"...Can you explain it again?"
An annoyed sigh: "Me-da-ma."
"Shin-sou!" She hisses back. "You can't ask me to go up to him without a plan! What would I even say? What would I even do-?" She pulls away from Shinsou, crawling on her knees to peek around the corner of the wall- the little concrete block they were using as a seating area scraping against her tights and digging into the skin of her knees.
She briefly catches his gaze, brown eyes meeting her own, and-
She squeaks, disappearing to hide behind the wall and rocking back to sit on her ankles.
"You… You understand why it'll be hard though, right?"
She has to know if he understands exactly what he's asking of her.
Shinsou nods gravely, "If you don't want to do it; fine. I can figure out something else. But all you have to do is convince him my quirk doesn't work the way he thinks it does. That's it." He tries to assure her, tries to simplify it. "You've done it to others before. It should be easy by this point."
And, well, he has a point but... Still. Medama wasn't fully convinced.
Shinsou raises a brow.
Medama blinks at the vaguely hurt look displayed on his face, suddenly feeling guilty for something that... she doesn't even know if it was her that did anything wrong or not. She just knows that she feels very put on the spot. All of a sudden. And she can't figure out what the problem is-
"I thought you said you wanted to help me on this," he frowns, "but if you regret it then…"
Medama gasps.
"That's manipulative! You- How dare you-" Her cheeks puff. And she can't believe him and his audacity and- no, she doesn't really care. It's hard to keep the smile off her face. "Damn it, fine! I'll do it."
He snickers and then jerks back at the sudden finger she shoves in his face.
"Shinsou. Shin. You're my best friend-" Ah. He feels his smirk grow a tiny bit less mischievous. A tiny bit more warm and real. "-so, for you, I will do this. Just... know that... that if anything goes wrong-"
He watches her hand slowly fall. Watches her nibble on her bottom lip with obvious anxiety that he can almost feel himself. It's bubbling under the surface, seeping into the air, and he waits with bated breath for her to continue. To set her terms and conditions.
"-you will have to buy me Boba everyday. For a week." She gives him a raised brow. "Deal?"
She offers him her hand.
He clasps it. "Deal." Given the situation, he could only say yes. Though... "Wait, doesn't that give you a vested interest in failing now-"
"Okay! Wish me luck!"
"Me-" He stops and shakes his head after her. He'd walked right into that one, hadn't he? "Stupid…"
Oh, it's an insult, but either way-
His voice is fond.
...
...
Medama is confident.
She has no reason not to be- sure, she has her moments of shyness and bouts of anxiety, but Medama prided herself on being confident and self-assured. It was only really Shinsou, nowadays, that could get her acting like she was a hot mess. That, at least, was reasonable- considering the flame she held for him- but even that she was getting a good handle on.
So, this shouldn't have been so hard- honestly, her and Shinsou had been acting dramatic for nothing but a bit of fun.
It wasn't as if she was actually scared or nervous or anything- okay, so maybe she was a little nervous. But that was at least reasonable!
It was just that he was...
That he was...
-and Shinsou could attest to it too- that he was…
So, so very pretty.
Medama, and anyone with eyes, could appreciate his looks; tall and lean, dimples and a light smattering of freckles across his nose, a handsome face and gorgeous smile with windswept hair and... There were plenty of pretty people in the world. It wasn't unusual. He was just- He just had a way of making people nervous with his gorgeous face. That's all.
Medama would not be deterred.
"Oh, Medama, right? Or is it more polite if I call you Tasatsu…?"
Ohmygosh, he knew her name!
Medama trips over her own feet and falls flat on her face.
...
...
She whines, her face buried in her hands.
"I- I didn't expect him to know my name!"
Shinsou sends her a dry look. "We're literally in the same class."
"Y-Yeah, but I don't talk to people- I suck at socialization-!" She moaned. And Shinsou rolls his eyes at her, tilting her chin upwards so he can dab at the wound on her forehead. The skin had broken as soon as forehead met concrete and Medama was nursing quite the dizzy spell- she was half certain that she had a concussion but she couldn't keep her thoughts straight to really think about it. "Ow, ow, ow-"
"Hold still."
"Hnn-"
She kicks her legs back and forth as her cheeks puff and she tries not to wince at the feeling of the wetted cloth stinging against her injury. It was enough to have her pouting. "Hey, Shinsou?" He grunts in acknowledgement, not even glancing at her. His gaze is much too focused on the scrape on her forehead, the skin pink and red with spots of blood. He'd nearly gotten all the dirt free from it. "...If someone's already hurt when you use your quirk, will they still be brainwashed? Like, is it just pain in general that snaps them out of it, or does it have to happen after- 'cause like, the muscle pain didn't do anything, so it makes me think that some is fine and-"
"Some is fine." He confirms, turning to look at the small medical kit at his side, pulling free the disinfectant and tell her to close her eyes so he can spray it. She let's out a pained hissed at the burning sting that hits her. "I haven't controlled anyone that was… seriously injured beforehand though, so maybe."
It's a good thought to keep in mind, at least.
"Huh." She hums and she can't stop her musings. "Do you think if someone had bad enough chronic pain, they'd just be like… immune? Also, if you can use it through serious injury, that would be great for rescue situations, don't you think-?"
"Well, so long as I don't exacerbate the injury."
"You're smart. And you're careful and kind enough to pay attention to that sort of thing-" Medama's face pinches as he wipes the excess disinfectant from her brow, making sure it doesn't get into her eyes. She nibbles on her bottom lip with closed eyes as she tries not to think about the gentle way his hands care for her. "-you'd do just fine. I'm sure of it."
He fails horribly at withholding his smile, but he doesn't care. It doesn't matter.
"They have hero themed band aids-"
"But do they have any dinosaurs?"
He pauses. Opens his mouth. Nothing comes out for a moment. He's- very confused."...No?"
"What has the world come to?"
The long-suffering noise she lets out is coupled with her slumping against the wall and a loud, childish groan that seems to come from nowhere.
Sometimes, he just doesn't understand her.
"You're a dork, Me-da-ma." He deadpans. "...They have Ryukyu in her Dragon-form?"
"Not the same as a velociraptor." She pouts, looking like a huffy and puffy mess. "Does no one appreciate the smaller things in life anymore-? The nicer things-"
"You're just being a brat on purpose."
She sticks her tongue out at him. He raises a brow, and just slaps the Ryukyu bandage on the center of her forehead. "Ow!" She startles. And he snickers at her as her eyes blink open and squint at him. "That was mean." He doesn't stop snickering, but he glides a thumb over the bandage to make sure that it and the edges were pressed all the way down, careful to not actually hurt her. "One day, Shin-sou, one day… I will recreate Jurassic Park. Then everyone will understand." He just snorts, doesn't understand even a lick of what she was saying. "It's di-no-saurs, Shinsou! They existed! They were real-! And they were metal as fu-"
"Okay. Okay. I get it."
