there's piracy in the lyrics (so lie like they're your own)

by poprockie

There's a whole lot of muscle memory that gets passed on during reincarnation. It doesn't help that it's getting harder to let sleeping dogs lie and developing an online presence only proves to catch the attention of way too many people. Probably not the best idea she's ever had. Scratch that, dating the insomniac probably wasn't the best idea either. Non-Hero Student, Class 1-C.

26. Something to Say

Hitoshi's eyes snap open.

There's a weight on his chest. It's something dark and decrepit, foul and disgusting- it's heavy, unbearable, and it's weighing him down. He swallows, his throat bobbing as he gasps for breath. And he doesn't get any air, not even a lick of it. He just feels like he's being swallowed whole, like something is biting down on him, feasting on his popping blood vessels and scavenging through his musculature and viscera to get a taste of every piece.

(It finds him delicious.

It finds him. Every little secret, every little memory, everything that makes him feel worthless and it pulls it to the surface between its teeth. It's him- screaming and crying and desperate to escape its hungry maw, but all it does is bite down and chew. It's teeth sharp and made for severing strands of flesh and veins and consuming until there's nothing left. )

Suddenly, he's all too aware of the blood pumping through his veins, of the sporadic breaths taken in wild moments that felt like a dizzying assault on his brain, and it's so overwhelming- so overpowering- that he thinks he's just about to fall apart-

-scatter into pieces-

-and then...

It stops.

And he's left. Numb. Defeated.

Shivering.

Gasping for every breath, choking on the very air, and desperate for every sweet little bit of oxygen he managed to pull into his lungs. There's sweat dripping down his face, cold and clammy, and he coughs as he forces himself to sit up, even as it makes his vision blur and his already dark room feel even darker than it had before.

"Shit-!" The curse comes out like it's strangled, tugging at his lips, and grinding his teeth together. "Holy fucking shit-" He can't breathe.

He kicks off his blankets that suddenly feel like they're suffocating. His hands dig into his chest, twisting the fabric of his shirt, as he coughs and hacks- and feels his heartbeat roar- trying to ignore the numbness spreading with every pulsing throb. Like needles prickling over his skin. Like dark clouds that hang over his head, lightning thundering and shocking him, leaving his nerves paralyzed- and him cold, blind, and battered.

The lights turn on.

He doesn't remember flicking the switch but he must have, in his state, because he's the only one in the room and his house is dreadfully silent. Hitoshi wipes his brow, hands running through his hair, and he can practically feel the drops of sweat on his skin.

"Shit, shit, shit, stop it, stop, just stop it already-"

He doesn't know how his heart can beat in his chest like this- like a ten ton weight that's trying to crush him- and, still, somehow, feel like it wasn't beating at all. Because his body feels a million miles away, his brain trying to play catch up, and his heart locked away in some place that he'd long lost the key to.

He needs a distraction. He needs something to help him forget this nightmare of anxiety and panic-

It's two in the morning.

And Hitoshi holds his phone in shaking hands, a number already dialed, listening to every ring with his heart leaping into his throat and his mouth suddenly very, very dry.

He's just about to give up, to go back to the crippling suffocation and numbness and accept that this is his world, when she finally answers.

Her voice is a croak, like she'd been talking too much, and something about that makes him happy, that she had a reason to speak until her voice began to die, and she sounds just... absolutely exhausted. But she's still picking up the phone and talking to him: "Shin-sou, I know we love our late night talks, and your insomnia is an absolute killer, but shouldn't there at least be an attempt at sleep."

He doesn't answer, for the longest time, just sits there and breathes. Wondering how she can be there, when so many things were so out of place, and how she can exist in the same world as him like she does. Soft and sweet and tired.

Hitoshi knows he should apologize, that he should just hang up.

But he's selfish and so he doesn't.

"Shin~sou?"

He doesn't know why, but suddenly the nicknames aren't good enough. He doesn't want to hear them anymore. He just wants to hear his name on her lips- his and only his- whispered in that wonderful way that she does whenever he seems to want it the most. He wants to plead with her, beg it of her, until she knows the syllables like it's a taste of heaven on her tongue-

"You picked up." He says instead. "You were already awake."

He doesn't hear anything for a moment and his grip on his phone squeezes until the device creaks beneath his fingers, afraid that he'd chased her off, then: "Touché." She grumbles and he can just imagine her rubbing the need for sleep from her eyes. "I- I couldn't stay asleep, I mean, I usually don't want to sleep in the first place but- I... I have too much to do anyways so I figured it couldn't hurt to just- focus on what I need to focus on." She groans. "So much to do. So little time."

"What do you have?"

"Well, homework, obviously. I'm actually kinda behind on that." He can hear her grimace. "But, well, I also have a bunch of music that I have to remake 'cause I deleted the files for... By accident. So that's gonna take so much time to put together again." He sits there, on the carpeted floor of his room, and listens to his best friend ramble about all the things she was thinking about at two in the morning. Feeling his heart quail and beat anew, until he isn't choking on his breath anymore and that hungry monster that wanted to consume him seemed so very far away that it didn't even matter anymore. "I also have this giant project I have to get done by the end of the week- before the Sports Festival- 'cause I made a promise that I would and it's... If I had more time, it would be fine, I just really left it for last minute, you know?"

He feels like he's whispering, he thinks he is, "Y-Yeah?"

"Yeah. So I'm just- urgh. Tired. I don't know how you can do it all the time."

It feels like they're both whispering.

"Do what?"

Maybe they are.

"Be tired."

He runs his tongue over his lips, wetting them, and swallows back the bitter taste in his mouth. "It's not... It's not so bad."

"Really?" He nods, even though he knows she can't see it, and they sit in the quiet for just a moment. As he listens to Medama just breathe . She doesn't seem to be in any hurry. Just wonderfully calm and sleepy in that way that made his body turn warm and like he was coming back together again.

She feels like a warm hearth on a winter's day, like she's wrapping around him and holding tight, until all the cold washes away.

"Hey, Shin~sou?"

"Mm?"

"Why'd you call me?"

"...I don't know."

She makes a soft noise. It could be a sigh, it could be a hum, it could be anything but, so long as it was her, he didn't care. "...Really?"

"No, that was- that was a lie." He feels himself laugh, scrubbing his hands over his face as he crawled on his knees until he could pick himself up and lie back down on his bed. He doesn't pull the blankets back over him, he doesn't think he could handle it, he just- he just didn't feel quite like he was going to be swallowed whole anymore. "I know why. I just..."

"You seem like you're in an odd mood." She whispers, but there's a smile in her voice. It's sleepy and delighted and so very soft. It tickles his ears and he wishes she was here.

With him.

He wishes he could hold her close to his chest and just listen to her and her heartbeat and every sound she made.

"Is it a good one?"

"I don't know. I guess I just- I wanted to hear your voice."

He feels his cheeks flush bright red. He knows he must be such a deep, crimson color that it paints him down to his collarbone, but he can't help it. He can't help feel bubbling infatuation with her, he can't help imagining her in all her wonderful self-

Stupid. Stupid . God, she must think he's an absolute idiot.

-He feels like a fool.

(Because he can't help but want to talk about how her pink curls frame her face, or how she laughs like she wants to share her joy with the world, and how it makes her tremble and hold her belly.

He wants to talk about how she shivers. How she likes to tease and how she's silly. How she loves fish and music and writing songs in a little notebook she was too shy to share. How she's thoughtful and thinks of him and she absolutely hates the cold.

How she loves glittery makeup. How she loves video games and racing.

How she makes him feel like he's the biggest fool in the world and like he's the luckiest one to ever exist.)

He's absolutely enamored.

He wants to cover his face, he wants to hide, and he manages to tuck his face into his pillow to keep the spellbound look to himself. Hitoshi wants a lot of things but, at the moment, all he wants to do is talk to his best friend and listen to every word she has to say- because he liked the feeling of the smile on his face.

Medama makes a sweet sounding noise. It's like a giggle, a sigh, and a gasp, all wrapped into one, and it makes a shiver run up his spine like tingling electricity. He can feel his face turn an even deeper red as a rush is sent through him. "...O-Oh, yeah?" She seems to whimper, her voice so quiet and sweet, that he can't help but press his face so deep into his pillow that he truly can't breathe anymore.

"Is that weird?"

"No." She murmurs. "I like to hear yours too."

He knows, god , does he know.

Hitoshi smiles, dragging a hand through his hair, and he can't help the question that he'd promised himself that he would get up the guts to ask, "Did you mean it?"

"Hm?"

"In the video, what you said-" It feels like something is blooming in his chest, through where the teeth had torn, overflowing like bubbles and making him glad that he'd woken up, even if the cause of it hadn't been the best. "Did you mean it? All the things... all the things you said about me."

He feels his smile grow shy, he feels his heart speed up in a wonderful way, and those anxious nerves are digging through him, no longer as numb as they were, until-

"...What video?"

-Everything crashes.

And his high sobers, as teeth gnash and tear and he wishes he'd just swallowed the numbness and bore it.

...

...

This is the way the world trembles.

(Medama likes to run her hands through his hair, she likes to rub circles into his scalp and feel the way he trembles beneath her hands. She is soft caresses that overload his nerves and make him crave her gentle affections.)

It's a slightly shaky camera lens, it's anxiously taken deep breaths, and it's questions on a sugary tongue that hide the vile undertones of fury.

(She is words that are spoken like they're being kissed. She's soft tones like she's afraid to raise her voice too loud, like she's carrying a secret and only wants to share it with him, and he's desperate to listen to every little note.)

It's rage in every syllable, an undercurrent of roughness-

(She's laughter that's breathless and sweet, that makes her cheeks flush bright red and her whole body pinken until it's a shade similar to her hair. She laughs so hard that it makes her squeak and stumble, unable to hold herself up, so she knocks into him and he has to help keep her on her feet.)

-and it feels so very out of place.

(It's a quiet moment.

She stares into space, her hands not moving for once, a smile not firmly fixed onto her face. She looks like she's somewhere different. And it's then that he notices that she has bags under her eyes, not all too different from his own, covered under light touches of makeup.

She looks like she's seeing something that isn't there, so stuck in her own mind- in her perfect memory- that he can see her eyelids flickering. Almost as if she was asleep. Not catching sight of anything worth grasping onto.

It's when her watch beeps that he stands up and offers himself up to her, offers an arm for her to hold or even just a comforting presence, so she wouldn't have to be completely alone. Not in this.)

The world trembles (it's not the world, it's just him) and is overwhelmed by the sight of classmates (their faces blur and his eyes burn) that leave him breathless and wondering. They have eyes that glare and gazes that remain unblinking, that speak of untold anger and whisper of stories that Shinsou couldn't begin to know.

It feels, somehow, a little like looking into a mirror.

Because they feel like they know the horrors of the world. The same ones that scare him and keep him up at night.

They feel like quiet and broken children that were always shoved to the bottom of the barrel. The last to get picked, the last to find their way, and always the first to be targeted by cruel words and hands that squeezed until they bruised and left scars.

(She is swallowing her fears and holding them tight to her chest, she's trying to keep it all in, and she's drowning beneath the weight of it. Choking. On memories and harmful things.)

Shinsou sits in the dark of his room, face lit by the screen of his laptop, completely unable to push everything down- the emotions... He doesn't know if he wants to laugh, cry, or pull at his hair until there's blood under his fingernails.

"Please, state your name."

(She's gritted teeth and glares hidden behind pink curls, she's a rough voice that's unused to screaming but so desperately wants to-)

She's deadly calm and soft-spoken precision, a simple strength to her tone that demands attention and dares- challenges- anyone to find an issue with her. Medama has dropped all pretenses in favor of a hyperfocus that makes her sound almost like a completely different person-

Shinsou runs his tongue over his suddenly dry lips, he doesn't know why, but he can feel a shiver run up his spine that makes his knees grow weak.

-she sounds familiar, she sounds like herself, but he's never heard her take quite that tone of voice before, so he doesn't know why it tickles some part in the back of his brain.

It reminds him of something that he can't quite place.

But it makes him... breathe a bit easier. It makes his heart stop feeling like it's about to jump out of his chest.

"Who is Shinsou Hitoshi to you?"

He should turn it off.

He should shut off his computer and refuse to look at it for one second more, but his fingers stall on his keyboard and something catches in the back of his throat, a raw emotion burrowing deep inside him-

These are questions that he would never dare to ask. These are things that he'd been both desperate to know but also never wanted to hear in his life.

And he had all of it on a video file, on his crappy old laptop that took twenty minutes to start up, feeling like he should hide away and never show himself again.

"What is he to me...?"

He doesn't turn it off.

He can't bring himself to.

It feels like he's eavesdropping-

(It feels like he's twelve years old again and he's fiddling with the buttons on his school's uniform, standing outside his classroom with his head bowed and his ears flushed a bright, embarrassed humiliated red.

"Eh, Shinsou? You think I'm friends with that guy?"

There's laughter, childish and bratty and raucous. Like they've found the most hilarious thing in the world.

"No way. He's so creepy."

He fiddles with the buttons. In. Out. In. Out. His jacket feels like it's suffocating him then, all of a sudden, it feels like he's lost his one source of comfort.

"Aw, man, so you can't get him to help me out? I mean, he has the top scores in the class for a reason."

For a moment, he can convince himself that it's something innocent. That they saw his scores and saw something to respect and just wanted a couple studying tips or even a lesson on something they were struggling with, it's not like its anything his classmates haven't asked others to do before.

The moment doesn't last very long.

"I wonder how he keeps getting the teachers to respond to him, I mean, none of them even talk to him anyways."

"I bet he has one that he's just been controlling this whole time-"

A shriek, it's almost playful, like it's just a joke. "Don't say that! That's so scary."

In. Out. In. Out.

The button pops off his jacket and he blinks as it skitters across the floor, rolling until it hits the wall and falls over on it's side.

He keeps his face blank.

He doesn't react.

He already knows all the things they'd say. It's... hard to feel the hurt and anger... it all just seems so terribly muted. And, truthfully, this is hardly the worst thing he's heard implied or outright stated. It was just another reminder that things never changed.

It was just-

He'd thought that they'd at least not talk about him behind his back anymore. Or that they'd at least have something more interesting to talk about.)

-and eavesdropping has always been a nasty habit of his that he'd never learned to get rid of. Even for how much it seemed to come back and bite him in the ass. He always seemed to be just quiet enough, just forgotten enough, that he could always listen to the whispers that said his name like a curse.

He doesn't know for certain if his quirk allows for better hearing, or if it's just him. But he always felt a little astounded by how much people said in his vicinity, especially when he knew they were specifically trying not to be overheard.

It was like he just couldn't help but hear it all.

(She only stops when she's noticed that he's stopped, her shoes squeaking on the floor as she rotates on the back of her heel, just so she could look at him. "Shin~sou?"

He tilts his head, as if leaning into the sound, but there's a frown worming it's way onto his face. Just a frown. It's not intense, but it's enough of a step away from his usual neutral or bored expression that it has Medama noticing. She mirrors it. "Is something wrong?"

"...No. Nothing out of the ordinary."

She doesn't look like she believes him. Too curious for her own good, but he isn't lying to her.

He sighs.

"Me-da-ma, seriously. I just thought I heard something." He mutters, stepping past her, "Are you going to come or are you just going to keep standing there like an idiot?"

"Hey...!" He's only teasing and she pouts in response, her eyes narrowing as she hummed at him. There's a light-hearted sparkle to her eyes that tells him she's not actually upset with him at all. "I only stopped 'cause you did first. What does that make you?"

He shakes his head, losing his frown when he sees her rush to keep up with him now that he'd pulled ahead.

"...There's a bunch of students that don't come to school anymore, they say it was because of that guy- that villain- in 1-C..."

"...I saw that he looked kinda beat up too..."

"..."

"...You think he killed them...?"

Shinsou didn't lie. It really was nothing out of the ordinary, so Medama had no reason to think he was lying or to look for anything that might be wrong.

She just nudged him along like she always did and he tried not to wonder if she ever said anything negative about him, when she thought he wouldn't hear, when she thought he wouldn't learn.)

So he can't shut it out.

Even as faces pass over the screen, he waits for the negative, for the accusations and laughter, he waits for the somber attitude and the actual fear that makes him feel sick to his stomach.

Who is Shinsou Hitoshi to you?

(A monster.

A villain.)

"A classmate."

He sniffs.

"A rival."

There's something thick in the back of his throat.

"...A friend."

Aa, he blinks, his eyes were burning, his cheeks were wet. He scrubs at his face and buries his hands in his hair, trying not to sob as the sound from the video fills his headphones and makes him struggle to focus on quieting himself. They really were going to destroy him.

Just not in the way he'd expected.

"Why?"

Yes, why? It's a completely reasonable question and one that's weighing on him as he scrubs his face until his already irritated skin breaks out even more.

He doesn't understand why Kiko looks so offended by the question, as if she can't believe it'd ever be asked in the first place. As if she thought the very question incomprehensible. "Why wouldn't I call him my friend?" Why would she?

He feels sick, thinking of the answer.

(He's chubby cheeks and small hands fisted in the front of his shirt, he's pouting and his brow is furrowed as he looks down at his shoes and feels someone shove their elbow into his shoulder. They're trying to catch his attention, trying to demand that he listen to them-

"Come on, aren't we friends?"

He'd thought they were.

"I... Uhm."

"Just make the store clerk pay for it!" The kid is bigger than him, older than him too, by maybe one or two years and, while it may seem little, it's more than enough to be much stronger than him. Much better at being convincing. "Then it won't even be stealing! My dad said I couldn't get it until I got my grades up and you wouldn't even help me with the teacher-"

"I- I- I could help you study?" He offers quietly, hopeful that he'll take it instead. It gets him a glare that has him snapping his mouth shut.

He's eight years old.

He's wearing a bright orange hoodie with stripes and floppy tiger ears and his backpack is a bright blue that's the perfect shade to clash with his hair. He's got colorful hero bandaids all over his fingers because last night was the first night his mom finally allowed him to use one of the knives to help her with cooking and he hadn't been very good with it.

He's also close to tears.

"Get it for me or I won't be your friend anymore!"

His bottom lip wobbles and, when he approaches the store clerk, they look at him with such immense and honest concern that it finally makes him break. And Shinsou is so humiliated, embarrassed, and feels so guilty for what he almost did that he can barely keep himself together. He cries until the store clerk panics and someone calls his parents and his 'friend' runs off as soon as the first few tears slip by-

"I'm disappointed in you, Hitoshi," his dad tells him and makes him feel even more ashamed of himself, "that you thought, for even a moment, that that kind of behavior was okay. No matter the reason."

He hiccups on his tears.

"What if you'd gotten the store clerk fired? They could have a family to provide for! What if you had hurt someone? What if you had gotten injured? What if they called the police on you-?!" He snaps. "You could've ruined your whole life! They would've put you on record and then what-?"

He knows. He knows it was wrong. To even go so far as approaching the store clerk with a semblance of the intent in mind... he feels absolutely sick with himself.

"I'm sorry," he begs for forgiveness, begs for his father to stop looking at him like he's horrified by his own son, "I'm sorry! I didn't want to- I- I d-didn't-"

He cries until his father wraps his arms around him and the feeling of being trapped begins to bear down on him like suffocation.

-he comes to school and gets laughed at the next day.

And his so-called friend refuses to talk to him anymore, calling him useless and telling him that he wasn't supposed to involve himself with villains anyway. Even though he was the one that suggested it. Even though Hitoshi hadn't been able to bring himself to do it.)

"I don't really think friendship requires an explanation," but he wants one anyways, he's desperate for one, "not everything needs some great story behind it. He's just... He's just my friend."

Kiko smiles like that should answer it. As if that's all that needs to be said.

He's never been more frustrated with her in his life.

"What did Kiko say?"

Ikimaru looks similarly frustrated, when he pops up, he's got a wide-eyed look on his face and his gaze keeps shifting to stare straight at the camera. Like him losing eye-contact with it would make his words lose their meaning.

"I just wanna know if she..." He trails off, looking at someone offscreen, presumably Medama, considering she was conducting the interviews. " I-It's fine. I... I know how she is. She's not the type to wear her heart on her sleeve, so I don't think she would say." His fangs briefly catch on his bottom lip, the dark blue skin turning white with how hard he squeezes it. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to leave a mark. "Look. I'll be honest, Shinsou can act like a jerk sometimes-"

He squeezes his eyes shut, waiting for the worse to come.

"-but he's a good person. And, most of the time, I don't blame him for acting rude... I think he expects people to be rude to him first so he just tries to skip over all the pleasantries." Ikimaru gives a soft sigh. "People like to be mean to people like us."

And he smiles. Like nothing is wrong in the world.

Shinsou- Shinsou doesn't understand.

"He was the only one that went out of his way to help Kiko. When the reporters were trying to hold her hostage, you know? When I was... Too much of a pushover to do anything." He looks guilty. He looks like he feels terrible. Shinsou doesn't know why. When it had barely been a big deal in the first place, when it would have only been a couple extra seconds before Kiko started yelling at people because even her initial shyness would have run its course in the face of incredible disrespect. "I know people say a lot of bad stuff about him. Honestly, you should hear what the other classes think of us... of 1-C, I mean. It's weird... I think we're starting to get a bit of a reputation-"

"You're going off on a tangent."

"Huh? Oh! Sorry, sorry." He scratches the side of his face. "My point is that... Shinsou is our friend. Even if he can get snippy sometimes. He's still-"

It's making Shinsou's head buzz, his breath coming out harsher and harsher with every second that passes and every other word that's said, and it's suddenly so very hard to handle.

"-kind. It's because he's kind."

It's Chikuchi, strangely enough, that draws him out of it. Of all people she's the one he expects to be the most vocal, she's the one that he expects to speak his name like it's a bad word. He expects her to say horrible things that make him feel sick with himself and like he wants to punch her all in one go.

"I'd have to be a complete idiot not to see it." She snorts, as if she found the idea inconceivable. "Obviously Shinsou isn't my favorite person in the world. I think he's a total ass and he's got a talent for rubbing me the wrong way, but-"

She trails off.

It takes a moment for her to speak again. "I know I didn't give him a fair shot, in the beginning, either. Hell, I didn't give him a chance. So, of course he's not going to be." Chikuchi says. "I'm many things but I don't want me jumping to conclusions to be the thing that defines... I don't want to be the villain in this."

It's said in a world-weary way. Not untruthful, just... tired.

"I wish he was an... I wish he wasn't good. It'd- It'd make it easier to hate him. It'd make me feel less- bad about it. Guess I'm just too selfish to know when to quit, huh?"

This is the way the world trembles.

(Shinsou is sleepless nights spent mourning things that had never been and memories that would never make his heart grow fonder. He is eyes, everlastingly open and desperate for a dream-)

It's a deep breath taken in at a late hour, it's tears that shiver over his cheeks, and it's a constricting throat desperate for air or any semblance of calm.

(-he dreams in colors and blurs and echoes of voices that seem so tempting that he just wants to swallow them up, hold them close, and never let go. But no matter how much he consumes- no matter how much he rips and screams and bites down hard- the picture never seems to become anymore clear, anymore crisp.

And when he wakes, he wonders if, maybe, he lost the answers in the static a long time ago.)

It's his classmates- his friends- it's even the people that would wish him ill- stomping until the earth quakes beneath their feet. Until he stumbles in shock and can't hold himself up anymore.

And something beneath the surface is a shifting mass-

That demands the very galaxies erupt, that demands the sun and the moon look and falter under its scattered remains, as something new emerges from the destruction. Something a little similar to what once was, but different enough that it's almost horrific.

(Shinsou does not cry.

Not often.

He has had one too many broken hearts, too many pieces of shattered glass shoved under his skin, to cry in the way of simple hurts. It's why, when he truly shatters, he breaks so irreparably.

But these are not tears of hurt, and that is an unusual assessment to make, because he's-

He's not used to being overwhelmed like this. He's not used to small bits of good raining down on top of him like the meteorites that fall from the sky.)

He's not used to his world changing so abruptly that it makes his insides twist and his very understanding of what once was questionable.

He's not used to people speaking about him like he's not a monster.

Like he's someone they, at least, got to know first.

(Like he's someone they enjoy knowing.)

Kiroku Eiga.

He's fiddling with the metal bits on his face, the camera mutation shuttering beneath his fingers and making his eyes twitch in a peculiar way that told them he'd done something. It seems more like a nervous tick than anything. "He scared me once, you know?" He admits, his dimples showing as he smiles nervously at the camera, like he's unused to being on the receiving end. "I kinda played it off at the time. I deserved it, anyways, for filming him and Medama without their permission, it's just... you should've seen his face when he realized Medama didn't like it. He looked like he was about to tear me a new one!"

He looks sheepish.

"Does that make him look bad? It shouldn't, trust me. He's not- He was just being protective. It's a good look on him."

Tsutsutaka Agoyamato.

"Chikuchi likes to rant about him. Enough for me to gather that he's a bit of a prick. I don't know. I haven't talked to him besides the first few days of class."

"...Then how can you think he's a prick? If you haven't spoken to him?"

