Chapter Three: Revelations
Mr Spiky Hair was hunched over, five metres down the road and clad in the black uniform of Oridera Junior High, his bag slung over a shoulder. He certainly hadn't been there earlier, but it seemed like he had taken the route Morie dubbed Shortcut #3 back home from the city.
There was a tense silence as she held her breath almost instinctively as his red eyes met hers and narrowed. To say that he was in a bad mood was an understatement- it was more than evident in the dullness in his expression and his posture.
A sharp stab of fear shot through her in that moment- she could very well remember the way he had looked at her with such loathing back in the classroom, the way he easily made her feel like a pest that he had granted mercy. When he spoke, his voice was low, menacing, and very much annoyed.
"If it isn't the dipshit from earlier," the blonde leered, baring the edges of sharp, pointed teeth.
Morie suppressed the powerful urge to cower and run into her house. Instead, she drew up to her full height, defiantly meeting his gaze and she unwittingly scowled at him.
Now that she was alone, however, her bravado was hardly convincing and it easily betrayed how unnerved she was by his sudden appearance.
"Well, um, of course, I sort of live here." She blurted out before she mentally slapped herself for that terrible response- at least she hadn't stuttered.
"I mean, I could say the same about you," she retorted unsurely. Smooth, Morie, smooth, a voice drawled, dripping with sarcasm as she forced herself to breathe so she could just calm down and cease making a fool of herself. Her dark eyes instantly seeked to gauge his reaction and she was surprised by what she saw, nonetheless.
Morie had been expecting an outburst of sorts, like the extreme and violent reaction that he had taken on when he saw her by th\e window of his class a mere few hours ago. A few punches to the gut, maybe, or being yanked around like a rag-doll. If he was feeling kind, maybe he would even just set fire to her hair.
(Holy shit why has she never seen him before if he lived just next door?)
But instead, the ash blonde-haired boy simply glowered at her, evidently questioning her intelligence, as if he was not in the mood to deal with her overwhelming awkwardness. A few moments passed before he jabbed a thumb towards his house and bit out.
"Isn't it obvious? I live here too, dipshit."
"Oh."
Morie stated dumbly, even though she had already put two and two together and realised that he was indeed the neighbour who had interrupted her peaceful afternoons god-knows-how-many-times with those blasted explosion noises (no pun intended, of course).
For a moment, there was silence as she scrutinised him, eyes lingering on his expression of plain disinterest. It struck her as odd that he didn't seem bothered by her not-threat from earlier- he seemed like the type to hold grudges. It was almost as though he simply didn't care- couldn't be bothered to deal with someone who wasn't him.
As he turned slightly, however, she was surprised to see that she had been wrong about him- at least this time. There was stiffness and a kind of glum broodiness that hung around him, and abruptly the scene of him relentlessly struggling against that slime villain earlier flashed across her mind.
A vague understanding flashed through her mind.
Of course, he was tired, and probably just not physically, too. It was a miracle that he could even summon a strength to walk after having been trapped in the struggle against the villain for more than thirty minutes. At any rate, that would explain why he was significantly less of an asshole currently- he wasn't in the mood.
Well, you have to give him credit for holding off that villain for so long, she mused.
Mr Spiky Hair then moved to unlock his front door, seemingly done with the need to converse, and she found herself calling out after him for a reason unknown to herself. Her voice sounded soft to herself, and it was a miracle that he even stopped at all.
"What's your name?" She managed to say it unblushingly this time, and she smiled at that ruefully. If she was him, she would have simply ignored the question; but it goes to show that the boy before her was worlds apart from her.
He stared at her, red eyes flickering with suspicion, before he shot back impatiently.
"None of your business."
"Mr Spiky Hair it is, then," Morie replied, beaming. Inwardly, she groaned in horror at how she just blurted that out. Admittedly, she did enjoy getting on people's nerves, (or rather, it was just something that she managed to do), but that normally applied to citizens who wouldn't blow up her face. She was sorely surprised by herself- did she really want to get mauled by this guy right now? This guy knew where she lived, for goodness' sake, have some sense!
