Hello again, and I'm sorry. I know I've been gone for a while but the truth is I ended up hitting a really bad writer's block. I ended up burning myself out with all the stories I had and the rapid updates, so I decided to take a break, step back, and turn away from writing for a while. Which is why Shooting Star and The Theory of Us are gone. I made them on a whim while I had a lot of energy for writing, and then I lost all motivation for them. I'll return to Silver Sky someday.

I came up with this story after getting back into reading and creating a character who I actually really liked. I hope you guys will, too.

I don't own MHA.

i. wax mannequin

—

To the world around me, I was a child of the stars, the embodiment of greatness, a prodigy. Some considered me proof of the universe's inner workings. To my mother, I was a constant reminder of a heart in desperate need of mending. To my father, I was nothing at all. To my sister, I was some sort of charity case, but the truth was clearer to me than anything else. Deep down, I knew what I truly was— I always did.

I was just a girl.

The city of Minato witnessed many births on the clear night of November sixteenth, but none so much like mine. When I was old enough to understand concepts like my birth and the events that led up to it, I was told that a crowd huddled outside the hospital, dozens of eyes flickering not unlike the flames of candles held in their expectant hands. It was a sight that frightened patients and infuriated nurses.

I was whisked away before my mother even had the chance to look at me. It was to her shocked horror and stunned disappointment that her arms were empty and the infant she spent so many hours pushing out had seemingly disappeared. The crowd was there to keep her company, surely, but she remained blissfully unaware they even existed.

She named me Tendou.

The world knew my name before I did.

Before I turned five years old, I had, tragically or not, realized that the lives of the ordinary weren't that so much as they were astonishingly common. Up until then, I had viewed everything through a glass lens, and it wasn't until I woke up with water trickling down my fingertips that I became aware of the fact that my life was not so mundane as I thought it was. And in that moment, my entire life had changed. For better or for worse— I still have yet to decide.

The truth was that I was born into a family filled with remarkable people, the kind of people seen on television who made some fantastic discovery or helped the community in one way or another. It was always their bright smiles and straightened backs I looked up to and what I was expected to pursue. From the moment I took my first breath, their legacy was what I was supposed to uphold. Everything the Shimizu family had worked towards congregated and exploded with my birth. I was the beginning and the end. The death and rebirth. To become what so many others could only dream of being—

"That burden rests on your shoulders, now."

My entire life had been planned out for me and it had barely started.

I felt like I was dying.

This wasn't to say I wanted to or that I actually was, as tragic as that would be, but for what it was worth, the itch under my skin made me wish I could've melted into a puddle. It was dull and pulsated somewhere in my knee area before traveling towards my calf and eventually settling at my ankle, the one place I couldn't reach due to the bulky and unappealing cast that my leg had been encased in.

The unfortunate circumstance led me to question if there was a higher power who took joy in seeing me miserable. Then, because I was already teetering dangerously on the edge of irritability, I let out a large huff that certainly didn't go unnoticed by the only other person in the room. Sapphire eyes shifted toward me and twitched— I only noticed because I was looking directly at her— before returning to the mounds of paper that surrounded her like a mountain of snow after a blizzard.

"Tendou, will you just… bear with me? I'll be done in a few minutes," my mother sighed in exasperation that rivaled my own. Her pen glided quickly and fluidly across the paper, but I was left with the unnerving feeling that we would never leave her office. And that pesky itch had yet to subside.

"I'm hungry," I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest in a sign of defiance. My mother once again glanced up from her papers, black tresses fluttering into her eyes.

"Fine," she said, throwing her pen down. She twisted around in her chair and shuffled through the bag that hung behind it by its shoulder strap before pulling out a few crumpled bills and coins. "Here."

My mother stood up and strode over to me in a few steps. She practically stuffed the money into my lap, pink lips pulled downward into a frown.

"Take this and— I don't know— go buy something from the cafeteria."