"...I guess I can't." He gives a grimace. "Sorry, did I-? I don't really know the guy, so this is hard, I only know what I've been told and, well. I've just heard the nasty rumors."

"What do you think of that?"

"I... Honestly, I doubt that even half of them are true. I mean, I know some of them aren't. Like him using his quirk to mess with his grades. If it wasn't for seeing him with his friends all the time, I'd think the only thing the guy does is work his ass off." He gives a small huff. "I don't even think he sleeps sometimes. Have you seen the bags under his eyes-? They've gotten a bit better, compared to the start of the year, but I'm pretty sure some of them are just permanent by now-"

Tobira Koeru.

He's a fidgety guy. He looks like he hates being stuck in the desk for any second longer than he needs to, his knee bouncing so much that it makes his whole body shake. And he looks like he doesn't know whether or not he wants to get up and go for a jog or hop in place. "Shinsou-?" He's got a bit of a manic look on his face. An impressive feat considering how... void-like his appearance is. "He's friends with that nice guy! Ikimaru Hisoo. You know, I voted for him to be president, I thought it'd look good on him-!"

"Tobira."

"I have a point, I promise!" He chirps enthusiastically, his hands waving around with every word. It's almost as if he's talking with them, in a language only he knows. "It means he can't be that bad, right? 'Cause, you know, the kinds of people that someone surrounds themselves with can kinda show what sort of person they are-" There's a sort of spark of wisdom to him, that almost feels out of place. "-if he's managed to get such nice and cool people to stick around him, then he can't be all that bad, can he?"

Shinsou sucks in a hissing breath through his teeth, it feels like acid is pooling from his eyes, burning him and leaving him cold in it's scorched wake.

Minazuki Konchu.

"There were all these rumors going around. Gossip. The kind of stuff that makes people go crazy," she pops a bubble of gum, her lips pursing as she lazily checks her nails, but there's something sharp to her eyes, something a little harsh and cold, "they kept talking about how dangerous he was and how his quirk was monstrous and made him out to be a villain. I've always liked to pay attention to that kind of thing."

"So you think he's a villain?"

"No? Is that what it sounded like I was saying?" Konchu taps a finger to her lips, like she's going back over her words and double-checking if it sounded like that. "I just like listening to all the things people say."

"What do you think of it? The things people say?"

She hums, it's off-key. "Well, the thing about rumors is that a lot of the time they only know a tiny bit of the truth. That's why I like them. It's like a little mystery I can solve."

"...What did you find?"

There's a glimmer to her eyes. "Those students they say he got expelled..." She smiles, it's a tad conniving, but it's mostly vindictive. "They deserved it. And the whole class knows it." Konchu taps her cheek with her nails. "A guy that fights for someone like that... is super hot, you know?"

Owatatsumi Ryuujin.

A forked tongue slips from his mouth and he seemed to hiss as he spoke. "My, you spoke with Konchu before me, yes?" He held himself with a kingly air, one that seemed less natural than Umino's, but it was still there as he crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. "She has a particular way of saying things that I do not always comprehend, but I imagine my point will be the same as hers."

"What do you think she said?"

"I believe she would have complimented Shinsou's physical appearance." There seems to be a bit of sweat collecting on his brow, but he seems all too used to it. To Konchu. "She has a way of finding people with heroic qualities and incredible integrity to be attractive, to the point that she find them..."

"Hot?"

"Y-Yes. My apologies," he coughs, "but what she truly means to say is that... Shinsou has a code of honor, one that you don't often see, and one that led him to fight for someone in a bad position. He is only a classmate to me, but I would need to be blind to not see how important he is to others."

"...You respect him then?"

"Naturally. He is a protector. And that should not be easily forgotten."

Hanzengi Kigen.

"I've never spoken with him." He yawns, skeletally thin hand waving in the air. "He's got the teachers wrapped around his fingers, at least, the ones that matter."

"...You think he would cheat?"

"Shinsou? Cheat?" He snorts. "Not in a million years."

"Then why do you think-"

"He's a total teacher's pet." Zengi scowls. "It's so not fun at all. I mean, most of the people here are, don't get me wrong. It's hard to get into UA if you're looking to make trouble, but it's a total killjoy that no one's at least willing to have a tiny bit of fun in their lives."

"...Ooh? Do you think it's fun to cheat?"

"Oy, don't turn this around on me." He deadpans. "Look, I think half the people here could stand to loosen up a bit, everyone's so tense all the time and it drives me crazy. The thing is though, I know Shinsou didn't cheat- his emotions are way too easy to read, he's like an open book, and-"

He pauses, looking like he's distracted by something. Like he doesn't know if he should even continue.

"There's certain things a person can't hide. Even if you're a psychopath or sociopath or whatever you want to call it. And you don't feel crushed like that , unless there's a good reason for it."

He takes a shaky breath, the bangs hanging in front of his face seem to look a little frazzled. "It nearly took me out of commission. Sango- that's Kanmon, the tallest girl in our class- had to pick me up and carry me like I was a sack of potatoes." He huffs. "Usually I'm cool with just listening to other people, it's not like I can turn it off anyway, so I've gotten used to all that crazy crap that people try to ignore or push down. Most of the time, they're good enough at it that it doesn't really affect me..."

He trails off. "Hell, I don't want to touch Medama with a nine foot pole most of the time, 'cause I've gotten some hints and tastes of what she's been keeping down and... Don't look at me like that. You know it's going to be nasty when you eventually explode."

"I..."

His eyes flash up. "Don't. Apologize. I can handle more than you think." He snaps, before he smirks back up at the camera. "Shinsou wouldn't have been able to hide the fact that he cheated, not from me. I would've noticed in an instant when the idiot teacher called him out. The teacher, however? He was feeling like one smug asshole that whole time."

There's a pause and something seems to spark to life in Medama's voice.

"Are you willing to testify to the exact attitude he had at the time?"

There's a tiny bit of hesitation. "May not be able to give you a completely accurate statement. Like I said, I was kind of blindsided by everything coming from Shinsou. But Umino could probably say a few things too." He shrugs. "She's got a bit of a similar secondary-quirk empathy going on, but she's... Hers is way more specific than mine, so she might've only felt the despair from Shinsou-"

The interview cuts out. Abruptly.

He almost thinks his computer finally bit the dust when he's left staring at a black screen with blurry eyes and a head that feels so in the clouds that he almost thinks he's dreaming. The world is still trembling, still quaking under the onslaught of things changing, and he thinks it's almost over- that it's almost done- that the worse has already hit and made its debut of devastation-

And then it's her.

Her.

She's got cheeks flushed a deep red. The bandage on her forehead is worse for wear, peeling, and he wants to wrap her up in bubble wrap and keep her safe, he doesn't want to see her scraped and bruised, and breathing so heavily that it already tells him that she's done too much. That she's put in so much effort and he doesn't deserve any of it.

She's got her eyes closed, trying to catch her breath, trying to compose herself-

"Okay. I'm ready."

-when her eyes open, they snap into an intense glare, her lips pulled into something close to a scowl but not quite there just yet. It feels like she's seconds away from shouting, but it feels like she's seconds away from crying too.

(He wants to wrap her up in his arms and feel her grow so weary with him that she can't help but laugh, her breath tickling his neck and sending shivers up his spine.)

"Ask your questions."

It takes a moment.

"Who is Shinsou Hitoshi to you?"

And Chikuchi sounds uncomfortable and out of place, like she regrets everything that led to her being there, being the one to have to ask Medama things that he doubted she even cared to know. Things that she probably didn't want to know.

"He's my best friend."

Medama says it firmly, quickly. Her shoulders back and her gaze straight and strongly affixed ahead, to the camera, she's got a determined look on her face... and it falters as she waits for the next question to come and it doesn't.

He can see her bite the inside of her cheek and he can see the wind getting sucked out of her sails.

"Chikuchi-!" She hisses under her breath, her brow furrowing. He can't help his lips twitching up a bit when he sees her nose scrunch up. "Where's the next..?"

"Is that all he is?"

The small smile falls from his face.

"You told us, before we began, to be as truthful as possible." Medama's mouth opens and no sound comes out. There's a confused look on her face. There's also something bashful about the flush to her cheeks, something a little softer than before as she bites her bottom lip and looks to be wondering where Chikuchi was going with this. "We want to make this authentic, right? No lies. Because, for something like this, it needs to be, otherwise it can be discredited."

"U-Uhm. Well, yes, but..."

"So, answer the question: Is that all he is to you?"

Medama stares off camera, presumably at Chikuchi, and he watches the slow smile that blooms across her face. The warmth that parts her lips and makes her look like wonderful things: "No, that's not all he is to me."

This is not the world trembling and quaking and changing anymore-

This is the world splintering, shattering into thousands of pieces, and being born anew.

Shinsou can only watch. With a small laugh bubbling up in the back of his throat, it's slightly hysteric and it makes him run his hands through his hair, as he wonders what he did to get such a wonderful thing. To get such a wonderful person to smile like she does, with so much beauty and so much that's worth cherishing, when he's the one on her mind-

(He's smiling so wide his cheeks are straining, they hurt so badly that they might cramp.)

She makes it sound so easy.

As natural as the air and the sky and the galaxies that collide-

"If he asked me for my heart, I would only ask that he carry it gently."

This is helplessness and fragility and he never thought it could look so divine.

...

...

He stares at his ceiling and he feels the way his heart beats and his body numbs and he feels the bitterness bite down and take hold. This is the way things are meant to be. This is the return to world's that don't splinter and don't break, they only fall- He lets out a slow, deep exhale. "Okay."

He can hear the tremble in Medama's voice-

(She's wailing.)

"I know I said all those things-"

(She's begging him not to do this, when she had promises to keep, and a heart so full of want that it just might shatter.)

"-but they were just a lie." He says, finishing for her, because he doesn't want to hear it, his voice so bland that it comes out rough and dull, "You were just trying to make the video work better. It's fine."

(She doesn't want to hurt him. She doesn't want to hear how he sounded so full of hope and doesn't want to feel like he felt the same, for even just a moment, only to have it ripped away in the same second.)

"No."

(She's shaking her head. She's shaking her head and hoping that he'll hear her.)

"I understand. Trust me, I do." He laughs. It's poison on his tongue, acid burning his throat, and Medama's voice hitches. "I knew it was coming, one of these days. I was- I was just being an idiot. Thinking that someone like you could..."

He swallows it down, droplets of something heavy on his eyelids. His hand wipes the tears away, even as it shakes in an unbearable way, and he chokes back the sob threatening to overtake him.

(She can't allow herself to break, not now, not in this moment, she doesn't think she'd ever recover.)

"You know, I should really thank you." He says and he means it, a bittersweet smile replacing the one that had once been so full of hope and want. "For caring as much as you did, to do so much for me... You've cared far more than anyone else. God. I should've realize that it was-"

He can't hold it back completely.

"Shinsou, no...! You're not listening to me-"

He chokes.

"-That it was just a lie."

"Shinsou, please, will you just-!"

Fourth Part:Medama is begging. And Hitoshi is shaking his head.

"I shouldn't have called." He surprises himself with how much strength there is in his voice, even if it's wet, even if he can feel it wanting to break like he is- breaking into a million pieces that just want to be left shattered. "Like you said, you're busy. I won't bother you anymore."

He lets his eyes close, thumb sliding to end the call-

"I used to have brown hair and freckles!"

There's a wail in her voice, it's strangling the syllables-

It sounds like a scream.

He blinks. And feels tears drip down his cheeks. He can't stop them, even running his hand over his face doesn't give them pause, it just makes room for even more to fall.

"...What?"

"I used to have brown hair and freckles." She gasps, like she didn't even realize that she'd said it until now, like it surprised her as much as it surprised him. But she doesn't sound like she regrets it. If anything, she seems to be fighting through the pain to say it louder. "I used to have brown hair and freckles."

Hitoshi is frozen.

Words chill him down to the bone.

There's a- His mouth is hanging open- He's- He- He doesn't know how to respond to that-

"I used to have brown hair and freckles."

She's absolutely breathless, he can just imagine how her cheeks flush pink, how her eyes blink like she's going to cry, and how she pushes onwards anyways.

"Medama- Why are you-?"

"So you know... I wasn't lying. I wouldn't- I wouldn't lie to you."

"Me-"

She's not listening.

"There were constellations on my skin," she whispers, "and my eyes were amber stars."

He can't-

"Medama. Stop."

"My hair only got curly when it was wet-"

"Medama. I mean it, stop it."

"I had a scar on my knee from where I broke it once-"

He can't take it anymore.

He shouts. "Stop it!" And it's moments like these that make him wish that he could use his quirk through the phone. Anything to get her to just shut her mouth and not say another word. "You don't want to say this. You- You- You should only tell me because you want to, not because I'm...!" Not because he was an emotional idiot that wouldn't let her get a word in edgewise, who wouldn't let her explain-

(These were fading snapshots taken with an old polaroid.

Their ink was bleeding, their colors were blending into nothing-

And all that was left were precious memories that had been snatched away much too soon.)

His teeth grit.

Medama doesn't sob. But her voice is shattered in a gut wrenching way that tore a hole in his chest- "Please, don't hang up the phone, please. You weren't meant to see that video, I know, but I-" She begs. "-I wasn't lying. So, please-"

He doesn't like the sound of her so close to tears.

"-don't shut me out. Not again. Not when I meant it."

She whispered.

"I meant it."

Again and again.

"I meant every word."

He doesn't like that he'd caused her to falter like this. But he can't help the question that burns on his tongue: "Then... why?"

She seems to whimper, as if he'd asked the one question that she hadn't wanted him to ask. "Sh- Shinsou, I... " She sucks in a deep breath of air, tries to use it to steady herself and all her feelings. "I have a date with Chikuchi."

There's teeth severing him, piece by piece, and he's sure that he tastes like bitterness and anger. But not at her- never at Medama. He's just-

He's just heartbroken.

-0-

Shinsou lets himself just be.

There's blankets heaped around him, soft and thick fabrics that feel... cold, despite it all. They feel frozen beneath his hands and they make his stomach twist as his body refuses to accept the comfort they would normally give him.

And he tries to focus on the soft laughter and the light-hearted conversation from his friends, even though they feel like they're a million miles away and leaving him behind. He wishes the heart beating in his chest didn't feel so slow and dead... he wants to go back to the erratic excitement and the wonderful thoughts that'd taken him by storm- to join his friends and just be happy with them, but he can't. He was too-

He was selfish and he could hardly bring himself to look at them.

(It feels odd to say that.

A younger him would have begged to hear their laughter and would have been bouncing from foot to foot with the possibility of joining in, to laugh as they would and simply exist where there was a sense of affection.

Today, it just makes him breathe a little harsher and makes his head heart hurt.)

So, instead, he stares up at the ceiling with his knees dangling over the edge of her bed as he listens to the rambling and teasing and tries to focus on all the reasons why he should be happy. Why he should be bursting with life and joy. And not...

"I just, seriously, can't believe you're going out with Chikuchi."

"Yeah, Medama, it feels weird."

...wallowing.

(He feels like he's going to be sick.)

(He can still be a hero. He can still fight for his right to stand on that stage, to take that first place medal, and succeed in all the things that he was told he couldn't succeed at. He still has his friends by his side. He still has his best friend, even if he'd thought, for just a moment, that she may have played a trick- but now he knows that...

That it wasn't.

And he feels like she's slipping away in a new way he hadn't expected-)

"It's just one date. " She says, like it's supposed to be reassuring. It's anything but and it makes his insides feel like they're being strangled in a tight fisted grip. "It's not like I'm giving myself to her." All the air has been sucked from his lungs, his face pales and it's as if his heart has leapt into his throat. "It's just one date." He digs his nails into the palm of his hand, until they leave crescent marks and scrapes on his skin.

It's not much, but it's enough to get him breathing again.

"Still. Of all people, I never thought it'd be her."

Medama makes a small noise in the back of her throat. It's the start of a hum, a nervous, musical note- that she cuts off the second she realizes that she's doing it. As if she only just noticed that she wasn't alone and that there were people around her.

She coughs to try and cover it up.

"Help me with my makeup, Kiko?"

"Aa, I'm not very good at it. I only started using it for the first time a little bit ago."

"You can get the practice in then."

Shinsou can't help but wonder why she does that, as often as she does. It's not as if he hasn't gotten used to the little melodies and noises she made when she thought no one was listening, in fact, Medama was always making some sort of sound, if she could get away with it-

(when a small smile curved over her face and she looked as if she was daydreaming of all things good)

-he's just never managed to quite catch her and the small wonderful sounds of song that seem half-familiar but too small, too hidden and whispered for him to ever give them a name.

She seemed to have a talent for eluding his grasp.

(he wishes she would let him in, let him hear the things she tried to hold secret but was slowly letting slip free with every mistake and every second she got a little bit more comfortable)

He wants to hear what's in her head, he wants to let her bewitch him.

He thinks she already has.

(he wants to scream at her for making him feel like this and then throwing it all away, throwing it to the side, and he wants to demand her reasoning- demand an explanation)

(He doesn't do any of that.)

(Just stares at the ceiling like he isn't a bitter boy that feels hurt and like he wants to cry and tear out his heart all at once.)

There's tension building in the air, eating away at each and every single one of them- "Does this seem like too much, guys?" Medama asks with her hands rubbing together, her fingers locking and unlocking as she twiddles her thumbs and looks down at herself like she wants to change everything about her. "I d-don't- I don't want to give her the wrong impression and..."

Ikimaru is quick to reassure her. "I don't think you're in danger of that, really, I don't think Chikuchi expects anything from you."

"Yeah, and, if she tries anything, just punch her in the face."

Medama doesn't giggle, but she manages to crack the smallest of smiles as Kiko punches the air. "If you say so."

Shinsou can see Ikimaru and Kiko exchange a glance behind her back. They share a scowl, their lips tugging down as something pained came over their expressions, and-

He pretends not to see them send a look his way.

He pretends not to look like he's being eaten alive.

(Unknowingly, he succeeds.)

And Ikimaru wants to scream. "Besides," he remarks instead, a smile spreading across his face, so wide that it shows his teeth and he tries not to make it look too much like he's barring his fangs, "it doesn't matter what Chikuchi cares about, if you want to look pretty for your first date, we'll make sure you look pretty!"

Ikimaru may be terrified, anxious, and nervous on the average day. He may want to cry and whimper about all the things he can't control and all the little things that bother him, but he can still handle terrible situations- he can still handle the tension rising in the air, thick and merciless, with his head held high. It may hurt and it may make him want to hide, but he can push that aside- Because a downtrodden Medama was the last thing he wanted to see.

And he cared more about getting a smile on her face then he cared about the hurt feelings and ravenous emotions that tore at their skin and feasted on their hearts and bones and muscles-

Because he looks around him, he looks at Medama and her tired eyes, her painted on smile that held her removed from her own self, in such a perfectly crafted way that it made her seem like she was still, somehow, there, and not just a corpse hanging on by a thread- he looks at Shinsou and the chasm between them, so deep and endless, that trying to reach out to him would only make them fall into its abyss-

He looks at Shinsou and he sees a coward.

It leaves an awful taste in his mouth.

Because things are just too wrong to be left alone, to act like there's no problem in this, in being at Medama's apartment, in her room-

She looks tired.

The lines under her eyes are discolored with an obvious lack of sleep, her face a bit paler than it normally was. She looks exhausted . She has papers upon papers scattered about, scribbles and filled out sheets that'd been tucked and hidden inside binders that none of them dared to open, with musical instruments taking up the majority of the floorspace, as if she'd been in the midst of using them seconds before they'd even arrived, and he knows that she's overworking herself. That there's so much on her mind and she's falling to pieces because of it.

And she needs her best friend, even as he stays silent and too gutless to change how the cards had fallen.

-and Ikimaru can't be the only one that notices how Medama looks like she wants to cry.

(she smiled like it hurt her cheeks, as if it was a terrible grimace and she was gritting her teeth)

That she's refusing to look at any of them in the eye, that she's biting her lip hard enough that he's surprised she hasn't drawn blood, and how she looks like she's marching off to a one-person war. With no one to back her up.

(they looked like broken hearts and falling stars)

They'd walked into her apartment, excited for their friends and the date that she'd mentioned briefly, distractedly, in class that day. They'd hoped for the best, for something wonderful, but then they'd seen Shinsou- already in her room and already splayed across her bed- and she'd smiled.

That fake, ugly smile that had too many teeth and seemed awkward on her face- and spoken of her date with Chikuchi-

(shattered pieces that hailed down on both their worlds)

-and Shinsou had looked on, as if the world still turned no matter what way it went, even as Ikimaru and Kiko waited for the moment that Medama turned her back, because they expected him to look... absolutely gutted. They expected him to step away, to gather himself, to do literally anything.

He didn't.

Ikimaru wants to scream because he looks at Shinsou and he sees him doing nothing and he just... doesn't know how that can be. When he'd looked at her like she could make the sun shine and the moon's gravity dance, as if she was the one behind the way the world moved and breathed, and why the stars died- He looked like he wanted to bend to her will, to hold her so tightly in his arms that she could do nothing but hold him back.

Now, Shinsou didn't so much as spare her a glance, just looked to the ceiling that was oh-so interesting.

Ikimaru wonders how Shinsou can be so blind, when he was supposed to be her best friend. How could he not notice that her hands were shaking, trembling like they were frozen-? How could he not see that, just that morning, when he looked like he wanted to kiss her, Medama had looked like she wanted to run away with him? Like she wanted him to pick her up and take as many kisses as he pleased, as much as he wanted, until the world faded into nothing and she didn't have to worry about anything anymore?

She looked at him like he was a fixture in her world that she never wanted to see go.

But now-?! Now she blinks moisture away from her eyes every few seconds and holds herself steady with a strength he hadn't seen since she'd sat on a bathroom floor and tried not to cry from tacks in her thigh and... Medama is strong in a way that Ikimaru is not, in a way that he thinks she's all too used to. Because it seemed almost second nature to her.

To hide away, caught and torn, to just bleed herself dry.

She was cutting herself into pieces until she bled, breaking off shards of herself without refrain and without regret, and she didn't seem to be stopping- only speeding up the process, perfecting it. Until she grew addicted to ends that justify the means, to carrying the world on her back and kneeling beneath its weight, until her head bowed but her eyes still glared so viciously that they burned holes in the galaxies and tore the stars asunder.

He couldn't help but wonder if Medama wanted it to hurt... Wonder how many pieces she'd break herself into, how much smaller she'd get, before Shinsou realized she'd broken herself so completely that she didn't exist at all anymore.

(He hates this.

He hates how Chikuchi had taken advantage of Medama's value of Shinsou, how bitter and broken Shinsou had been pushed, and how Medama felt like she needed to fix things and sacrifice herself, just to get two steps ahead.

He hated that all he had done- all the entire class had done- was offer two cents and a couple smiles for a camera that seemed so lifeless and felt so useless.)

"Medama, I-"

He wants to yell at her to stop. To stop smiling like she's drowning and hasn't realized it yet.

He wants to grab Shinsou and drag him to his feet, pull him out of his- his silence until he realized that Medama needed him. At least in some capacity. She needed more than this... nothing.

But Ikimaru has always been too much of a pushover for his own good.

"What else do you need help with?" He asks instead, his tongue feeling like a useless lump in his mouth. "Sorry, I'm not... really good at this kind of thing so I'm not sure about- um, all of this."

She laughs.

He hates the sound.

"Just- Give me your thoughts, I'm sure I'll be pretty enough by the end of it."

"Hey, c'mon, don't sell yourself short," Kiko frowns, glancing over her, "you may not be the prettiest girl in the class, but you're a close second."

Ikimaru can't help but notice Shinsou lift his head up from the bed for the first time since they'd first walked in. It's the first time Ikimaru has seen him actually, really, honestly look at them all- and one of his eyebrows is raised and he's got a look on his face like he absolutely can't believe the shit Kiko was spouting.

(Ikimaru bites the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming.)

Medama is amused. "Who's the prettiest?"

"Wha-" There's a genuinely offended look on Kiko's face. "Me!"

Medama blinks. "Oh. Right." She smiles. "I mean, sorry. Of course. Who else but you-"

"So patronizing..."

And Shinsou still doesn't look at Medama. Still doesn't look like he's been punched in the throat, like she's beautiful and he never wants to let her go, and... Ikimaru knows how Shinsou looks at her on the average day and ignoring her like this-

This was purposeful.

He feels his foot tap on the floor, clawed feet digging into the carpet and pulling up fluff, as his heel bounces and he watches his friends indigo eyes flash- then there's such blank, emptiness, that it weighs heavy on his tongue.

(He wants to punch him in the face, until his nose bursts with blood, because maybe then he'd stop and look around him.)

"Where did she say she was going to take you?"

Ikimaru can't win in this situation.

"I'm not sure. She wouldn't tell me," she gives him a small, melancholic laugh, "I guess she wants it to be a surprise."

It sounds like it pains her to say it.

