I'm standing in the ladies' restroom, coiling my unraveled hair into devil horns.
It's an intricate hairstyle, one that requires great attention, one in which a single mistake ruins the entire look, but having done it so many times, it's like second nature to me.
And because the process is so familiar, my thoughts wander.
Since the first event, I have been biding my time. Everyone underestimates the cripple. I used this fact to my advantage, so my opponents would be caught in surprise and become vulnerable when they saw me. Now the audience is going to see me. Half of Japan is going to see me. The students of U.A. are going to see me. Hanada-sama and the League of Villains are going to see me. I want to surprise them, too. I want them to underestimate me, devalue me, so that at the right moment I can make them regret ever thinking that of me. There is perverse pleasure in doing so.
I am combating Kaminari-san in the first round.
How should I manipulate his quirk to my advantage?
As I fix the last of the nasturtiums in my hair, I find the answer.
With only a few minutes left before my match, I have no more time to waste. I return to the arena. In the center of the stadium, we stand across from each other, ignoring the cacophony of the crowd, and sizing each other up. Rather, I'm sizing him up; his gaze seems to seek something else.
Perhaps that's why when the match starts, I'm not astounded that he flirts with me.
"When this is over, wanna grab a bite to eat?" he asks confidently. "I'll comfort you if you'll have me. Because this match will probably be over in a second!"
I raise an eyebrow in response and summon an elaborate throne of obsidian. Sitting down, I cross my legs at my knees, and rest my hand above my cane, much to the mixed astonishment and chagrin of the audience. Some blow whistles at my pride and confidence, others sneer and jeer at me for the same, most just brush me off, claiming I'm displaying false bravado to make up for my disability. Things are going as planned. To feed into this so-called facade, I open the lid of my thermos bottle, and take a long sip of milk.
That confident grin wavers. "Eh? Are you allowed to bring drinks to battle? I thought the rules were that students had to wear their training uniforms and use only their quirk to make things equal."
I take another sip before responding. "That is true, however, there's a policy that allows students to bring in 'resources' if their quirks require additional support. My quirk doesn't require additional support, but my physical body certainly does, so I thought there would be no harm filling out a few forms to let me bring a thermos and cane to the event. You'd be surprised what the school administration will allow."
He is upset now. "Dammit! If I'd known that, I could have been zapping lightning bolts while eating hamburgers!"
"Enough regretting," I interrupt, bringing him back to the original topic. "You have the audacity to invite me to a date, on the assumption that I would lose. Presumptuous, are you?" I lean back and tilt my head to the side, staring at him intently. I start closing the thermos with the lid. "In that case, let me return the favor. When this match is over, I would like you to be my date. I'll comfort you. You can eat as many hamburgers as you would like. Jumbo size, even. I'll pay." The final click of the lid resonates clearly.
This riles up the crowd even more. There are more whistles, louder whistles, more jeers, louder jeers. A few cheers as well. But all those sounds change into coughs and curses when a flower bed of carrion flowers bloom from the concrete ground. The concrete cracks, a few pieces come apart, and everyone rushes to cover their mouths and noses. I had already pulled a lace handkerchief from my uniform pocket and wrapped it around mine. Unfortunately, Kaminari-san had nothing like that. Apparently, none of the U.A. students had something like that. When I look at their disgusted and revolted faces, their hands frantically trying to cover their mouths and noses, I smirk. It's amusing.
Kaminari-san covers his mouth with his hand, obviously sick, and releases a 1.3 million voltage shock in my direction. Just as I predicted. I lift my feet to rest on the throne while the carrion flowers shrivel and die. Immediately, his expression changes from self-assuredness to stupidity. With snot dripping from his nose, an idiotic smile plastered on his face, and incomprehensible sounds coming from his mouth, he is utterly vulnerable. In a few seconds, he falls to his knees from the overwhelming foul smell.