He offers her his arms to help her down from the high-rise seat, feeling her grip his forearms as she hopped off the seat and nearly cracked her skull into him anyways. "Shit. Shit. Careful-" He tugs her until she can get her footing back, leaning back to avoid the horns that threaten him. "-geez, geez. Don't try and break my nose this time for sure." She flushes, hands fluttering to her horns-
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm still so sorry about that-"
And he suddenly feels bad for calling her out on something out of her control. "I was just kidding." He assures her, tapping one of her horns and listening the the hard tap of his nail against it. She stares at him and the touch, mouth opening and closing but she doesn't say a word. She feels too breathless. "It was an accident last time anyways. And it wasn't like you actually managed to break it..."
Just made him bleed profusely.
"Besides, that's what Recovery Girl is for-" Medama's nose wrinkles. She doesn't particularly like Recovery Girl, something about odd questions and gross, wet kisses, which was why Shinsou was cleaning her wound instead. Besides, the injury was small enough that it would be useless going to her and she couldn't heal concussions anyway. "...That's not an invitation to be careless though."
"Still, sorry. I- always seem to break things with them." Medama's cheeks puff. "Mic-sensei caught me breaking a wall."
"What? Did you headbutt it?"
"I- No! Of course not!" She squints at him. "Don't tease me when my head hurts- Shin-sou!"
He laughs behind his hand.
Shakes his head.
"So, is that it with him then-?"
Medama blinks at the change of subject, then purses her lips. "No way, now that I got my free Boba-
He shoots her an especially squinty glare.
"-it's up to me to make this work!"
...
...
The second try doesn't go as badly as the first. But Medama gets so tongue-tied that she chokes on her own saliva and is 'saved' by Kiruude patting her on the back and- well. That silver boy has some strong hands.
Medama can't lay down on her back properly without feeling the bruises.
She buries her face in Shinsou's chest, letting out a pathetic whine. "What am I doing wrong? It's not like I'm trying to fail, I didn't even try failing on the Boba attempt-"
Shinsou hums.
He doesn't know what to do with his hands. Not when they're in the middle of the hallway and there's people that can see them.
He settles for patting her on the back.
"-am I doomed? Am I cursed?"
"Kiruude was just trying to help."
"I kno~ow. But he's so strong already, I think he did deadlifting in Middle School. I don't know. I just know it's not a strength quirk, I think his has somethin' to do with metal anyways." She groans. "...Stupid boys and their stupid muscles."
He lets out a near silent laugh at the whine. "Aa, I must be in danger of your ire then as well."
"Mnh... Sora says you have noodle arms still."
He scowls and shoves her away.
Medama laughs, "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. You're very strong," she pokes him and giggles as he swats her hand away, but not before she can see the definition of his shoulders and arms that wasn't there when they'd first met, "I'm serious though." A smile warms her face. "I like how far you've come, I'm impressed."
"...Whatever."
She laughs. "Don't play it so bitter." She teases him softly, eyes crinkling before she gives a determined huff: "Okay! Time to try again. You know what they say, third times the charm!"
...
...
As they would soon come to find out, the third time was not the charm.
It starts off well enough. Medama nervously starts up a conversation- sure, Shibori is there but, if anything, that was a good thing because it helped ease out all the terrible, horrible small talk- and, as she gained confidence, and, as she grew more and more focused, she began to slowly steer the conversation over to thinking about quirks and was just about to say something along the lines of: 'hey, so I wanted to see if either of you could guess Shinsou's quirk?'
Because a mischievous Medama was more than happy to mess with people- mess with him - even if he was hopelessly nerve wracking.
She doesn't get the chance to.
"-Oh, yeah, speaking of quirks, you never did answer, did you?" Shibori looks excited as she asks, her eyes lighting up and her paint splattered face cheeky with her curiosity. "With your quirk, how did you die?"
"I-"
It's not asked out of cruelty. It's entirely ignorance, and Shibori's earnest and honest interest is what keeps Medama from just straight up snapping at her. Instead, she's startled, shocked, and her words seem to catch in her throat; especially as nearby eyes turn to her and she feels rather put on the spot.
"Uh. I..."
She just has to say she doesn't want to talk about it. That she doesn't appreciate it being brought up.
"What was it like anyways-? Were you scared-?"
"-I...!"
She wobbles on her feet and nearly stumbles taking a step back. Her mouth opening and closing and she can see Shibori's eyes suddenly widen and the guilty expression hit her as she finally- finally, and much too late- realizes the error of her ways.
Medama makes a choked sound as emotions- memories- and old fear hit her.
"Of course I was."
...
...
Other people wouldn't let it get to them so quickly, it'd been more than fifteen years- almost sixteen- one would think that she's had time to come to terms with everything. That questions like these wouldn't send her heart rate spiking and make her body tremble and choke, as if physically being ripped to shreds and put back together all over again-
It's a physical reaction.
Every time.
It's like she's back there. Again and again.
Perhaps, maybe, possibly- if it wasn't for that fact, she'd be able to heal properly. She'd be able to speak or maybe even joke about it one day, because it was just something in her life that had happened, and something she held no scars of. Except for the reminders of all that she'd lost, every time she turned to look around.
(Medama is not ready to talk about it.
The last time she had... it had been with her parents- had been with her Aunt Sora and her Auntie Yui- and with no one else. Not even her therapist, because she just couldn't … Not when the first time had been so exhausting, so stressful, and… and-! She'd had to rip it off like a bandaid, but everyone had known that an open, infected wound lay beneath. So horrific and so terrible, but they had kept it from getting worse, kept it from festering-
Yet it had never, truly been given time to heal.)
She sinks into Shinsou without warning, nearly knocking him over in the force of her lunge. She just- She hadn't meant to find him- hadn't meant to go to him, but her legs had moved of their own accord and, knowing where he was waiting to return with the news of how their "trickery" was going, had her not thinking straight.
"Hey!" He clicks his tongue in annoyance, before frowning. "I take it that it didn't go well again?" There's a bit of humor tinging his voice, not mad at the lack of success, but disappointment clear. He tries to hide it underneath a smirk. "What-? Did he ask for your number this time or something-?"
She sniffs.
Shinsou notices. And any hint of teasing drops from his face. "Medama?" He questions lightly. "What's wrong? What happened?"