"But—"

"Tendou, don't. Just— take the money and go, okay?"

Despite the overwhelming urge to say something back, I swallowed the words that threatened to spill from my tongue and stuffed the money into my pocket. With the pitiful state of my leg, tasks as simple as standing up became a herculean effort. I awkwardly rose on my good leg and grabbed the crutches that leaned on the wall beside me, balancing them underneath my armpits, and limped out of the office.

I hated hospitals. The irony was too much for most people including myself to handle, considering my mother is a renowned neurosurgeon, but I often found that the places meant to promote health and recovery were instead breeding grounds for bad luck and distress. The halls often carried the stench of lost hope; sharp and pungent and enough to make my nose hairs feel like they were burning.

Hospital food wasn't anything groundbreaking either, but considering my mother and I would be stuck here for an unspecified amount of time, I decided that stubbornly starving because the curry was a bit watery wasn't particularly wise or ideal.

As I hobbled down the hall, I uttered a small hello to any doctors and nurses I passed by. However, rounding a corner was proven to be a poor choice. I nearly ran into a nurse, his eyes widening before promptly tapering into a doubting glare.

"Are you a patient here?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest as if to establish some sort of dominance. "Where is your wristband? Were you given the go ahead to move?"

"I'm not a patient. I just so happen to look like one," I snorted, withholding the urge to roll my eyes. "I'm here with my mother, Dr. Shimizu Tomoko."

"I'm going to need to see proof of ID."

I furrowed my brows in consternation, my amethyst eyes looking into his brown. The people in this particular hospital and I had some familiarity with each other due to my mother. Most doctors smiled politely and dipped their heads, others started conversations with me asking questions they asked every teen, bringing up every topic related to my present and my future, and the rest didn't really care. This, however, was a first.

"I don't have," I responded curtly. Apparently, this was the wrong answer. The nurse frowned.

"Then I'll have to call security."

"What? No— I can just bring my mother!"

My words bounced off his shoulders as he turned on his heel and began to strut down the hall. My first instinct was to yell at him, run after him and try to vouch for myself and my validity, but it seemed the stars had aligned for me when a woman rounded a corner and stopped in front of the man. She was short and elderly, gray hair knotted into a neat bun, her squinted eyes and various facial wrinkles contributing to the innocent look she and many other geriatrics shared.

I recognized her right away. Shuzenji Chiyo, known to most of Japan as Recovery Girl, was a Pro Hero and doctor who had been in the field for decades. My mother had trained under her while obtaining her own medical degree, and with time, she had hoped I would, too.

"What's going on here?" she asked before turning her attention to me. "Oh my! Is that Tendou-chan I see?"

"It is," I said, a smile slowly creeping its way onto my face. "Good evening, Shuzenji-sensei."

"Do you know this girl?" the nurse asked. "I was going to call security on her—"

"Oh, you! What are you doing harassing the poor girl?"

Within seconds, the nurse was reduced to a pathetic heap on the floor, clutching his knee where he was struck with Recovery Girl's cane. Huffing, she immediately smiled as she looked at me and approached me, examining my form carefully.

"My, my, you've grown so much Tendou-chan!" she cooed. "You're so beautiful! Surely you have a boyfriend now, hm?"

I gave a courtesy laugh at the statement, hoping that it was enough to cover up the sudden embarrassment I felt at the question.

"No, I don't."

Recovery Girl's eyes traveled to my leg, a sharp gasp escaping from her lips as soon as she noticed the cast.

"What happened to you?" she asked, her eyebrows creasing together in concern. My lips twitched begrudgingly before curling upwards into a rancorous smile. I was on my way to the cafeteria, anyway. I figured there would be the best place to catch up.

"I'll tell you all about it."