His face pinches and Kiko saves him from having to say any more. "If she cheaps out on you, you're legally obligated to break up with her." She informs her, face the picture of pure seriousness. "It's the law, Medama. So I guess you'll just have to follow it."

"The law, huh...? I- I don't think that's how it works, Kiko." She sighs. "I wouldn't break up with anyone just because they... they couldn't pay. I'd just want them to treat me right and- I don't know."

"Hmm~m?"

Medama smiles, it's soft and tentative, the first real smile she'd given all day, and they can see her cheeks turn a light, rosy color. As if she's found something to be happy about, when everything else seemed to make her sad.

"I know I can be... a lot sometimes." She sounds like she feels guilty, but not enough to actually feel bad about it. "I get lost in my own head and wind up acting rashly, or just recklessly on impulse, but I- even if I'm wrong, it's still something I decided on, so I guess-"

Medama bites her bottom lip. It's a cute action that makes her cheeks grow even pinker, until it's dusting across her nose and she's holding her face, as if it was warm.

"-I guess I would just want someone that respected that. That I can make my own decisions, without them, and they'll still be happy with me afterwards. They'll still want to be happy with me and make me happy, so I... it's not a big ask, I know. And it's a little cheesy-"

"No, it's sweet. It suits you."

"...Mn."

Ikimaru just can't take it anymore.

Screw being a pushover, screw standing by-

He steps over her instruments and the papers on the floor, he stares at Shinsou until he looks up at him and-

Shinsou stares back, processing the words in the background.

-Ikimaru can't help but wish Medama was a more demanding person, that she wasn't so charmingly sweet and content with the simple pleasures and the bare minimum.

Instead, she just playfully twirls as Kiko claps for her, and Ikimaru can't help but feel his anger grow when he sees that Shinsou's eyes don't move off his own. That he doesn't watch her from the corner of his eye as the curls of her hair fall into her face- as she runs fingers through her bangs, finding the pink tangled tresses and tucks them back- when normally Shinsou would have to pretend to not to be looking at her, when he usually didn't even seem to realize how much attention he gave her, every chance he got.

No, this was active ignorance. This was him showing up and going out of his way to just be... a presence that made her heart ache.

"Sweet, isn't it?" He asks as lightly as he can manage, but even then, it comes out sounding slightly strangled. He's infinitely grateful for the sound of Kiko distracting Medama with all manner of useless questions and jokes that fell a little flat. "She doesn't ask for a lot, you know, and you're still her best friend."

Shinsou looks away. "...I know that."

He feels air whistle between his teeth as he hisses, his fangs barring as some of the anger and frustration seeps into his voice. "Then stop acting like you're the only one in pain-" It's whispered quietly, beneath the tension pervading the room. "-can't you see that she's hurting too?"

Shinsou is still looking away, so Ikimaru doesn't see his face when he says it. "I know that."

And something in Ikimaru-

Freezes.

"What..." He breathes. "What are you talking about?"

(He sees her smiles that twitch, how her laughter sounds a little like she's dying- and how nothing is adding up because everyone knows Medama was someone that followed her heart and her feelings and she wouldn't simply toss them aside, not without a good reason-)

"If she didn't want me here, then I wouldn't be."

It's like a hiss.

And Ikimaru feels a shudder run through him, as he takes in a horrified inhale, as he finally realizes that Medama has always been very, very good at hiding things, and that she was very used to grinning and bearing it, especially when she decided it was worth falling apart for, but Shinsou could be just as good as her, if he wanted to be. And Ikimaru had somehow forgotten that in his fury to protect the friend right in front of him.

He doesn't want to scream anymore. He just feels like he wants to cry, for the both of them, wondering how they got to such a point where he could only suck in a deep breath and stumble back to Medama, nearly tripping on the objects scattered on the floor and the slips of paper that were crumpled with stress or stained with tears that he hadn't noticed before.

"Your hair keeps falling in your face." Kiko points out with a frown. "It's almost like you're hiding."

Medama's hands stall on her pink strands, they fall loosely, just barely past her shoulders, the curls soft and bouncy. "I'm not sure what to do with it."

(she's sobbing behind curtains

she's holding her precious things close to her chest, afraid that something may crush them

not realizing how much of herself was crushed in order to protect it

or maybe she didn't care)

"I mean, it's not like I can just put it up like I always do and call it good, right? Then Chikuchi would-" She stops herself from saying whatever it was she was going to say. They can't help but think it would make their hearts squeeze in their chests. "...She would think I was being lazy, don't you think?"

(maybe she just got so good at lying to herself that she managed to convince herself that the pain was bearable )

"Screw what Chikuchi thinks, it's your date too, Medama."

"But..."

Medama trails off, doesn't finish the sentence.

But she's glancing back at them, at Shinsou.

(maybe to try and convince Shinsou that she could handle it all)

Ikimaru struggles to swallow back the tears, because he doesn't think he has any right to them, when Medama doesn't shred a single drop and Shinsou has managed to stay- without breaking even once- suddenly, Ikimaru is questioning why Shinsou had been the first one in her apartment, how long he'd already been there, and he can't help but wonder... what was spoken between them, when it was just the two of them, and no one to hear.

If they'd already faltered and built themselves back up again, in the quiet and secret, without anyone to know-

Ikimaru doesn't want to ask.

"I should still do something with it, right?"

He just wants to help. So, he looks at Medama and how her curls fall, and he offers the first thing that could get her to stop worrying about the little details that stressed her out and made her stare at herself like she was worried everything was going to fall apart around her: "What about these hair clips?"

(she was as strong as she needed to be, until she wasn't)

Medama's smile doesn't disappear.

But it's like she's truly dead, in that moment, like all the hope and sparks of life had been snuffed from existence, leaving only a quiet resignation left to fill the void.

(maybe she was so used to worse pains that she forgot that they don't need to just kill her to be memorable)

Ikimaru doesn't know what he said, he just knows that he regrets saying it.

Medama blinks and her eyes look wet, they look like they're filling to the brim as she looks down at the wooden hair clips in his hands that would just barely pass the school dress code like something in her heart has finally broken.

She looks like she's counting them and measuring their worth- like their tiny shards of things once so pure and things just out of reach- and mourning their loss as heartfelt foes squeeze her throat and tell her she was silly to care so much, when it was obvious that people cared so little. Especially for the small and sweet things that never spoke and never demanded.

She doesn't cry.

Hair clips shouldn't be what break her, it's stupid- it makes her feel ridiculous-

(it tastes like bittersweet strawberry milk and smelled of unsweetened coffee

it feels like drowning and loneliness

it feels like blankets that were never shared and warmth that was never gifted... and she'd never been fond of the cold.)

-Medama chokes and tries to swallow, her eyes fluttering as her lashes quiver and a lump forms in her throat, and she wants to scream and wail and tremble, but she doesn't. She doesn't sniffle. If she fell to her knees and let it out, she wouldn't be able to hold herself together anymore, she wouldn't be able to bear the weight anymore.

"Sh..." It feels like a whisper, it sounds like a wail, and it makes the quiet seem so much louder than it was before. "Shin?"

Medama wants to go back to a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and soft butterflies that make her heart flutter. Her voice cracks, wobbles, but somehow stays strong, despite it all, "I could really use your help now."

-it's an odd quiet that settles over them, as he shifts off the bed and stands up, taking the slow steps that would place him right in front of her.

"Please."

She begs as he stares at her, waits for her to tell him everything, but she can't do that either.

"Shinsou- I- I can't-"

He looks at her like he didn't truly expect her to say anything different and she pleads with him in her head to forgive her. A frown stretches across his face, just for a single, heartbreaking moment, before he shakes his head and a broken whine escapes her- ( please, no, she begs, don't leave me alone again , she doesn't want to be alone )-but he just shushes her, quieting her heartbroken sorrow with a thumb brushing under her lip and fingers that curled beneath her chin. "Th... Thank you-"

He shushes her again and she lets him.

(just tries not to sink into his hold like he's the world holding her in his hands)

He reaches out to take the hair clips from Ikimaru-

(She doesn't see Ikimaru stare at him with a hurt, scrutinizing look or see the way Shinsou falters but still takes the clips. Kiko worriedly looking up at him, as if asking him if he was alright and if he could handle being with Medama- when he was hurt and bitter in his own way and-

Shinsou just shakes his head at her, watching them both as they leave, realizing that this- this thing between her and Shinsou- wasn't something for them to judge or for their eyes to even see.)

He holds her in the palm of his hand, like she's fragile and perfect, and she shudders because-

(He's holding her heart in his hands.)

-he's never been so gentle with her before.

(And she's never felt so safe.)

"You shouldn't thank me."

He murmurs and it's like the whole world has disappeared. It's only him, with his thumb rubbing her bottom lip as it trembles, and only her, trying not to give him a reason to brush away her tears.

She smiles and it finally feels real- "But you stayed. " She can't help but point out, her voice absolutely breathless with marvel. "You stayed."

He doesn't answer for the longest time, he doesn't look her in the eye either, and she shivers as he opens his mouth and fails to give her a proper response. Medama can't help but clasp the hand that holds her so kindly, until the warmth of his hand spreads to her own, and he can do nothing but, finally, speak. "...What do you need, Medama?" His voice sounds rough in his throat, like he's struggling to keep it from breaking.

(she doesn't like how he can make her feel like she's worth everything and more)

She blinks, her voice watery, "I don't know," she admits, hoping that he'll find some way to tell her. That he'll be able to just look at her and solve all her problems. "I think I just need you."

(he doesn't know how she can find just the right words to make him feel like the world was breaking)

He shudders and he closes his eyes like hearing it pains him.

"Shinsou, please," she whispers, and she can feel him falter as she lets her freehand glide over his tense muscles, drifting over skin covered in goosebumps, until she can do nothing but let it hover over his heart; listening to how it's beating so quickly that she's almost afraid it might just burst out of his chest, that he might not be able to take another moment of her, "how am I supposed to feel like you're here, when you won't even look at me?"

He lets out a low sigh-

"Please."

-he shushes her and she waits.

Until he finally opens his eyes and falters at the sight of her small, hopeful smile and all her preciousness and-

(She's beautiful.

She's his best friend.

She likes him. She likes him.

And he still can't have her, even when he wants to, even when she wants him too-)

He wonders if she can see right through him, if she can see all the feelings and hurt and bitterness that he's been trying to lock away inside of him, and he wonders if she can see just how much he wants to fall apart for her. "Medama-" Her name feels painful on his tongue, like it's ripping through his throat and making his whole body ache. "-what can I do?"

She smiles.

(-so he'll just be what she needs. Because, even if it hurts, he can't help but look at her and think that she's worth every second of it.)

...

...

Medama is a pastel dream of soft colors and rosy cheeks.

Her hair is spun sugar. Gentle wisps of curls that melt over his fingers and he feels afraid, as if they may disappear entirely, a dream of sweet confections and fairy floss strands too good to be true.

His hands brush through, finding no flaws, only shivers on delicate skin and world weary melancholy that seems to fill his mouth and taste so rich and sweet that he dare not take another bite- lest it spoil him rotten, lest he grow too addicted that he selfishly couldn't bring himself to pull away anymore.

"To be honest, I... I thought you were going to push me away again." She murmurs, and Shinsou watches her in the mirror, how her eyes flick down to her feet and her fists clench over her stomach, "I wouldn't have blamed you. I deserve it-"

"No." He denies. "You wouldn't. I just-" He pauses, because he can say so many things; he could spill everything inside of him and watch her turn away, he could tell her that fury and bitterness are welling up inside of him and making it hard to think, or he could blame himself for being such a fool to think that anything would ever go his way.

Shinsou lets his hands sink into her hair.

"You shouldn't want to see me."

"I always want to see you."

He bites the inside of his cheek, his eyes blinking once as he clips part of her bangs back, until he sees the red brimmed eyes that don't suit her, but were somehow growing to be a familiar sight.

"...You don't mean that."

"I do. Don't tell me what I don't mean." He can't help but huff as he watches her scowl, her nose scrunching, and her brows pulled down in a furious, indignant way. Like she was ready to argue with him about it. "...If you think I don't mean it, why do you stay?"

Shinsou doesn't have much experience with hair. Especially not long, pretty curls that make him feel like he's falling into ruin. He lets the hint of a smile cross his face, almost too focused on not tangling her hair in her horns as he fumbles with the many small wooden hair clips that he'd been given. It fades before long.

"...You asked me to come."

He feels his face fall back into blanketed nothingness.

He doesn't realize that his hands have stopped and that he holds a lock of pink curled around his fingers like he never wanted to let it go. That he's thinking of how he wants to open his mouth and just tell her; how he wants to paint her a picture with a thousands words about all the things that could be- that he wants to be- and he wants to beg her not to do this-

To stay here. Where he can run his hands through her hair and clip it back with pretty wooden hair clips that reveal her face and all the beauty he can find within it.

He wants to kiss her and whisper sweet things that made her shiver, even if he didn't know what those words would be, even if he didn't have a single plan or means to make her swoon and blush-

"I'm sorry."

She's beautiful. She's wonderful. She's dressed in a simple dress with a flowery pattern and colors like spring, a pink cardigan hanging from her shoulders and covering the palms of her hands, her ankles rubbing together nervously as her toes curl to grip the fluff of her carpet as anxiety creeps through her, and-

None of it's for him.

Not the light little touches of makeup. Not the glittery lip gloss that makes him wonder what her lips taste like. Or the sweet curls of pink hair that his hands run through- "What for?"

She covers her face with her hands and he sees the way her shoulders shake, "I don't want to cry, but I think I might." His lips part, words on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn't get a chance to say them. "God, I'm... I'm so selfish, aren't I? To ask you- I should've known that you would come, even if you didn't want to-"

He lets his hands grip her shoulders, until he can turn her around so she won't have to watch the tears skate down her own cheeks in the mirror.

"I'm a horrible person."

"...No, you're not."

She flinches underneath his fingers as he wipes the tears from under her eyes, the spare few drops that manage to squeeze by, despite her furious attempts to hold them back.

"You're not."

He repeats.

It's not a mantra. Just a truth.

He didn't think her horrible. Not for selfishness and bad things. He'd seen her at her highs, he'd seen her hurt and he'd seen her fighting, it was only a matter of time before she'd done something that he wouldn't like. But, then again, he had no say in that. He doesn't think he ever would.

"You're allowed to do whatever you want." She sniffs, her breath struggling to be kept under control. "You don't- You don't need to ask me for my permission. I will never control you like that."

"Shin...?"

(He can't help the warm smile that spreads across his face. Can't help it when he sees her, in all her beauty and all her worth.)

"I don't do things I don't want to do." He whispers. "So I guess I just wanted to stay by your side too."

He doesn't expect to see how she breaks, how she lets out a hurt sounding note, and her lips wobble like she's truly struggling not to wail.

Medama whimpers.

(He wonders what he did wrong.)

"-Why are you making this so much harder-?"

She demands, voice cracking, and she sounds like she's surprised herself that she'd even spoken.

He blinks. "Uh?"

She rubs her eyes, teeth gritting, until the tears seem more furious than anything.

They don't seem furious at him. Just at herself. And he can only watch, with a fascinated expression, as she looks up at him and looks ready to sink into oblivion at the same time.

"You... You keep acting so wonderfully." She murmurs, like she's sharing some secret close to her heart, like she isn't making him swallow and shiver and want to kiss her- "It's- I feel like I'm about to collapse-" She moaned, in such a way that it causes electricity to run up his spine and static to fill his head. "How can you make me question everything and know that it's all worth it at the same time? How can you make me feel so happy and like I want to cry...?"

The teary, saccharine smile she gifts him is enough to make him want to suffer. It's wobbly on the edges, but it makes her eyes crinkle all the same, even if it feels like sadness welling up inside her, desperate to escape.

He's no longer doing her hair for her. He's no longer distracted by her curls.

He can only look her in the eye and watch her struggle, no longer watching from afar.

"Why... Why would you want to cry?"

"Because of this- Because you heard me say things I only wanted to tell you in person, because you only deserved to hear them when I got up the courage-"

He doesn't know if she realizes that she's ripping his heart out and making him feel alive again. All at once.

"-and now I can't, because everything feels wrong and now I have to- have to go with Chikuchi- and I just want to cry, but I can't, 'cause if I do... I won't be able to stop-!"

He doesn't point out that she already is, that, heedless of her strength, a few had slipped free. He thinks telling her would only make everything worse.

And Shinsou-

He frowns. "It's a date. It may not be with someone I think is amazing-" It may not be with him. "But why are you- you shouldn't be wanting to cry. You're supposed to be happy and want to go-"

She inhales sharply, "I know. I know that."

He tilts his head, listening to the way her words came out strangled, and can't help but ask, with a careful whisper, "Why, then?"

"I didn't know what else to do-" He stares at her, at the way she snaps her mouth shut and trembles, her eyes squeezing close like she realized she'd just said something horrible that she couldn't take back, and Shinsou-

Shinsou's mouth feels dry and it's tough to swallow.

"What?" He croaks.

He feels like he's dying.

"I needed a favor-"

He feels his whole body lurch- "What was the favor?" She trembles, doesn't answer. "Medama-" He wants to shake her, he does a little bit, watching as she jerks and wobbles beneath his hands, but her eyes just squeeze shut even more. "Medama, what was the favor for-?"

Her whole body seems to tremble.

"For something important."

He lets go of her, as if she's burned him, because he's looking at her and he knows.

"I don't regret it. Not even a little bit."

She's a pastel dream that's bound to slip away and he feels anger spark inside him, at her and her incessant need to be so self-sacrificial- at her thinking it necessary to carry the weight of the world- at her not just... talking to him.

(And then he realizes- that he was the one to ask her to leave, and he feels sick with himself, because... would it have really been so bad to let her in?)

"I'll make her go away," he mutters darkly, his eyes growing cold at the way she scrubs her hands over her face and seems so small, "I can make her leave. She doesn't deserve-"

"No." Medama's eyes snap open. "Don't you dare- You are not getting in trouble for using your quirk and you are not going to ruin this-"

"Me-da-ma." He hisses back, the syllables are pulled and not in the way of friendly nicknames that she'd grown so fond of. These are dark notes, sharp barks of her name that make her struggle to meet his gaze. "This is the definition of being taken advantage of-!"

"Chikuchi didn't make me do anything."

He hisses, as if burned. He doesn't know if that makes it worse or better or something else entirely.

"If you want to be with her, fine, whatever you want, so long as you're happy," he feels like he's yelling, he isn't, his voice is low and boiling with anger, but he's not yelling at her, he wouldn't, not when she was so- "How can you be happy with this-?!"

"Like I said-" She smiles at him, that infuriating, beautiful, wonderful smile. "Because it's worth it."

He falters, his mouth opens and closes, and he feels like the air has been knocked from his lungs.

He wants to hold her close and never let her go.

He wants to scream at her and whisper things he's never told anyone before and never thought he'd tell anyone ever.

(they could yell at each other, scream about all the things that she shouldn't have given up, not for him, but it wouldn't change a thing

this was the cards they'd dealt

and Hitoshi may wish they were different a million times over, but he's never been able to change the past and arguing about it now would only make him lose sight of her faster)

He feels his back hit the wall at the same time he drags his hands over his face, his fingernails digging into his skin as he takes a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm never going to understand you." He groans softly into his palms, his brows furrowing as his teeth grit. "I'm never going to get how you can be so-"

He doesn't finish, just gestures at her.

Medama laughs, it sounds a bit strangled and like she doesn't expect it either. "I think you understand me just fine. I think I just frustrate you." She's teasing him, trying to relieve the tension in the air, and he can see that it's working.

He's still seething. He still wants to do so many things.

"Immensely."

She catches his face in her hands and he slides his own down her wrists, until he can pull her close and they can just lean and- be here. Together.

"Drive you crazy."

"Definitely."

He buries his face in her shoulder, listening to her squeak and give a tiny giggle. And the crying seems so far away, the almost confessions, and the overwhelming everything that made them both hurt but want to suffer through it all anyways. If it meant they were with one another.

"Why are you like this?"

"...I don't know how to answer that."

It's overloading to the senses. To have her pressed against his chest, one of his hands gentle on her waist, especially when she still trembles like she's trying not to. He's never been one for touch before, it almost always felt... alien and made his stomach flip with unease, but here- with her- it was fascinating shivers, curious wonder, and a nearly overwhelming intimacy that he couldn't get enough of. If it meant sharing in her emotions, trying to understand the things that made her feel this way-

And why she did the things that she did.

(he wants to love her, so desperately, until she's sick of him and can't stand to care for him anymore

it would be what he deserves

but he's selfish and terrible and horrible, so he'd want her to love him and keep loving him for however long she can, even if he knows that she'd eventually come to realize

what an awful poison he is)

"Medama, can I-?" He holds her close, burying one of his hands in her curls, careful to not ruin the clips that held her hair free from her face, and tried to keep himself from letting the anger consume him- even if he wants to keep her away from everything that could ever hurt and hold her close, until she never had a reason to cry again. "Can't you just let me be selfish?"

He wants to stop this. He wants to stop it in its tracks.

"We can't both be selfish, Shin~sou."

"...No, no. You're not selfish." He groans. "You're just... too much to handle. How are you my best friend?"

"I thought we already had this conversation."

He falls silent and they just-

They just stand there and breathe.

But thoughts are bound to grow unbearable, when so many things are wrong, and Medama feels like she's rot that's spreading to everything good. Maybe she is. Maybe she isn't.

Maybe she's something worse than that.

Her eyes are wide as she presses her forehead against his collar, unable to close her eyes for fear of the dark behind them, and she can feel her breath begin to hitch. She can feel every heartbeat and her head fill with those rough emotions that seem so numbing to both the mind and soul that she licks her lips, unable to keep them inside of her.

"This can only end badly, I know." Medama says, with a clarity that makes him flinch. "I don't know how. I- I don't know."

He doesn't say anything.

Medama's arms squeeze him around his middle.

"I feel like I'm driving a car with no brakes, just waiting for the crash. And I don't know how bad it's going to be, I don't know what I'll hit, I don't know who I'll hurt in the process-"

"Then why not just stop now?"

"I don't even know if I know how to."

Shinsou doesn't really have a good response to that.

"Shinsou?"

"Hm?"

"Can you be distracting?"

"...What?"

"Distract me. Please. Talk to me. Anything."

He can feel her face scrunch, can feel her every stuttering breath, and he wishes he understood how her mind worked. She shifts and he lets his frown grow before- "Why did Iki bringing up the hair clips make you... react like that?" -and he startles at the loud groan that escapes her.

Apparently, it'd worked.

"...It's silly. It's just... it's all so embarrassing."

His eyebrows raise.

"I- I just can't believe it was hair clips. Hair clips...! I lost my head 'cause of stupid hair clips that I only wore once and-"

He chuckles, soft and curious.

She shakes her head, at least, as best she can when she was so firmly and tightly pressed against him that it was getting hard to tell which of them was where. Their limbs were prickling and stiff, even as they slowly relaxed into each other, it was a nice feeling.

"I just- I cared too much. Even though it was a silly thought in the first place, to think that you would..."

Medama trails off.

He urges her to continue: "Would what?"

"Notice."

Shinsou stops.

He waits for any sort of clarification.

It's not until he realizes that she's unlikely to say another word, too focused on her shaking, hyperventilating breath, that he swallows and asks. "...Why would I notice hair clips?" Without his permission his lips twitch a tiny bit upwards in response to the tiny moan she gives. Clearly he'd said something that only confirmed for her that some of her thoughts on the subject were correct.

"Yeah! Why would you?!" He shivers at the feelings of her cheeks puffing against his skin, of her curls shifting and tickling him in just the right place that he has to hold in a reflexive laugh. "Like I said, I was... I'm just silly and-"

She stops.

The words seem to sit on the tip of her tongue.

"I thought they made me look cute..." She whispers, she's shuddering, shivering, and she's struggling to swallow it down, but it's only semi-successful. She doesn't know whether it's right or wrong to say. But she says it anyway, because it's distracting and it's keeping her panic from manifesting into a heavy weight that she can't contain. "And I wanted you to notice."

-Shinsou's ears flush bright red.

"A-Aa, you're right, that is embarrassing."

(He wants to bury his face in his hands.)

"Shinsou."

(But he can't help the wobbly grin that spreads across his face.)

He doesn't know how to feel about this whole distracting business, but he can see the frustration on Medama's face as she pulls away. At herself, at everything, at the silly little clips that she'd only bought to try and impress him and had eventually tossed aside as nothing but bittersweet things that would break her heart and remind her of all the things she couldn't have.

Shinsou never did realize that she hadn't answered his question directly.

That the hair clips had made her think of all the things she had to lose and how easily, and how quickly, he could be one of them.

"Well..." He trails off, pulling away as Medama tries to simply breathe and calm herself. "There is still one left."

She stares at him.

Her eyes blink once. Twice.

He almost thinks she's going to say no, that she wants to take out the wooden clips that already hold her hair back, that she doesn't want him to run his hands through her hair anymore.