Her teeth grit, and she tries to force the tears threatening her back in- she can't. A few slip past her lashes despite all her efforts anyways. Shinsou pulls back a couple steps, hands gripping her biceps and centering her. "Why is it so fascinating-? " She chokes, the deep-seated anger left unsatiated as she covers her mouth. She feels gross, terrible, really, and she just wants to- punch something. "-to know how it felt? Why would they want to know how scary it was? To know-?"
He's watching her as she sinks, eyes widening as her fists clench and she presses them into her closed eyelids.
"-how much it hurt to die- ?"
Shinsou's expression grows flat and cold. "...He asked you that?" His voice is thin and- he's pissed. Possibly even more than she is, because Medama is tired, and she feels like she's sinking and she wants to do so many things that it exhausts her, and she can't keep the anger fresh- when it was something she was so very used to. "Medama, he asked that?"
(He feels something cold like ice pierce through him. He wipes a thumb under her eye and dislikes how familiar the action is beginning to become- how familiar the wetness of her tears was getting. And fury flooded his veins.)
She shakes her head, "Does it even matter? Everyone wants to ask anyways- I see the way they look at me." Her face pinches as she tries to take a deep, calming breath. It only serves to hitch in the back of her throat, turning into a hiccup. "How am I not used to this by now-?"
Medama hangs her head. "I'm pathetic."
Shinsou's jaw tenses. "Don't talk about yourself like that, we both know it's a lie." His hands tighten on her and Medama scrubs her face, trying to listen to his terse and tense words that are brimming with anger. "You shouldn't have to get used to anything like that. And assholes shouldn't pry into your..." He takes a deep breath in and sighs. "Come on, Medama, you know that you're too-"
She doesn't get to hear whatever reassurances he had, whatever words he'd planned on saying, because he cuts himself off abruptly. His eyes flicking up above her head and-
"U-Um. Hey, e-excuse me-?"
Shinsou glowers. An angry smirk gliding across his face as his thoughts begin to work overtime, "That's some nerve you got there." He hisses. "Showing up."
Him.
The him in question- the most popular guy in their whole year, the boy with the brightest, most kind smile, and easily the most attractive person amongst the first years- if not the whole school- their classmate, the absolutely stunning: Sansho Hakusho.
(Those were the reasons they'd picked him out in the first place. One word from him, one hint of confusion and interest, and every single person would be legitimately questioning the initial thought of how Shinsou's quirk worked. It wouldn't just be a bunch of confusing sets of rumors, it would be honest second-guessing and confusion.
Because Sansho had the reputation and people paying attention to him.)
And Shinsou was glaring him down.
(And he didn't think even once about the trickery he'd enlisted Medama for. It doesn't seem to matter as much anymore.)
Medama tugs on his sleeve lightly, shaking her head at him. "It... It wasn't him that asked." And watches the wound up Shinsou's expression grow thin. He gives her a raised brow and a look like he doesn't quite believe her. "I promise."
And, he's still tense, and his eyes are trailing to the slight redness under her eyes, but he no longer looks like he's about to bite Sansho's head off. He doesn't stand in front of her the way he had before-
Sansho wipes his brow, his smile still present on his face, but it's tense and worried and nervous. "Wow, Shin-sou! You sure are scary-"
They both instantly make a face. "What did you call me-?"
"U-Um. S-Scary-?"
He shakes his head slowly, "No, not that. Shin-sou."
"Yeah, it's your name, isn't it-?"
"It's Shinsou." He bites out shortly, one of his eyes twitching with annoyance and a weird look on his face that makes him... his nose wrinkles slightly. Almost in something close to disgust. "Don't... call me that again." Medama's own face is pinched and screwed up with a similar expression. "...Ever."
Sansho, with his ever-present smile, nods rapidly. "Sorry! I thought I heard it from-" His eyes distractedly glance to Medama, as if only just finally noticing her, and he immediately gasps. "Medama! I was looking for you!" And she feels herself grow hot with humiliation, biting her bottom lip. "I-I'm so sorry about Shibori's questions, they were completely inappropriate and I should've stopped her the moment I heard them-"
Medama feels small. And suddenly she really doesn't like the knowledge of Sansho seeing her like this- the nerves are different compared to before. Before it was just falling for simple, natural charm, and that was fine, but now it felt uncomfortable and made her uneasy-
(She didn't mind Shinsou seeing her so vulnerable. She didn't mind him wiping away her tears and didn't mind the way his eyes watched her, took in her messiness and emotional outburst- She didn't mind breaking down if it was only him that saw. But...
The thought of others catching so much as a glance, she hated- was completely disgusted by- it.)
"-but I got curious myself and I didn't even think about how awful they were." Sansho admits. "Ooh, I feel just terrible. I'm so sorry."
"'is fine. Not like you asked them."
"But I might have! And that's not very cool of me…" Medama blinks at him, and can't help but let out a slight huff of a laugh. At least he was honest. "And Shibori- she's been my best friend since grade school- please, don't think too ill of her! She feels absolutely terrible-"
Shinsou makes a noise like a scoff. "If she actually felt bad, then she would be here apologizing herself."
Sansho laughs. "Well. You're not wrong!" His eyes crinkle as Shinsou blinks. The boy was a cheerful one, devastatingly so, and seemed to hold hardly a lick of insecurity, even if his smile seemed to strain one second and then bloom into something more real the next. "I'm still really sorry, and Shibori will apologize as well, I just know it- but- is there anyway I can make it up to you?"
Shinsou expects Medama to simply shake her head and say 'just don't do it again' or even tell him just not to worry about it, considering he seemed to just be a bystander- "-There is one thing," Medama says through a thick voice, there's something weird about it and he can't place a finger on it...
"You don't know Shinsou's quirk, do you?"
Oh.
"I don't like lying." Sansho's smile wanes a little at the suggestion that Medama gives him- to be like Umino, to just helpfully mess with people without actually being knowledgeable of Shinsou's quirk himself (that was an honor reserved for only his closest of friends).
"But is it really lying when you yourself have no idea?" Medama points out. "How can it be lying to just tell someone that you haven't a clue what Shinsou's quirk is?"
"I- wasn't it… touch-based?"
Shinsou struggles to not react, his eyes gleaming.
Medama raises a brow, "But is it though?" Sansho suddenly doesn't seem so sure of himself. The indecisive, confused look on his face seems right at home. "We just want you to wonder about it in conversation sometimes. Because it's weird isn't it, that you don't know how your classmates' quirk works-"
Sansho blinks. "Oh my, well, you have a point there. I suppose that... I could manage that just fine. Be as confusing as possible, right-?" Medama nods and Shinsou feels something swell inside of him at the determined sight of her. "Ah, that shouldn't be too hard. I'm almost always confused anyways!"