The story of my broken leg isn't some grandiose, epic tale, nor is it very flattering. It started off as a normal day and was expected to continue as such. My mother had asked me to fetch some groceries and the only thing on my mind was if she gave me enough money to purchase a pack of strawberry milk. I had crossed the street counting the individual coins that clinked in my pocket and within seconds, moments, instances, I was on the pavement and staring at the sky.

It hadn't fully settled that I had been hit by a speeding car until I heard screaming. I considered it anomalous that it wasn't my own, but rather of a pedestrian who had seen the accident. Or several. I don't quite recall; the pain I was experiencing was so overwhelming I felt nothing at all, or maybe I was feeling everything at once and my brain just couldn't process it. Whatever it was, it was terrifying and mind numbing and I sincerely thought I was going to die. I was told afterwards in the hospital that I had lied in a pool of my own blood and the only proof of me still being alive was the fact tears flooded out of my eyes.

It wasn't your fault, I was repeatedly told. The light was red and the driver was drunk. A myriad of charges and a criminal record now followed him in every step, and yet I continued to beat myself up over something that was out of my control.

I chose to omit the last part from Shuzenji-sensei, but told her the rest. As I spoke, she nodded along thoughtfully to my words, lips pulled solemnly.

"They said my leg was too injured for healing like yours, so they did surgery and told me to wear this cast," I concluded, leaning back in the chair I sat in at one of the cafeteria tables.

"School will be starting soon," Shuzenji-sensei reminded. "Will this interfere? You're going to Yūei, right?"

I instinctively grimaced at the mention. With everything that had happened the thought of school and anything related had long left my mind, but the word Yūei suddenly elicited a violent reaction that forced me to blink my eyelids rapidly as I returned to reality.

Yūei High School was widely regarded as one of the most prestigious institutions Japan, and even the world, had to offer. It was a school, the school, that all hopefuls aspiring to become a hero attended. It is precisely because of this that the acceptance rate was a measly two percent, and for students who were supposedly a step above the rest based on recommendations, it was even lower. I had received my acceptance letter sometime during my hospital stay, my name now one of those who would be entering Yūei as freshmen.

If anything, it served as an unrestrained reminder of how this academy was truly for the best of the best. Of the five students who participated in the entrance exam for recommended students, I had placed third; it wasn't terrible in the same way it wasn't great, but I was already so sure of my rejection, I accepted defeat before it even had a chance to present itself.

"I suppose I'll just have to make do," I chuckled dryly, lifting my shoulders to my ears.

"Well, I'm the nurse at Yūei," Shuzenji-sensei explained. "Why don't you train under me while you're there? You want to become a doctor like your mother, right?"

"I— but isn't that… not allowed?" I questioned in disbelief. I purposefully dodged the latter inquiry due to the fact that I simply didn't have an answer. It seemed that every fifteen year old had an idea of what they wanted to do. I was an outlier. I wasn't sure if the person everyone wants me to be is the same person I want to become.

"It'll be considered an internship," Shuzenji-sensei said, dismissing my concerns with a wave. "I think it will be a good experience, Tendou-chan."

Maybe.

I found that life was filled to the brim and even overflowing with maybes. Maybe I would survive that car crash. Maybe I'd pass the entrance exam. Maybe I would grow up to become whatever it was those around me expected me to be, or maybe I wouldn't. The shifting variables and ever changing unknowns brought about a sense of confusion and frustration in my life.

I promptly decided I hated the word maybe.

"Okay," I said, brushing one of my lavender strands out of my eyes. "I'll do it."

"I must be cursed."

The words physically leaving my throat seemed to solidify what I hoped was just a nettling thought stemmed from a concoction of disbelief and self loathing. As I stood at Yūei's entrance, crutches positioned underneath my arms, I began to think of the worst ways to die aside from getting run over by a drunk driver while thinking of strawberry milk.

In the end I concluded that either dying by getting struck by lightning or drowning in a bathtub would be rather unfortunate, but even those were favorable to the myriad of stares I was receiving from the students who walked past me. The worst part about having a broken leg wasn't the actual fact of it being broken, but the people who apparently have never seen a girl with crutches before.