(She's torturing him, in some elaborate way he couldn't wrap his head around just yet. It feels like she's playing with his every emotion and he knows she doesn't mean to, that she doesn't have the heart to do anything truly awful to anyone she cared about, but she's somehow doing it all anyway. Without even realizing it.

She's an awful thing for his heart.

Yet, he still can't get enough.)

Instead, she bites her bottom lip, a small, tentative smile on her lips, one that makes her pinken and eye him with something soft about her expression- soft enough that it causes him to swallow, nerves and anxiety swirling around inside him and making his heart stutter, especially as she nods: "O-Okay. If- If you want to."

Sugarcoated blonde. Rose gold petals. A cotton candy dream that teased and tortured with lovely smiles and sweetheart convictions that tasted like poison icing and honey nectar that only seemed to get sweeter and sweeter with every moment. If he took a bite, he imagines it would taste like the most enticing of drugs.

(she's drifting

she remembers cold shivers and ironclad fear

she remembers oil mixing with water and colors under slips of light that seemed so far away

undone, silence all surrounding, and missing pages in the melody)

His thumb catches on her skin, hooking under the soft curls that still hang in her face. She's watching him, his every movement. She's watching how his eyes drift over her and how his hands hold her. He's clipping her hair back and it's something so very, very simple and yet-

Yet she's unable to do anything but fall.

(she is an unfinished symphony

but she remembers

every note and every hymn

until she can play them like they were only ever her own, as an echoing reminder of every lost page)

Medama knows she is not a perfect person. She knows that she's not, like she knows how cold death is and how it feels to not exist for moments that drift into infinity and something ephemeral all at once. She is filled with flaws and nicks and broken parts that she tries to push down.

But he looks at her like she's perfect. He holds her like she's something precious and treasured.

And it's almost enough to convince her that, maybe, she could be.

(until she can write her own song and know, that it would never dare to end early)

"You..." Shinsou stares at her, unaware of how his gaze drifts and his expression seems so very light and warm, and how it sends her into a state that she's not sure how to handle. He's just wishing that he'd messed up on her hair, that he could find somewhere that he'd screwed up, just so he could keep running his hands through it. Just so he had an excuse to touch her and take her in. "You look amazing."

She tries not to sink.

"R-Really?" She feels dangerous. She feels like she's lying to him, to have convinced him that he's somehow worthy of that gaze. "I guess the clips really do work then."

"No." He licks his suddenly dry lips, even though it does nothing to help. "No." He shouldn't. He shouldn't say a word. They've teased the edge of so many things, so much unspoken and pushed aside, but he can't help but stomp through it. To take a step. Just a little bit further. Because he wants to see the line they've drawn between them break. He wants to snap it like a cable until they've both got nothing to hold onto anymore. "You look amazing all the time. No matter what you do."

She cracks a small smile, it's tired and terribly soft. "...Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." He breathes.

And- oh, this is an adrenaline inducing high- this is husky, serenading drawls that have his heart breaking at the sight of her smile and both of them leaning in close, until they can catch the barest echo of the others heart beating.

It's when sugar coated eyelashes flutter close that he lets the world fall away.

A taste so sweet that he could get lost in just the thought of it.

A kiss. The whisper of breath mixing with his own.

(constellations and amber, secrets that shattered warmth, and forbidden things broken underneath the tides

he wonders if this is how it feels to drown

these were forbidden things, stolen away, and, well-

he would never be a thief)

He opens his eyes, pressing his forehead to her shoulder, and apologizes.

Medama doesn't say a word.

But her fingers tangle in the hair on the nape of his neck and she hums a small song that he doesn't recognize, but somehow feels like a message. Like an apology of her own.

(I want to latch right on to you

I'm trying, but yo~u don't want me to

The sky was pink

When I thought of you

But the road's a little foggy

Without you~u

Oh baby, baby blue

Ooh~ why can't it just be...

Me and you?

Oh baby, ba~by blue

Ooh~ why can't it just be me

And You.)

And then Chikuchi is there.

And it's like a knife has severed everything between them.

...

...

"Why would you let her go?"

Kiko is not a heartless girl.

Sometimes, she thinks she feels too much , and sometimes she wishes her empathy could go jump in a hole.

"...I don't let her do anything. She set her boundaries, I'm just making sure she keeps to them."

"Even if she wanted to kiss you? Even if you almost let her...?" Kiko can only watch a small smile quirk across his lips, it feels out of place, it feels like a rock in her stomach- "Even if it hurts you?"

"Especially then."

"Why?!"

"Kiko." She stops when Ikimaru grabs her shoulder and shakes his head. "Let's... give him some space, okay? We'll- We'll still be here, if he needs us."

-and this is just a bittersweet flavor.

-0-

"Why did Medama have bruises that one time?" Kiroku mumbles. "Why did she have bandages around her leg and why was Shinsou holding his jaw for weeks afterwards?"

"Why was her arm broken?" Someone echoes.

"...None of us put that bucket on the door, did we?"

The classroom is silent. Dead silent. There's suspicious glances cast every way and no one- not one- is safe from it. Yet, no one steps forward. No one even flinches away. And that's enough for them to realize that none of them, not even the ones with water quirks and possible means or even possible grudges, could have lifted so much as a finger.

They were all smart enough to know that there was no need to cast blame among them. None of them could have hurt Medama without anyone noticing it was them. And none of them had the... ah, brass to outright challenge Shinsou. Especially not when his shoulders had gotten broader, his eyes a bit sharper, his hands a tad more calloused, and his posture a bit straighter than it was before.

"'Zengi," Ayaaya is dripping insipid colors over her skirt, her fingers smudging her clothes with the quirk-produced dyes that she'll have to fix before any teachers see, "did you wind up gettin' anything from them?" Her mouth moves without permission, as it often did, her accent thick with her every word.

It's the first question that leads them down the rabbit hole.

"Shinsou was worried a lot. And pissed." And Hanzengi doesn't seem the least bit surprised that it's angled towards him, that everyone is looking at him as if he might be able to solve everything with just an explanation. "Medama is... it's hard to tell with her."

He's got his head on his desk and it looks as if it pains him to admit it but his quirk has a weakness- in particular, when it comes to overwhelming, all-encompassing emotions that leave the same foul taste in his mouth.

"She's a jumbled mess on a good day. Anything that's surface level feels as if it's going haywire. And everything that's not is... it's constant. Consistent. It makes it so that what I can glean from her is almost unrecognizable."

It's- not exactly helpful.

Zengi looks like he's not surprised by that either.

"Does that even... give us anything?"

"Tch. You asked. Don't whine at me when you don't get the answers you want." He snaps. "If it was important, I would have brought it up without prompting... both those emotions- constant anger and mourning- they're acidic. They burn away the flavor of every other emotion until it's all disintegrated."

Ayaaya scowls. "You coulda just said no." She mutters before there's a moment's pause and she sends him a pointed side-eye. "Should you even be sharing that? Isn't that too personal-"

"Oh? Like you asking her how it felt to die is too personal?"

Her mouth snaps shut, eyes widening as shame colors her features.

"Yeah. Kinda hypocritical, don't you think?"

"Stop it, 'Zengi. Don't be mean." He's never been one to pull his punches and he's not about to start now but he can only scoff as Sansho sends him a pointed, warning smile as he protectively steps in front of his childhood friend. "She knows it was wrong. Medama already forgave her."

"...These kinds of things should be obvious without me even telling you. Everyone knows how her quirk works, maybe it's not as bad as we're all assuming, but let's not beat around the bush either." He mumbles. "It's just stupid to forget about that kinda thing when clearly she can't."

No one has a good response to that.

Zengi scoffs and returns to laying his head on his desk. "...Shinsou and her must have some awful luck. They get hurt a lot."

"Shinsou's jaw wasn't just hurt, it'd been broken."

It makes them all blink, swiveling to look at Konchu as she sits at her desk. There's a musing expression on her face, as if lost in her own thoughts, as little flakes of pollen drifted off her eyelids. "I think someone broke it." She tells them, as if she'd found the most secretive little bit of gossip and needed to share it with everyone without letting them realize that it was all just from her. "Didn't he have bloody knuckles at one point? Didn't I hear Kayama-sensei talking about it?"

She tilts her head and it feels a lot like she's listening to something that wasn't there.

Maybe she was.

Umino licks her lips. "Medama had been... sad about it." She murmurs quietly, looking to Zengi for some sort of confirmation that she hadn't been completely mistaken.

"She was scared. Too." He scowls, face pinching.

Konchu has pollen drifting off her blonde and green hair, her eyes flitting about. Little flashes of memories and thousands of things hard to put into words, little whispers dancing across her senses- "Kayama-sensei brought up that they expelled some students, remember? It's kinda hot that four students in Class 1-F haven't shown up for awhile."

("'Hot?'"

Owatatsumi translates with a flick of his tongue. "She's impressed that our honorable classmate, Shinsou, managed to bring four villains to justice.")

"So it was them then."

The pollen is clinging to just about every inch of her, painting her a yellow color that's unnatural in its nature. "Mnh~ you know," she whispers like she doesn't even care to be overheard, "Kiko and Ikimaru went to check up on Medama once."

They wait. It's the only thing they can do. When it's clear that that's not all she has to say, when it's clear that it's also something that, for once, she doesn't want to say.

"She'd been bleeding."

It makes them swallow and fall silent for the longest time.

"That's it then."

"Umino-?"

She's pressing her lips together, her hands pulled tight over her stomach. "We vet the other classes, understand?" She looks over the class, as if waiting for someone to speak up and argue with her. "If- If Medama could get this hurt and Shinsou pushed to such a brink... then we'll just have to assume that the teachers won't notice until it gets to a horrible degree. So, if anyone sees anyone being awful, or gets a bad feeling from someone, let us know to steer clear."

It seems difficult for her to say, her face pinched and tense.

And Chikuchi can't help herself. She can't help but speak up, when not even Gaiaku or Hanzengi or Sansho breathe a word. "Wait, is- is that really fair?" She gapes. "The teachers may not have noticed at first but they expelled the students responsible. Shouldn't we trust them? And, for everyone else, that seems like... like going too far."

The class seems to hesitantly share a glance without her. One that she doesn't understand. It makes her shift from foot to foot and feel like she'd said something wrong.

"Guys?"

Umino pinches the bridge of her nose and lets out a soft sigh. Chikuchi is dumbfounded by the reaction. "After the attack on the USJ and what happened with 1-A, the teachers don't want to admit it, the school doesn't, but they're scared. Even with All Might here, and maybe because he is, there's something out there giving them a reason to be afraid."

"I- sure, yes, but what's that have to do with-?"

"Everyone's looking at the Hero Course and they're forgetting to look away. I don't blame them, an attack like that was unprecedented, and 1-A needs the support. But... They're forgetting that we're here too."

Gaiaku growls, throwing a crumpled up paper at the trash and cursing when he misses, "Like they always do."

"It's worse now." Hanzengi mutters. "Kayama-sensei is the only one really thinking of the other classes. She's worried. "

"And she can only handle so much." Umino reaffirms. "And if the other classes are going to be part of the problem, it's better to keep within our own circle. I know I am being... presumptuous, in believing that I have either the authority or even just the ability to have you all listen to me, but if you chose me to be the Class President, please trust that my highest priority will be this class and everyone in it."

Chikuchi bites her tongue.

Umino was hard to argue with. Because she made it hard to even want to argue with her. She was frustratingly articulate, genuinely compassionate, and she obviously took her position as Class President with a degree of seriousness they chose her for. "I'm not going to stop anyone from ignoring me, feel free to. I won't say a word. But... in the case of an attack, villain or otherwise, if you can't be there to watch one another's back, don't expect anyone to be watching yours."

Chikuchi doesn't think she's necessarily wrong.

"We're all in Class 1-C together, you know? Let's help each other where we can."

But she finds it hard to believe.

("...Do you think they'll be okay?"

"They know what they're doing, I'm sure. They don't need us sticking our nose into their business." Umino smiles softly. "Besides, if not, Ikimaru and Kiko can take care of them both.")

"And, where we can't, well, we're at UA. I'm certain we all came to this school for a good reason and this whole thing was just the exception, not the rule."

And then they'd watched as their teacher, someone that'd been placed in such an important position and held a key to each of their futures and a door to opportunities, turned on them with cold intent and bias and mockery and things that hurt. Suddenly, it didn't feel like 1-C was simply the forgotten class anymore. Suddenly, it felt like they were the kicking bag that the school couldn't wait to knock down.

It's the final straw.

It's the first face they're forced to look at directly, with no chance of escape or excused ignorance. It's the first face that they see Medama rise from her seat against with madness and clenched fists and it's the first time they can do nothing but stand behind her and understand that there is only refusal coursing through each and every single one of them.

("Kiruude can bite through flesh with his teeth. Umino could drown half the campus in seconds if something upset her. Hanzengi can guess just about every secret of every person he's ever met based solely off of their emotions. What makes Shinsou so different?")

This is just the realization that things are much worse than they'd suspected and that, even at UA, the world was still as unfair and cruel as it always was.

...

...

Chikuchi's throat is scratchy and hoarse, her entire face is stained red and she feels a little lightheaded and dizzy. Her hands are shaking. They're shaking around the paper copy she clutches in her hand, the score of ninety-eight staring back at her, and she can only swallow and blink as it crumples under her fingers.

"Did you talk with the teacher? He didn't bar you from the Sports Festival too, did he?" Agoyamato hurries to her side, his and her bag both slung over his shoulder and she takes it from him when he offers it back to her. She'd asked him to wait and she was a little surprised that he had. "There was a lot of shouting. I've never heard you sound like that before."

Chikuchi feels a rock fall into the pit of her stomach.

"He should have."

"What?"

"He should've said I cheated too. At least then I wouldn't think he was such a bastard."

Her best friend gives her a startled look, not quite understanding.

"Agoyamato, I... don't understand." The project in her hands weighs heavy and she can't help but look back at the classroom not far behind them and imagine all the empty seats and the one that- shouldn't be. "How can he-? How can he accuse Shinsou of cheating and still give me the full score? It was... It was a group project."

"Maybe because Shinsou was the one who cheated-?"

"Shinsou didn't cheat."

"What?"

"Shinsou isn't the type to cheat. And I would've noticed if he did," she growls, "at least, I think I would've noticed..."

Agoyamato blinks. "Aren't you always saying he's a tricky guy?"

"He's a jerk and he should feel bad, especially with all that lying he does about his quirk-" Chikuchi's forehead wrinkles. She still didn't know how it worked for certain and it was absolutely infuriating. "-but he's not... He's smarter at law than me. He's... smarter than me. He had no reason to cheat and- and I was there the whole time, we only worked on it in the library together and he showed me everything 'cause I was having such a hard time. I- I would've noticed."

She crumpled the paper into a ball.

"I would've noticed."

"Hey, don't do that, you'll need that!"

She shakes her head as he snatches it from her, trying to uncrease the folds and all the things she ruined with it. "Umino and the others... they were right. We can't- What if this was me? What if this was one of the others?" She feels sick. With herself. With the fact that she hadn't believed it all at first, that there had to have been some sort of mistake. "That teacher would have taken away his dream just because he thought that Shinsou was-"

It's coming back to her now. All the mocking and blatant harassment, all the things she'd taunted and hollered about, without a thought to the consequence or how it would hurt. She'd had her issues with him, but it was her own, and she- she had no reason to spread it like it was the ultimate fear or exaggerate it into something awful. Just because, initially, her thoughts had drifted to places dark and all the warnings and fears had built up and-

"Oh, god... I treated him like a monster too, didn't I?"

Shit.

Shit.

She was no better than the teacher, in the end.

...

...

It's hard to notice at first.

Not everything is about Shinsou and people only spend so much time talking about the latest wild attraction before they move on to the next thing, even if their thoughts and opinions don't change, so it takes time. But, eventually, by virtue of being quiet and mousy when she wanted to be, Chikuchi began to open her ears and listen. To all the things that made her clench her fists and feel absolutely disgusted with herself-

"He's kinda handsome, don't you think...?"

"Ew, no. Don't you know what his quirk is? He's creepy. You should totally stay away."

"I mean, if you say so."

Her brows furrow.

"What do you think the best quirk to have would be?"

"Oh, man, haven't you heard of that one guy in 1-C? Man, what I wouldn't give to have a quirk like that."

"What's the quirk?"

"Some sort of brainwashing, mind control-thing. I'm not sure how it works but it would make life so easy. "

"What? Who?"

"I don't know. I haven't really seen him around much anymore. But, hey, we can't all get the easy route in life."

She doesn't know what about it would make life any easier, especially since he couldn't use it most of the time, without running into legal repercussions. And the smile that the guy says it all with makes her shiver in disgust.

A bit of poking and prodding and sneaking around and Chikuchi gets a bit more-

"He was covered in bruises and his hands were bleeding, man, at least, that's what I heard. How hard do you have to hit someone to break open your own knuckles?"

"Just imaginin' it... I can't believe they let that guy back into school."

"Even worse, I can't remember which one he is and none of the 1-C people will spill."

"What? How will we know who to avoid then?"

"Geez, just avoid all of them, I guess?"

Chikuchi swallows.

She can't push it down, not really. It would only turn her over more, it would only lead her to questioning herself even more- but she still tries not to acknowledge the hypocritical nature of the disgust welling up inside of her, tries not to think about the much worse things she's said in the past and how it feels even worse to know that she can't bring herself to really regret any of it either, because some part of her believed it and... and..

It gets hard to focus on those awful thoughts when greeted by a warm smile and a gentle hand that tugs her to the side of the hallway where no one would listen.

It gets even harder to think when she realizes that the smile is for her.

"A d-date?"

"Mn."

Medama looks perfectly serene, as if there's nothing that could make her falter. And Chikuchi doesn't know how she can stand so strong and tall when it feels like she's about to fall over.

(There's something about her expression though- like piercing, unspoken tension and a smile just a tad too wide. It feels, almost, as if she's looking beyond her. At some far off goal she'd hidden deep within her heart that Chikuchi could never dream of catching a glimpse of.

Not as she is-

Too distracted.

Too surprised.

Too... fallen.)

"I, well, I have to admit that I've known you've had a crush on me for awhile now," Medama says at the same time Chikuchi flushes and swallows and wonders who told, "and I needed some help with clearing Shinsou's name, so, if you help me out a bit, then I thought it would only be fair to..."

She's sickeningly adorable.

(She's manic in her worry and adrenaline and the rage seeping through her.)

And Chikuchi's ears are ringing as Medama smiles and asks for her help with things that aren't so difficult as they are tedious and time-consuming and revolve around organization and getting people together and... She thinks of the class.

And how Medama didn't know that they were already whispering things to each other, that they were already sharing glances steeped in their own rage and fearful of what would happen if they spoke up alone. "A- A date...?" She murmurs again, almost in disbelief as her face flushes.

Medama blinks. "Well, yes, if that's good enough an offer then-"

"Yes. I- I would love to go out with you."

Medama seems to beam with excitement. And Chikuchi falls for it. She falls for the pretty girl and her wide smiles and her love for her friends- that feels a bit too strong, a bit too much like something she feels herself- and she's not distracted by all the things she'd seen and heard and purposely ignored- "Is that all he is to you?"

She hears the no and Chikuchi's heart doesn't break.

Because she's thinking about how she's the one that Medama had chosen. She's the one that Medama had come to for help and, well, Chikuchi wouldn't fault her for having her feelings. It... It just meant that she would need to work harder, that she'd need to impress her and earn it and make sure she fought for it all.

(But that should have been the first sign. Hell, it should've been one of the many signs that she'd never been in the competition to begin with.

There was no competition.

There was only ever Shinsou.)

...

...

This is the way the world trembles.

(She wakes up that morning with a smile on her face and leaves her house before even her parents are up, she dresses in the school uniform, and makes sure there's not a strand of hair out of place on her head.)

It is a low feeling, building in her belly, it's nervous wonder and excitement that makes her skip, and it's simple joys that seem so amazing, she just can't handle it.

(She squeals as she tells Agoyamato, her best friend, about everything that feels so right, and just continues to smile as he congratulates her and admits he doesn't really know much about romance.)

It's jittery. Shaky. A shiver that makes her heart beat-

(-she didn't have a nightmare. She didn't wake up in the middle of the night, desperate for comfort, and waited in muted horror as the phone kept ringing, until the one she wanted to be there for her answered.

She doesn't have classmates compiling their thoughts and kindness into a singular form of proof of all things good.

And she doesn't have things that crush her heart and make her hurt-)

-it only gets better when she sees Medama across the hall and waves at her in greeting, her cheeks a touch red and her ears burning. She doesn't even lose her smile when she doesn't wave back.

Chikuchi's just happy for all the things finally going right.

(Shinsou is despondent and quiet. In a way he hadn't been before.

She doesn't like it but he has actual friends to raise him up.)

With the switch to a substitute, she found that she was finally getting the hang of her most difficult of subjects. Law was just- she didn't know why she had found it so hard, why she still did sometimes, but ever since they'd been introduced to Aizawa-sensei, it was like a switch had been flipped in her head.

Oh, Aizawa-sensei may look like a zombie, wrapped up so thoroughly with bandages that he couldn't really use his fingers, with scary, half-lidded bloodshot eyes peeking through at them, but he was oddly blunt and had an incredible way of breaking down the subject to their bare bones without treating them like absolute idiots. He also clearly knew the ins-and-outs of what he was talking about and, while they could tell he had... opinions on certain subjects, he only ever tried to present factual information for them to pick apart themselves and relate to things that were biased or made with a certain perspective or- or -

Aizawa-sensei was as dry as the desert and she had no idea whether or not UA had just pulled him off some random street and gotten lucky with their pick but the class was all the more interesting and engaging for it.

So Chikuchi doesn't lose her smile.

(Shinsou had smudges under his eyes that weren't there before, he'd looked tired, and like he was facing the inevitable.

She had eyes with no tears and nothing to shed.)

"Oh, Chikuchi!" She squeaks as a hand lands on her shoulder, catching her completely off guard. "How have your Sports Festival preparations been going? I believe I remember you speaking with Agoyamato, Umino, and Maguro... is that right?"

Kayama-sensei is smiling. She's smiling and there's something teasing and sparkling in her gaze as Chikuchi blinks up at her and wonders how she knows. "Um, y-yes. That's right."

"Water quirks work well with yours, don't they?"

She tenses and keeps her mouth shut.

Kayama-sensei just laughs. "Alright, alright. I can see that you want to keep it a secret, so I won't bother you too much." Chikuchi doesn't sigh in relief, instead her eyes narrow in suspicion. "I know that just about everyone has teamed up anyways-"

Her shoulders hunch.

There's a spark of mischief in her eyes. "My, my. Did you think you were the only one?" Kayama-sensei teases. "Oh, Chikuchi, you should know that everyone has just the best time when they're teaming up on one another."

"Kayama-sensei!"

"Not to worry, Chikuchi! I won't say a word," Kayama-sensei giggles at the way her face flushes such a deep, bright red that it colors her all the way down to her collar, "besides, your teammates seem like a reliable bunch and I can't wait to see how you and everyone else works together. I'm sure you'll all do amazing."

She opens her mouth, then closes it for a moment. Unsure, at first, how to respond. "...Are you trying to reassure me, sensei?" There's a soft, more real look to her now, something like worry and sweet things that makes Chikuchi feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. "You don't have to. I- I wasn't worried about myself."

The pat on the head she gets makes her feel like a little kid. But it's... nice. It's soft and kind.

And it makes her smile in return to the devilish, voracious smirk that lights up Kayama-sensei's face- a much more commonplace expression that suited her face just a little too well- as she steps away. "I know you didn't. My class is strong-" She grins. "-but I just wanted to check up on everyone. Just in case, you know? Especially after..." She doesn't finish that sentence, but Chikuchi knows. Everybody does. "The stadium is almost ready and the Sports Festival is almost here too. So don't get too stressed out about it, I know you'll do your best."

It's exciting. The Sports Festival was a fortress on the horizon, one that they'd all have to fight through, and she wished she had a cheat sheet for all the difficulties she would face. At the very least, a syllabus.

But it seemed like Kayama-sensei wanted to light a fire under all of them and, well, Chikuchi can certainly feel it burning.

So she doesn't think about the things that Kayama-sensei didn't say- about her reason to be worried for each and every single one of them- so she doesn't lose her smile. Only feels it grow with exhilaration.

(Shinsou hung over her best friend's shoulder like a limp, broken doll. He doesn't seem to be seeing her and she doubts that he's seen anyone- even his own friends- in anything other than a muted haze as he struggles to sort through how the world continues to hurt and take and take and take.)

The day is fading, the sun is beginning to get low, and Chikuchi stares at herself in the mirror. She doesn't wear makeup, because she doesn't know how to use it and never thought she would need it in the first place, at least not for years to come, but suddenly she's looking at herself and she can feel her nerves getting to her. And she wishes she knew how to use it as she tugs at her hair that she'd let down for once, no longer in her usual pigtails, and tries not to let her self-conscious thoughts get to her.

Suddenly, her hair looks like the darkest mud, her eyes too droopy and her forehead too big and... she knew that it was all in her head. That there was nothing wrong with her, it was just-

Medama wasn't even there and she was already driving her crazy.