What a weird thing to admit.
"Oh, and-" Sansho smiles earnestly at them both, his hands clasping together, "-I don't know if either of you have heard yet, but Hanzengi and Umino had the idea to have a class training session today, just after school. They spoke with Kayama-sensei and everything and she said we'd be allowed to use quirks, she even had some ideas and exercises for some things we can practice-!"
Medama blinks in surprise. "Really?"
"Since everyone's grades are high enough, we'll all be participating in the Sports Festival, you know? I honestly thought I wasn't going to make it, but I got a good score on the last test!" He wipes imaginary sweat from his brow. "I think she was going to announce it later, but it'll be fun, right? The Sports Festival is at the beginning of next week and the Hero Students are allowed a brief break from some of their harsher training, so a lot of the facilities that weren't open before are now!" Sansho chirps excitedly, before pausing. "Oh, um. But Shibori will be there as well, if you... if you don't want to-"
"It's fine. I… Even if she's not sorry, it's nothing I haven't dealt with before."
Sansho gives one last warm, apologetic smile before hurrying off.
Medama sighs in relief once he's gone, leaning tiredly against Shinsou's shoulder as he glances towards her. "I'm sorry, if I hadn't asked you to-" She shakes her head, cutting him off and just buries her face in the collar of his uniform with a small sigh. He lets her. If anything, he welcomes the way she curls into him, tucking her head underneath his chin. "Medama?"
"Mnh?"
"...You didn't have to help me out after that. I would've understood."
"I know." He can feel her smile against his neck. "Gotta jump on the opportunity though, right? Besides, I want to make sure my friends get what they want, if I can." She shifts away, a gorgeous, wonderful smile spreading across her face. "I like seeing my friends happy, no matter what."
He sighs, tucking tresses of hair behind her ear. It's done without a thought and he doesn't even realize that he'd done it. "I should return the favor, shouldn't I?" He smirks and Medama rubs at her slightly puffy eyes. "You wanted Boba, right?"
Her face lights up.
-0-
Not a single student hadn't shown up. She surveyed her kids- even a distracted looking Medama, who seemed much happier slurping on her drink and popping tapioca balls in her mouth, had shown up- and they all looked so very serious and determined and it was almost enough to bring a tear to her eye, especially seeing them all in their gym uniforms and ready to go.
She couldn't wait to see them all shine in their own ways. "Don't get too comfortable, 1-C!" She pumps a fist in the air. "Listen up, we're only a week away from the Sports Festival, so it's time to get focused on your goals-"
Instantly all eyes turn to her with deep interest and she takes the chance to detail them with the rules and regulations that everyone was expected to adhere to during the Sports Festival, as well as just general conduct, and- "The uniforms that you're wearing right now will be the required wear during the Sports Festival, if you wish to make any alterations or have a request for an additional item, such as a mask or any support registered gear, then please submit a request form to be reviewed as soon as possible, if you haven't already!"
It was boring stuff but she had to get it out of the way anyways. Even if most had done so already. A few water-proof uniforms, a couple of additional items, and a few alterations around quirks so the clothes don't get absolutely wrecked later and that was about all- unfortunately, none of her students seemed to have made friends with any of the support students to have any registered items in time for it. Not unexpected, but always a bit disappointing.
"It's time for the game!"
A pause. She watches her students faces shift to that of confusion.
They think she's silly, but she thinks that her method is rather ingenious.
Shouta was so serious all the time, Vlad was too focused on strength and outlasting one's opponent, and Kayama- while she only worked part-time with the Hero Students- liked to be a bit more fluid with her instructions. She embraced creativity and open-ended scenarios that allowed for people to engage in whatever way they could think of, it allowed them to make mistakes and to branch out, and she never wanted to be one to put a damper on any minds, when she knew what interesting things could happen if she let her students think for themselves in a fun and constructive environment.
"You want us to play... a game? With our quirks?"
"Trust me, my wonderful, amazing students. There's a catch to this game of Capture the Flag-" She watches faces pinch and confused expressions take over the lot. "-because it's a bit more high-stakes compared to the playground antics you're used to! This will be much more hardcore~"
She waits for someone to ask: "How?" And immediately jumps on it.
"The flag in this scenario won't just be a simple flag, it'll be one of your classmates-!" She chirps. "And it'll be the teams job to, not only protect them, but also capture the enemies "flag."" Kayama can see that she has all their attention once again, "The class will be split into two teams and each team will select one person to act as the flag, the training facilities today that we'll be using is one of the "civilian model" work buildings that's been split up into two sectors, each team will get a certain amount of time to strategize, a certain amount of time to set up defenses, and then the game will begin and-! And…"
She pauses, opens her mouth and then closes it again. There's a sudden expression of seriousness on her face as she sweeps her gaze over each of her students and watches as their spines straighten and an intensity grows around them all.
Her voice is soft, serious, and lacking her usual enthusiasm as she speaks next. "I want you to learn from this. I am hoping that each of you will gain something from this exercise today that you'll be able to use during the Sports Festival. Because, by this point, and I won't lie to you, the Hero Students are better than most of you."
Tension.
"They're stronger. They're faster and more prepared." She lists. "On an individual level, they're going to win any battle against you nine times out of ten."
A few downtrodden faces, a few worried ones, and she knows that she's broken some confidence- arrogance- with her words. But they need to hear them before they're shoved into the dirt. "They just have more experience than you, especially with the recent villain attack-" Her eyes burn with fire that seems to catch their attention, seems to give them something like hope. "-so you'll just have to play smarter than them. Fight harder. And be better than them anyways. It doesn't matter if you win or not, if you can't prove that you deserve to be on that stage, then you will never be a hero."
A tentative hand is raised from somewhere in the back, "How... How do you propose we do that?"
Kayama smiles.
She won't tell them the answer, not directly. It's something they'll have to figure out for themselves because, if she were the one to suggest it... she was sure that it would hurt some pride, would make others annoyed and less likely to learn, because they'll push and shove and want to do it by themselves and- She hopes that they'll figure it out as the game goes on.
"By paying attention."
She hopes, if nothing else, they'll try their best.
...
...
Medama is apologizing profusely, her chest still heaving from all the running. "Kiruude, I'm so, so sorry!" She bites her lips, staring at the older boy's broken nose. "Oh gosh."
"Medama, I, like, can't believe you punched him in the face." Shibori whispered. "And you kicked me in the stomach!"
"Well, what else was I supposed to do? Everyone was surrounding me!"