I wanted to be annoyed at the blatant ogling, but I was far too occupied with the distress that had found its way into the back of my head and spread to the rest of my mind like a wildfire.

I shambled inside with my head lowered. For the sake of accessorizing I had placed a few white clips in my hair to keep my bangs back, a choice I was slowly starting to regret as I had no way to hide my shifting eyes.

The elevators Yūei boasted were far more grand than I could have imagined, appearing more like they were straight out of a luxury hotel than inside a high school. As the doors opened, I lumbered inside, pushing one of the buttons with my crutch. I relaxed against the wall for only a moment when I suddenly heard a rushed voice asking to hold the doors; I sprung to life and held one of my crutches in between the doors just as they closed.

"Thanks for that," the man said as he took his place beside me. I gave a less than enthusiastic nod, having to physically look up at him due to his massive stature that made me feel much smaller than I already was. A pile of papers rested in his arms, canines gleaming in the light the elevator provided, amber eyes narrowed slightly.

"Are you a freshman?" he asked. The unprompted question forced my mind into overdrive. I cleared my throat and forced a tawdry smile onto my features.

"Uh, yeah," I answered. "In the hero course, class 1-A."

I almost returned his question with one of my own— You must be a teacher, right?— but I figured that much was obvious, and I wasn't exactly keen on making a fool out of myself on the first day of school.

"Ah, I see," he said. I noticed the slight fall in his expression. "Well, make sure you work hard and do your best. The hero course can get pretty brutal."

I found myself more concerned with his expression that bordered grim rather than his words, but the notion left as quickly as he did when the elevator doors opened once more.

I lumbered out into the hallways that appeared to span for miles upon miles, with the only solace to this being the glass windows that overlooked all of Tokyo. It was a stunning sight, and with the sun's rays beginning to spill over the horizon, I thought that attending here wouldn't be such a terrible thing after all.

I traversed the hallway and turned a few corners before finally reaching the appropriate classroom. Painted in bright red lettering on the massive door, 1-A loomed over me, far more intimidating than I imagined. I slid open the surprisingly light door, wholly expecting to see a room filled with poised students sitting at their desks with perfect postures and folded hands.

I was wrong.

Whatever conjectures I had were immediately thrown out of the metaphorical window. Rather than the elites I prepared myself to face, I was instead met with three students all gaping at a bright yellow cocoon sprawled shamelessly on the floor. Had I not known any better, I would have thought some sort of monstrous butterfly would emerge within seconds, but to my great relief, when the cocoon rolled over, it was simply a man. He looked at me with an indifferent gaze before releasing a large breath, as if he couldn't be bothered to be here.

"You're late," was all he said. I recoiled at his utterance, two mere words that was more than enough to make me want to crawl into a hole for the rest of time.

"Sorry," I muttered. He inhaled sharply and expertly unzipped the cocoon, which I now realized was a sleeping bag, from the inside out. Clutching it in his hands, he rose to his full height, clad in all black with his stubble and scraggly hair all contributing to his admittedly ragged appearance.

"My name is Aizawa Shōta, and I'll be your homeroom teacher. Nice to meet you," he greeted lethargically. Without giving anyone a chance to respond, he fished out a blue and white fabric from his sleeping bag and held it in the air for all of us to see. "There should be one of these at each desk. Change into them and meet me out in the field."

He spun around on his heel, ready to walk away, stopping only when he saw me.

"You. What's your name?"

"Shimizu Tendou."

"Ah." Aizawa-sensei sounded. "Recovery Girl wants to see you. Go to her office and then come outside."

He walked around me and disappeared without another word. I had every intention of heading straight to Shuzenji-sensei as I was directed, but my plans were forced to the side when a pair of chocolate eyes suddenly met my own.

"Hi there!"