Her face was burning. It was warming to such a degree that she couldn't help but wonder if she'd start to comically steam, even though it should be physically impossible. It was just... she had never been on a date before, she didn't even know if Medama had ever been on one before, and she had no idea if she was doing a good job or not.

She was nervous and her whole room showed it; clothes were strewn about, different outfit ideas so quickly disregarded, and written lists of possible romantic places were crossed off as either too expensive or too lame, and she had numerous flowers and plants up and about and... and...

It felt a little silly, but it was all she could think about. A bouquet of flowers. The one date item that felt like- like she would be doing something right. To bring. She wasn't sure if she should try something extravagant or settle for a simple few flowers mixed together or if- if Medama would even like it. But she wanted to do it anyway.

Medama had never told her what her favorite flower was. Chikuchi had never thought to ask. And she was struggling with the thought that- heh, Shinsou would've known. Shinsou could have figured it out or guessed better.

Shinsou would have impressed Medama by just showing up-!

"Togeike!" She nearly jumps out of her skin as she hears her mother shout at her from downstairs. "What's wrong with you?! You're making all the plants in the shop overgrow, I'm trying to put a bouquet together for some clients-!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

But Shinsou wasn't the one that Medama had agreed to go out on a date with.

So Chikuchi smiles and smiles. So wide that it hurts.

(She doesn't think about how she knows Shinsou has feelings for Medama too. That- if he wasn't so pointedly, purposely ignorant- there was a chance that he would have returned Medama's own.

She doesn't think about how Medama looks at him, speaks about him, like he's something sweet and special- something that Chikuchi doesn't understand- and how much happier they might be together. Instead of her. She just thinks about how she's the one that Medama had asked out and that's all there was to it.)

Chikuchi stumbles from her family's home, quickly scooting through their shop and past the many plants that smelled so sweet, her hands clenching around the collection of flowers she'd tried to put all of her heart into, and smiled. Because she had a lovely girl to go meet and a wonderful date to have.

(Chikuchi doesn't think of a lot of things.

She doesn't think about how Medama had phrased her offer for a date, as if it was some deal or reward or simple agreement. Or how the few texts of conversations they'd held between them- the only conversations they'd held in days past- were sparse greetings and small simple things, like scheduling and food preferences and no manner of suggestions from Medama herself.)

Her nerves are frayed. As she steps on her train and rides to the address that Medama had given her, the thrill in her body was overpowering. Like a shot of adrenaline. And it made her heart pump a mile a minute, as if she'd been running all day when all she'd done was hop off at her destination and hurry the remaining few steps that it would take to get to Medama's apartment.

She was gulping at the air, walking up the stairs, and hoping beyond hope that not a single hair had fallen out of place.

It felt unreal. Chikuchi couldn't help but wonder if she was dreaming. If that's what all this was.

But she smiled anyways- as strong and bright as ever- and knocked on the door that separated her from- from-

Aa.

"Oh, Chikuchi," she tries not to let the disdain in Kiko's voice get to her, "you made it. Right on time."

She tries not to let her expression sour. "...Um."

It's weird. It's like someone has punched her in the gut, knocking the air from her lungs.

"Why are you here?"

It's not as if she dislikes Kiko, it was just- she hadn't been expecting her. At all. She hadn't expected Ikimaru's blue face peering at her from around the corner either.

"'Cause we're Medama's friends. She invited us to see her off." She glares at her from behind blonde bangs, her acidic green eye glancing over her, before she wrinkles her nose. "...Is that really what you're wearing?"

"Komorebi Kiko."

Chikuchi keeps her mouth shut, but she can't help the thunder of anxiety that spikes in her heart, glancing down at herself and the casual, but nice clothes she'd picked out. Unable to help but wonder if her jeans were too dark, if her tank top was unfitting, or if the jacket she wore was too much.

"I'm sorry about her, Chikuchi." Ikimaru apologies, his tail agitated and swishing back and forth on the living room floor. "She's just... in a mood. You're perfectly fine."

That, at least, has her calming, some of the tension in her shoulders fading into relief-

"It's not your fault that you can't tell what's going through Medama's head." Her brow furrows. "Really, I don't think we know our friends half as good as we like to think we do, I think it only makes it harder when it's just a crush."

"Excuse me?"

-and now she's just indignant. She can feel her face pucker, as if she'd bit into a lemon, as she squeezes the flowers she brought to her chest, feeling them shudder under her hands and- They stop.

(Thank goodness, they don't have nearly enough resources for her quirk to activate too strongly.)

Ikimaru's face turns purple, red with a blush if she was translating it correctly, and she can see the conflicted look in his eyes. "I'm... sorry?" He seems to be going back over what he said, turning it over in his head as he struggled to figure out if there was even anything to feel guilty about or not. From the look on his face, she can tell that he's only confused. "I- I don't know what I said that would offend you..."

He trails off, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"It's not a crush."

Chikuchi shakes her head and tries to let a cocksure smirk worm itself onto her face. It feels overconfident, high-strung, and she wants to know why it feels like she's lying. Why it feels fake.

"Whatever. It... It doesn't matter." She's straining to keep her face still, trying not to falter and stutter. She had no reason to, after all. "I'm still going to be the one with Medama at the end of the day, you know that, right?"

The two bristle and she can see how Kiko's teeth grit and how Ikimaru's eyes narrow.

"Where is she, anyways?"

"...In her room." Ikimaru mumbles. "Come on."

Chikuchi is a proud person.

She likes to hold her head high and keep her back straight, she likes to be strong and uncompromising in the things she says and does, because they were things that she did and she can't change them once they've already been done. And she wants to think that, while she has made mistakes and done and said things that she wouldn't do anymore, she doesn't regret much in her life- because she wants to be someone that strives to do better, be better, even by just a little bit, than she was the day before.

So she's content with being the proud person that knows what she wants and will do her best to get it.

And then Chikuchi steps into Medama's room.

(This is the way the world trembles.)

It's shadowed, indigo eyes that flutter open. It's a dull look over a shoulder, like a glare, but not quite so obvious, and it's arms tightening around a thin waist like they never want to let go. As gentle as the sweetest touch and so loving a hold that she can't help but feel her face pale, as burning jealousy she'd been so desperate to push down begins to light anew.

She clenches her fists.

(She was lying to herself, if she thought it wasn't coming.)

It's the small, angelical hum that drifts into nothingness as Shinsou pulls away. As he cups her face and, for a terrifying second, Chikuchi thinks she'll need to look away, but he only cracks a small smile and lets go, even as Medama's hands still reach to hold him but know that they can't and- his gaze flicks back to her, cold and insipid, and frightening in their ferocity.

Chikuchi doesn't take a step back, but she wants to.

She wants to desperately, so desperately.

His eyes don't leave hers. Assessing and critical. Until he finds whatever it was he was looking for and it paints his expression with the smallest of sneers and disgust and... and then there's no Shinsou. No best friend to ruin anything. He'd left. And there was no one but her and Medama.

Chikuchi is struck by how cold the room feels.

Even as Medama turns around to offer her a small, worried smile that should be nothing but lovely and, somehow, Chikuchi doesn't find it to be. It feels sharp.

Stabbing.

Cold.

A chill to freeze her veins.

"You brought me flowers?"

There's a spark of something in her voice as she asks. Like confusion, a touch of disbelief, and the barest amounts of actual charm. She doesn't know if it's even real anymore. If there was anything real ever. And her mouth feels dry, her tongue heavy, as she offers up the small bouquet that she'd put together for Medama- pink roses, yellow hyacinths, and a spot of blue anemones- she'd chosen them for their colors, for how much she thought they would suit her, her personality, and her pastel palette, but now it feels like a pale and petty mockery of all her beauty and grace.

"Aa, they're, um, lovely, Chikuchi... Thank you."

It's hard not to feel awkward, to not shift from foot to foot, and Chikuchi thinks she manages to respond but, at this point, it might as well be muffled gibberish.

She wipes her sweaty palms on her jeans.

"I-I-I'll put them away, just a moment- ouch!"

Medama yelps lightly.

And Chikuchi pales, knowing that, already, everything is just wrong- wrong- wrong- "A-Are you okay? What happened-?" She stutters, feeling sweat collect on her brow as Medama simply sends her a slightly strained smile and shakes her head.

She's letting out a low hiss through her teeth, her hand at her mouth so she can suck on the knuckle of her thumb.

"N-No, it's nothing. Nothing. Probably my own fault anyways. I just didn't realize the roses still had thorns is all." She shows her thumb. There's a small cut and the tiniest of drops of blood but it's still enough to have Chikuchi wincing and trying and failing to not turn white as a ghost. "They're still perfectly fine though. Let me just... go find a vase and a bandaid and then we can go, okay?"

"I-"

She doesn't mention how she'd already gone through and made sure there were no thorns. Just stays quiet and tries not to bring any attention to how she hovers with worry as Medama finishes her last few preparations and nods to herself.

A bandage is wrapped around her thumb.

Chikuchi feels her heart lurch at the sight of it.

And she tries desperately to pretend that she doesn't notice Shinsou's eyes prickling over her back as they leave the small apartment. Tries not to swallow and feel anxiety rise and tries to focus only on Medama and making sure that- that everything still goes perfectly fine because- because...

(This is the way her world trembles and then stops.

Because she doesn't need an earthquake- she doesn't need the world to splinter off into pieces- to know that Medama was never going to be hers.)

Suddenly, Chikuchi doesn't feel like smiling anymore.

Suddenly... She doesn't feel so proud anymore.

(Chikuchi may be the one going on a date with Medama but she wasn't the one that was always on her mind. She wasn't the one that caused daydreams to transpire and words that spoke of love like they hadn't quite found the name for it yet.

She wasn't the one that Medama would make the world tremble for.

She was just prickling thorns and a bandaid wrapped around a hurt thumb.)

"...kuchi? Chikuchi? Chikuchi. "

It feels like snapping awake. With dreams that drifted so far out of reach that Chikuchi knew, from that moment onward, they were gone forever.

Medama truly is a beautiful girl.

"Why did you do it?"

"...What?"

It's a soul rending experience, it feels like loss, but Chikuchi thinks her heart is just being dramatic. It doesn't stop her voice from coming out in a whispery croak, thick with awful, awful unshed tears. "Why did you do it?" She asks again, trying not to stutter and falter with what little strength she can summon; she fails. "I just... I didn't think you'd-"

Medama opens her mouth, seemingly at a loss for words. She's twisting her napkin between her hands, she's been doing it since she'd sat down, unable to stop the nervous motion with a slightly tense expression that felt terribly out of place in the small, quiet and warm restaurant Chikuchi had so lovingly picked out. Not even a minute and everything was already falling apart.

"Did..." Chikuchi swallows back a choke. "Did you really have to play with my feelings? Like this? I mean, I should've known, I really, really should have. But I thought you'd be too sweet-"

Medama closes her mouth, her shoulders hunch, and she seems to sink into her seat. Her head is bowed.

"-too headstrong to do anything less than what you wanted to do."

It's sickening. It's awkward.

It's absolutely embarrassing.

And Chikuchi looks away from the server, her eyes glossy and wet, when they come up to ask for their drink orders and stand at the edge of the table when neither of them speak for the longest time. Medama's fingers are picking at her napkin now, tearing it to shreds, and she's looking down at the pieces falling into her lap with an intensity that makes Chikuchi feel a hundred times worse. She can't even look her in the eye. She just fiddles, fiddles, and nervously fiddles, as Chikuchi struggles to keep her breath from coming out in a shuddery, sobbing hiss every single time she has to take a breath.

"...Just water, please. For both of us."

"Of course. And are you ready to order?"

"No, we're going to need a bit longer. Thank you."

It's hard to keep it together. For both of them, Chikuchi imagines, or, at least, she would like to hope so. Even if Medama seems to be able to hold her voice steady and her eyes seem terribly dry and unresponsive. Neither of them look at the server, not even when another appears with a pair of glasses filled with ice and a large pitcher.

"Ooh, can I just say, I love your hair clips." It has Medama shifting in her seat, biting her bottom lip with a pale face that has the napkin shredding even faster beneath her fingers. "They're absolutely adorable. And you and your girlfriend look very sweet together."

Chikuchi's face turns pink.

Medama strips the last of the napkin of it's paper, there's nothing left but the tiniest of pieces, so small that she couldn't even begin to try and fold it. She lets it flutter through her fingertips. "Aa, we're not together."

(It hurts. Hearing it out loud, it makes it hurt ten times worse.)

"My apologies," the server gasps, looking mildly embarrassed, "that's my mistake. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it."

Chikuchi swallows.

The server disappears and they're left, stuck there together, and Medama says nothing. She's dead-silent. It's nerve-wracking and it makes Chikuchi's patience and high-strung emotions begin to wear thin. Her eyes flicker to watch the angelic beauty from her periphery, unable to help but wonder if- if Medama will ever even say a word.

She's grabbing another napkin and twisting it again, until the fibers of the paper begin to thin and she can pick it into fluffy little white pieces.

"Medama."

She freezes.

"Are you even going to say anything?"

Medama grimaces.

Chikuchi hiccups, "Do you blame me? For this?" She should. It hurts to think it, to even admit it to herself, but Chikuchi knows that some major part in this has to be her fault. That it was what she got for being gullible and for playing blind. "You're the one that started this, with that... that deal of yours."

She wishes she could hate Medama. She wishes she couldn't see how lovely and wonderful she looked, dressed in pretty clothing to keep the ruse going, and think about how kind and sweet she sounded. How desperately she cared for other people and how... how... It hurts. It hurts a ton.

Some part of her wants to scream. Because, even now, unapologetic and cunning and showing her colors, Medama could still be so selfless and kind that it was devastating. Two sides to the same coin and Chikuchi was just caught on the wrong one.

"You don't feel anything?"

(Medama had friends to eat others alive for her, she had guards and cherry-picked love. She had everything she already needed and Chikuchi had never been a part of it.)

Medama's face visibly pinches and Chikuchi falters. "...I feel lots of things." Her teeth catch on the edge of her lip, tugging until the skin breaks and bleeds. "Vile. Sick. Disgusted. It was... truly an awful, awful bribe. And just thinking about putting myself in a position like this makes me want to vomit. I don't want to be a bargaining chip. Not ever, not for anything."

(Chikuchi turns a little green.

Suddenly, she feels gross in her own skin, suddenly, she realizes that if she had played the part of a fool, then Medama had played the part of a seductress. And neither were parts that either felt comfortable in.)

"How far would you have taken this-?" She wheezes.

"Only as far as was reasonable." Medama says it like it's supposed to be reassuring, it's anything but. "I was... planning to just turn you down for another date after this. I- I hoped that would be the end of it." The fact that she'd already made up her mind, so resolutely, makes Chikuchi want to just cry even more. "That I could let you down gently and we could go back to being classmates. On friendly terms."

The table goes silent.

Chikuchi's head is bowed and Medama can see that she's struggling not to cry. It has guilt welling up inside her, an overflowing mass that's tearing at her heart and making it break even further than it had before. It's slowly falling, drowning under the weight, and she's not sure how much longer she can take it.

Empathy is a cruel emotion. Because Medama looks at her and feels her heart break for her, for all the emotions she can't understand and relate to, and she feels even more ashamed of herself for thinking... for thinking of Chikuchi's feelings as nothing more than a flimsy crush to be used.

This was something she hadn't expected- this was something... more.

She shudders.

"I wish I was a better person," she blinks rapidly, she can feel the wet heat of tears clawing at her eyelids, but she furiously tries to hold them back. She's shed enough tears over the last few days. Enough that she'd only feel worse if she cried even one more drop. "But I'm not. I'm selfish and awful and I hurt you because of it."

It doesn't do anything to break the silence. Medama's not even sure if Chikuchi heard her.

"Chikuchi, I-" It's not enough, a proper apology wouldn't even be enough, because Medama doesn't think anything could solve this kind of situation. "It was the only thing I could think to offer." It's an excuse. It makes her feel absolutely vile, but she doesn't know what else to say besides the truth. "I- I made this decision, completely on my own, and I don't want you to think that anyone influenced me or told me to do this. It was just... It was just the only thing I could think of to save Shinsou's dream."

"Don't say his name."

"I'm sorry."

"No, you're not."

Medama nods. "Just... don't hate him, not any more than you already do, it's my fault. So, please, hate me instead."

"Is that all you can think about? Him?"

Chikuchi is a rising tide of emotions; the flowers are drowning inside of her, the sorrow overwhelming. It's overtaking her and devastating her and she can no longer lash out, like pricking thorns and rose bushes that cut, and it's even worse now. Because all she can think of is how Medama talks about Shinsou, as if the world is falling away and she can forget that people are watching. As if she forgets that Chikuchi is even still in the room with her, as if she can only push forward with a monstrous certainty and a goal in mind, and leave everyone else in the dust behind her. There's no hesitation, no need to second guess. Not even for a second.

It hurts. It hurts. And it makes Chikuchi want to tear out her own heart, rip it from her chest, and look for all the flaws that kept her from being the one that Medama- that Medama loved.

"You're cruel."

"I know." Medama can only agree. She can only accept everything that she deserves. "I know I'm awful." Her eyes are closed, tightly wound shut and it seems almost pained. "But you said yes, didn't you?"

It's like a slap to the face.

It's a violent sting.

Chikuchi's bottom lip trembles and she slumps into her seat, the tears are dripping freely now and she has no means of stopping them. "And I had the audacity to ask you what Shinsou meant to you." It makes her laugh a little, choked and sardonic. "God, I saw it all too, you know? Everyone did."

Medama is shifting in her seat. Uncomfortable.

"You were so sad, when he pushed you away. And he made you laugh as soon as he was back. I knew how you felt. I knew how you felt but I was too stubborn and hopeful and arrogant to realize that I was only digging myself a deeper and deeper grave 'cause you were only ever going to do everything you could. It was inevitable. This-" She gestures to the table, to them, and then her hand falls back to her side. Completely limp. "This was all just inevitable."

It feels like bile rising to her throat.

"Why- Why don't you hate me? Why aren't you blaming me? I got in your way and made you think that I was the kind of horrible person that would..."

Chikuchi stops, she opens her mouth.

And then she stands up because, suddenly, she can't do this anymore. She can't sit around this table, across from Medama, when she knew that this was all just a means to an end in the first place. That it was never going to be anything but that.

"If it was you asking me, I would've done anything. You don't need to bribe me into being an honest person." Chikuchi sniffs, the tears are heavy droplets that stain her face. "I would've told the truth."

Medama covers her mouth with her hands.

There's something like horror twisting over her expression.

"I... I like you, Medama. I really do." Chikuchi admits quietly. "But I don't want to be just a favor to you."

...

...

It's pouring.

And she's soaked. The heavy rain has turned her into a drowned rat. She splashes through the puddles, unable to leap over them all, and she can feel that her feet are soaked. Right down to the bone.

What had started as a light drizzle, nothing more than a sprinkle that made her breath come out in short, white bursts of air, was now sobbing, weeping dark clouds that showed no sign of stopping.

She's gritting her teeth, furious at the tears that fall like the rain. She'd struggled for so long to try and keep them inside, to try and save face, but now everything was turning over to failure and she hiccups as she stumbles up the steps of a home that she'd long grown familiar with visiting. Her fingers are shaking, pale and almost blue, as she curled them into a fist and knocks-

"Agoyamato."

He takes one look at her. "...Chikuchi." And gapes, jaw slightly dropping at the sorry sight she knows she makes. "You're... You're going to catch a cold."

She sniffs. "I- I don't care."

It doesn't seem to matter. None of it does. Not in the way her shoulder shakes. Not in the way she's so cold that she feels like she's forgotten warmth.

Agoyamato's voice is small, hushed. Barely a whisper. "...I take it the date didn't go well?"

It's the final straw that breaks her.

"It was awful." Chikuchi hadn't been able to break down crying before, but now she wants to cry a million tears and let every single one of them be heard. "And Medama was so beautiful anyways!" It feels like she's wailing, it feels a little like she's laughing too- it's just sheer emotions overwhelming and it's like her heart is numb to it all.

Agoyamato has no idea how to respond to it. To any of it. And he shifts from foot to foot on his doorstep. "I take it you still like her then...?"

"Shit, of course I do," she snaps, "feelings... feelings don't just disappear. " She covers her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking. He doesn't know if it's because she's wet and shivering or because she just can't handle it anymore. "I think that's the most frustrating thing. I don't think they will go away and I'm such a fool because I don't want them too."

"But..."

Agoyamato doesn't understand romance. He's had his crushes, he's had feelings, but he's never had them last for very long. And Chikuchi and this crush and simple love that he didn't understand, only seemed to grow worse and worse when he wasn't looking, and he's not sure how his best friend has managed it all. To get to this point, where he can't even begin to comprehend her sweet, sapphic love.

"If she's happy with someone else, I don't want to be the one to take that away from her."

(Chikuchi is sixteen years old when she meets a girl that cares more for comfort and happy hearts than she does triumph.

She is delicate pastels, curly pink hair that falls into her face so frequently that she's constantly tucking it back behind her ears. Her voice is like smoke rising from a gentle fire, smooth as silk and three times as lovely. And her smile is a gift that should be given everyday, because it tasted of happiness and such overwhelming joy for life that it was impossible to put into words.

She is a girl that makes her dizzy and a girl that could move the earth and, even years down the line, some part of her will still love that sparkling, heavenly soul.)

And Chikuchi won't lose any of her feelings, just grow fond of them, and be thankful for what little warmth and love Medama may still offer. Even if it's only infinitesimal moments and gentle friendship that she hadn't quite been able to grasp, not yet.

"'Yama...?" She murmurs, sniffling. The tears are thick and large droplets that chase each other down her cheeks. "Can I stay at your house tonight? I don't want to go home and deal with my parents, they think I'm out studying with you anyways."

He may not understand her feelings. He may not grasp them or even agree with them, but he cares for his friend and the emotions she can't quite keep inside. She doesn't need to. Not with him. "Stupid." He scoffs, already reaching out for her. "You think I'd turn you away?"

Chikuchi's smile is wet and wobbly, but her best friend's hand is warm and stable.

(Chikuchi is sixteen years old when she falls in love for the first time.

It won't be the last.

But it doesn't mean the end of anything, it just means a chance for something new and a little bit different then she expected.)

-0-

It's cold.

She giggles. It's light and airy and it makes her breath puff out in large clouds of white that mix with the slight sprinkle of rain that's been drizzling from the sky since that morning. There's snow all around, fresh but with trails of footprints beginning to pack it down where people had walked before.

She makes sure to follow them for as long as she can, her feet small compared to the larger boots that printed the sidewalk, her snow boots crunching the prints and overlaying them with her own.

She wishes it was simply snowing, instead of raining, at least then, she wouldn't have to be careful to not slip or have to watch the already fallen snow turn to slush. It drips from the melting icicles, partially freezing in the biting chill of the air, and washes the streets of the white flakes, coloring it with slippery ice, as the runoff drains into the nearby retention pond and turns to the darkest color of mud.

"...I'm warm enough, I promise."

She sighs.

The phone is held between her shoulder and her ear, her hair curling beneath the drops of rain that wet it and make it frizzy. "Yeah, uh-huh. Look, I said it already, I'm fine." Her hip leans against the edge of the bridge, there's a fence lining it, keeping the cars and people from running off the edge, and she can't help but grab onto it. Squishing the chain link as close together as she could manage before letting it snap back into place, it leaves marks on her fingers. "Mom, seriously."

She hides the soft groan when her mother doesn't stop. Pulling the phone away from her ear so she wouldn't have to listen to all the chatter, letting it fall into background noise until she could find an excuse to just hang up already.

The fence jingles as she grabs hold of it. And, as old as it is, for as long as it's been up and as long as they've been saying they'll put in actual railings, the thing sways a disconcerting looking amount before it falls back into a stable position.

"Hey, mom?"

It gets her to stop.

The retention pond isn't very full at this time of day. The water is still deep but it's a small amount compared to what it usually is when it rains. And it's still early but, for some reason, she can see oil coloring it. Can catch a glimpse of stars in the reflection of the sickly pinks and greens and yellows, a litany of colors from the runoff and cars.

It looks freezing.

With chunks of ice and melting snow.

"I'm on the bridge right now. You know, the one with the retention pond next to it...?" She doesn't hear a response, doesn't hear it garner anything actually. "Yeah, the one that we buried all my old fish in."

It feels odd to laugh at it. To laugh at her old naivete and her ignorance that had led to tears and unnecessary heartache and an even more unnecessary death.

It was just a few fish. And she'd been a terrible pet owner, both too young to know what to do, and too young to understand the responsibility of it, to even really grasp the concept of death-

She shouldn't be laughing.

She killed her fish.

She didn't mean to but it was still something that she'd done.

Suddenly, the stars don't look like stars anymore, they look like tiny, spotted bodies and bloodied, rotten fins that smell horrendous. It doesn't feel nearly as horrifying as it should. The chain link fence creaks under her fingers.

"...Do you want to know a secret?"

