I'm in a horrid mood the next day.
Sensei can tell. He tries to be silly, sillier than normal, but it does nothing to help. I feel like screaming, like crying, like clawing at his clothes to beg him to let me stay. But I don't. I won't. I don't want to hear the no. I don't know what's worse, the idea of going back, or him refusing to keep me.
I can tell he's relieved to drop me off.
Especially when I won't answer his questions.
I can't.
How do you tell someone you're afraid of goodbye?
.
.
.
Aizawa-sensei is less inclined to deal with my mood.
He has us run obstacle courses, has us climb ropes, gives us dry sandwiches and tells us to eat. He's the exact opposite of Present Mic and it aches. It's like being given up already. It's already Thursday and there's precious little time left.
But I'm better at my spars.
They want me to hurt Purple? Fine. I fight and scrap with every angry emotion running through my blood. I hold nothing back, kicking and punching with every ounce of strength. Shinsou looks at me like I've turned feral. Aizawa-sensei just mutters and glares, palming his head.
"That's enough," he says when I nearly bite the other boy. Shinsou gladly removes himself and I breathe heavily as Eraserhead glowers down at me. "Hoki, what are you doing?"
"You told me not to hold back," I sneer. His eyes narrow.
"You're fighting with your emotions again. You left yourself open at least six times."
"I won," I glare. "You told me to win."
"Get on the mat," he says sharply. I return to the mat and take a stance. My knuckles flicker with smoke, Sensei glances at them before taking a position. "Control your quirk."
I take that as the go. I rush him, he waits for me to get closer, and kicks. I block with an arm. Unlike the before, I can feel the strength of it rattle through my arm and shoulder. I grunt and falter. He reaches forward, grabbing my shirt, and slams me into the mat. It's harder than Purple or Yamada-sensei have ever done it. My breath sticks in my lungs.
"This is what you're doing," he snaps, one foot pressing against the small of my back. "There's a difference between holding back and going all out. Despite you and your classmates' thoughts, spars should not end in injuries."
Anger rises again, like a black flame. It rises up, and he hisses, foot retracting. The flames disappear instantly, and I roll over, sweeping at his feet. Red eyes glare down at me, hair rising in a halo.
His capture weapon is around me in seconds.
It's tight enough to choke.
He drags me to my feet. I'm pulled within inches of his face and I can see the annoyance and anger there. In the dark bags beneath his eyes, the unshaven mess of his face, and the sharp tick of his eyebrows.
"Explain yourself," he snaps immediately. I can't. The bonds are too tight, my body immobilized. I can't breathe. I can't move. I can't think. I barely manage a shuddering breath when he releases me and pushes me to my knees. "Breathe, ten times, in through the nose out through the mouth."
Not again.
I do so, hands smoking.
"Again," he says when I finish. He makes me repeat it twice more. "Why are you so angry?"
"I don't know," I tell him, chest tight.
"That sounds like a lie."
I glare obstinately back at him.
His lips thin.
"Go cool off. We're going on patrol tonight. You're done sparring."
He rises and walks away. I glower, feeling that horrid mix of emotions swirling in my chest. Shame, most of all, burns the hottest.
.
.
.
I find myself thankful for the patrol.
My anger, so hot and boiling in my blood, slows and simmers at the feeling of wind in my face and the light mist soaking into my skin. The sky, a turbulent mix of grays, matches my mood exactly. Sensei says it'll probably rain in an hour but makes no mention of us returning.
I'm glad.
Part of me wants to physically feel as uncomfortable on the outside as I do on the inside.
We move across the rooftops in constant motion. Zig zagging in patterns that I quickly recognize as the shortest leaps. We continue like this for at least an hour, until the clouds give out and the rain begins to sprinkle.
Sensei's probably at the radio station now.
"Are we going-"
Whatever Shinsou was going to say, it's cut off as something loud and booming goes off. The explosion rocks the rooftop under us. I wobble dangerously as Eraserhead freeze ahead. Behind me, Shinsou reaches out, clutching my forearm as I nearly tumble forward and over the ledge.
There's a howl in the darkness. We spin. A dark, vicious shape outlined against the edge of a building. I freeze at the familiarity.
"Nomu," Eraserhead says, dark hair spinning wildly as he returns to us. The rain and wind pick up and lightning flashes in the background. "You two need to retreat. Head back to the warehouse and don't interfere."
"Sensei," I shout as the rain starts to pelt. He pauses at the edge of the roof. "You can't take it on alone. Last time-"
"I'm not fighting it as much as keeping it occupied," Sensei says gruffly looking my way. "I've sent out an SOS. Once the other heroes are here-"
Another boom rocks the city and screams fill the night.