I was caught off guard by the sudden introduction, reeling at the sight of a girl practically bouncing on her heels, a wide grin coming to her cheeks. Beside her were two boys who were as opposite as day and night— one stood tall and proud, adjusting the glasses on his nose, while the other shrunk himself, struggling to even make eye contact with me or anyone else.

"My name is Uraraka Ochako!" she chirped with an energy I couldn't even pretend to match.

"You mentioned your name was Shimizu-san, yes?" the bespectacled boy question. "My name is Iida Tenya!"

"I-I'm Midoriya Izuku…" the last sputtered out like a stalled engine, managing to give a short wave.

"It's nice to meet you all. My name is Shimizu Tendou," I repeated, followed by the dipping of my head for the sake of politeness. I wasn't very good at speaking to others in my age range for a multitude of reasons, which made the smile I forced onto my face all the more awkward. I happened to care a lot about first impressions, as they are what determined where people's perceptions of each other went. The line between appearing as formal as Iida and unceremonious as Uraraka was exceptionally thin, but based on the satisfied expressions I received from the trio, I'd say I did a good job of remaining in the gray area.

"I should probably head to Shu— Recovery Girl," I said, quickly catching myself in my own slip up. "I don't think you guys wanna keep Aizawa-sensei waiting, either. He seems pretty strict."

"Oh, that's right!" Uraraka gasped, her hands making their way to her cheeks. "We'll see you in the field then, Shimizu-chan!"

I somehow managed to hold back the wince that would have appeared on my face had I not been more conscious of the type of impression I wanted to leave. Instead, I kept my expression neutral and began my trek down the hall, for some reason dreading what was coming up for me.

"How's your leg, dear?"

I watched as Shuzenji-sensei strode from one side of her office to the other in a nonchalant manner. Obviously, she was in no rush. Her office was simply the infirmary, a few papers placed here and there, but nothing to the extent of my mother's. I suddenly felt claustrophobic at the fresh memory of stacks upon stacks of paperwork and files scattered everywhere, taking up each corner in the already stuffy room, until I remembered that I still hadn't responded to the question.

"Oh— it's doing well," I said. "The doctors said I've been healing faster than usual due to my Quirk, so only need to wear it for about another week."

"That's good to hear," Shuzenji-sensei commented. "Since the topic is out there, I wanted to ask about your Quirk. How familiar are you with the healing aspect?"

"Mother has taught me how to use it better, so I can use it much more efficiently than before."

"I want you to practice more with it." Shuzenji-sensei tapped her cane on the ground. "If your classmates are injured, heal them. If you are injured, heal yourself. Of course, use it with moderation, but let it become something that is second nature to you."

"I'll…" I paused for a moment. "I'll do my best."

Shuzenji-sensei smiled. "Good. Now, go on to your class."

I bowed to her and hurried out of the office. Despite the fact Aizawa-sensei was aware I had been called in, a small part of me still feared whatever scolding may or may not have been awaiting me. Though tripping over myself and breaking my other leg sounded terrible, for some reason, I preferred that than the thought of being embarrassed in front of my classmates.

God, anything but that.

By the time I reached the field, my classmates seemed to be in the middle of some physical test, with two lining up on a track and given a signal to run across said track. I was almost immediately greeted by Uraraka, who waved her hand in the air to signal me over me. I offered a lopsided smile as I made my way over to her, but still kept my distance from the rest of the crowd.

"Shimizu," Aizawa-sensei called out. I perked my head up and my lips twisted into an expectant frown. I began to internally prepare myself for the worst as I limped toward him, already planning the pity speech in my head.

"Yes?" I asked when I reached him, looking upwards.

"We're doing a Quirk Apprehension Test," he stated. "But because of your leg, you won't be able to participate in it. Instead, I want you to write an essay about why you deserve to be in Yūei. Hand it to me by the end of the week if you don't want to be expelled."

My eyes widened in horror at the proposition and following consequence. Expulsion?

