A/N: Hey everyone, Hemza here! Just wanted to post a quick thank you once again to everyone who's been reading our story :) At the time of writing, we're sitting at 391 views, which is still mind-boggling and humbling for us, so once again, thank you! Also, special thank you and shout out to James Birdsong, the guest reviewer for your feedback! Anyways, hope you all are well, enjoy Chapter 9!

Chapter 9 - The Aftermath

The days after the sports festival were hazy, as if she was a spectator in her own mind. Using so much of her ability had made it near impossible to maintain consciousness after the fight, all of her energy had been completely sapped. Her head had lolled against her chest, eyes drooping shut.

She'd watched the highlights after she'd awoken, embarrassed. Blood had poured from her nose, streamed down her face and stained the front of her uniform. It dried around her lips, stained her teeth red as she screamed. Her eyes were wild and panicked, like a wild animal caught and caged. This feral image of her was a stranger, some maniac wearing her face and deceiving the world.

Sakura tried to keep it away from her, no doubt realizing the impact it would have.

"Emiko, really! Don't watch it!" Sakura called, rattling the locked door to her bedroom, pleading with Emiko to let her in to comfort and console her.

The young girl's mind reeled, a million thoughts flying through her head as she watched. She'd been in that stadium, had watched as her classmates fought, but had no recollection of the actual battles. She'd watched them - had seen the flicker of grief across Shoto's face as flames lit up his body, but she couldn't seem to grasp the memories.

Perhaps her mind was still foggy from painkillers, or maybe it was the concussion Shoto had given her in the same hit he'd broken her jaw. Either way, her head throbbed as she struggled to remember.

Returning to class hadn't been easy, either. Recovery Girl had ordered her to take a few days off, to try and give her splintered bones and bruised skin time to heal. Of course, this was met with great protest from Emiko.

"I'm fine- really! I'm totally good to go back to class!"

Recovery Girl only stared back at her, unblinking. The redhead hadn't been the first budding hero to use that line, and she knew she also wouldn't be the last. Trust a hero school to have students hell-bent on getting back to class no matter the shape they were in, rather than giddily accepting any excuse to miss out on classes.

"You have a partially fractured jaw, two black eyes, and bruises covering your entire body. You have a concussion."

It was straightforward and clear to everyone in the room. Everyone, it seemed, except Emiko.

She sighed loudly, "Then give me another smooch or two and let me go back!"

"Emiko, really!" Sakura scolded, landing her brown eyed gaze on her niece. "You have a broken jaw - stop talking!"

A grumble escaped her lips, but she didn't respond. She wasn't a total moron, after all.

Recovery Girl sighed, resting her frail hand on Emiko's bruised forearm. "Just because I let you watch the fights earlier, doesn't mean you're ready to start training again. You were seriously injured, young one. You and your classmates are all being given a few days to recover from your injuries. I suggest you make good use of those to rest up."

It had been devastating, realizing she was right. She wasn't in any condition to go back to training, nor was she ready to see her classmates again. The last time they'd seen her, she'd been in a wheelchair covered in blood and blankets. She'd surely looked a mess, and it made her stomach turn with anxiety.

Shinso, Momo and Jiro had been the only ones to reach out, something she was incredibly grateful for. Shinso had stopped by, poked fun at the bruises that littered her body. He'd spent the afternoon with her the first day, the pair sprawled on the couch like a couple of ordinary teenagers with far too much free time on their hands.

Jiro and Momo came together, nail supplies and music in tow. They'd pampered Emiko, slathered masks in her hair and on her face, painted her nails and made her feel… well, human again. They'd laughed with her during the romantic comedy playing on the screen in Emiko's room, and hadn't made any mention of her complete meltdown from only a few days before.

On her fourth day away, she was cleared to go back to class. The thought of seeing her other classmates sent an embarrassed shiver down her spine.

"I just don't know how I'm going to face them all, Sakura." She whined, plopping down at the island in the kitchen. "I completely blew up during the festival! It's embarrassing!"

Sakura turned, setting the bowl of oatmeal she'd been making down in front of Emiko. "Why is it embarrassing? Everyone loses control, sometimes. You saw how that Bakugo boy reacted, and he won the damn festival."

Not at all the point, Sakura.

"There's a difference between how I reacted, and how he reacted, though!" She pleaded, shoveling a spoonful of food into her mouth. Her jaw was still sore from the fracture, so she sent a thankful glance Sakura's way.

"How?"

Emiko sighed deeply, banging her head on the stone countertop, dramatically shaming her aunt for her stupid questions.

"God, Sakura! Do I have to spell everything out for you?!"

"Emiko, I literally have no idea what the difference is. I don't see any reason you should be embarrassed and he shouldn't be!"

Sakura was getting frustrated, Emiko knew. She could see it swirling around her aunt's head, in the way her aunt rolled her eyes and folded her arms over her chest.

"Because -" she paused, attempting to collect her thoughts long enough to form a coherent sentence. "I look stupid because I lost. Okay? I lost my fight, so losing my cool makes me look like I'm a sore loser. Katsuki losing it is different, because he won. People will see that and assume that he just wanted to fight longer."

Sakura sighed deeply, stepping out from behind the kitchen counter. "Anyone who knows you, kid, knows you aren't a sore loser. Don't worry about what anyone else thinks. Their opinions of you don't matter, in the grand scheme of things. I'm proud of you."