Kiruude smiles, waving his hands and signs and Shibori watches it for a moment. "He says: It's really no problem. None of your knuckles got hurt because of my quirk, right? I had to turn it off or else your hand would have gotten all cut up."
Shibori suddenly gasps. "Yeah, Medama! What were you thinking?! Punching a guy with saws-for-a-face in the face?"
Medama blushes. "Um. Well. I just sorta hoped that you would turn it off?" The flat looks she receives show that neither are impressed. "I'm not hurt! It's fine."
"That's really not a good mindset to have."
Medama blushes even harder. "Shibori got me all panicked, she came out of nowhere and tackled me- she held me hostage and everything!"
It's Shibori's turn to look like a completely mess, her fingers coming up to her face and leaving splashes of pink that only make her embarrassment look worse. "T-That was just to apologize. For my rude questions earlier." She murmurs. "I really am sorry. Sometimes I'm just so stupid and don't think at all."
Her gaze softens. "It's... I already said I forgive you, promise. Just don't do it again."
"Promise!"
"...Please don't punch me in the face again."
"Kiruude, oh my gosh, we need to get you to Recovery Girl-"
The game had come to a close both longer than Kayama had anticipated and much faster than she thought it would, her lips pressing into a smile that she can't keep off her face. Her students had done so very good, and even if they had a definitive winner, she thinks the ones who lost had still learned something- learned what she wanted them to.
Her eyes flick to the groups and conversations that had started up amongst everyone. The laughter and friendly arguing of people that had fought hard and were happy with how well they did.
"...Not going to join them?" She can't help but ask, looking curiously down at Shinsou. He was resting on the ground, legs crossed as he sipped water. He wasn't nearly as exhausted as some of the others were, but he hadn't made to go and interact much with anyone in particular. "Everyone seems to have had fun. And you were the reason your team had won."
He stares at everyone for a second, thoughts turning in his head. She could practically see him running through everything that had happened, see the way he was trying to figure out what he could've done better already and- the kids too hard on himself, but he kind of needs to be, so she doesn't say anything.
The kind of mindset he has... to stand up and try again, figure out what he did wrong the first time and do better the next was an absolutely excellent one and something she couldn't teach.
(He just came like that.)
"You didn't use your quirk, except for that one time."
"...Don't want to give it away so soon." He sips. "Might as well not use it if I can help it. So long as there's still the Sports Festival coming up."
She smiles, crouching down next to him. "I expect you to do your best."
He blinks at her. "Of course, what else would I be doing?" And he says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world and she can't help but give a little laugh.
(She'd heard what 1-B's plan for the Sports Festival was and, let's just say, she was sorely disappointed. She was all for underhanded plays, but at an event like this... keeping under the radar was a terrible idea.
It wasn't about winning against Class 1-A, or even winning the Sports Festival.
It was about catching the eye of sponsors and heroes already in the business. Because, if any of her students weren't up for transfer, in the end, then they had the possibility of being apprenticed or taken on as a sidekick or part-time basis.
And 1-B would cripple their opportunities if they tried to fly it quietly.)
"Kayama-sensei. What was the point of this exercise?" Shinsou finally asks, looking around at all his classmates. How all of them seem so happy and giggly and determined.
"What do you think?"
"Getting a handle on quirks. Practice." He lists. "But… that's not the catch, is it?"
"Mnh, no." She gestures broadly. "Tell me, when you look out at everyone, what do you see?"
Chikuchi had pulled the Class President and another pair of students into a deep conversation that had their heads down and together. The conversation was a rapid smattering of excited whispers that got quiet every time someone walked by.
Another pair were arguing between each other in what Kayama was steadily learning was a long-running rivalry. Much to the exasperation of their onlooking friends.
Four more small groups were split between each other- the loudest being led by Tobira, who didn't seem to have a mute button- and they were either laughing amongst themselves or whispering in a similar fashion to Chikuchi's group.
Shinsou's brow furrows. "They're... all getting along."
She nods, raising a brow at him, urging him that there was more to it. That he was so very close and-
"Teamwork." He breathes suddenly with a quiet realization. "You want us to work together."
Kayama smiles and it's all the confirmation he needs. "The Sports Festival may be branded as an individual contest- but there's no rules to dissuade working together. Some people work in duos, or plan to go into the industry together, having them operate on their own wouldn't be a good representation of themselves." She murmurs quietly. "That's not to say that people have never planned temporary truces."
"...They can't stand on their own."
She laughs a little. The uncooperative little brat, she was fond of that kind of attitude, she will admit, even if it's a little misguided. "I'll tell you an industry secret kid," his head snaps up to her with wide eyes, "most heroes would be nothing without their allies. Don't throw away others' usefulness so quickly." She smiles. "You don't need a Brainwashing quirk to realize that other people can be invaluable on a battlefield. Even if it's only as pawns."
He doesn't argue with her. But his face grows pinched. His lips thinning into a line.
"It's your choice, there's a reason I wouldn't simply say the point of the exercise…" She gives one last proud glance at them all, one last proud glance at Shinsou that makes him swallow. "It's your future. And you'll be the one capturing it in the end, if you want to accept help- that's something you have to figure out and decide for yourself."
...
...
Interested yellow eyes glance across the field, at where their teacher was talking with their class's "star" student.
(Some of the others seemed to think that Kayama-sensei's favorite was Medama- due to how she made sure to look good in front of the girl, who seemed to look up to her so immensely- but he knew better than that.
Their teacher was professional enough to not make her act of playing favorites so obvious; truthfully, he doesn't think she even realizes that she's doing it.
But anyone with eyes could see how much she wanted to see Shinsou Hitoshi succeed. And he wouldn't begrudge her that. There were worse students he'd seen gain teachers' favor and Shinsou was hardly a bad choice.
And, if he had to choose someone other than himself, then...)
"'Zengi?" He twitches slightly at the curiosity wafting off of Denji, the tall girl fiddling with her slightly bent glasses. "What are you seeing?"
He hums. Trying to ignore the playful tension building behind them and the loud, over the top arguing that was beginning to drag on his nerves. Those two really just needed to learn how to talk to each other normally... he didn't know how they thought of each other as friends.
"Nothing much."
"Ooh, I know that tone of voice. Come on, tell me."
He smirks. "Just a… thought." And turns away from the pride of Kayama and the stress of Shinsou.
"On an enemy or an ally?"
"...Can't it be both?"
-0-
It's the adrenaline that keeps him moving. Even as his face throbs and screams at him from where a fist had knocked him across the jaw, snapping his head to the side and sending him nearly careening to the floor. It takes all he has in him to keep his feet- to catch himself on the palms of his hands and roll out of the way of a grab that would've had him caught and defenseless.