She licks her lips.

She doesn't hear a response, only the telltale sign of a dropped call. The dull noise rings in her head in a steady note that doesn't change and offers her no answers and asks no questions. There's no longer any concern for warmth.

There's no longer any concern.

"Mom?"

It drowns beneath the throbbing heartbeat in her ear, so loud and thunderous, an adrenaline pump that shoots through her body and leaves her numb and aching.

It's cold out, so very, very cold out.

The rain is growing heavier, icier. It's an ever-changing mix of hail and tears and dark clouds above. It's leaving marks on her skin. Tiny, furious spots of red that mix with her freckles and feel like bruises, it makes her hair stand on end, goosebumps shivering over every inch of her body.

"Are you still there?"

The scent of rot is growing heavier by the second.

"Are you even listening anymore?"

There is no romanticization. There is no beauty in this. It's a horrible habit, to think of death as something glorious, as if it might make it a tiny bit more bearable or easy for the brain to comprehend.

It's not.

It's all the same in the end.

It's ugly.

It's violent.

"...Did you forget me too?"

And no manner of acceptance, spoken word, or understanding of the end will ever make it anything but that. It's just rotting carcasses, forgotten and buried beneath the soft earth and mud.

Entropy. Desolation. Decay.

And maybe- one must think of the flowers that will grow, of the roots taking hold, and the something that will eventually rise from the ashes.

But that is not the death.

A loss doesn't lose value in the face of acceptance. In the face of reconciliation. It's only forgotten by the earth and the grass that grows, by the people that planted and walked along it, and how can there ever be any beauty in the things tossed aside...?

The rain is heavier now. It's pouring.

The retention pond is flooding. It looks dark and viscous and full of dead little bodies that didn't deserve to die.

"Do you want to know a secret?"

There are some things that a person just knows. Whether it be as an intrinsic part of their being, whether it be knowledge so obvious that it simply is .

"That's where I am too."

The sky is still blue, even if given another name.

She is still dead, even if world's away.

You still haven't found me.

Medama wakes up dry heaving.

There's sweat clinging to every inch of her. It's dripping down her face in large droplets as she gasps, her blankets feel like they're trapping her, and she struggles to kick them off as she stumbles free. Her legs are shaking and weak and she hits the floor before she can take even a single step, her throat bobbing and-

It makes her whole body turn, her lips quivering as tears prick her eyes and she can only fall into the rising emotions. She heaves, her stomach, thankfully, empty, but she can feel it trigger her gag reflex and leave her trembling and writhing with a wracking, violent cough.

Her fingers reach out, her nails catching on strings.

And a single strum of her guitar doesn't save her, but it grabs her focus and steadies her hand just enough that she can grip its neck and pull it down with her.

"Calm."

She whispers.

"Calm."

It doesn't do much to help. But she already knew it wouldn't.

"Don't think. Don't think. Don't think-" It's an endless repeat. Desperation clawing at her throat as she tried to convince her mind that there is nothing worthy of festering her thoughts and rotting them with ugliness, that she only needs to breathe and accept that she's here now, and nothing will change that-

Except the fear overrides logic. The memories are too loud. And the melody she plays on her guitar can only drown so much.

Medama plays until there's blisters forming on her calloused fingers, until her cheeks are dry and she can breathe again, even if her whole body is tense and aching. Her heart is crying.

But at least her distractions are productive.

At least her being awake leads to Shinsou calling and a smile so warm on her face that it eases her muscles and gives her something even better to focus on-

For, at least, as long as it takes her to listen, to quiver with horror, and think of fallen freckled stars and amber sun's that had long since been snuffed.

Medama cries until the morning comes.

Her papers colored with tears and her eyes so red rimmed that the makeup she uses to cover up the bags under her eyes burns when she puts it on.

...

...

It's cold.

She's not crying, but the sky is.

Each step feels like it's being weighed down, the sidewalk is cast under shadow, and she scoots around passerby with her head down, ignoring the glances she gets as she powers her way through it. The rain is a steady drizzle, heavier than she would have liked, and she hadn't even thought about bringing an umbrella, so it slowly begins to drench her.

She wipes her face free of the slick. The clips in her hair are falling out, her pink strands loosening and not as curled as they once were.

(She hates it.)

She wishes it wasn't raining. The sound of it running through the gutters makes her gag and something in her throat bob with unfettered sickness that had her whole body shivering.

(She's screaming and things are so, so wrong.)

"I messed up. I messed up really, really bad." Her phone is gripped tightly in her hands, the waterproof makeup that helps to hide the bruises under her eyes is smeared, by her own fingers rubbing at her eyes. "I... I don't know what to do." Her voice cracks.

"How bad is it?"

It's hard to walk up the steps of her apartment building, it's hard to grip the stairwell and suck in a deep breath and keep moving.

"I think I've managed to hurt just about everyone." She sniffs. "Fuck. I even managed to hurt the one person I was trying to help."

There's a long sigh.

"I can't exactly fix it for you, that's something you'll need to figure out yourself."

"I-I d-don't... I don't even know where to begin. Can't you just-" She stutters. "Can't you just, please, tell me how to make it right?"

She's desperate for anything; advice, a soothing voice, a simple instruction to go to sleep and worry about it the next morning. Her head is buzzing, her emotions too high, for her to even begin to start sorting through her thoughts and her feelings.

(She already had to find a safe looking corner to hide away in to deal with an oncoming seizure, a bad enough one that her watch had been close to automatically dialing emergency services and the absolute last thing she wanted tonight was to deal with a hospital visit and too many questions.

It'd left her so physically exhausted she'd spent a few minutes trying to decide if it was even worth attempting to stand up and go home.)

"Medama, you're old enough to figure these things out yourself." She wants to fall to her knees, catching herself on the doorknob to her apartment, as frustration ate away at her insides. "It's okay to make mistakes."

She wants to scream.

She wants to tell her mom that she didn't call to be reminded how old she is and how much she needs to learn things herself because practice and experience are the way of the world- "According to you I've always been old enough." She snaps, her voice breaking mid sentence. "Just- Just... Nevermind."

"Medama, sweetheart-"

"It's... It's cold out. I should- I should just go."

"-They won't hate you."

"What?"

"They won't hate you. That Chikuchi girl, your friends, the Shinsou's boy. I can't fix your problems but I can tell you that much, at least."

"They should." She chokes out. "They should hate me for everything that I did-"

"And what did you do?"

"I-I-I-"

"That horrible teacher can't find work anywhere, the school sent me a thank you that you managed to catch him even. That Chikuchi girl knew what she was getting herself into, she knew it was coming, and she only saved herself the time by finally realizing she was playing ignorant." Her mother lists, voice firm. "Ask yourself: if they'll hate you for trying your best. You may not have succeeded perfectly, but some good things still came out of it, right?"

Medama can feel herself slowly begin to nod, her lips wobbling. "Shinsou can still participate in the Sports Festival."

"Wasn't that the goal all along?"

It was.

"Then, did you really make a mistake, or did you just commit to the consequences?"

She sucked in a deep breath, her eyes closing as she felt herself nod. Stronger this time. And the breath she releases seems to loosen the tension in her muscles and slump her shoulders back down. "R-Right, yes, of course. But I... I still hurt..." She can practically see her mother raising a brow, telling her that she should simply be happy to hold everything in her hands and glue it back together with trembling fingers, thinking of hope and dreams that hadn't yet ended. "Th... Thank you."

"Do you need me to call your aunts?"

"No, no. I don't want to bother them too." She rubs her eyes. "I'll- um. Talk to you later, okay?"

"If you're sure."

"...Love you."

"Love you too, Medama. Take care of yourself, okay? Don't do anything you regret." She pauses. "And, for what it's worth, people always get a bit hurt. No matter what you do."

She tugs her phone away from her ear, pinching the bridge of her nose with gritted teeth and shivers running up her spine. Her head hurts. A headache that crawls behind her eyes with so much pressure that it makes her thoughts feel heavy on her neck. It's uncomfortable.

Medama is tired, exhausted.

And she can't help but wonder if tonight will be another sleepless night.

(There's bags under her eyes, hidden by both makeup and the dark, mutation lines that she's thankful for- if only for their ability to hide the way her skin bruises, almost purple in coloring, and keep her restlessness from being obvious.)

She feels ready to collapse.

But, the end was in sight, everything that she'd planned and worked to make right was finally coming together. It was only going to take a bit of elbow grease now, some effort in smoothing down the edges, and she'd figure that all out as it came to her. There was no longer a need for heartache and worry and things that made her feel disgusted with herself, just a couple apologies to have, friends to trust that they won't despise her, and- and the hope that Shinsou won't think ill of her. That he'll still hold her and won't push her away. That, maybe, just maybe, he'll give her a chance to say all the things she so desperately wants to tell him, and he'll accept them as they are and still... still offer her his quiet support and his wonderful self, even if only as a friend, and-

She stops in her tracks.

"You stayed?"

Her mind is a whirling storm that only manages to catch up to her croaked words now. Her eyes blinking wildly as she glances around at the beautiful sight of her friends, sitting amongst her apartment's small living room and staring up at the open door like they'd been waiting for her return home with bated breath.

Her mouth opens, then closes.

She swallows down something thick in her throat.

"Of course we did!" Kiko frowns at her, a brow raising. "Why wouldn't we wait up for you?"

"I thought you wanted us here to support you?" Iki asks, anxiousness creeping into his voice, thinking for a moment that he could be wrong. "R-Right?"

She's blinking. Her nose is burning. The pressure behind her eyes is building.

"S-Shinsou?"

He's sitting on her floor, a knee pulled to his chest and his arms loosely wrapped around it. He's got cuts on his hands and bandaids that he'd been actively wrapping around them.

There's a broken flower vase on her floor, right by her door, and her shoes crunch on it as she takes a few, tentative steps inside and closes the door behind her. She doesn't even glance down at it. At the smashed flowers and water that's still dripping from wood and staining her carpet.

(Kiko and Ikimaru are both wincing and looking slightly pale and guilty, but not regretful. Shinsou doesn't look like anything. He doesn't seem to want to acknowledge it either. Too focused on staring at her and meeting her gaze.)

"...Where else would I be?"

He asks, gently, his voice almost a whisper.

The cry that tears through her shakes her to her very core. It's high-pitched and earth shattering as Medama finally, finally lets herself burst into tears.

And, once she does, she can't stop.

Her legs wrap around his hips when he pulls her down to join him, hiccupping sobs wrack her body as he winds his arms around her waist, his hands digging in with such a strength that she immediately knows Shinsou has been waiting to hold onto her just as long as she's been waiting to hold onto him. She knows in the way that he instantly and carefully, brushes the fallen strands from her face and reclips them so absentmindedly that she almost doesn't realize he even had. "I'm sorry," she wails, quickly, to all of them, hoping that they'll all listen and forgive her, for every slight and all the worry she'd caused, "I'm so, so sorry. I hurt you. I hurt you." She sobs.

His hand catches her thigh, before she can collapse completely, holding her in such a tight grip that it helps to stabilize her. Helps to keep her from just directly falling into him.

His hand is warm against her skin, just beneath the hem of her shorts, and she can feel his thumb rub soft circles against her leg. His fingers are slightly rough and calloused, from the hard work she knows he's been putting in when she's not watching, and his eyes fall half-lidded as he watches her overflowing tears.

"I don't know how I managed to convince you all that I'm good." She can feel her voice crack as she whispers, almost violently, "I don't know how I managed to convince you all that I'm worth hanging around for."

He shakes his head, a smirk climbing across his face: "Need a video as proof?"

"...Silly." She chokes. "Don't mock me."

It takes a moment for Ikimaru to join in, his tackling hug nearly knocking both her and Shinsou over as his fluffy hair buries deep into them. He's hugging them both, pressing them even closer together, and he's sniffing too. "I'm so glad you're both okay." He whines. "I was afraid that- that you were never going to talk to each other again."

Kiko snorts and follows in the next second, carefully lifting herself from her wheelchair and then onto the couch Shinsou leans against, so she can then pull herself down to the floor and circle them all with her arms as best she can. "I wasn't worried." From the slightly hoarse way she says it, Medama can't help but think it's a complete lie. Somehow it doesn't bother her. "Not at all."

Medama sniffs.

And she wishes she could reach out and pull them all close, hold them tightly, but she can't, so she'll just press her cheek against Shinsou's and hope and trust that they know how much she wants to share her warmth with them. How thankful she feels for how they hold her close.

It was no longer cold anymore.

("That vase was an antique."

Silence.

"...We'll buy you a new one."

"It cost over two-hundred thousand yen."

Dead silence.

"...It was a terrible accident?"

Medama cackles, it's slightly hoarse and hurts her throat. "Why didn't you just take out the damn flowers...?" She squeaks, feeling Shinsou's long-suffering groan, but not hearing it. She can just imagine the curses flying in his head. And she smiles through a tear-stained face and shakes her head at him, even though she knew Ikimaru and Kiko had both helped in some, significant way, she could tell that he had been the main propriety. The one to actually go through with smashing it. "It's fine, it's fine." She assures them softly, her gaze flickering back to the broken glass and the trampled thorns and petals.

"I would've probably done the same.")

...

...

Kiko and Ikimaru are both fast asleep.

Her home is quiet, the night coloring it a deep dark that makes the clock in the background feel like it's ticking even louder than it should. It doesn't have her focus though. Instead, she is all too wrapped up in the sound of his heartbeat, ever so slowly being lulled to sleep with her ear pressed against his chest as he laid back.

They're laying on the couch together, tucked under the blanket he'd brought her so long ago, with a crown of pillows placed beneath his head. There's just enough room for her to lay atop him, their legs tangled together and their bellies pressed close, and her arms gently hanging onto him.

(He's got a hand tangled into her hair, slipped between her horns and comfortably placed. It's a warm, soothing thing that makes her feel impossibly safe.)

She blinks, struggling to keep her eyes open.

"I'm sorry I broke your vase." His voice is soft, not tired, just quiet. Careful not to wake their sleeping friends that are so close by; Kiko on a well-made futon that Medama had pulled from the deep recesses of her closet, so as to not exacerbate her back or jostle her legs by sleeping on the hard floor, and Ikimaru curled up in a nest of blankets in the corner of the wall. A bit like a baby bird, if she was being honest. "Medama?"

"I heard." She murmurs, gently, realizing absently that she hadn't responded. Her eyes are heavy and droopy, and every blink feels like a delirious shock when she realizes that they're back open. "Don't apologize. It was ugly." She thinks it was a wedding gift from someone her mom had hated, trying to gain her favor after realizing that she was using her law degree to actually make something of herself when, before, her reputation hadn't been... very nice. She tries to tell Shinsou as much, but her words are slurring and she doesn't know how much he'd managed to actually gather.

"Why... Why'd you break it in the first place?"

His free hand, the one not tangled in her hair, is lazily pressed into the small of her back. It's a strange, wonderful comfort that she thinks she could get addicted to.

She shifts, slightly, raising her head just a bit to stare at him when he doesn't answer for the longest time, feeling him shift to accommodate her horns.

"...Looking at it, at the flowers," he trails off, there's a slight growl in his voice, an undercurrent that sounds rough, "it... it made me angry. I- I shouldn't have lost my head like that. It was completely inappropriate and-"

"And Kiko and Ikimaru weren't helping."

He seems hesitant to sell them out. "They were egging me on."

Medama giggles. Her breath is warm on his skin. Shinsou can feel goosebumps and shivers, especially as her sweet, tired eyes peek up at him. Her half-asleep, woozy state has her head bobbing as she tries desperately to keep her eyes open, "Can you-" Ah, she's failing in her attempt, her eyes drifting close for longer and longer periods of time. "Can you manage to not do something like that again...?"

He blinks. "Of course."

"Then don't worry about it. It's... It's just a stupid vase."

It feels like a secret stolen between them. Their voices gently drifting into quieter and quieter whispers that neither want to be overheard and neither know quite why they care so much.

Maybe it's because Medama had initially planned to sleep in her own bed. Maybe it's because she'd snuck out, just as Kiko and Ikimaru had fallen asleep, to sneak over to Shinsou- unable to sleep, scrolling on his phone- and quietly, nervously waited for him to offer her a place next to him.

They hadn't spoken about it. Had done little more than shift until they were both in better position and Medama could snuggle in close. It's a simple solace, taken in the dead of night, where they can lay back and feel soft and warm, wrapped in pajamas and blankets and wonderful arms that drive both of them absolutely, quietly crazy. They don't fit perfectly together, but they fit comfortably.

Sinking into one another, as if they'd done it a thousand times before.

(This was not something that normal friends do. She knows that. That there's a level of comfort, intimacy, and simple, lovely respect that allows them to cross a line without shoving up against barriers and making things awkward and terrible. It's them and it's easy. And she wishes, selfishly, that he thought it was easy too.)

She doesn't think their friends would understand. At least, not without questions and gasping accusations that neither of them were prepared for or wanted to deal with. It would only call unwanted attention to all the things they didn't acknowledge. It would ruin the sweet nature of it.

Medama sighs into a soft, little yawn that has Shinsou's head tilting and his pupils dilating. "Are you tired...?" She murmurs. "Or can you just not sleep?"

He lets out a breath through his nose.

"Can't sleep."

"Oh." She frowns, she doesn't quite realize that her head is bowed and her eyelashes are fluttering over his jaw, tickling him and making his grip tighten. "Mn'sorry. Do you want me off so you can move? I don't imagine it's very fun to just lay here awake with me on-"

"No." He assures her, quickly and tiny bit breathless. "No, you're fine. I mean, my leg is asleep but I..."

"Shinsou."

"I'm kidding." She grumbles, not quite sure if it's a lie or not. "I'm kidding." She's not quite convinced and she thinks that she tells him as much but, really, all that comes out is garbled nonsense that has his expression flattening into its normal blank, deadpan way. "I don't want to move."

Which kinda-sorta ends the potential concern that'd been building up inside her. "...so long as you're comfy too." She mumbles, going back to listening to his heartbeat as best she can, her eyes fluttering and just- so- incredibly- heavy. "If you're not gonna sleep, then I'mma stay up too." She doesn't want to fall asleep, not when she knows he's there. Awake. It feels like she's losing time, like it's rushing by too quickly, and she just wants to savor every morsel of it.

He chuckles. "Sure, sure."

"Keep me up, don't let me fall asleep."

"I don't think you want that."

She snuffles, "'Course, I do. I wanna- um. I wanna spend time with you." They have school tomorrow, she has so many things she still needs to do, she doesn't know when they'll be able to be like this again. If she'll ever get the chance. "Don't wanna fall asleep anyways. 'Is bad."

He's silent, for a long moment, then nudges her just a bit, earning a small thank you as it drags her out of her soft sleep. He holds back a guilty frown at doing so. "Why is it bad?" He whispers softly in question, his voice a rumbling noise that makes him glance to their still slumbering friends to make sure neither were waking up.

Medama rubs at her eyes, her knuckles kneading her face and making it scrunch up. "Don't wanna have nightmares." She whines, just a tad too loudly that it has him shushing her, until her voice is soft again. "They make my head hurt and then I can't think and my- my quirk is goin' haywire- it makes it hard to tell what's real and what's not."

"Oh..." He frowns, cradling her close. "Do you get them a lot?"

She nods, one of her eyes pop open. "Sometimes they're just a bad feeling. Sometimes they're worse though." Her lips quirk into a wobbly smile. "Don't worry so much, Shin, I can handle it." He doesn't doubt that she can, the fact that she has to though, that's what bothers him. "Why can't you sleep?"

He shrugs, eyes flicking between her and the ceiling.

She waits.

And, eventually, he just sighs: "Too many thoughts."

Apparently, Medama isn't sleepy enough to not be a little twit, a cheeky grin crawls over her face. "About me?"

She isn't expecting the completely serious nod. "Some of them." He smirks down at her when she squeaks, her face flushing pink. In the dark, she can't see that he's red too, she can only hear the tiny little purr that tells her how much he enjoys teasing her. And how it was completely done on purpose too. "Maybe more than you think."

She whines softly, "You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

She whimpers.

"Acting so wonderful that it hurts."

Oh. He purrs at the sight of her eyes squeezing shut, to her trying to hide her face in the twisted fabric of his shirt, and clicks his tongue. The vibrations are rumbling thunder and delighted interest, his smile warming into something a bit less haughty and a bit more genuine. "...Do I do that a lot?"

It's a simple question.

It makes his ears burn.

"Mn." She nods, a wonderful shiver running through her body. She wishes she could press closer. That she could do more than be assaulted by dizzying shyness and butterflies overflowing her stomach with so much activity and life that they made her feel frighteningly weak. "...Every time I see you."

(Fuuu-ck. She was going to destroy him.)

"Oh. I see," he purrs, teeth flashing and he doesn't know how he manages to keep his head, "I guess now you know how it feels. When you do it to me."

She makes a tiny squeak of a noise that garners a rumbling, anxious laugh from him.

He doesn't know what he's doing. He knows even less about what he's saying. And he almost hopes that Medama will finally doze off and forget it all- even if he knows that's impossible, that she'll remember every little word he has ever said to her, every gentle tone, and purr. Probably better than even he will. The thought isn't nearly as disconcerting as he previously might have believed.

She's overwhelming.

(He doesn't know how she can make heartbreak and self-pity, still playing on the edges of his mind, feel so deceptively far away. He doesn't know how she can convince him, without reassurance, that everything will be okay- so long as he's holding her in his arms. So long as he's teasing her and making her laugh that euphonious giggle that's like heaven.

Everything was so broken and miserable just a few short hours ago, but now- now it feels like everything is repairing and falling back into place.)

"...Can I ask you a question?"

She's shivering as he rubs his thumb in circles over her back, trying not to be intimately aware of how her tank top has ridden up her stomach, just a tiny bit, and how he can feel every single one of the goosebumps on her skin. "'Course you can."

"What happened with Chikuchi?"

She falls silent.

So quiet that he almost wonders if she'd finally dozed off but, no, her muscles are suddenly too tense, her face suddenly scrunched against him, and she looks like she wants to hide. Her whispering, exhausted voice is a tiny bit more awake than it was before, a tiny bit more sad: "...I'm horrible." He blinks, not expecting that answer. "I hurt her. I don't know, I- I guess I didn't expect her feelings to be serious and I..." She trails off, for just a moment. He waits for her. "She looked like she saw it coming but walked into it anyway, just for the chance that I might have returned her feelings, I guess."

He listens as Medama sighs and explains it all, from the look on Chikuchi's face, to her own troubled feelings, and tries to avoid the why she'd done it all in the first place. Even though Shinsou has picked up the puzzle pieces and fit them together by now.

"It's weird, Shin, I- I feel guilty the most because I don't feel guilty. I became someone scary and I didn't want to stop."

She says it all in a small, depressed voice that makes him sit up and cradle her closer. Until she's more in his lap than simply laying down and she's curled, tight against him.

(Medama didn't like how easy it was to fall into it. She didn't like how easy it was to hurt, hurt, hurt-)

She sniffs. "I hurt her and I don't regret it. Not even a little bit." He can feel her struggling, can feel her fingers turn to claws as her brow furrows. "Isn't that just awful?"

There's something telling him that the question is rhetorical.

"I just... I just cared more about not-" Her teeth grit and she buries her face into his neck. "Not hurting you. " She whispers, so quietly that he thinks, if he were anyone else, that he wouldn't have heard her, even with as close as she is. "But it seems I did anyway."

"You didn't."

"Don't lie."

He bites his tongue. "...It's okay."

"It's really not."

"It is." He feels his eyes flash when Medama opens her mouth, a huff escaping him as he shakes his head. He can feel her trying to look up at him and meet his gaze, but he's glad she's too tired to fight him to do so- at least she won't be able to see how pained his expression truly is. "Hey, hey , Me~da~ma," she's shivering, aching, because ooh~ that's a new way to say her name, purred and pretty. And she may have even felt her head spin. "It's not perfect. It's not... great. But don't worry about hurting me, I can handle it-"

He stops. Pressing his lips together. He doesn't want to admit it but he has to.

"-and I may overreact sometimes. A bit. But I- y-yeah."

Medama laughs, it's a disbelieving sound. Small and ever so strained, touched with incredulity. "You thought I was lying about liking you." She says, her tongue flicking out over her lips. "You thought I was lying in the video. I can't even imagine how that would feel. You were just- that was natural. I mean, you heard all of what I said..."

She pauses.

Her mouth hangs open.

It's like something has come over her. Some great realization that has the world shifting and her heart thudding in her chest.

"You heard all I said." Her voice hitches, catching in the back of her throat and he grunts as her whole body seems to straighten and go stiff, shifting around until her eyes are wide open. There's a hint of wonder in her expression, delight and fear too. "You saw the video. You heard everything."

It has him swallowing.

There's no longer any dozing words or sleep clinging to her every second.

"Shinsou, I told you I meant it." She did. "And you knew what I said-?"

