay. A not-so-gentle-man.”

Her eyes twitch in that motion that Shinsou instantly recognizes- “Don’t you roll your eyes at me.”

A pause.

Medama’s lips purse but it’s clear that she’s struggling to keep back her bemusement.

“Yeah, he did.” Medama grins and he feels confusion hit him as she tilts her head and her words seem to come out in a sigh. “Figured it out in one go. I know.” She giggles at something her mom says. “I’ll let you know.”

Medama ignores his sock covered feet, which he pulls back towards him so he can cross his legs, eyes blinking with sleepiness as he struggled to keep his eyes open, as she leans absently fiddles with the folder in his arms. Carefully flipping through page after page.

“...What are you even looking for?”

Shinsou manages to ask, though Medama can't help but giggle at him- his voice seems to drop off half way through and his eyes are mostly closed. 

It's obvious that he's seconds away from just passing back out.

“Doesn’t your mom have basically the same quirk as you? If she wrote it down, shouldn’t she be able to remember it?”

“Mn, yes. But she didn’t write this down.”

Medama flips to a smaller folder within the larger one, this one with a short stack of papers that seem to stop part way through the first couple months of that year. It's the cleanest file in the bunch, unrumpled and unwrinkled. It had clearly been added to the stack at a latter date when compared to all the rest.

“These are copies of case summaries that a family friend of ours did. He asked my mom to keep them organized for him, sort of as a safeguard in case any of his files got destroyed or lost, and she’s a bit obsessed with having as much information compiled as possible-”

“Then why doesn’t she call him?”

“He died. Brain cancer.” Medama says simply. “If you’re really that tired it’ll only be a couple minutes.”

Shinsou freezes.

And he slumps. “I’s fine.” Mentally cursing his insensitivity. “Sorry.”

“No worries. It was years ago and he was happy. In the end. Not everyone gets that.” Medama mused. The small folder is flipped open and she licks her thumb so she can actually pull the pieces of paper apart, placing the sheets back in Shinsou's arms so she can read it as if she was reading music from a music stand. “The problem is... that my mom found a case file with his name on it and, given her and my perfect memories, she couldn’t help but notice something a little odd about it.”

Shinsou sleepily waits for her explain.

“The date that he was apparently present for was also one of the dates that he was scheduled for chemotherapy.” Medama explained. “Not only that, but I, personally, remember all the cases that he took around that time. I liked to go to them and take notes.”

“That’s... not weird at all.”

“You can say it’s weird, I won’t be offended.”

“It’s weird.”

She laughs.

There’s a quiet in the room. Comfortable, but it feels a little strange. It lasts for as long as it takes Medama to flip to the next page that she planned to read.

“He mostly did murder and assault cases. Specifically, he did murder and assault cases that involved heroes in some way.” Medama explained. “He had a pretty okay track record but was relatively unknown compared to others. You know that one case study they had us cover in law class a couple weeks back?”

Uhm, no. He did not.

“There were a lot of them. You’re gonna have to be more specific. And law is your best subject, not mine-”

His best was English, actually, which frustrated him endlessly with how Medama was already fluent in it and seemed to just not... understand how he didn’t get certain rules with it when he studied with her. Then she’d explained that English was a Viking of a language and to understand it properly, he’d probably have to learn some basic rules in other languages, because it was likely stolen anyways. That was about when he’d given up on asking her for clarification on any grammatical rules.

She seemed to always be able to point out what was wrong but unable to explain why it was wrong.

“-and he didn’t really go in-depth on any of the murder cases...”

Medama clarifies with, “When Slidin’ Go was accused of sabotaging a major infrastructure, creating a sinkhole that resulted in two people’s deaths and five people seriously injured.”

“Aa.”

To be honest, he remembered that more for the media storm than anything they did in class.

“He was the one prosecuting him. It was actually a whole thing-”

She gives a small laugh, it seems out of place given the subject matter, but he guessed her personal stake in it gave her a very different perspective than it did him.

“-mom and him got into a fight over the case, she really, really wanted it. But the family thought he was more charming and he never let her live it down.” She frowned. “It’s too bad that he wasn’t allowed to present some of the footage he’d gathered, he never told me why, but I imagine he would’ve won the case otherwise...”

“I thought Slidin’ Go’s quirk only let him slide?”

“It leaves residue. That’s what he was struggling to prove and Slidin’ Go was allowed to choose who the quirk specialist to review him was and...” She waves her hand in the air. As if she hadn’t just revealed that an active-Pro Hero should absolutely be in jail right now and, most likely, only got off on a technicality and the Hero Commissions protection. “You know how it is. Just- Don’t ever intern for Slidin’ Go. Please. In fact. I have a list of suspicious heroes that you probably should avoid along with a list of reasons why.”