"Warehouse, now," Sensei says sharply. I shiver as he takes off leaping from the building as if he were born to do fly. His hands move in quick motions, his scarf unraveling and the capture device flying through the air to attach to something higher. Behind us, the smell of smoke fills the air, screams rising ever higher.
"What the hell's a Nomu?" Shinsou asks, his purple hair flattened and eyes dark, still ringed with bags.
I swallow.
"They… They belong to the League of Villains," I manage, my throat constricted. He frowns.
"The league… How do you know that?"
"All Might destroyed one in the USJ," I say, shivering. "It… It nearly killed us, it nearly killed Sensei."
"Shit," Shinsou says. He shakes before looking towards the fire already building a few rooftops in the distance. "Come on, we need to head back."
I nod, following him.
Rain slaps at my face, the wind claws at my skin. Screams continue to rise with the flames. The rain does nothing to stop them.
I stop.
Shinsou stumbles when he realizes it.
"What are you doing?" he asks harshly. I swallow. "Sensei said to head back."
I don't know.
I don't know what I'm doing.
But my feet are planted, and my chest constricts. Screams on the wind, smoke in the air.
Why the hell do you get to have powers when you won't even use them!
W-W-What if I do neither?
"They need help," I say slowly, my voice catching in my throat.
"Sensei said to go back," Shinsou repeats, eyes narrowed. "We don't have permission to use our quirks. It's illegal."
"Then I won't use it," I tell him angrily. Black flames hiss as the rain washes it away. "If you see someone about to get hurt, and you have the power to stop it, but you do nothing. What does it make you?"
"That's not fair," Shinsou growls.
"Neither is life," I sneer. "Go to the warehouse if you want. I'm going to help even if it's only to move rubble."
I race forward and leap from the ledge. I hit the ground, feet splashing through the puddles. I don't hesitate to jump the next one, and this time, there's a shadow at my side. I glance over to see Purple following beside me, face set in a grim line.
"You're explaining this," Shinsou snaps at my stare.
"Fine."
We jump across rooftops in tandem. Wind and water sting my eyes, hair plasters to my face. I breathe heavily when we finally arrive. Shinsou, beside me, gasps for breath. Sirens flash, rain pounding into our backs, I shiver in the cold rain.
Nobody's on the scene when we arrive.
"Roads are blocked," Shinsou says coolly. "The rubble from the Nomu. We need to assess the situation-"
"The top of a building is on fire and there are people trapped there," I interrupt. What more is there to assess? "I'm going in."
"What-"
I charge forward, through the flux of people trying to get out. I can hear him cursing as he follows. The fire escape is easy to find. I throw open the door and pinch my arms. Shadows bubble up from the pores, hands reaching up and up, like a demon clawing out from the depths of hell. I grapple for metal I can't see and pull.
Shinsou shouts as he rushes through and I slingshot up and up. Higher and higher.
"DAMN IT HOKI!" he snarls.
I don't care. The screams are clearer, my chest heaves in the smoke. I kick open the door and let out a strangled noise as the smoke pours out. I choke on it. Several bodies lay on the floor, people choking with hands over their mouths, others crying. At least six. I focus to blunt the nails.
It's hard as the smoke burns at my eyes and the heat blisters my skin.
It's hot, sweltering hot.
I grab the two closest to me and pull them across the floor. They don't move.
"SHINSOU!" I scream.
"WHAT?"
"They're unconscious! I'm going to lower them, tell me when they're there!"
"DAMN IT HOKI! I'm halfway up!"
"Then go back down!" I sneer. A purple head glares at me from what looks like the fourth floor.
I move my arms and maneuver the bodies down the stairwell. It's a struggle not to drop them or even squeeze. I pant as I focus, sweat dripping from my brow.
"Got them!" Shinsou shouts.
I pull the shadows back and return to the hall.
We repeat the process two more times, him dragging the bodies away as I lower them. When the sirens blare to life we stop. He's filthy, below me, clothes stuck to his body and face covered in soot. He glowers at me from the center of the fire escape.
"We need to go," he sneers. "Sensei said-"
"Fine," I snap. I throw myself off the top rail. His eyes widen and I descend at break-neck speed. The wind, hot and sharp cuts at my face and whistles in my ears. Fear, that ever-present terror, claws at my throat. I hold it, drink it in. I force it to a form.
Giant, dragon claws explode from one arm. My body jerks at the loss of speed as they rake down the side of the building leaving huge gouges.
Shinsou's mouth drops and I drop beside him.
The claw, black and scaled, begins to burn. I glare and swallow the shadows.
"You couldn't just use the stairs?" he asks.
"Didn't you say we needed to go?" I ask. He glowers.
"No more stops," he says. As if he's in charge.
I grit my teeth.
"Fine."