My attendance to Yūei was moreso my mother's wish than my own. Though I was more than okay with settling for the local high school down the street, my sense of obligation is what made alarms blare in my head as soon as the word 'expelled' left Aizawa-sense's mouth. I was a complex conglomeration of terrified and relieved, but more than anything I was absolutely dreading the idea of writing an essay.

Out of the corner of my eye, within the mob of students gathered around the track, I identified two of my classmates, both of whom were at the entrance exam for students with official recommendations. Their names slipped my mind, but I vaguely remembered the Quirks. The girl with the spiky ponytail could produce objects from her skin, while the boy with white and red hair could create ice. They came in second and first place, respectively.

This essay was supposed to explain why I belonged in Yūei. Compared to the both of them, the girl who was undoubtedly a genius based on her Quirk alone, and the boy who was already leagues above most people his age, I was relatively mediocre, having to struggle a bit more because though I was supposedly on their level, I was neither a genius nor a prodigy. But did I have to be? The truth was there— it always has been.

I was just a girl.

I made my way back to Uraraka, who smiled as widely as possible as soon as she saw me approaching her. I was unused to such vivacity aimed towards me, and despite the fact I wanted to remain detached, a small part of me was grateful she thought highly of me enough to even look in my direction.

"Shimizu-chan!" she yipped. "You won't be able to do the apprehension test, huh?"

"No, unfortunately," I sighed. "I have to write an essay instead."

Uraraka puffed out her cheeks, the mere notion as unappealing to her as it was to me.

"Aw, that's too bad! What even happened to your leg, though?"

"Oh, I got hit by a car."

Just like that, every head in our vicinity turned with dozens of eyes suddenly landing on me. Uraraka gasped sharply and gripped my shoulders, eyes fervently scanning my form as if the accident just happened today.

"Are you okay?!" she asked with astounding urgency.

"I-I'm fine," I stammered.

"Wait, you got hit by a car?" another boy, this one with golden hair with a black streak and similarly colored eyes asked. "That's awesome!"

My brows furrowed at his exclamation, and I'm sure he realized his poor choice of words too, because he quickly shook his head and flailed his arms, stuttering out a more appropriate response.

"I-I mean, it's not for you, but it's kinda badass!"

He was suddenly jabbed in the ear, letting out a short yelp, and with a turn of my head I saw that his assailant was a girl with long earlobes, one of which she twirled around her finger, scowl present on her face.

"Idiot. You don't say something like that to someone!"

"It's alright," I ended up brushing off. "It wasn't very fun, but at least I get to ride the elevator."

A short series of giggles erupted from Uraraka's mouth. I wasn't intending to be funny, but I decided to let her have her moment.

The rest of the morning went on without much happening. The tests continued and I kept my distance, watching from the sidelines considering that was all I could manage. In the meantime, I watched my classmates, examined their Quirks, and kept Shuzenji-sensei's words in the back of my head.

Uraraka had a Quirk that allowed her to make objects weightless through physical touch. I was admittedly impressed by the prospects, and though she didn't seem to have a lot of stamina, the idea of this test wasn't be the best now, but to figure out where we were so we could be better later.

That being said, aside from the two other students who were at the entrance exam, several of my classmates easily demonstrated that they were Yūei material, and witnessing this landed a bigger blow to my self esteem than I thought. With this dismay quickly welling inside of me, I turned my attention to the only student who seemed to be falling behind everyone else— Midoriya.

I had observed two types of people in the class. There were those like Uraraka and Iida, who only used their Quirk when they absolutely needed to because they would do fine otherwise. Then, there were those like Bakugo Katsuki, who took every opportunity to use his Quirk to set off a series of explosions, whether to show off, intimidate, or be downright annoying. Truthfully, he was the only one I noticed fell into this second category, but to my mild irritation, Midoriya was a third. He had yet to use his Quirk at all.