He raises a brow. “Anyone at UA?”

“Other than Nezu, no, actually.” He blinks at her. “He... gets away with a lot because he’s not considered human. It’s actually rather fascinating to follow, it’s just a trail of chaos- though, I will admit, that none of it seems to be in the efforts of causing harm or anything like that. He’s mostly just got a strange record.”

“Huh.”

Shinsou... did not know what to do with that sort of information.

“So this is a case you don’t remember-?”

“And a case that he couldn’t have been present for.” Medama confirms. “So either someone made a mistake somewhere, he skipped chemo, which is-”

“Unlikely.”

“Incredibly unlikely.”

Shinsou watched her nose crinkle in concentration, unable to quite tear his half-lidded gaze away from the scrunched up face she was making, and leaned in with intense interest. Absolutely absorbed in how her mind seemed to be working, gears turning as she went over the subject, and her mouth gave a tiny little, thoughtful frown.

“-or...” He hung onto her trailed off words. “Or someone lied. And, if someone did, that’s something we need evidence to prove.”

“Right. And this... this is the kind of thing you’re interested in, right, Meda- Tasatsu?”

She gives him a strange look.

He pointedly glances at her phone. Which had been set to speaker.

“Shin. Please. She doesn’t care if you call me Medama.” His neck burns red in embarrassment, even worse now that she’d called him out on it. He gives her a pointed scowl. “But, yes. Investigating things, deduction... I’ve always found it absolutely fascinating.”

He finds it fascinating how her words seem to chirp and her face seems to glow as she says that.

Medama turns back to her phone.

Shinsou's eyes lazily follow her.

“Hey, mom, there are files here for those dates.”

And she seems honestly surprised by that information. “There are?” Her mom hums and then lets out a slightly frustrated sigh. “My, of course there are, if they should want to be thorough...” Shinsou can’t help but shift awkwardly, trying not to picture Tasatsu Sakuragi’s intense gaze, even just hearing her voice was enough to make him tense and straighten. Suddenly wide awake and all too aware of where he sat- he bites his lip. Discomfited by the knowledge that she knew that he’d fallen asleep with Medama, more than once, and that he was currently situated in her bed, home alone with her and...

He shakes his head. “Is there no way that he could have made the case even despite his chemotherapy?”

It’s the first time that he goes out of his way to talk to her and he waits for the response. He doesn’t have to wait long and feels his stomach knot at the slight annoyance in her tone. “I know he wasn’t a part of this case. Even on his death-bed, something this high-profile, he would have rubbed it in my face." She snorts. "Would've even broken an NDA if it meant one-upping me."

He focuses back on the sight of Medama's eyes twitching in the clear sign of her roaming gaze. It was a little odd, seeing her so focused, when she so rarely seemed to be- all too happy to daydream and smile and let her mind wander to wherever her thoughts may lead.

Shinsou can't help but feel something in him soften.

The sudden alertness her mother had caused seemed to dwindle as he yawned.

“There’s... something weird about this, mom.”

“Of course there is.”

“No, I mean-”

“Oh, good. I was getting tired of listening to your flirting.”

Medama blinks at the phone. “That’s- but we weren’t-”

“Sure you weren’t. My mistake.” The drawl to her word is amused. Too amused. “Alright. I don’t mind if you have your friend stay over to help you out, just let me know if anything odd happens. And, Medama, you should at least try to stop finding yourself with boys in your bed, how do you think I ended up with you-?”

“Mom!”

Shinsou’s face explodes with red and Medama is no better, her hissed whisper indignant and half sounding like a yelp, as her mother gives nothing but a small laugh that they can just hear the sound of a smirk in.

“And remember not to call me during work hours, I have enough people needing to talk to me as is. Your little boy problems aren't helping.” They're both still blushing, but they're coming down from it, sharing a glance that has Medama biting her lip and Shinsou frowning as they stared at the phone. “Now, I really must be going, if there’s not anything else...?”

“If I notice anything out of the ordinary, I’ll let you know.”

“No, send it to your dad. You know how protective he gets.”

There’s quick goodbyes exchanged and Medama’s lips pressed together thinly as Shinsou scratches the back of his neck.

“Someone walked in on her side, didn’t they?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

“...Did she have to-”

“Tease us? Yes, yes she did.” Medama groans, her face falling in her hands. “I’m sorry. Urgh. She’s just... She didn’t make you uncomfortable, did she? My mom likes to mess with me whenever she can and...” She looks so heartbrokenly anxious, the papers crinkling underneath her fingers as her shoulders hunch. “It was probably the easiest thing for her to fall back on.”

