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 coyish 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- MeTube. 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.

(Black hair. Freckles. Brown 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 into his gut when a students takes 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 was.

(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 complained, "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 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 Economics. 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 think 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 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 throg 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 appearance in all honesty.

Chikuchi, her mind supplies helpfully, filling in information that she didn't even know she knew.

"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 Mind Control. 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.

.

.

.

Shinsou: oh wow this person hasn't been told about my quirk yet, cant wait for them to learn about it and betray me

Medama, entirely aware of his mind control but also a little shit: I just think you're neat

The robot exam is literally a mindless hacknslash. It's like Vermintide 2 on steroids. Literally the only other way to get points is through side-quests if your not fighting. And it tests nothing other than brute strength! It's mind-numbing. Also boring. Where's my trolley problem? Where's my struggle? Where is the challenge?

Also- oh god- the amount of money that would go into it.

Heroes don't often do donations because, at the end of the day, they are still a business. And, yeah, All Might totally has the excess to donate- Endeavor probably hoards- and other heroes probably only do it to lead by example. It's just- a very different mindset compared to here, which is "donate to actually help people" not "donate to get likes" which is unfortunately also still prevalent. (I mean, I don't really care. So long as they donate. But there's a certain level hypocrisy in that reasoning.)