The crowd is not faring much better. Some are stifling their emetic urges, and some search for the exit. I stand up and remove the handkerchief. "The stench of decay from flowers of death only amplifies when the flowers are killed. If the miasma was unbearable when they were alive, then it should be maddening when they are dead. Not to mention, obsidian is a terrible conductor of electricity."
Now a final touch. With a few flicks of my fingers, I uproot the carrion flowers by their roots and transform them into blooming honey perfume roses. Roses that carry the spicy aroma of cloves, cinnamon, and nutmeg. The crowd is so easily influenced, so easy to manipulate. Earlier, they, who were of mixed opinion, are now unanimously enthralled by the vision. They watch with careless, childish fascination as I levitate those roses in the air and burst them in a supernova ring, like a pebble striking ripples in the water. Roses fall into the audience's laps, and everyone scrambles to get more, squealing with glee. They are all quite literally showering in rose petals. I save one rose and personally gift it to Midnight-sensei. She accepts with a very charmed glint in her eyes. Lastly, I turn to the commentator box where Aizawa-sensei and Present Mic-sensei are observing the matches and give a flourish bow.
When I fought All Might all those months ago, you scolded me for my arrogance. Yes. I am arrogant. I am cocky. What will you do about it, Aizawa-sensei? Especially now. He looks like a mummy with the bandages wrapped around his face, making it impossible to see his reaction. But I can imagine it all the same.
This seems to break Present Mic-sensei out of his unexpectedly silent awe, and he praises me repeatedly. However, technically the match is not over and I have not won because Kaminari-san is neither out of bounds, unable to move, or has declared defeat. He is unfortunately still in that ridiculous vulnerable state. Exasperated, I stroll over to him, leisurely, of course, and by his thumbs I push him gently out of bounds. Finally, Midnight-sensei announces me as the winner of this match. With my job done, I vanish the throne just as two med-robots arrive at the scene with a stretcher. Oh! So they only appear when someone is visibly injured or incapacitated, not when someone is hiding the signs of injury and incapacitation. Talk about double standards! My hands are still holding his thumbs, so I guide him to the stretcher. I set him down and lift his feet, so he lies down. Once the med-robots take him away, I exit the arena.
Soon after, I debate whether I should head to the cafeteria and bargain for more milk before going to the infirmary. That lunch lady drove a hard bargain. Because of the Festival, I had to pay 800 yen in cash to have her fill my thermos. Of the innumerable quirks I've absorbed, couldn't one of them been a milk production one? I could produce all the cow milk I wanted and drank to my stomach's content. Then I wouldn't have had to resort to secret dealings. For milk of all things!
In the end, I decide against. She might just ask for another 800 yen. Or more, now that she has leverage over me. When I reach the infirmary, thankfully Kaminari-san is kept in isolation, as he is a hazard to himself in that condition. With most of the beds empty, I choose one by the curtained window. I suppose one good thing came from my frequent visits here: Recovery Girl gave me unlimited access to come here. No questions asked, no answers to be given, I can come and go as I please.
There are fifteen minutes before the Iida-san vs Hatsume-san match. I can rest for ten minutes until then. If not a thirty-hour nap, I can at least grant myself a ten-minute one. After that ordeal, I deserve as much.
The ringer on my phone buzzes. Someone has sent me a message. Where are you, the text reads. It's from Todoroki-kun.
Who is this, I respond back, feeling curious as to how he will react to such a redundant question.
Nurse Todoroki.
I laugh at that before instantly quieting when I remember that I'm in the infirmary.
Why is Nurse Todoroki looking for me, I send back.
Because Nurse Todoroki is worried that you are alone in some empty hallway, bleeding to death, is the reply I get.
I smile wistfully before writing, I'm in the infirmary.
I'm coming, he texts back without a moment's hesitation.
There go my plans of a nap, I think, but in jest.
Setting my phone on the bedside counter, I lie down and close my eyes.
Only when a chair is pulled beside me do I open them.