He shakes his head, feels his eyelids weigh heavy. “No, it’s fine... She has a point anyway.” He lets out a sigh through his nose and settles the large folder in his lap now that it looked like Medama had pulled everything she needed from it, fingers reaching out to tug and twist on the blankets and comforters and pillows that surrounded them. "If I were her, I'd probably think we were up to something suspicious as well."

Medama gives him a slightly hurt look as he continues.

"It's- I mean, it's weird, isn't it? Friends don't... friends aren't supposed to do the things we usually do. Then again," he gives a sharp, bitter laugh, "I wouldn't exactly know."

Medama is quiet for a long while.

She stares at the papers in her hands and Shinsou can tell that her eyes aren't really seeing anything, she has that sort of dazed look that she often gets when it's clear that her mind isn't exactly present- it makes his stomach turn. It reminds him too much of when she has a seizure, if he was being honest, like- like she was somewhere else and completely untouchable.

"...I don't think I would know either." She finally admits and there's something sad about her, impossibly sad. It's that loneliness from before and he wants to reach out and cover her with his blanket, as if it might protect her from the world. As if it may act as a shield. "What's weird and what's not. I've- I've never had a friend like you before. And the ones I had before..."

She doesn't finish. And her eyes close as she takes a deep breath, something pained coming over her. It pinches at her face and makes her mouth open and close as her voice seems to fail her.

He taps her with his foot.

It seems to startle her back to herself, back into the moment. "I don't like to think about them." The words are terse and quick and Shinsou doesn't like how they sound. "If there are some things I wish I didn't remember..."

She swipes a thumb under one of her eyes and Shinsou shifts at the sight of a single tear slipping free from her eye.

"I wish I didn't remember them. I don't want to miss them. But I can't help to, even though they... even though they were..." She doesn't finish. Shinsou doesn't force her to.

"Do you need anything?"

"N-No, I-" She swallows. "I need a moment."

She scrubs her hands over her face, until her skin is rubbed red and the dark lines around her eyes grow more pronounced and slightly purple with the changing colors of her skin. Looking almost like two bruises. 

When she finishes, Shinsou is treated to the sight of a shaky, bittersweet smile that's a bit too many teeth and a bit too awkward but is still definitely real. "If it makes you uncomfortable, that's more than fine, but I... I like our weird." He wants to reach out and squeeze her hands; to take the papers from her and thread his fingers through hers, to offer some sort of comfort. Whatever she needed to get her hands to stop trembling. "And I said it before, didn't I? If being weird means I get to hang out with you, then I don't mind it one bit."

The papers crinkle. Medama flinches at the sound before she's struggling to try and smooth them back out, stacking them together and trying to carefully make sure that they won't get even more wrinkled-

Shinsou stops her.

Her hands are fumbling.

(It's like she's shivering.

Like she's blue from cold and something frozen and he can see goosebumps crawling up her arms.)

He takes them from her, organizes them, licking his lips as he made sure they were all straightened and secure. He glances up when Medama speaks again, "I don't want to stop doing what we're doing just because my mom likes to push boundaries."

He gives a slow, hesitant nod, glancing back to the papers.

"I... I like that you hug me. And I like that we can just... fall asleep." She smiles, as if she was admitting some terrible secret. "And I like that you're a dork-" He frowns. "-who brings me ugly blankets-"

"They're not that ugly."

He's lying. They're really ugly.

"-and that you can make me feel like..." She trails off, a small huff of a humorless laugh escaping her.

"Like?"

He repeats, urging her on.

His heart feels like it's spiking in his chest and he feels like something is completely overwhelming him and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep it inside.

"Like I... Like I want to give everything away."

His head tilts.

"Does that make sense?"

"...In a way."

It's- confusing is what it is, but it makes his insides feel warm and that fuzzy feeling is back and he distractedly smooths the papers in his hands out, even though he no longer needs to. "Why do you keep saying these kinds of things?" The things that made him want to collapse and made him want to run and hide. The things that felt like... too much and, yet, never enough. “It’s like you’re trying to get a reaction out of me.”

A long moment of silence.

“...Maybe I am.”

“Why?”

“Shin.”

She doesn’t raise her head to meet his gaze, but her voice is quiet and there’s a nervous delicacy about it. The way she says that sweet nickname though, there’s a chilling note to it that makes him shiver, a sort of frustration built up by someone saying things so plainly, so obviously, and they still weren’t getting across.

They were.

They were.

But Shinsou was Shinsou and he... didn't know what to do.

“I think you already know why.”

He swallows thickly. His ears burn. "...Aa.” And he can feel the creeping flush finally come over him.