Medama is on her knees. She's got a knee on either side of him and she's lifting herself up, sinking into the couch. She might as well be straddling him, any closer and she would be. He's sunk into the couch, his hands fallen away from her head and waist, and he's trying to use his elbows to sit up, but she's resolutely chosen to be above him. Leaving him to only follow, as best he can, hoping to catch her eye.

It's as if she's come to life.

Her hands fall to cradle his face, her fingertips just barely brushing into his hair. He can feel the bandaid still wrapped around her thumb. And his eyes are wide, his mouth slightly agape, at the sight of her.

He has a sinking feeling in his gut.

"Why did you call me that night?"

She whispers fervently.

"Was my voice really all you wanted to hear?"

(Hitoshi can't answer. He can't find the words.

He can feel his pupils dilate, he can feel his stomach turn, and he can only shiver and purr against her. Listen to his own sound bubbling in his throat, entirely compulsive and impossible to subdue, as the world trembles again and shifts and... the world is so tantalizingly close, so close, that it may just crush him.)

She's a trembling figure, a trembling body against his-

And then she seems to suck in a breath and take the whole world with her.

It's still.

"...Why do we keep doing this?"

It's heart stopping.

(They're dancing, dancing around in circles, a boundless energy that only grows more wild and more desperate with every frantic step, every hand that's refused and offered again, a second later. As if now may be the time to receive an answer, when before, there was nothing, not even a response.

Only endless spinning and gorgeous steps, a rising elegance and beauty that they both know could be so grand. If they only joined, hand in lovable hand.)

She's sleepiness draining, she's tired-

And Medama just wants this to finally end, she wants to finally see the something- the anything- the answer.

(She wants this performance to stop tugging on her heartstrings, even though it's a dance she's always played a part in, a dance she's willing to continue, if necessary, but... but if she thinks of herself, as that selfish, awful person that could hurt so many- she wants to be just a tiny bit more selfish, a tiny bit more horrible, just for a little longer. Even if it's cruel.

Because maybe the curtains will close, and she'll deserve it, if they do, but maybe... maybe they won't.)

She's life breathing through her voice, she's tasting untraveled ground on her tongue, and she hopes it's as wonderful as she's dreamed.

"Do you want to know a secret?"

She asks so sweetly, so gently, that he can do nothing but stare at her silhouetted addiction and take his first bite: "...Depends." He murmurs. "What kind of secret?"

"It would be a spoiler to say," she can catch the indigo gleam of his eyes, catch the barest slivers of moonlight that comes through the shades, lighting up his eyes "you have to decide for yourself whether it's a good one or not."

It scares him to hear her sound so calm and serious and quiet.

"Tell me."

But he was enraptured by her forbidden paradise, laid so enticingly close.

Medama is eating him alive, tearing him to shreds, but these teeth are so sweet and gentle that he welcomes every second of it.

(The dance is frozen, her hand is freely given, and she waits for him to take it-)

"I want to kiss you."

Aa, such a sweet dream, like sugar spun clouds that can do nothing but fall from the sky and melt in the tides. She's a heavy reverie, so many twists, so many turns- she's sinking teeth, a nightmare to make him call her name, and she's an addicting drug that's so seductively sweet and lovely that she could rot him to his core- he doesn't need to even see the curve of her face to know the warmth of her smile and the shiver of her touch.

His hands are scrambling up her back, slow and tentative but also so desperate that he can't help but be aware of every piece of her they brush over, catching on fabric and slips of skin that give slightly under the pads of his fingers.

He is the offering to her alter; a measly, undeserving tribute to all her magnificent self. And one that she'd chosen with such love and care that he has to wonder if she's not mistaken, but no. No. He knows that she wouldn't make a mistake, she's too much of everything to ever be lost in this-

He could worship her.

(-her hand looks so easy to take in his own, so easy to reach out and grasp, and he finds it almost reflexive to try. But if she's to be selfish in this, then he needs to be as well.

He lets his fingers slip past her own.)

"Not yet."

He tells her, breathless and wanting.

It hurts and it's frustrating but he... he can't.

"I can't. Not yet."

She whimpers, her knees weak and feeble. "...When?" And, oh, he knew she would catch him, his little slip-up, that she wouldn't hesitate to sink her teeth in, and he smiles. It's shy and lovely to the point that, if not for the dark hiding it, Medama would be feeling faint and giddy. "When, Shin, please, please, please...! " She's pleading, begging him, captivated and despairingly earnest; she just can't keep falling anymore, waiting for the ground to catch her.

"There's something I need to ask you first."

Her breath hitches, her mouth moves in gentle question, but no words escape her. There's a thrill, an excitement running through her. Because when he says it, in his wonderful, alluring voice, she knows- she knows- she knows.

There's exhaustion catching up to him, the mental and emotional strain finally taking its toll, but he finds it doesn't bother him, it only makes this moment all the more quiet, all the more soft and precious, "I need your permission to ask it." He tells her, firm in this, firm in having her be aware of everything when she chooses to respond-

"No, no, no , you don't." She utters, so wild and ardent. It's practically dripping with frenzied enamor. "You've never needed permission to ask me anything."

He shakes his head. "No, I need your permission." -he needs this from her. He needs this. "I need you to be aware of everything." He's clutching her shirt, tugging her close, looking up at her with his neck so bent that he can feel it growing stiff. "I need you to be absolutely certain that I- I didn't convince you- or influence- or- or..." He stutters. His mouth is suddenly dry and he's forced to swallow, something gross and thick and tinged with fear writhing in his gut. "That I didn't do anything to change your mind."

"You wouldn't."

He's pained. "How... How do you know that?" He chokes. "How can you say that so easily-?"

"Because," she sighs, her forehead pressing against his own, until their noses brush and their lips are so very close, "I don't need to know your secrets, I don't need to know your mind, I don't need to know any of it. To know where your heart is." He can almost feel her smile. "And my mind is already made up, there's... nothing for you to change. I already know the answer."

He gulps.

He's struck speechless. For once, he's completely unable to find the words. She's broken him, snapped his brain, torn him to shreds; she's absolutely obliterated him piece by piece, each word a punch to the heart that made his anxiety rise and the near-silent, lovely thrill she always seemed to inspire grow out of proportion. He doesn't think it's healthy to think this way about someone.

And he wishes he could fall back down to earth, where he could breathe with her and just... just sink into something that felt a bit more real, a bit less fantastical, because she brings him into wild places that feel too good to be true.

"I want to kiss you. I really want to kiss you." She whispers reverentially, her voice a croak. It's watery and warm, wet with unshed tears. It makes him regret everything that kept him from telling her that he wants the exact same. "And I want you to say yes."

She's killing him.

She's breaking him down into pieces. And he may not be able to kiss her, not properly- (not like this, when hurt was only so far away, when so many things were on the horizon, and so many heart-stopping fears could shatter him and ruin him forever) -but Shinsou can give her this much. He can take this much for himself.

To turn this moment into something that lasts forever.

He runs his hand over the back of her neck, fingers brushing her nape and gently tilting her head down. He gives her a chance to pull or push him away, he gives her a chance to say anything, and, instead, just feels her quivering in anticipation. Her eyes are wide, shy, and her face is an adorable shade of pink.

His lips brush over her skin, cherishing the way she gasps.

He presses his lips to her forehead.

It's a soft, delicate kiss. Warm with gentle affection and honored admiration, it makes his heart beat in his chest, like a pump of adrenaline, as his eyes flutter close. It's only a moment.

It's only a single, breathtaking moment, but it's wonderful and it's theirs.

"I- I know it's selfish, but I- I need to fight. With the chance you gave me, to fight again, I need to know if I'm someone that deserves it. Deserves this." He's lingering, so close that he doesn't doubt that she can feel his mouth form every syllable, completely captivated by her and how he already wants to press another kiss to her. "Deserves you."

So he can hear how she whimpers with deep longing and lovely want. "So... please, even if it's frustrating, even if it makes you change your mind about me, give me just a little bit longer. Until I can give you the attention you deserve, let me just figure out how to do this. Properly."

Her eyes are lingering on his lips.

"Wait for me?"

"...Wait...?"

She murmurs, watching as he licks them. She's absolutely breathless, even as he pulls away.

"I don't want to mess this up. Any of this. You deserve someone who knows what he's doing, not..."

He trails off, her thumb is brushing over his bottom lip. The pad of her finger is soft and ever so delicate. It makes his gaze flicker to her pink, gorgeous lips and he- he-

"Me."

-he's frustrated by himself. For how much he'd almost leant forward and how much he still wants to.

"Oh, Shinsou."

"Don't do that. Don't... look at me like that." He mutters, squeezing his eyes shut, "I'm not the- I can't give you everything right now, even if that's what you deserve." He sucks in a deep breath, aware that he might have just ruined everything between them. "I need to fight and I need to prove that I'm someone that... can..."

Shinsou swallows.

"...be good enough...?"

"Stop it." She whispers. "Don't say things like that about yourself. I don't- I don't like it when you think like that about yourself." His mouth shuts, wound tight as his lips pressed thinly together. "I'll be the one to decide what I deserve and who I want, it's not about becoming someone good enough. I already know that you're more than enough."

His eyes are burning and his lips wobble.

"And... And- It's okay." Medama shudders. "I promise you, it's okay. I understand and I don't want to be... I don't want to ever stand in your way. If you need time- if you need to step away- that's fine. I already said I would, remember? You just need to tell me first." He wants to open his mouth and tell her, no, that's not what he meant. That's not what he meant at all- "If I'm a distraction to you, I don't want to be."

She's not. Not in the way she's thinking.

"If it means you won't fight as hard, don't let me stop you."

He doesn't know how someone like her could ever give someone like him the time of day, when she could choose anyone in the world, and, yet, somehow had picked him from the bunch. He wants to tell her that, when he thinks of her- her smile, her hope, and all that she'd done for him- when he thinks of all her unrelenting support, it just makes him want to fight twice as hard. It makes him want to do three times as much work. Until his hands begin to bleed and shake, until his bones begin to shatter, and he can't take it anymore... and then he wants to go beyond that breaking point.

He doesn't know the words. He doesn't know how to say them. And he can feel his teeth bite down on his tongue because usually words come so easily to him, but- for once- he's completely tongue-tied and stranded and he doesn't know how to convey any of it.

Her smile is tentative, warm, and ever so lovely. "Shin~sou Hito~shi," she seems to sing his name, "I want to see your every dream come true."

He wants to cry. Hot tears that make him hide a smile that strains his cheeks behind his hands.

And he just-

He wants to tell her that he's chasing perfection because he wants to match her shade.

"But, if I may, please," she begs, her thumb catching on the corner of his mouth, teasing that blushing grin, "let me make one request?"

"Anything."

"If you're going to hold off on asking that question of yours," she whispers, excitement brimming and overflowing, it's seeping from her voice and making her face light up with joy and soft, dreamy things, "make sure it's a good one."

He laughs, absolutely breathless. "Always."

(And so the dance continues. Even if for just a tiny bit longer.)

-0-

There's no longer the sound of rain when his phone alarm goes off.

It doesn't startle him awake, for that he would have needed to have been asleep to begin with. Instead, his eyes slowly creak open, heavy and aching alongside his body and the heart beating in his throat. As what little rest he could get felt like a double-edged sword that only made him desperate for more.

There was no longer any Medama, curled against his chest, whispering about whatever sweet thing crossed her mind. Or Kiko slumbering nearby. Or even the sound of Ikimaru's tail thumping against the floor whenever something good would happen in his dreams.

Instead, there were dewdrops clinging to the train window as he made his way to school, his closed umbrella clutched firmly at his side, in case the memory of distant rain scattering along the rooftops would return to him. Feeling more real than the tired, fleeting moments of another sleepless night filled with saccharine dreams that felt too good to be true but were.

(Too good for him, after everything that happened. But it was like a gentle nursing of his health, replacing all the bitter feelings that'd risen with something far calmer and less heart-stopping in its drama.)

It was a wonder to watch his best friend struggle in her every attempt to keep her eyes open, to keep her whispered words from becoming slurred speech, and he'd been unable to do anything but give her his rapt attention as she stuttered. As the sentences broke off into nonsensical, well, nonsense that he couldn't even begin to pick apart. It was cute.

And when she'd eventually lost the battle against it all, she'd snuggled in close and he'd been all too content to welcome the feeling of her nose squished against him, the shiver of her breath on his neck, and the gentle rise and fall of her every breath. Counting the seconds of the night as they passed- all too fleeting but also endless in their rumination.

It was hard to think about.

He wanted to bash his forehead against the window, his eyes squeezed shut as his head lightly thumped against the glass, hoping that the thoughts would leave him. As, with cheeks all too flushed, he couldn't help but recall all the feelings and emotions and the horribly embarrassing things he'd said without a filter and the almost-kisses he'd wanted so bad. In the moment.

He didn't even know how to kiss. But- damn- if she didn't make him want to learn.

Hitoshi took solace in the fact he could hide his face in his scarf, pulling it up over his nose, until only the redness of his ears could peek out. The only thing that could give away the placement of his thoughts as he steps off the train, dodging around the slower pedestrians and taking a deep breath that tells him-

It's early.

There's crisp morning air and he doesn't mean to find her. He doesn't.

But he also doesn't believe much in things like fate or coincidence so he can't help but think there's a more logical reason he spots her. That there might be a reason why she's the only one he sees when he finally looks up.

A part of him fears that she'd been waiting for him.

Even if he knows that can't be it. Because she only notices him once he's stopped in his tracks, his feet rooted in place, and the look of surprise on her face is so startling that it can only be genuine.

Chikuchi Togeike doesn't look like she's been sleeping well recently. It's an odd thing to take note of, right off the bat, but he does anyway.

They don't greet each other. They just walk on. Until the silence grows unbearable and one of them finally breaks.

"...You don't normally take this route."

She says. With the air of someone who commonly does and is confused by his sudden presence.

He shifts.

"I had to switch trains."

"Oh."

"...Oh." He echoes back.

It's awkward.

Especially seeing as they're forced to fall into step with one another, heading the same exact direction. And, now, Hitoshi ducks his head and hides his face in his scarf for an entirely different reason, careful to not let the grimace pulling at his lips reach his eyes. He doesn't want her to see how uncomfortable he is.

He kind of just wants to suffer in the awkwardness of it all, refusing to acknowledge anything more between them as he fixes his gaze on some point ahead and makes sure not to catch her eye-

"How's Medama?"

"...What?"

Chikuchi doesn't ask it again, which is fair, considering he'd heard her the first time. But he can't help but blink owlishly, the question not quite... computing. And he's left wondering if it was even appropriate to say anything, much less give her the truth.

But the truth is what she asked for and he wasn't there to make her decisions for her.

"She's not exactly happy about it." He tells her. "She thinks she's a bad person."

Chikuchi waits.

"...She doesn't regret it."

"Aa."

He can't tell if that makes it better or worse.

It's hard to tell where her thoughts are. She's not exactly an unexpressive person so seeing her without any clear reaction is a little shocking. There's clearly conflict, but he couldn't begin to guess what it meant and, overall, she just looked...

Tired.

(It's strange. To look at someone he would call a bully and feel sympathy well-up inside him.)

"I'm sorry."

A pause.

"...Wh... What?"

"I'm sorry." His nails catch on his skin, his palm rubbing into the back of his neck. The nervous tick helping to hide how he only buried his face further into his scarf, his shoulders hunching, and his gaze firmly locked onto his feet.

Had he been a different person he would have bitten through his lip hard enough to make it bleed. Or scratched so painfully that it would leave a thin trail of scabs over his skin, in a place where others wouldn't notice and wouldn't see.

It wouldn't have been done on purpose, it would've been the thoughtless response that he couldn't keep contained, but Hitoshi is all too, unfortunately, aware of himself. Of the awkwardness in his limbs, the burning in his belly, and the tension that twists his normally neutral expression.

"Thinking about it all... this is my fault."

His hand clenches, his fist resting on his nape.

It's as if he's trying to squeeze the words out. Not because they're untrue, but because he doesn't want to say it out loud.

"I know it is. If I had just kept it together, done anything-" It's frustrating. "-then this would have turned out differently. Medama wouldn't have-"

"You're stupid if you think you're the important one here." Chikuchi says. Her lips puckered, as if she'd swallowed something sour. "And arrogant."

He has to bite his tongue to keep himself from automatically sniping something back. His expression doesn't twist. His gaze blank as he glances to her and cringes at the sight of her wobbling bottom lip.

It doesn't last for very long. A simple deep breath and she's glaring.

"It's not about you. You didn't decide to go off and make deals with people or jerk them around until they can't go home because then they'd only be going home crying. You're not the one that told her to do anything," she bites it out, like sharp teeth snapping, but her voice is soft when she finishes, "...she decided it all on her own."

"...Do you hate her for it?"

The incredulous look is something he understands. He almost wishes he could take the question back but he can't.

Chikuchi takes a long time to answer.

"It's not that simple." It's not what he expected. "How can I?"

Very easily, he would think.

"I called her cruel, you know?" She tells him. Quietly. It's odd to hear her confide in him that little fact and he thinks it mirrors, a little too closely, the thoughts Medama had been having about herself. "I never thought I'd say it to her. Not in a million years. She doesn't seem the type to..."

She pauses, trails off.

"She seemed too kind to do this sort of thing."

Hitoshi doesn't know how to tell her that he should have seen this coming a mile away. That- obviously- Medama would have done something a bit too rashly, without giving herself time to think and truly plan. Like he might've, had their roles been reversed.

"And I'm to blame too. Aren't I? Don't think I… Don't think I don't remember how you looked at me. Like I was- Like I was disgusting. Initially, I thought it was because you were jealous-"

He looks away.

"-but now?"

Her mouth opens and closes, her fists clenching at her sides. "You thought I was taking advantage of her. And the worst thing is- you might've been right."

Hitoshi's eyes narrowed into slits. Suddenly the sympathy that'd been welling up inside of him had all but disappeared, leaving behind nothing but suspicion-

He stops in his tracks, forcing Chikuchi to look back at him.

"You had better talk fast," he hisses, "and watch what you say."

Hitoshi has glared at Chikuchi before. She's seen his brows furrow and his gaze grow dark, when he's trying not to lose his cool, and, when he sometimes, eventually, does, she's been on the biting end of an insult or two, and she's fought with him enough that she knows what it feels like to be under his piercing gaze.

But not like this.

This made her freeze. This made her swallow nervously, her eyes suddenly wide, and made a shiver crawl up her spine. Suddenly, she remembers why she'd seen him as something to be feared and intimidated by and, even if those feelings are something she knows she should be ashamed of, she can't help but still feel a little scared.

"That's... I realize how that sounded. That's not what I meant." It takes all she can to not stutter.

"Don't make it worse for yourself." He scowls. "I was going to give you the benefit of the doubt because I know what Medama is like when she gets something stuck in her head. She doesn't stop to ask questions and she just goes on and does whatever she wants anyways, no matter the consequences, so long as she thinks it's the right and good thing to do. It's frustrating and she can sometimes be a little hypocritical."

She had her flaws, just like everyone else. But that didn't change anything.

He takes a deep breath. "She isn't perfect." Hitoshi knows she isn't.

He knows because he's seen her tears and seen how she hates herself for her mistakes, for the things she did without thinking, the qualities that she despised... yet saw in herself too. Because she was only human and she could be guilty of the same things she abhorred. It didn't make him think ill of her, it only made him realize that there was more to her that he hadn't seen yet. Pieces that there had been hints of, little thoughts that informed her perspective, but none of it had been done out of deception and hate.

It was still just Medama and all her puzzle pieces, some scuffed and rough around the edges, but turned and viewed in a different light. It was still the same picture, there was just... more to it then there was before.

"She can be mean sometimes, I know. She can be cruel too. Whatever you want to call it. I. Don't. Care."

He doesn't. He truly doesn't.

"If you tried to hurt her or thought you could use her for even a second-"

"I didn't!"

Emotions are running a little too high. They're a bit too much and Chikuchi raises her hands in quiet defense as she takes a deep breath to steady herself. Hitoshi watches her with an intensity that puts her in her place.

"Not like that. I didn't mean like that. You jerk. I may not have been the best person in the world, especially not to you, but I'm not the type to-" She huffs, watching his eyes continue to narrow but his body slowly begins to relax. He no longer looks like he's going to tear her head off at least. "It was just... something that she said, you know? It had me thinking it over. All day and night. I couldn't get it out of my head."

He waits. Impatient.

"Medama may have been the one to think up the deal but I was still the one that agreed to it."

She opens her mouth, gesturing as if she was letting the words seep into the air before her. Chikuchi doesn't know how to articulate it, not well, and not much beyond that. And she hates the fact that she's been caught in such a vulnerable position, especially in front of him- Shinsou. But she also knows that, other than him, there's probably no one else that would understand. Unless she spoke to Medama but-

Chikuchi can't do that. She doesn't think she can look Medama in the eye.

Not right now at least. Not until she let her crushed feelings grow a bit more distant, let the space and time between them ease them into something a bit more quiet and secure, rather than whatever this… drama was draining from her. It was too soon for anything. And Chikuchi didn't trust herself not to scream, not to shout, even if she didn't want to.

At least, with Shinsou, it wasn't anything she hadn't done before.

"It's funny." It's not, but it makes her laugh anyway. The conflicted, confused, bewildered look on his face tells her that he hasn't a clue as to what she's getting at. "I think this whole thing could've been avoided if I... if I wasn't such a horrible person to you." She chortles at his owlish expression. "I mean, obviously, she wouldn't have ever given me a chance. She's too stuck on you."

"...I'm not..."

"But let's be realistic, Shinsou." His mouth snaps shut. "Medama would've never even thought of making a deal like that in the first place, if she'd known I would've put my differences aside. She only did it because she didn't want me to argue with her every step of the way, like I definitely would have, because why wouldn't I? I've been nothing but a damn bully up until this point."

He doesn't have a response for that, she didn't expect him to. Chikuchi crosses her arms over her chest, hugging herself tightly to try and get some semblance of comfort.

"If I wasn't such an awful person I wouldn't have the both of you convinced that I could be someone so monstrous."

There's silence after that. Long enough that Chikuchi begins walking again, her eyes on her feet and not even glancing up as Shinsou begins to walk beside her again. Their footsteps seem to blend together and the time seems to tick endlessly onward.

She sniffs.

And she's glad for the rain that begins to fall. It's nothing more than a sprinkle but it gives her the excuse to wipe angrily at her face, as if she wasn't wiping away tears that Hitoshi sees but doesn't comment on.

She doesn't comment on the fact that he looks up, blinking against the rain, and opens his umbrella. Quietly stepping closer so he can hold it between them, keeping her safe from the light droplets that wouldn't have even soaked through her hair. She only looks at him and wonders how he can still be kind to her, after all that she's said and done, and even with all the negative thoughts she knows he has about her-

"You didn't deserve it," he mutters as the walls of UA come into view, "you shouldn't have gotten hurt. I don't think you deserve it just because of..." He shrugs. He doesn't finish that thought. There doesn't seem to be a need to, she understands it without the need for elaboration.

He struggles with his words and his thoughts. His mouth opening and closing several times, there's a lot he could say but there's only really one thing that he thinks will have any meaning.

"For what it's worth, I don't think you're a monster."

The kindest thing he does is not comment on her tears. On the way her steps falter and she swallows a tiny sob. And she wishes- she wishes that she hadn't been the person she was- she wishes she had seen this side of him before, when she hadn't been blinded by fear and jealousy, because she thinks she would have liked to get to know Shinsou Hitoshi. Before things like quirks and villains and unreasonable fears had gripped onto her mind and her brain and gave her a taste of what it was like to be horrible.

He waits with her by the gate as she wipes her face clean, not ever saying another word and not even looking at her with something like pity in his eyes.

They just walk to class.

And, while she can't join him, can't pretend to be something she's not, she doesn't feel the fury and the jealousy or the pain that she'd thought she'd feel when she sees him greet Medama with a warm smile on his face. Not even as Medama returns it and reaches out to tentatively clasp his hands in her own for the few, short seconds they can simply be with one another.

...

...

"She hates me, doesn't she?"

Medama asks, her smile sad and small on her face, even as she rubs circles into the palm of his hand and watches how his fingers curl back around her own. Stopping her tiny ministrations in their tracks.

"No." He tilts his head, he's blinking down at their joined hands. A little as if in wonder. "I don't think she does."

He tentatively opens his hand back up, watching her wait before she's massaging circles into his fingers again. Nothing but a soft pressure, slow and calming. As the repetitive motion clearly calms the tension in her own shoulders and as her mind and her thoughts spin a bit too fast and the dreamy look seems to only grow more and more distant.

"Do you think I could ever get her to forgive me?"

"Do you want her to?"

Medama doesn't answer.

He stares at the ceiling, trying not to think about the tears Chikuchi had shed. The hiccups she'd tried to keep quiet. And the way her eyes were still a bit red. "...You would have to apologize."

"...I wouldn't mean it." Medama pauses in her motions, she's staring at his hands. At the lines running over them. At the callousses and the little, tiny scars from old cuts and little accidents. "That's worse than not apologizing at all." She lets go of his hand and he lets it fall between them, pulling it back to rub over the phantom feelings of her touch. "A fake apology. That's just rubbing salt in the wound."