I could have easily brushed it off as a medical reason, but I was admittedly a bit of a glutton, always hungry for answers to the questions that seemed never ending. I knew better than to dismiss Midoriya so easily. If it were truly because of health reasons, he wouldn't be participating in the test at all, knowing he would get in last regardless. He would be standing here with me, having to write an essay about why he deserved to be in Yūei, having to consider the reasons why he was worthy if he was worthy at all.

But he wasn't.

Something about that angered me.

This could have meant one of two things— either Midoriya was totally fine with being expelled, or he wasn't going to be expelled at all. I couldn't imagine someone fighting to get into Japan's top hero school only to drop out on the first day. Conversely, if Aizawa-sensei truly had plans to expel us, he would have done so already to the students who were falling behind rather than waste his or their time.

The ball throw was one of the last tests. Bakugo was called up and threw the ball a formidable 705 meters. Some classmates threw the ball using their brute strength, but Uraraka scored infinity by removing the ball's weight. And then Midoriya came up.

While my views of him had dampened as a result of my earlier observations, a small part of me felt pity for him considering he looked terrified, shoulders scrunched up to his ears and legs trembling. I could only imagine I looked the same in similar situations countless times in the past, which is why when he threw the ball and it only landed a few feet away from me, something within me broke.

"What do you think you're doing?" I suddenly snapped. All eyes including Aizawa-sensei's turned to me, but I was far too irate to even process their gazes. I could physically feel the blood boiling in my veins, the quickened thumping of my heart in my ears, the warmth traveling to my cheeks and ears. Midoriya turned to me especially afraid.

"W-What?" he asked.

"You've been messing around this entire time," I continued, maintaining the solid tone of my voice. "Why haven't you used your Quirk yet? Is something wrong? Or do you think you're too good to use it? Because based on what I see, your scores have been nothing short of average, which means at this rate, you'll surely end up last."

A few jaws dropped at my words, but in one way or another I was right. Midoriya's eyes darted in every and all direction as if hoping an adequate response would plop right down in front of him, but as one could expect, no such thing happened.

"Midoriya," Aizawa-sensei called, hands buried deep in his pant pockets. "She has a point, you know. Keep in mind that no one will come to your aid if you end up incapacitated. You'll just end up a burden. Unless you get better with it, I'll tell you now, you can't become a hero with that Quirk."

The words were harsh and stinging, like stepping on a push pin. At the very least, Midoriya could brush off my words. I was just a classmate, a stranger he hardly knew, but Aizawa-sensei was different. He was a teacher, the man who was supposed to motivate and uplift his students, and a Pro Hero nonetheless— I had no doubt he knew better than anyone what being a weak link could do to a team.

"One more try," Aizawa-sensei announced with a sigh. "Make it count."

Midoriya gulped, but gave a firm nod of his head. I felt a shoulder brush against my own and turned to face Iida, who glanced at me with a stern expression.

"I wasn't aware you were so outspoken, Shimizu-san!" he said.

"I can be," I responded. "I was a bit upset, though."

Before any more words could be exchanged, I returned my attention to Midoriya, who took in a deep breath and brought his arm back. I saw it and I wondered if anyone else did too— his arm glowing a brilliant shade of orange, outlined in bright red veins that all converged to one point at his finger. He released the ball and it was launched from his fingertip at a dizzying speed, soaring through the air before disappearing behind the clouds and then the trees.

"705 meters," Aizawa-sensei stated. The number made Midoriya jubilant, and I supposed I was pleased enough that he finally decided to use his Quirk, but just as I turned away, something in my peripheral caught my interest. Midoriya kept his hand clutched closely to his chest, and the inexorable question of why was answered in a matter of a few seconds. His finger was injured.

Midoriya trudged away, biting his lip in what I assumed was an attempt to ignore the pain, but he was hurt and there were still tests left. If anything, it only made me think back to Shuzenji-sensei's words.

"If your classmates are injured, heal them."