"All you can do is dodge!"
He's being mocked and he can feel his blood boil-
But he knows not to let it get to him, not to let it break his focus. Mocking was just a ruse to get him to slip up, he didn't need to be taught that, but Sora-sensei had made sure that he remembered. That, if he had the chance, even without his quirk, words could be just as useful as any punch- within reason, of course, there was always the potential likelihood that it would just make things worse, in the end.
They won't be useful here, he knows, even if he manages to use his quirk, it wouldn't mean anything- would just mean that he was running from his opponent in this case, and he didn't want to be accused of that.
Not in a fight like this-
"Stop thinking, move!"
He ducks and tries to go for a hit, but he gets battered away and- Chokehold. Chokehold. His breath catches in his throat, his face pinches as an arm wraps around his neck and strangles him- he knows this. He knows this one.
His hands in just the right place, his arms straining against the greater strength of his opponent- it doesn't matter if they're stronger, he can use that- a jerk in just the right place; a bend, and he's free. Shinsou gasps for breath, not taking the chance to let them get the better of him once again and-
"Good."
He heaves, breathes come out a little harsh and erratic as the adrenaline catches up to him.
And Sora-sensei looks up with a wide, beaming grin from her place on the floor. "Gotta say, the leg sweep was very nice, was not expecting that one bit."
He rasps. "...Thanks." And removes his fist from where he'd frozen halfway through a punch, she'd tapped out before he could connect it-
Shinsou suddenly blinks.
"I made you tap out."
Sora's beaming smile grows a tad warmer. "You did."
"That's… That's the first time I've done that." He breathes, staring down at his hands. He clenches them into fists and tries to remember the pattern of the battle, the moves he'd taken to knock her on the ground and get in a position to land a hit that, most likely, would've broken her nose if he'd gone through with it.
It seems like a blur, he only really remembers the adrenaline and the spiking need to win-
"You think too much, kid." He blinks rapidly as a hand tousles his hair. For once, he doesn't try to swat it away, all too used to Sora-sensei's habits and how she liked to just absolutely ruin his hair every chance she got, the strands of purple are matted with sweat and stick to his forehead. It's even worse now that she'd gotten her hands on it. "Not saying it's a bad thing, but I've never seen a kid think as much as you do."
"-if I can't remember what I did, then how will I improve-?"
"Less important than you think it is." She laughs, playfully flicking him on the forehead and earning a grumble. He glares at her, but it's not heartfelt. "The goal is to get the instincts into you, so you won't have to think later. There's only so much thinking you have time for in a fight. Honestly, I think you need these lessons the way they are, you can't have your head running twenty-four seven-"
He doesn't know about that.
"-you'd never get any rest."
He... doesn't point out the fact that he had insomnia. A restless mind only came with the deal.
"...The Sports Festival is coming up." He says quietly. "I can't win off a fluke and some luck. Just because I managed to get the upper hand this time, that doesn't mean I'll accomplish anything in the real thing."
He had to know what he was doing. And he had to know it well.
"Thinking too much again, Shinsou," her hand is still pressed firmly atop his head, and she leans down to look him in the eye, "you're going to do just fine." He opens his mouth, her grip only grows more firm, and it silences him as her smile grows small but even more real. "I'm proud of you."
His eyes gleam something shiny.
"...I still want to know what I did right-"
"-and what you did wrong."
Sora gives a small laugh. "God, there's a reason why you're my favorite student. The only one so eager to learn more, the day Medama brought you around was a great one-" He looks down at his feet, hoping it hides the way his ears glow crimson. "-Hey, the Sports Festival: Don't think too much about it." He opens his mouth to argue but she just poked him on the forehead again, silencing him before he can even speak. "You're a good kid. And I'm sure you've heard it before but that doesn't mean it's no less true- but do your best and you'll do fine."
It's sound advice that she punctuates with a pat on the back with enough force to make him stumble in his exhaustion. "And- hey- when you get all that fancy hero training, make sure you stay in contact." Sora just laughs. "I gotta make sure whatever hero teacher they stick you with is good enough."
She has so much confidence in him, and it feels like she's absolutely beaming with pride as she drags him back to the mat and they prepare to spar once again. His hands are still, even despite the way he feels just about dead on his feet and like his whole body may begin to shake from overwork, as he raises them up in defense. For some reason, it's not the stress of training that's getting to him-
"And don't think I'm letting you get away just 'cause you have a new instructor. I'll always be your first, got that? And I'm not letting them muck up all my hard work."
-it's the stress of having someone with faith in him.
(It's a new, anxious feeling.
Shinsou's not sure if he likes it.)
-0-
Hitoshi lies awake as he stares at his textbook and it's spinning words that had long since become indecipherable. It's late. And reading by lamp light is making his eyes strain and grow bloodshot and red, but he's so used to it that he doesn't even notice it anymore.
Honestly, the assignment, by this point, is completed anyways. He doesn't even need to be reading the damned law textbook anymore. Other than to, perhaps, double check his and Chikuchi's work for the seventh time for the stupid group assignment due tomorrow, the last assignment before the Sports Festival and-
He doesn't even know why he's thinking about it. It doesn't matter.
The textbook snaps closed and he sighs, letting it rest on his stomach as he stares at the ceiling. The exhaustion is nipping at him and, yet, he can't sleep, can't even keep his eyes closed. There's an awkward amount of pent up energy within him- stress, anxiety, nervousness- and he seems to have no way of letting it out.
His body is shaky with tiredness, but his mind is not.
Sora-sensei was right. It wasn't good to think as much as he did.
"Damn it…" He runs his hands over his face, letting out a small groan that cuts through the silence in his room. And he gets up. Even if he's stumbling and his muscles are aching and- shit. He'd forgotten to stretch, no wonder he was having trouble. He was so used to Medama going through the motions with him and she hadn't been there today and-
"No coffee."
He startles, blinking up with a bit of blurry vision at the sight of his father on the couch. A book in his hands that he was absently flipping through and Espresso snoozing in his lap, the fluffy white ball twitching in his sleep and Hitoshi sent the cat a look of envy. "...I wasn't going to get any."
A bored hum. "Sure you weren't."
Hitoshi tries not to think about the cold brew in the fridge that he'd been thinking about drinking straight from the carton and instead stuffs his hands in his pajama pockets, sitting down on the other side of the couch with a soft huff. "Did they switch you back to the dayshift already?"
"No, covered someone for almost thirty-six hours, so I got to leave when they finally showed up for the wrong shift." His dad rolls his eyes. "He's... not going to stay in the hospital for very long if he keeps it up. We are not so understaffed that we couldn't find a new hire to replace him..."