He hums and wonders if that's what Chikuchi thought of him, when his own apology had been so quickly denied and angrily stomped on. If that was the case, then he didn't blame her.

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"I don't either." She sighs. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be bringing it up- it's my own mistake and I should just live with it. I'll only make it worse if I try to fool myself into thinking I can change any of it."

"I think you'll make it worse if you just ignore it." He watches her face twist and the way she seems to sag, sinking into her desk until her head clunks against the top of it. He carefully prods her on her head. "Have you thought about talking to her?" He pauses, rethinks it. "Not now, obviously. But... eventually. In a couple weeks. Or something like that."

She peaks up through her bangs and he silences the urge to brush the hair from her face. "...Do you really think that'll solve it?"

"No. It might help though."

Medama doesn't respond. Only reaches back out with her hand, waiting for him to place his back in her own and loses herself in the distraction of his palm and his fingers and the little touches that shouldn't mean anything. He lets her. Watching face and the exhausted smudges under her eyes that have only been getting worse recently.

He doesn't know what else to say and so he doesn't say anything at all. Just appreciates the calmness of the interaction, even if the subject matter was less than stellar.

And tries to hide the fact that he's using her to distract himself too.

-0-

The halls are absolutely packed, filled to the brim.

It's a struggle to move through them, not impossible, but it involved dodging and weaving that wasn't typical for UA, which usually had students busy with work and assignments and not much time for leisure. But today allowed the students time that they, otherwise, wouldn't have gotten.

The Sports Festival was soon. And people needed to prepare.

Her skirt is swishing as she skips, her smile wide and beaming as she bobs under arms and taller students and the assortment of mutants that greeted her with a modicum of friendly kinship, it was really only a nod or an awkward smile here and there, and she didn't recognize half of them because she'd never seen them before, but what little she received made her heart bloom. She made sure to return it with thumbs ups and a quick good luck every chance she got.

She ignores those that take one look at her smile and sneer, she won't allow them to ruin her bubbling mood. As she slides to a stop beside the notice board that had been placed next to their classroom, covered with instructions and little sticky notes from Umino and Ikimaru, from the looks of it.

"They're jealous."

"Hm?"

"They don't understand how you're not falling apart with nerves," she tilts her head at her skinny, dark haired classmate, his yellow ringed purple eyes are absolutely striking, they make his face look a bit serpent-like, "their futures are riding on the outcome of the Sports Festival, so seeing someone like you, so happy, pisses them off."

Medama holds back a hum, eyes flicking over the notice board and committing the information she came for to memory. It's good that she doesn't need to take notes, but she doesn't like the thought of overwhelming her head with small details that wouldn't hurt as much if someone had spoken them out loud. It always seemed a bit more soothing, to have someone read off information for her, rather than read it herself.

She thinks it's because voices are always so nice to listen to.

"Someone like me? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, please, I can tell you're not actually offended."

Hanzengi Kigen's voice is like a hiss, like there's a smile behind it, no matter his mood. It feels almost like a perpetual smirk and it reminds her a bit too much of a snake in the grass.

Medama feels bad for having never quite spoken to him before.

Oh, she remembers him from the video, but outside of her interview and the extra help he'd provided with the passive nature of his secondary quirk, she hadn't said more than a few words to him in total.

(She knows all her classmates now, and each of their quirks. Both powers and personality. It would have been hard to forget, even without her own perfect memory, because they'd come together for her and Shinsou and never hesitated- never backed down- even if it only meant more competition for them, in the end.

She liked that in people. It made them respectable.

It made them worth remembering.)

"Umino told me to keep an eye on you and Shinsou. Don't ask, she just worries a lot." Medama feels an odd mix of touched and slightly annoyed and Zengi can clearly tell because he cracks a grin. It's a little like Shinsou's, she must admit, toothy and slightly predatory, but lacking some of the charm. It's much more playful and much more sneaky. "I couldn't help but notice that you're especially nervous about something."

It's strange. Having him come from nowhere and talk about 'feelings' as if they were talking about the weather and not something deeply personal.

She thinks he half-expects her to defensively shove him aside and tell him to shut up about it and leave her alone.

"Isn't everyone?"

"It feels different." He insists. She stares at him. "Like I said, Umino worries too much."

"And you're worried that I'm nervous."

Something tells her that he wouldn't enjoy being accused of caring, even if- with an empathy based quirk such as his- it was probably something he did far more than he would ever admit.

"And that I'm stressed. And scared."

He clearly doesn't enjoy being called out. "...Yeah." Then his eyes spark: "Wondering if you have anything special planned for the Festival? How does your quirk fair in a fight-?" He's obviously only using it as an excuse to push the subject away from himself.

Medama can't help but play along with it. She can't help but wonder how deep his quirk goes.

She grins, matching his predatory expression with something like a gleam in her eye. "My quirk really isn't the most dangerous thing about me." There's an emotion jumping out at him.

It's like bottled rage and fear and a lot like mischief.

It's startling.

It makes his eyes narrow, "Oh, then what is?"

If he's expecting an actual answer, he doesn't get one.

"Wouldn't you like to know." It's pure sass and play. And it has a skip in her step as she drags him to the side, away from the notice board, and into their classroom.

The halls don't need even more people piling up and making them even harder to navigate.

Unsurprisingly, given the early hour of the day, they're the first ones in.

"But I wouldn't worry so much about it, after all, there's far more dangerous things than me out there. I think you've got other things to be afraid of."

She's talking about Shinsou. She's talking about the competition they're all preparing to face.

He scoffs.

"I'm not scared."

"If you say so."

Zengi is starting to see why Shinsou likes her so much.

She's fun.

(And clearly doesn't just lie down and take it.)

"Nervous about Shinsou then?"

He muses.

He knows he's wrong from the get-go. Sure, it's there. Of course it is. Underlying her current emotions and just above the abomination of an unsortable mess that he'd gotten very good at ignoring.

(It tasted like rotten fish. He didn't even know how he knew that taste but, somehow, he did.)

Medama shakes her head. Just as he'd been hoping.

"Well, I 'spose not. It does seem like things have been going pretty well between you two, especially since that morning a few days ago."

It gets a blush. "I- You can- Um."

"Hm, what's that?" Zengi teases. "Did someone do something naught~y?"

Her face turns bright red. "No- of course not- Why would you even bring that up-?"

Because it's the exact thing that would make her falter and lose her cool. It makes him feel like he's winning, as he tastes the pulsating beat of her heart and the fresh, romantic nerves that feel a little gross and a lot like second-hand embarrassment. It was the sort of thing he usually avoided, for how uncomfortable it made him and how little he wanted to do with that sort of thing, but- well, it got the job done.

"Didn't I hear Ikimaru say that he spent the night at your house a little while back? With Kiko and our dear Shinsou-kun~?"

He grins. Not unlike a snake about to jump out at its prey- "So, Medama, what are you nervous about then, huh?"

Medama scowls.

And ruins everything by playing it off.

(Shit. Getting people flustered before asking a slightly less personal question usually got them to answer it in a fit of defensiveness.)

"So maybe they did come over. And maybe something did happen. What's it got to do with you?" He pouts. "Why are you even asking about it? Sad that you weren't invited?" At least she's not angry with him for pushing her on it.

She was definitely, definitely a fun one.

He should talk to her more.

"So, not the blooming romance either," her cheeks are still red, he gives her a once over, "at least not the primary issue, so I'll bite- what does have you feeling like that?"

He wishes they had a few more minutes to themselves. Even just one.

Because it seemed like Medama was honestly close to cracking, her face had grown slightly pinched and those stressed, fearful emotions tasted impossibly heavy on his tongue- like stale licorice and natto- and it slowly began to incorporate another flavor he hadn't expected. Panic.

(It's like an unripe lemon.)

It makes him bite his tongue. Clearly, he'd been actively distracting her from it with his teasing and quips and sticking his nose in places that he probably, definitely shouldn't, 'cause all of it got so much more pungent as she got more and more lost in her head and her thoughts.

He'd leant in, curiosity uncontrolled, when she'd opened her mouth to say something-

Only to have it all shut down by the sounds of one of their classmates running into the room, gasping for breath as they, quite literally, slid to a stop beside them. Wiping sweat from their brow. "Guys, there's so many people everywhere!"

It's Tobira. Because of course it is.

All fluffy red-pinks and messy, unkempt uniform that made Medama look like she was wearing hers properly.

(He had the pants rolled to just under his knees, his tie was missing, and he'd gotten a chain around his belt that was somehow tied twice around his thin waist.)

"I thought I was going to get squished between them. I would've died- that would've been such a sucky way to go."

And Zengi chokes. Immediately overwhelmed by the vibrancy and dramatic flair that seems to punch him in the throat every time Tobira came out of nowhere- it tasted like lobster, for some reason he couldn't begin to fathom- unfortunately, Tobira suddenly appearing was a horrifically frequent affair.

At least Medama's confusion- butter- was a bit grounding.

"There's a stick in your hair."

It's always hard to tell, with his facial features hidden behind his void-like appearance, but they get the idea that he's blinking at her. Then, he hops in place: "Oh!" And dusts a hand through his hair and, sure enough, there's a twig falling out of his overly fluffy mess of locks. "I fell in a bush on the way to school but I found this really cool beetle and-"

Hanzengi cannot, for the life of him, hide his disgust when he pulls the beetle from the inside of his shirt and shows it off.

The thing is absolutely massive.

"Is that a Rhinoceros Beetle?" Medama gasps.

Tobira positively beams, sunshine radiating off of him. "You bet! Do you think it's good luck?" He chirps. "I bet it means I'm going to win the Sports Festival today!"

"Mnh, well, I don't know about that." Hanzengi doesn't know about that either. "See, I had to bet against you, you know? But I definitely think it means you're going to go far!"

Zengi doesn't know whether to back away slowly or settle for being impressed. "How... How do you know what that even is, Medama?"

Tobira he got.

Tobira was weird.

Tobira could probably name every bug in the world and, yet, somehow, forget how to tie his own shoelaces.

"I sometimes go through random fact books and memorize all of them." She explains, her cheeks a tiny bit pink. And Zengi wonders why he hadn't known she was apparently secretly a know-it-all. "I've got basically all the native species of plants and insects memorized for Japan, it's good to just know as much as you can about the world, you know? I'm going to be going over the animal kingdom next-"

Tobira seems particularly jazzed by that bit of information that shouldn't be as nearly as surprising as it is. "You should come insect hunting with me sometimes! There's this big forest over where I live," he's bouncing on the balls of his feet, "and you can invite Iki~maru too!"

"Iki...?"

"Mnh, I bet he knows what all of them taste like-"

Nope. Nope.

Zengi cannot deal with this conversation any longer.

He latches onto the first thing that catches his eye: "What's with the glasses, Tobira?" Because just thinking of all the bugs and insects and eating them was enough to have him a tad green.

Tobira, at least, seems all too happy to jump on the change in subject. His teeth gleaming as he grins and lifts up his glasses, so they fit just a bit better. "My star-frames?"

They were, indeed, star frames.

Large glasses in place of his usual circle ones.

"I got permission from Kayama-sensei to use them in the Sports Festival as a support item."

Ooh?

"What kind of support do they offer?"

"They make me look rad as shit."

Medama doesn't quite manage to stifle her laugh.

Especially not when she sees Zengi facepalm.

He'd somehow forgotten that holding a conversation with Tobira was incredibly difficult when he couldn't follow where his brain was going. Even worse, he doesn't think he's going to get a much better answer than that.

"Speaking of, are you guys ready-? Ready to fight and kick ass?!" Tobira pumps his fist in the air, the proper hype-man for the occasion. "I can't wait! It's going to be so much fun~ I want to see everyone in fight-mode again! And, this time, there's stakes!"

Hanzengi can't answer-

He can't-

Because, suddenly, the stress and panic and fear from before is back. It tastes absolutely awful together.

And it frustrates him endlessly because Medama shows no outward reaction, as far as he can see, just a slow, simple blink as she seems to think about her words before sending them both an awkward smile: "Aa, sorry. I'm not participating in the Sports Festival, so you'll have to kick all the ass for me."

It gets them both to freeze.

"...You didn't fail a class, did you?"

She shakes her head, laughing slightly. "No, no. My grades have nothing to do with it." She assures them, unaware of the anxiety swirling in both his and Tobira's guts. "I'm just- I actually made a promise to help out Mic-sensei with a project for the Festival. It's been keeping me real busy, you know?"

It- He believes her. Immediately. As soon as she says it, he can't help but remember the bits and pieces of things he'd overheard but hadn't paid much attention to.

Like Medama yawning in the middle of class. Like Kiko complaining about how all Medama did during lunch over the last few days was nap, not even eating properly- (He'd spied her, on their bench, with her head tucked against Shinsou's shoulder and nothing but the deep feeling of sleep wafting off of her.) -and how she always seemed to be the first to disappear when classes ended and how Shinsou had simply said she was busy with something before hurrying off to do whatever it was he himself did after school and- How Medama was constantly rubbing her eyes or had her nose in her notebook, to the point that he thought he'd seen her pass out on it once.

"...Is that why you've been so exhausted lately?"

It's not an emotion. Exhaustion. Otherwise, he would have been able to pick it apart and tear it to shreds and understand it a bit better.

"You noticed?"

It was certainly hard not to. But he'd explained it away by thinking it was nothing more than an awful, awful sleep schedule.

"I think everyone's noticed."

Is it just him- his gaze narrows, or is that makeup under her eyes-?

Suddenly, Hanzengi stops. Biting his tongue. There's nothing to be said about it. When he can see how it makes her shift and turn to him with a frown and a slight spike of- something so mixed he needs a moment to sort through it as she is clearly waiting for him to call her out on it. On all the signs.

But it wouldn't be his place, he wasn't even friends with her, and he didn't doubt that her friends already knew about her fatigued state.

"But you have to participate in the Sports Festival," Tobira blurts out, suddenly, "it won't be the same if we don't do it as a whole class! It won't be as good anymore!"

Medama's smile grows a bit strained.

"I- I mean, it's not that big of a deal, right? I don't want to be a hero anyways. And I promised Mic-sensei that I would..."

Zengi doesn't like it. He doesn't like it one bit. It makes his eyes narrow and it makes Tobira turn into blunder and bluster and wild hand motions, trying to convince Medama to reconsider. He makes absolutely zero headway. Medama too stubborn and firm. She does seem a little touched and surprised by the efforts though, a little bit saddened by them too.

He takes a step back and... tries to think.

(They'd formulized theories about it, unable to quite wrap their head around everything that'd happened in such a short span of time, but, as a class, everyone knew that Medama had gone to talk to the Principal. About their old, bastard of an ex-teacher. And they know that, whatever she'd done, had gotten the teacher fired, Shinsou back in the running, and their class a substitute faster than any of them could reasonably believe.

The consensus had been that it hadn't mattered.

Medama had been happy. Shinsou had been happy. Everyone in the class had been just fine with the results of it all. Except... Except, apparently, there were consequences to being so helpful.)

He doesn't know why he cares. He just knows that he doesn't like the thought of his classmate- who fought and deserved so much respect- not fighting there alongside them. When she should be the face that so many saw. When she should be the one that people looked to because she had done so much.

"What?"

There's a breathless voice from the doorway, one that Hanzengi instantly recognizes as Umino and, from the taste of barely withheld and distinct emotions on his tongue, he can tell that the whole class is behind her.

"You're... You're not joining us in the Sports Festival?"

Apparently, everyone is just as upset about it as he is.

...

...

Medama doesn't get it.

She truly doesn't.

It fills her with just genuine confusion as she looks over all her classmates and the fact that they're so... upset. Oh, most don't say it, not out loud at least, that's reserved for the more vocal members of their class, but she can see it on all their faces. Plain as day. The almost distraught look on some of them. It's... she'll admit it, it's slightly flattering, to learn that they care so much. But it only makes her feel a little sad about it, it doesn't really-

She raises her hands, her smile absolutely befuddled by the reaction she was getting, and tries not to flinch when she sees the hurt look on Chikuchi's face when her gaze sweeps by, "It's really not that big of a deal, guys, I promise."

Umino is the chosen speaker for the group, as she typically is, so she's the only one that really comes forward. Her hands clasped and worry and distressed clear on her face. "But- But you lost your opportunity-"

It's sweet. It's kind. And it makes her feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside as she beams, trying not to feel good by how much... how much they all seemed to care. Even if it was a little misplaced. "It's really okay. Trust me. You know I don't want to be a hero, right?" There's a slow nod. They had known but she doesn't doubt that not all of them had taken her seriously. They had, more than likely, assumed that it was due to her simply giving up on it, rather than it never being a goal in the first place. "Besides, I know you all are going to do great without me, you don't need my help."

It's not much.

But all she can offer is a wide grin and her bubbly self and: "But since I can't participate, that just means you all are going to have to win for me!" She smirks. "Think you're up for the challenge?"

It gets them to pause.

To swallow and nod.

And she can, at least, see that some people have genuinely taken it as a challenge because they return her smirk with one of their own. Umino... isn't convinced. "Hey, Prez, seriously." Medama tilts her head. "You all don't have a lot of people in your corner, everyone keeps looking at the Hero Course, so let me be that person. Let me cheer you on." She can see their princess smile a little. "You may not see me in the stands, but I'll be watching every minute and waiting to see what you- everyone- can do."

"There's no convincing you, is there?"

"Nothing to convince. I already made a promise." She tries not to glance at Chikuchi, she tries to ignore the rest of the class as they pull away into small groups and whisper something fierce under their breath. "I like to keep those. Even if they get in the way of some things."

"I... guess we were all just looking forward to showing the world that everyone in 1-C is worth paying attention to. Even if we are all technically in competition with each other too." Umino has a strange look on her face, there's a thought and Medama can tell that she's thinking about something that's likely been on her mind for days. "I guess I didn't want them to forget about you either."

Medama gives her a wink and a mischievous smile, "Trust me. If there's one thing I hate, it's being forgotten. So you... you don't have to worry about that kind of thing and me." Umino looks confused but, at least, a bit more at ease. "I have my own time to shine in my own way. The Sports Festival... this is your guys' time. So don't squander it thinking about me."

It's not much and she doesn't know if they believe her but it's all she can say because it's the truth.

The Sports Festival isn't her dream. It's theirs. And, even if she's not by their side, helping them along the way, it doesn't change anything about her feelings. She'd never planned on participating anyways.

...

...

Shinsou pulls her aside. It's nothing more than a simple tug on her sleeve to grab her attention before he's wandering away with her close at his heels, guiding her away from prying eyes and ears and to a quiet corner in the hallway that had very few people in sight.

"Medama," he mutters, low under his breath, he's trying to catch her eye, his own expression severe, "tell me I'm being presumptuous and that this doesn't have anything to do with me."

She refuses to look him in the eye.

"Medama."

"...It was the lesser of the promises. It's not a big deal."

He sighs. In such a way that makes her twitch and feel ashamed of herself, the disappointment in his voice, in her... It doesn't suit him and she doesn't like it.

"It got me what I wanted. It helped you too. It was worth it." She tells him. "I would do it again in a heartbeat."

"You don't regret what happened with Chikuchi, I know you don't. What makes this any different from that? Any better?"

She bows her head, her face scrunching. He's looking at her in such a way that she can't explain how awful it makes her feel. Like she'd done something horrible and kept it secret, but this was- this one was different. It didn't involve anyone but herself.

"Medama, what could be worth making another deal?" She gives him a pointed look, watching him notice it and struggle for words for a good long moment. There's a brief moment where a dark look passes over his face, one filled with self-hatred, but as quick as it appears, it's gone again. "What even was it? What could you have possibly gotten from it that-"

"It got the teacher fired."

He pauses, mouth slightly agape.

"And blacklisted."

He's staring at her. Long and hard.

"...It also made them change their hiring process for civilian teachers and how they monitor them so stuff like what he did never happens again."

"...How did you- How would you even-?"

He's pinching the bridge of his nose, his brows furrowed and Medama can't help the wobbly smile growing on her face. She's never seem him look quite so done with her before. It's a little comforting, actually, to see him so at ease with her that he didn't try and hide any of his frustration anymore. "You can't keep doing this."

"I want to."

"Not for me. Not anymore."

She can hear the slight growl in it. The self-hatred that burns and seems to only grow.

Medama catches the side of his face, cradling it. It's only a second, it's only a moment, before he pulls away from it as someone walks by and they watch them hurry away. He only turns back once they're gone, but he's at least not thinking about himself negatively anymore, he's at least not blaming himself anymore. And his voice is firm as he reiterates: "You cannot keep doing this. It's not right." He tells her. "I don't like that you are."

She frowns. "Is it because you think you're making me? You know you're not. It was my own decision-"

"Influenced by wanting to help me."

"Ooh?" She raises both her eyebrows. "Am I not allowed to help you now?"

"Medama." He deadpans, looking particularly peeved. She looks away. "Don't make this into a joke. This is just... too much. To do for me. And now you can't participate in the Sports Festival too-? Damn it, Medama, this isn't-"

He stops when he sees her scowl, the unimpressed expression on her face that tells him, instantly, that he's not getting through to her. Not even a little bit. "I never wanted to participate in the Sports Festival in the first place. You know that."

He does. But that's not the point.

"You shouldn't limit your options because of me-"

"Shinsou, no offense, but giving up the Sports Festival was the least of my concerns." She deadpans, watching his expression shift into something like frustration and annoyance. This argument was something she should've seen coming.

"I'm sorry. I just-" She growls at herself. "I know I'm... I know I'm not... Damn it. It feels like I keep ruining things or just making them worse. Even though I just want to- I just want to help you Shinsou. This is your dream. You shouldn't have to deal with people always looking down on you or trying to take it away before you can even try. That's not something they should get to decide and I..."

She droops.

"I know I can be a little much sometimes. Too much. There's a lot I could've done differently. And it doesn't make up for it but you get to fight for your dream, Shinsou. That felt like it was worth it. To me."

Medama finally dares to glance up at him and she doesn't know what to say with him looking at her like that. As if he can't believe she's real. It's a look that she'd noticed a few times but only ever in passing. To have it so focused on her, she didn't know if she could handle it. It made her cheeks turn a brilliant red that she couldn't even begin to try and get rid of.

"Medama, I-"

She clutches at her skirt. "...You have everything, right?" She murmurs. "You're not missing anything?" He'd worked so hard, he'd planned so much, and she can't stand the thought of it all falling apart. Not while everything was still stuck in its infancy.

He nods slowly. It's answer enough.

Medama shifts from foot to foot, she feels... awkward.

Not a feeling she often equated to being with Shinsou, if anything, he usually made her feel better about everything, but suddenly she has so many things she could say that she has no idea what to actually go with. "I-I'm rooting for you, okay?" She bites her bottom lip. "I know I've been really busy lately with Mic-sensei and stuff after school and you've been with Sora and training, so I haven't gotten to say it yet but I- I want you to know that I'm always-"

He's hugging her.

He's pulled her forward, into his arms, and Medama can do nothing but sink.

"...Don't think I didn't notice you changing the subject." She stiffens. Of course he would figure her out. Of course he would. But he doesn't even sound annoyed anymore and her head is delicately tucked under his chin, his arms tight and his embrace warm. "We're talking about this later, understood?"

"Which part?"

"All of it." He murmurs. "You doing too much for me. You hurting yourself because of it. What other deals and promises you made. Everything. "

She laughs, burying her face in his collar.

Yeah, yeah. That... That sounded about right.

"It's got to stop Medama. Seriously. I don't like you doing that kind of thing, especially without even talking to me about it first. And I know I haven't made it easy on you either so I-"

His hands are warm on her back and they pull her tighter against him. He's squeezing his eyes shut.

"Thank you."

She startles. "What?"

There's a weight on his chest. It's something light and vibrant, wonderful and incredible- it's pulsing, lovely, and it's making him feel lighter than air. He swallows. Trying to keep it in, trying to keep it from exploding out of him.

The hug only grows tighter by the second. It only has him holding onto her like he wants to hold onto her forever and it's dizzying, knowing that she won't pull away. Because she doesn't want to.

"All that you've done, all that you did for me. Everything. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't even have this chance."

It's tough to say out loud, even though they both know it's true, that he wouldn't have been able to solve it on his own. And, even if she'd done so much for him, even if he doesn't like how she's had to give up things and do things that made her tired and ache, he's so selfishly happy that she did.

"Let me prove it," he clenches his fists, "let me prove that it wasn't a waste of time. That it was worth it."

"Silly."

Her smile is wide and beautiful and so impossibly warm that, instantly, he knows, that he could never do anything to deserve it. And he wishes he was able to tell her more, he wishes he knew how to say it because he couldn't- he just didn't know how to express it. Not yet. He didn't know how to tell her that she's- she's...

"You've never needed to prove anything to me."

Medama is a dream of his.

A new one, one he hadn't expected.

But, sometimes, you can't help the things you long for.

.

.

.

Sorry for the lateness! This chapter went under many revisions. Next one will be up tomorrow.