People say that today's standards of beauty in women are unrealistic, spread by models that have the privilege of professionals the average person just can't.

Well if Miruki Ryuenji was accused of such, sins, she'd say she couldn't help it. Not out loud, of course.

Uwabami squealed at how her top student's photoshoot turned out. She nodded approvingly, smiling, while clicking through the photos.

The pro hero gestures excitedly to Miruki when she comes out of the changing room, and showers her with complements over how much the modelling agency would like the photos, "Every concept suits your body so well! I can't wait for the pastel shoot next week!"

Miruki smiled. It is thin and stretched, careful not to fill much of her face. Her chin tipped up and eyes narrowed automatically, "Of course, Uwabami-sama. Won't you join me?"

She considered, "Should I?"

"I'm certain they won't mind. We haven't done a shoot together in a while."

Nodding in agreement she said, "I like pastel concepts. Good idea!"

"I must be going. I have work to do. Until then."

"Yes, yes! Get those grades! Good bye, Miruki-chan!"

"You free today?"

Tsurugi shook his head, "I haven't done my literature essay. The trigo worksheet too. And I want to get something for my support partner."

Miruki checked her phone. It was 6pm. The sky was starting to turn orange, but she was still miles away.

"Why?"

He didn't bother to look up from his worksheet, only shrugging, "It's nice."

She rolled her eyes.

"Why don't you get something for yours, sister?"

"Why should I?"

"It's nice," he reinforced once again.

She huffed and stood up in frustration, "I'm going alone then."

"If you don't want to follow me, you want me to get something for you?"

"Don't. I won't stoop so low."

Tsurugi sighed. He considered trying to convince her otherwise but promptly dismisses that thought when remembering all the past times when he had tried to do the same.

The woods settles ambivalence in Hanatsu, much like the layout of itself. Despite the cemetery, the woods next to it are filled with life. The myriad of leaves and breaths of birds spellbound her. In return, she brings the camera her mother can given her for her thirteenth birthday―two years ago―and captures all she can in a frame.

That was the routine she followed after cleaning her father's gravestone. Even though she has learned to compose herself, getting lost in her own slideshow of the world put all at ease.

It was already starting to get dark when she emerges out. She almost jumps when she sees another person. It is uncommon to see anyone else, much less one whose eyes are glowing purple and holding a white katana.

Hanatsu freezes. They are focused on their task and haven't seem to notice her. If she inch away slowly, will the night be able to cover her? But then again, this person was definitely doing something wrong. For what purpose would someone be using their quirk on a grave in the middle of the night?

Or, maybe they did have a reason. Like a quirk that can communicate with the dead. But that was assuming that there was life after death. She'd seen such characters on TV but they all came across as fake to her. After all-

Her thoughts are cut short when the person glances up, then soon replaced by how she should handle the situation. Should she confront them with a bold personality hoping it'll intimidate them? No way. The person held themselves confidently and she's failed three out of her four confrontation tests. Or she should just apologise for staring. Or maybe not saying anything because-

And the person looked back down. As if they hadn't seen Hanatsu at all. That was the cue for her to go, but then she realises she recognised that person; Miruki Ryeunji, the perfect girl in school that everyone knew.

In the name of socialising, she said, "Hey."

Miruki looked up. She stared at Hanatsu silently. For a while Hanatsu wandered if Miruki was going to say anything at all, or maybe it wasn't really Miruki at all. Just a really pretty lookalike.

"Sorry, uh. I thought you were someone else. Has anyone ever told you you look like Miruki Ryeunji?"

Still no reply. Hanatsu was getting nervous. And very well aware that they were alone and no one was likely to come if she screamed.

"You know... the girl who was on the cover of Swan a few days ago..."

More silence.

"Sorry... I'll be going," she took a few steps back. If they fought in the woods, her quirk might have more on an advantage. Maybe.

"Yes," the person finally replied and their eyes returned to normal, "I am Miruki Ryeunji."

Hanatsu breathed a sigh and a relieved smile spread across her face, "Oh, thank god! Um, I'm Hanatsu Ayaka! I'm in the same year as you! But um, the support course. So if you've never seen me I understand..."

Now the situation was awkward. Should she ask why Miruki was using her quirk in the middle of a graveyard? The extend of what she knew was that Miruki uses a sword, presumably the one in her hand, but she's heard nothing of glowy eyes.

"I must take my leave. It's late, and so should you," her sword disappeared from her hand, "You're going to be part of the hero-support program, are you not?"

"Yes! I am!"

Miruki's smile was tight, "I heard from the seniors it'll be a tiring day tomorrow. Rest well."

"You too."

Miruki left without another word. Everything about her demeanour was controlled and sure.

"She's handsome," Hanatsu whispered.