Prologue
Tick.
Tock.
When a person dies, time stops for them. That's why time and number-based phrases are often euphemisms for death: his time has come, eternal rest, breathe one's last, not long for this world, his hour has come, on one's last legs, one's number is up, pass in one's alley, six feet under, he took one last bow. But as time stops for those who have passed away, time continues for the living, breathing and moving. Time is discrete, yet it is continuous.
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Tock.
Time is an illusion, socially constructed by society that time exists in the milliseconds, seconds, minutes, and hours on the clock; the days, weeks, months, and years on the calendar; and the decades, centuries, and millenniums of the known history of our universe. Time is what we made it to be and is the reality that we hold on to. Time is there, yet it is not.
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The power to control and manipulate such an ambiguous and abstract thought is up for humans to encounter and experience. The reimagination of time is possible with advancement in technology, science, research and quirks. In the world of heroes, villains, vigilantes and quirk-inhabited and driven societies, time is important, yet taken for granted.
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This story revolves around a girl who experiences the flow of time as it exists. The will to stop, rewind and go forward.
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She stood beside a black-haired guy with unusually round-shaped elbows. Not that she could talk when she had a pair of clock-like irises of her own. But unlike his oddity, hers, at the moment, were out of sight, shielded under her locks of long, wavy blond hair, and black eyes. Averting her eyes from her assigned partner for the 50-meter dash test, she stared at the robot ahead, a thoughtful look on her face.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and sighed. "It looks like I have to share the credit with him...not that I mind."
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"Runners, on your marks." The robot in front reset the time from the earlier race back to 0 seconds.
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Unlike most of the students in class who took a runner's position at the beginning of their race, they both stood straight, with postures a bit too relaxed. The black-haired guy folded his arms, both of his elbows facing forward. She opened her eyes, and the dials on her right and left eye began to glow and slowly, stopped moving. Golden eyes centered on the robot counting down from 3...2...1...
Tick.
Tock.
"Ready."
BANG.
Simultaneous to the gun start, a visible, light green translucent bubble enclosed the robot.
The guy beside her went ahead, crossing the finish line with long sheets of white coming out from his elbows, now attached to a sturdy tree in front. While she ran at a comfortable and ordinary pace, nothing too flashy like her partner and nothing too determined like the ones who ran before her.
"Huh?" he said, looking at the robot to his right. The robot should have announced his record by now after finishing the test, but why wasn't it? And what's with this green thing? He walked closer to the machine and bent down to read the numbers on its head. "What? No way!"
She passed by her partner and stopped a few inches away from him, a small smile on her face. She blinked, and the dials turned back to black and started to move in both clockwise and counterclockwise motions for each eye.
POP.
"Sero Hanta. Osamu Jikan. 50-meter dash. 0.1 milliseconds."
Tick.
Tock.
Reposted because I fell in love with BNHA again :)