Tears welled in her eyes before she found the strength to stop them. They dripped down her cheeks, pooled in her lashes before landing on the hem of her skirt.

"Now come on, eat up, kid." Sakura smiled softly, pressing a firm kiss to the top of Emiko's hair.

Walking into her classroom shouldn't have been as scary as it was. She'd done it dozens of times before and would do it hundreds of times after, but for whatever reason, she couldn't make her feet move.

She stared up at the giant door, heart hammering in her chest. She'd shown up earlier, planning ahead for her own anxiety.

Move your feet, Komatsu. Go.

She tried to coax herself into moving, but her feet stayed firmly rooted in place.

"Komatsu! Wow, aren't you a sight for sore eyes!" she heard a nervous and cheerful chirp from over her shoulder.

She was shaken out of her dilemma as she instinctively spun to face the speaker, and found none other than a cheerfully smiling Izuku Midoriya facing her.

"How many times have I told you to call me Emiko," she chastised him with a chuckle. "It's… good to be back. I really wanted to train, but my aunt was watching me like a hawk after Recovery Girl's orders."

"It's been a weird couple of days since the festival, I got recognized on the train ride over! How about you Koma-I mean, Emiko?" he covered himself quickly, his hand shooting up to furiously rub at the back of his green mop of hair.

"I, uh, didn't make it outside, really, and Sakura drives me here because she knows my quirk and public transit aren't exactly the best match," Emiko responded, glad once again for her aunt's consideration for her struggles with her quirk.

"Oh, that's right, sorry," the boy responded, eyes widening at his lack of consideration, then quickly squinting in concentration as his hand flew to his chin in his trademark Deku ramble pose.

"Hey, no worries," she said lamely, cutting off the inevitable mumbling analysis, giving him a slight smile that seemed to comfort the boy.

Her interaction with him, however, did galvanize her into action, taking that impossible next step forward, her legs taking on a mind of their own as they guided her through the motions that finally resulted in her gingerly sliding into her seat in the classroom.

The looks she was met with were mixed, to say the least. Some, like Momo, Jiro, and Izuku greeted her nicely. Others, like Tsu, Koda, and Shoji all seemed apprehensive and unsure how to handle her. Then, there were the outliers that didn't fit into any particular category: Mineta tried to subtly shift his seat as far from her as possible, Fumikage eyed her with a serene respect, and Bakugo gave a scornful snort, but was otherwise indifferent to her.

While she had been curious of how her classmates would receive her, there was one reaction she was hoping to gauge the most: Shoto's. The boy had a front row seat to her meltdown and she'd been a colossal bitch, egging him on like that. She hadn't heard from him in any way after the match and it seemed he wasn't about to break that trend, as he didn't so much as spare her even the barest of glances. She might as well have been invisible. Actually, he had acknowledged Hagakure's greeting with a neutral nod, so she corrected herself and said she might as well have been worse than invisible to him at that moment.

Emiko tuned them out as they gossipped about their various experiences that resulted from the exposure of the Sports Festival, until the door slid open and Aizawa strode in with a commanding "Morning", to which the class all chorused a "Good morning Mr. Aizawa!"

"Ribbit. Mr. Aizawa, you don't have bandages anymore!" Tsu realized. "That's good news!"

Their teacher scratched ruefully at his face with a sour look on his face.

"The old lady went a little overboard with treatment," he groused. "Anyway, we have a big class today on Hero Informatics."

Emiko could faintly feel the wave of dread wash over the class, particularly a flutter of panic from Kaminari, as if he were suddenly expecting a pop quiz to be announced.

As the anticipation and anxiety began to build with the pause, Aizawa finally, mercifully, broke the silence.

"You need codenames. Time to pick your hero identities," he droned.

Most of the class jumped out of their seats in excitement.

"THIS IS GONNA BE TOTALLY AWESOME!"

A flash of red flared from Aizawa's eyes and his hair began to float as his quirk was activated and Emiko felt an emptiness at not feeling the emotions of those around her, even if her overuse had dulled everything to a faint hum. A growl rumbled from the homeroom teacher and immediately everyone took their seats in an orderly and prompt fashion. A shush was hissed out by someone as they all raptly awaited Aizawa's following instructions.

"This is related to the pro hero draft picks that I mentioned the last time we were in class together. Normally, students don't have to worry about the draft yet… Not until their second or third year actually, but your class is different. In fact, by extending offers to first years like you, pros are essentially investing in your potential. Any offers can be rescinded if their interest in you dies down before graduation, though."

"Stupid, selfish adults," Mineta muttered, with a rueful smack to his desk.

"So, what you're saying is, we'll still have to prove ourselves after we've gotten recruited," Hagakure confirmed.

"Correct," Aizawa responded. "Now, here are the totals for those of you who got offers."

With a click of a button on a remote, a holographic display flickered into life, which listed everyone's names and the amount of offers they'd received.

There was a massive disparity in the numbers, as Shoto got the most offers with 4123, then Bakugo with 3556, then it jumped down to Fumikage with 360, then Iida with 301 and so on. Her eyes scanned further down the list and her heart sank.

Her name wasn't on the list that had gotten offers.