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, telling them that she didn't get much sleep, 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.

.

.

.

Sorry for the really super late update! Some really nice comments helped me get back up on my feet with this fic!

Please don't request updates btw, especially not as soon as I post a chapter, it almost instantly kills my motivation. Especially if that's all you comment. Having it at the end of a message is sweet, but if the only thing you end up saying is a demand for an update- I'd rather you not. Even just a smiley face or keysmash or hearts is much better and more likely to motivate me to keep writing.

Medama has seizures. I'll be doing a lot of research into epilepsy in order to try and portray it accurately- if anyone has it, please let me know if something is wrong/not true about how I write it. Otherwise, I'll be looking into documentaries, interviews with people who have it and who know someone who does, and medical information, etc. I'll try my best.

The wristband that Medama has monitors her health and let's her know (at most) an hour in advance if a seizure is detected. This is due to technology and quirks and her having lots of money. I was planning on explaining it more in-depth this chapter but I decided to hold off until it works better within the story.

/-/ they finally meet! Kinda. Not really. Shinsou is in the midst of an anxiety attack and Medama is not any better off. But they'll figure it out eventually I'm sure. :D