Mr Spiky Hair scowled at that, sticking a hand into his pocket as he turned around, red eyes still narrowed at her and very much resembling slits. A look of condescension flickered across his face and for a moment she could just see him thinking 'this little shit does not deserve to know my name'.
(Surprisingly, he gave in, though for his own reasons rather than hers.)
"Bakugou Katsuki," he slowly stated, sounding irritated beyond words. The look of distrust did not dissipate even as he growled, "Now leave me the fuck alone."
He briskly stalked off into his house and shut- no, slammed the door behind him without another word.
Thank goodness that's over, she thought.
Morie stared after him for a bit, letting out a sigh of relief at her relatively intact physical state, (not that she had tried to do much to preserve it), before similarly heading into her house and shutting the gate behind her. It was when she thought of his name did she giggle a bit, though out of good humour more than anything.
Bakugou Katsuki. Explosions. How very fitting.
(Well, at least now she had a name to place with those red eyes and spiky hair of his.)
Leaning into her hand, she watched on in ill-disguised interest as various states of cutlery was levitated from the kitchen to the dining room. Chopsticks and soup spoons hovered and clanged on the table insistently. Getting up to help carry the dishes, she immediately felt a force restricting her from moving and looked up to see her father sending her a wink.
The said man was casually carrying out a pot of stew from the kitchen. As he set it down on the table, rice scooped themselves out into three bowls and Morie slumped back in her seat.
She had been watching her father's quirk at work for approximately all fifteen years of her life, but she had never gotten bored by the sight of hovering and dancing objects in the air.
Minamoto Chika was gifted with an extremely impressive quirk- that is, the gift of telekinesis, which went by the name of Force. Seemingly effortlessly, he could make objects move just by visualising it in his mind. She had always been somewhat envious of the freedom he was granted with his advanced quirk, but her mother had reassured her that her own quirk was able to be just as good if she could just master it.
Her rice hovered towards her just as some eggs split themselves on her rice. A ladle full of stew poured itself out over her bowl and a pair of chopsticks flew into her hands for the taking.
"Thanks for the meal," she grumbled at his blatant showing-off, before nonetheless clapping her hands together and digging in.
Minutes later, Morie looked up at the front door expectantly and as if on cue, it swung open and her mother stepped in, looking fittingly windswept. Her brown hair hung loosely in a bun as she shut the door and removed her heels. Minamoto Fū wore a black suit, which elegantly fit to her form and contrasted nicely with her white tie.
It was like a ritual- her mother would without fail change out of her hero costume before she reached home- not that she needed the costume to be intimidating. It would have actually made things feel a bit more normal if it weren't for the fact that her father used Force for practically everything.
Does he have to use Force for everything? She silently grumbled for the umpteenth time.
"Of course." Her father answered, sending him a winning smile like how he always did while answering her (unsaid) queries. "Remember, the more you use your quirk, the more better you get at it, honey."
Morie fake-gagged at the nickname and mimed choking on her food.
"Come to think about it, Yuuei's entrance exams will be in a few months," she heard her mother call from the bedroom. "Better start your training, dear."
"Don't fret, Mori, I'll overlook your training myself," her father beamed from across the table, his glasses glinting ominously.
Morie took one look at her father's cheery expression, and promptly shivered. Her father may not be a professional Hero, but she knew slave drivers when she saw them.
"Aren't I the luckiest," she grumbled lowly, watching as her father's grin widened and scowling as her mother laughed at her from somewhere further in the house.
(It seemed that now was an opportune time to get herself some health insurance, it looked like her father meant business.)
A/N:
In which Bakugou is too worn-out to give a shit about Morie/ Morie needs health insurance now. May her father go easy on her.
What are your thoughts?