All things considered, the dayshift seemed to be the healthiest for his dad at least- less of a need to put his medical quirk license to use during a time when not many people wanted to be sleeping- and, considering he was currently supposed to be exclusively on nights, it would at least give him a chance to relax and recharge his quirk usage. Even with an already overworked schedule.
(But the dayshift was also the one that had him most rarely seen at home and so Hitoshi had always preferred it when his dad worked nights. When they could at least spend dinners and breakfasts together.)
"...Need to sleep?"
Hitoshi shrugs. "...I don't know."
"That's a yes." Hitomu flips through another page, wetting his thumb on his tongue to gain traction. "You have school tomorrow. You might as well get a few hours."
He just shrugs again.
And Hitomu finally puts down his book. "Somethings on your mind."
"So?"
"Don't be a brat," his indigo eyes sharpen, "it's not someone at school again, is it?" Hitoshi immediately scowls, shaking his head and sending him an annoyed side eye. "I don't know what kind of dumbass got it into your head to hide bruises, but we're not having a repeat of the end of elementary, are we?"
It's an age old argument, but still Hitoshi grumbles. "...I didn't want to bother anyone."
"You aren't bothering-"
"We had to move! " He snipes back, voice a whispered hiss. "And you know how much mom enjoyed her job back then, but she had to quit, and it's-" He cuts himself off, jaw creaking as his teeth grit and his dad gives him that dry, no-nonsense look that allowed for no arguments or even a discussion. Because he just wasn't having it. Not again. "...It's not anything like that. It's not - bad. "
Thankfully, Hitomu doesn't keep the fight going. They're both too tired for it. And it wouldn't end any differently than it had the years before.
"That doesn't make it sound good either."
"I… don't know what it is." Hitoshi scoffs. "Sora-sensei was just trying to be nice, but I can't stop thinking about it- that and what Kayama-sensei said too-" He scowls down at the carpet, hands formed into fists. "What if I… What if I…?" Hitomu simply waits and doesn't urge him to speak. He'll get there eventually, if it's something that needs to be said. "The Sports Festival is going to be my last chance, what if I can't do it-? What if I can't win- Gyeh! "
He blinks rapidly at the cover of the book his dad had smacked him in the face with. It's paperback and it'd been done incredibly lightly- so it'd done nothing but take him by surprise. "You." Hitomu's lips are pressed into a flat line. "Are putting too many eggs in one basket and then acting surprised when it's too heavy to carry."
He rubs his forehead and can't help but wonder why so many adults seemed to like using it as target practice.
"Hitoshi, no matter what happens, I think you've proven enough-" He opens his mouth but his dad just shakes his head. "-the people in your life that you care about know what kind of person you are. And they don't care if you get some gold medal to brag about. In fact, aim for third place or something, I'd rather not have people bothering me all day to tell me what an inspiration my son is or how they think he's so cool- "
Hitoshi's laugh is soft and breathless. "I'm serious."
"So am I. Do you know how annoying it is to talk to people all day? There's a reason why I had been thinking about being a surgeon over a general practitioner, so I wouldn't have to interact with dumbass patients."
"...Anyone interesting come in?"
"A kid tried to superglue his hair to look like All Mights."
Hitoshi snorts. And the laughter is a bit louder this time.
Hitomu feels a smile warm his face at the sight. It'd been awhile since he'd last heard it but lately there'd been softer lines to Hitoshi's hard expressions and an ease to him that he hardly remembered ever seeing before, it was a good look on him. And a sight that he hoped would never disappear or grow old.
The quiet of the house is less somber than it was before.
"You don't have to win. You don't even have to be on the damned pedestal," Hitomu murmurs quietly, watching his son's expression and the way it shifted with so many worries and conflicting emotions, "because that's what it is, isn't it? It's not winning you're worried about, it's-"
"What if I disappoint everyone?" Hitoshi sucks in a deep, shaky breath, head falling into his hands. "They- They put so much time and effort into helping me- Sora-sensei, Ikimaru, Kiko... Medama, even the Class Pres- what if I just prove to them that I was never supposed to try in the first place?"
It's stress and it's killing him-
"Hitoshi, stop it. You're overthinking."
"I know that."
"Then you'd also know that it doesn't matter." His dad glances down at Espresso, who is still sleeping soundly in his lap. "I can't move right now but, if I could-" Hitoshi chokes on a laugh, it's slightly wet with building hysterics. "-I would be crouched in front of you and making sure you were focused on my words, okay?"
"O-kay."
"Good. Because I'm about to tell you that you're an idiot for thinking so much about other people, they don't matter. Focus on yourself and what you think you need to do." Hitomu affirms. "Everything else will fall into place."
"...You sure-?"
"I wouldn't say it if I wasn't sure."
"But I...?"
"Hitoshi, if it matters that much to you, then I'll tell you this: No matter what happens, I'm proud of you." He scrubs at his face, trying to keep from sniffing or letting his emotions fall. "And, if anyone's opinion is going to matter the most, it's going to be mine."
Instantly, it has his son's laughter bubbling forth once again.
"...Still need that sleep?"
"No, no. I can- I think it's... I'll be able to sleep now."
And he knows he's going to be just fine.
-0-
He blinks in surprise as a warm body collides with his, gentle and euphonious laughter tickling with breathlessness beside his ear. "Shin~sou! Shin-sou, guess what I got? You'll never get it-" Medama giggles as she let's go of him, letting him get his footing back after bracing for her excitable self.
"Then why would I guess?"
She pauses, blinks. "Point." And he watches her laugh with her slowly reddening face and her beaming smile that seems to strain her cheeks. "I got you a present."
He blinks, taken aback. "...What."
Medama's eyes crinkle at him. And she pulls her bag over her chest, nose scrunching as she searches through papers and Shinsou awkwardly waits, staring at her. The way her cheeks are slightly flushed pink and she's nervously biting her lip is a familiar sight, but Shinsou can't help but feel there's something different in the air about it-
"Here it is!" She smiles and holds up a… small little charm. "It's an Omamori," she shifts nervously, a little embarrassed, "truth be told, I'm not much of a believer in good luck charms, and they weren't really a thing back in the... before , though that was more a cultural difference than anything… but, I figured, um. Well, that it couldn't hurt."
He carefully takes it from her hands, staring at the golden charm with a simple looped thread and the designated Shinto-shrine that Medama had likely gotten it from.
"I wasn't, um, I haven't- I don't have much experience with them, so I didn't know what the best to get was." She scratches the side of her head. "But the guy at the shrine said that this one- education and examinations- was pretty good for any kinds of studies…"
Aa.