I stepped forward.

I scurried toward him in my awkward, one legged gait, and stared directly into his eyes. Amethyst met emerald.

"S-Shimizu-san?" Midoriya asked. I frowned slightly.

"Your hand."

"Huh?"

"Give me your hand."

Whether because he found me daunting or he had an idea of what I wanted to do, Midoriya held out his limb. His finger was purple, severely swollen and bruised. Not quite broken but certainly getting there. I unfurled my fingers, showing my exposed palm, and an orb of water emerged from my skin. With a twiddling of my fingers the orb moved to cover Midoriya's finger. He flinched slightly, but promptly relaxed when the water glowed with a bright blue light. Within seconds the water trickled into his skin, and his finger had returned to its original state.

"T-That's amazing, Shimizu-san!" Midoriya gasped, eyes widening to the size of saucers. "How did you—?"

"My Quirk," I said. "I can create and manipulate water that also has healing properties."

"That's an amazing power! That's definitely something a pro would have!"

The praise truthfully made me feel guilty considering how I basically called him out and embarrassed him in front of the class.

"Thanks," I mumbled, trying to hide my shame. "I'm… sorry for what I said earlier."

"It's alright, Shimizu-san. I didn't want to use it because of how it harms me, but… this just means I need to hurry and control it," Midoriya said. I nodded along to his words but the gears in my mind were turning. While I could respect his tenacity, there was a single detail that stuck out to me the most, and that was his mentioning of his need to control it.

Quirks, in almost every circumstance, manifest in early childhood. While some are present from birth, most appear by the time the child enters preschool. Assuming Midoriya's Quirk appeared at the latest possible age of four, this meant he spent ten or eleven years with it. It means he spent a decade getting to know and understand it. It means he should have found some sort of loophole to use it in a way that isn't detrimental to himself.

So why hasn't he?

I ended up staring at his back as he walked away, but amongst the multitude of questions and thoughts that swirled in my head like a hurricane, there was one that stood out the most, absolutely refusing to be silenced: Midoriya Izuku is not what he seems.

"You fucking told off that bastard."

Not even the ring of the afternoon bell could drown out the voice of Bakugo Katsuki. He stood at my desk, hands balled into fists in his pockets, a satisfied smirk on his face as he stared down at me.

"I just spoke my mind," was what I replied with as I got to my feet. "I was angry."

"And he looked like a fucking idiot."

"Much like you do now, hm?"

The grin on his face disappeared at breakneck speed as soon as my words entered his ears. He frowned and then scowled, crimson eyes tapering into a harsh glare that I had experienced far too many times to be affected by.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" he spat.

"Look, Bakugo," I began, taking a moment to step to the side to let one of my classmates leave the room. "We aren't friends, so don't talk to me like we are. I don't quite care for whatever it is you have to say, so save your breath and my time and we can be on our merry way."

I finished the sentence with a deliberately fake smile, to which Bakugo responded with a series of firecrackers exploding from his palm.

"Fuckin' cripple."

"Bye."

I didn't bother to say goodbye to Uraraka or anyone else because quite frankly, I didn't have the energy. Hopping around on crutches all day was more exhausting than it seemed, and I spent the last of my vitality for the day on saying goodbye to Recovery Girl. I decided to not tell her about what I did earlier because I didn't consider it noteworthy. That, and I didn't feel like sticking around for a conversation. I just wanted to go home.

Thankfully, my mother would be working late at the hospital, which meant I didn't have to deal with her either. Being at home was my time to relax and recharge, and though my days would be spent like this from now on, at the very least I always had the solitude to return to.

a/n

*edit: changed the chapter title

anyway here is the first chapter! i really enjoyed writing about tendou and her inner thoughts. i actually took a mbti test for her and she's an intj-t as well as a scorpio! so those personality traits will be interesting to explore.

anyway thank you for reading and continuing to support me and my stories! see you next chapter uvu