Medama suddenly looks so terribly afraid and she hunches and he never wanted to see that look turned towards him. "I- I can stop. At any moment." She murmurs. "Just say the word."

He makes a noise in the back of his throat.

It's what gets her to look up and Shinsou does the only thing he can do, the only thing he can think of that doesn't involve leaning forward and holding her tight until her lips are bruised on his own-

The lazy smirk is familiar, it shows just a bit too many teeth and tugs on his cheeks with the force of it, but it's one that always seemed to catch her attention. "And... didn't I tell you?" He can feel his nerves knot inside his stomach. "If I wanted you to stop..."

He leans forward, his cheek resting against his hand as his elbow rests on his knee.

He licks his suddenly dry lips.

Medama's mouth parts slightly, surprise dancing over her features, especially as he reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear again. "I'd make you."

Her mouth forms a tiny little 'oh'-shape, her eyes blinking rapidly. Shinsou feels like slamming his head into the wall. He didn't even- He didn't even know where that came from and Medama probably thought he was- "...O-Okay. Okay." She stutters and he grins nervously at the small smile that tentatively curls over her face. It's downright mischievous. "J-Just... Just make sure you keep talking to me like that and we won't have any problems, mn'kay, Shin~sou?"

-Something sparks in his gaze.

Something playful and light-hearted and just as tricky.

He hums- and, unbeknownst to him, it sounds like a purr to Medama, like his very voice has turned absolutely bewitching and it makes her head buzz with fuzziness and a staticky shiver run up her spine- that smirk grows just a bit more real. His eyes crinkling with the force of it, lazy and conniving and dancing with mirth, "If you wanted me to perform lip service, all you needed to do was ask."

Medama bites her lip.

A strangled sound coming out of her that she tries to cover with a cough. "D-Depends-" Her face is red hot and her grin is so impossibly wide that it makes her cheeks hurt but she can't not respond, even if her words are coming out barely understandable. "Dep-Depends on what kind o-of lip service you're o-offering."

Shinsou laughs.

And they're both red-faced and it's just too much to handle and neither of them can keep in their breathless laughter and giggles- "So- do you, like, want to stay over? It's kind of late already and I imagine I could use your help on sorting through all this."

His grin is teasing and borderline salacious, "Depends. What do I get out of it?"

Medama giggles.

Then deadpans in the flattest, most serious voice she can managed: "Pizza." And they both dissolve back into hysterics as it gets to be too much for either of them.

-0-

The office is dark and she can't help but stare at her phone, frown on her face as she loses herself in her worries- it's too bad, she had wanted to speak with the Shinsou-boy for a moment, but it seemed like today just wouldn't be her day.

“Who was that?”

She notes how her own shadow stretches with the open door, how it seems to move even as she doesn't, and how quickly it disappears when the door closes behind her... interrupter. "Not that it's any of your business, but that was my daughter."

Sakuragi turns on heel to greet the nosy little secretary. Who was looking curiously up at her, as if she was entirely innocent and as if Sakuragi had no clue that she was a Commission-appointed spy, perfectly situated within her own place of work to get a good look on all the latest little cases and information.

As if Sakuragi was a stupid woman who didn’t know a librarian from a book-seller.

“She typically doesn’t call me while I’m at work, so I had thought it may have been an emergency.”

“I wasn’t aware that you had a daughter-” Sakuragi rolled her eyes, the woman completely none-the-wiser to the action. She wouldn’t be able to guess her facial expressions if Sakuragi even tried to make it easy on her. “-was it an emergency?”

She’s asking as if Sakuragi doesn’t know that all her friends and family are on some sort of list.

As if there aren’t cameras and eyes watching at every corner.

(As if she hadn’t spent weeks making sure her office was cleaned of every single little bug and didn’t have her own placed throughout to keep more from appearing.)

“No. Unfortunately, my daughter has found herself smitten with a boy-”

She lets her lips curve into a cruel smirk.

Even as she wants to bring a thumbnail up to her lip and chew on it. She had too many worries to do anything but have faith in her daughter's ability to figure out the good ones from the bad. And seeing how that Shinsou-boy had defended her daughter, to a point that it could have very easily sacrificed his career, though he probably hadn’t thought of that consequence until later; how quickly he’d managed to parse together Medama’s expressions… She would say that she’d chosen the correct one already.

Quite honestly, Sakuragi rather liked the Shinsou-boy.

And, from the few conversations she’d had with his mother, she thought his family was a rather upstanding bunch.

She'd wanted to speak to the boy her daughter was smitten with but, she supposed, she should take it as a blessing in disguise. She was sure he would be much more comfortable speaking to her in person rather than over the phone.

It was always better to speak to someone face to face and she was sure the Shinsou-boy would appreciate at least that much.