"For the festival, you know? I know there's some for hero studies, but those always seemed so… superficial.'' Medama twirls a lock of hair around her finger, the pink curls springing around. "I figured, if nothing else, this one just means it'll cover all your bases." It has him staring down at it, taking in the sight of the patterned fabric, and he only realizes too late that he'd taken too long to respond- "It's- um. I don't even know if you… Do- Do you like it?"
Aa.
Shinsou's mouth is suddenly very dry.
He settles on a small hum of acknowledgement, hoping that it's enough, because suddenly words seem to fail and he thinks the only noise he'd be able to get out would be a strangled one.
The way Medama glows at that bare minimum response is enough to have him swallowing and he's certain that he's just… made a discovery that he hadn't been prepared to make today, something that was a long time coming, and something that made the charm in his hands suddenly weigh a magnitude.
It takes even longer- with Medama swaying from side to side and that wonderful, beautiful smile still firmly spread across her face- for him to rid himself of the lump in his throat and take a deep breath in through his nose so he can finally speak-
And the bell rings to interrupt him instead.
"Huu… Um." Perhaps it was a good thing, because it still somehow feels like his throat is constricting unnaturally and words seemed to be tangled on his tongue, unable to form any coherent thanks or even a phrase that would provide anything. "Aa."
"Already? I thought we had a bit more time." Medama frowns, looking up as the bell continues to signal their need to return to their classroom. "Damn, that's too bad…"
It was too bad. Because Shinsou was suddenly, nerve-wrackingly aware of her and her… everything. Suddenly, startling conscious of how he feels sweaty and how his eyes linger, and how that growing, wobbly feeling that he'd grown so used to could go by another, many names but, at the moment, all he could say was that-
"Oh! Wait, before I forget," Medama stops him before he can split away to class, her fingers brushing over his own and he can't help but feel his hand twitch towards her own, as if hoping he could catch a moment longer of her lingering touch. He bites the inside of his cheek, watching as she lifts the charm and… his whole body freezes at the sight of her pressing a small kiss to the outside of it, her lips quirked up into a smile and her eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment. And something catches in the back of his throat as she returns it to him, "just a little bit of extra luck for the road, you know?"
-this… this was tender adoration.
(Some… thing in his soul grows quiet.
It grows content.
And it settles.
Suddenly, that wobbly feeling isn't as wobbly anymore. It doesn't need to be. Because he can look at her and just- know. )
"Shinsou! Medama!" They both blink, looking up to find Iki waving over to them, urging them to come towards him. "Don't be late, come on."
They follow his hurried instructions, not wanting to receive a late slip for the most inane of reasons, considering they were simply in the hall outside of class, arriving just seconds before their next teacher hurried in behind them. Shinsou couldn't help his eyes trailing after Medama as she took to her seat and, only when he was forced to look away, did he finally feel a smile cross his face. The little charm felt warm to the touch.
(And, when the next passing period comes, and he takes the time to head alone somewhere quiet to clear his mind, he can't help but raise the charm to his lips and press it softly against them.
As if he may still feel the warmth of Medama's kiss, or understand some semblance of the feelings inside him better.
In the hopes that his difficulties of grasping things that seemed to so often slip through his fingers would finally be put to rest. That the sleepless love that had only made him drowsy day after day would forever stay the soft blanket that it was now, peaceful and all-encompassing fondness… that seemed to feel like home.
No longer bogged down by restlessness and anxiety and petty nerves.
...It's a connection that he had taken so long to make, a small realization that didn't change a thing and, yet, it suddenly felt as if the world was just a bit kinder; just a bit better. Because Medama was in it.
Because the sight of a small, silly little good luck charm- that was so simple and fitting- had made him realize how much he wanted to- wanted to- wanted to know her; to know every smile that lit her face, each frown and the cause, the way her voice giggled and sparked with life, and know every damn fault about her to break the stupid perfection he seemed to see in her every move and whisper.
He wanted to open his eyes in the morning and know her ins and outs, fears and hopes, and wanted her to, maybe, one day, know his own.
Shinsou sighs softly as he removes the charm from his lips, the little golden omamori still held in his hands from the very moment she gave it to him, unable to quite set it down. The realization hadn't been shocking, nor had it been sudden; just words to a feeling that he previously didn't have a name for and the memories of days past suddenly sliding into better places-
Oh. He was in much deeper than he thought it was.
-Shinsou's fingers carefully tie the thread of the omamori to the zipper on his backpack. And can't help but feel his lips quirk up every time he caught a glance of it.)
-0-
Suffocating.
He feels like he's suffocating.
It's as if every eye in the room is on him, even if everyone's head is turned resolutely ahead, it's taking everything inside him not to sink to the floor and scream. To not let the horror and the punch to the gut drown him. Shinsou feels sick.
He feels disgusting.
Worthless.
"This was an important assignment to this class's grade, while I will allow you to redo the assignment for a minimum of half points, the fact remains that UA has a policy and we do not tolerate villain-like behavior."
The room is dead silent.
Dead silent.
Not a single person in the room makes a peep, can even react, as minds whirr to understand- to comprehend.
And it's suddenly so hard to breathe that it feels like his lungs are failing. His hands shake and he doesn't know what to do.
A zero.
A zero.
"...What?"
That- that was impossible.
"Cheating on an assignment automatically results in a zero." He feels his insides freeze and his stomach drop like lead. "Since this seems to be the first offense, I'll let you off with a warning, but if behavior like this were to continue… it would be grounds for expulsion. I hope you understand that."
He sucks in a deep breath, it does nothing to re-inflate his lungs, as he lifts his wide and horrified gaze to the law teacher and the red marker that marred the class assignment that he'd spent so much time on- worked so hard on.
"With a zero on this assignment, it'll bring your overall grade down significantly. To a near failing grade. As I'm sure you're aware, the General Education Department has certain standards when it comes to education, especially in regards to 1-C-"
Of course. Of course.
Why did he ever expect anything different?
"-as they represent UA's renowned education. We, therefore, cannot allow a student in the General Education Course to represent us in the Sports Festival if they are known for not only cheating, but also do not meet the minimum grade requirement for every single one of their classes."
Shinsou feels his already cracked lenses on reality shatter.
He should have never dared to dream. Never dared to hope. Because, he should've known...
They would've never let him near the starting line in the first place.
(He stumbles out of the classroom partway through, doesn't even know if he does anything but stand there, frozen stiff, for the longest time before he has to step out. Step away from the eyes and the monstrosity.
And... And he goes immediately to the bathroom to wretch and heave and vomit.)