A/N: It's probably a crime to write a chapter this short, but I'm at school and life is hectic and the next chapter is a MAJOR plot-thing, so spare me, please! Remember from last chapter that Chiyo decided she needed to tell someone about her quirk- but who? Thank you tremendously to all the wonderful reviewers; I take everything you guys say to heart!


This was maybe, probably, an extremely horrible idea.

The dark red of the brick building threw shadows across the road as I stared up, up, up before nervously glancing down again at the sticky note that had grown soft and damp in my palm.

510

There was no elevator obviously present and, surprisingly, the complex seemed open-modeled, with no buzzer or security in sight. I looked up again, noting the side set of stairs spiraling seemingly into the sky, bleak in the foreboding darkness of the cloudy evening.

This was definitely a horrible idea.

After our morning run, mom and I had went out for lunch (like always) and regained every potential ounce of fat lost via cheeseburgers and fries (no regrets) as our routine mandated every weekend, her chatter of Shota Aizawa and his chivalry incessant and abundantly annoying. While I drowned her out with a few well-placed head nods and caffeine-riddled soda, my thoughts kept wandering to the what ifs of my quirk use and stability of my own ethics. What if I couldn't protect my students? What if I ever needed to? Was Aizawa right; had I really just been a coward this whole time?

I had glanced at mom, mind humming like a hive.
She was still talking ninety to nothing, oblivious or careless as to whether or not I was actually listening. I didn't even have to hear her words- her face and body spoke their own loud language, animated as any Saturday morning cartoon. Her eyes gleamed and I knew, regardless of age, she'd always be able to captivate the dullest of audiences. She'd given me everything, poured every ounce of herself into my existence.

The blood that coursed through my body ran warm and steadily on its own and I breathed freely, determined once more to release the flood of thoughts and secrets to someone outside of myself.

Apartment 510

I knocked three sharp notes and stepped back, decisively watching the door.

Nothing.

With slightly less gusto I knocked again, each rap draining just a little more energy. I turned to leave, abandoning ship, just as the door creaked open.

"Miss Tsutomi?"