"Are you stalking me?"

I stood, shivering, unsure how to respond.
His eyes were as murky as the rain.
My throat bobbed with a swallow, mouth opening to speak words I didn't know.

"Not...Exactly."


Several Days Earlier

I knew I was being a numbskull, but the logical part of my brain had taken a long walk off a short pier, leading me to the current predicament I found myself in.

It would look pretty pathetic if I showed up on his route- casually and totally by coincidence, of course- and couldn't keep up with Shota Aizawa during his routine jog through the park on any given Tuesday or Saturday. Didn't he say Thursday, too?

And so after two seconds of deliberation I'd decided to pick up running every day; at least until I would be less of an embarrassment to myself. Then I would happen across him in the park, legs long and toned, breath easy as I matched his pace.

Only, I wasn't in shape.
And I seriously doubted I'd be anywhere near a shape other than a half-eaten pear before Christmas, especially with all my favorite binge-worthy shows coming back with the new season.

I glanced up at the too-bright sky and contemplated my life choices.

I chose a location farther away from the Aizawa-rendezvous area (Was it counterintuitive if I had to drive to the place I wanted to run?) and found the rural atmosphere far less intimidating; where there was perfectly-manicured grass at the other park there was nothing but forestry here, a worn-in path of soil, as soft and muted as a deer's fur, winding throughout.
The sun beat down against my brow, creating pinpricks of sweat across my nose, dampening my shirt.

Would it be a defeat if I just went home? It's not like anyone would know.

Lunch's strangeness, where I'd sat in inexplicable awkwardness between Toshinori- sweet and nervous as ever- and Shota Aizawa- quiet, brooding, but overall civil- had been overshadowed only by the craziness of my afternoon classes, led by the firecracker ringmaster whose quirk was only matched in power by his explosive opinions. The morality-versus-ethical question concerning the needs of the many outweighing the needs of the few had shifted the tide of mentalities in Class 1-A in a very unexpected way.

Bakugo, of all people, seemed hesitant to give an opinion. A sly smile had carried me over to his desk before I leaned over, asking if he was thinking of someone in particular whom he'd save over others. A blush, as clear as day, had turned his angry face a new shade of pissed.

I smiled at the memory, legs beginning to move at a crawling pace down the quiet dirt path.
Katsuki Bakugo was an uncontrollable ball of fire held together by melting paper clips and tape. Strangely, the kid was growing on me. He was credited as a ferocious fighter but was completely vulnerable emotionally; especially in the area of feelings towards others. Every little smile and ray of attention seemed to frazzle his tough-guy act like a five year old getting picked on by a girl for the very first time. I took every opportunity to whack him with my yardstick, be it earned for bullying, cursing, or simply because I felt like it, and utilized quiet moments to tease him over Uraraka and Midoriya. That seemed to especially piss him off, much to my delight.

A handful of students were starting to stick out in my mind's eye; ones I'd connected with organically and genuinely enjoyed teaching and associating with. An indigo bowl now sat in one of my classroom's window sills, filled with clear water and a singular, sunfire water lily floating peacefully atop the surface, gifted to me by a bashful Tsu. Another little doll, suspiciously looking like Aizawa, had also appeared one day on my desk, one fingerless arm held out and touching the knob of my own figurine, as if holding hands. I'd quickly separated them, face warming for a jumble of reasons.

Ever since I'd ran, literally, into Shota Aizawa last weekend, I couldn't seem to get him out of my mind.

Embarrassing, considering the guy saw me as a clumsy weakling-idiot with too much hair and the social skills of a middle-school boy.

Apparently my entire class had witnessed our interaction in the hallway, in which cool-as-ice Mr. Aizawa had so casually flirted with Ms. Tsutomi, leaving her a jittery, pink-faced mess, flustered and somewhat dreamy for all of first hour.

I highly disagreed with this notion.

Which brought me back to Aizawa himself, and the lunch-date from the Twilight Zone.

Toshinori had seemed a little taken aback when the notoriously unsociable teacher waltzed in at noon but had recovered quickly, involving him in the conversation as much as Aizawa would allow. I'd felt like the unstable bridge between two foreign lands, even though I was the real newcomer in the equation. Every conversation between the men strangely felt like walking on eggshells, or being the only one who didn't know the language being spoken in the room.
While Toshinori and I had munched through our boxed lunches, Aizawa had eaten only a crumbly granola bar, silent and strangely sullen. I'd have to start bringing him a lunch now, too. Maybe I should start charging a fee…

Already I was beginning to pant, heart rate hiking with each pounding step on the concrete. Aizawa's slow smile suddenly flashed in my mind's eye. I picked up speed, trying to run away from him/my brain/my emotions/the world.

What possesses women to grow the most illogical, stupidest infatuations? All Aizawa ever did was ridicule and annoy me, so why even waste a moment thinking about his serious, half-lidded eyes? Why did I want to run my fingers through that dark, silky hair? Why not focus on the daydream-made-reality of All Might and all his glory? My legs flew across the concrete, wind whipping my sweaty face.

It was then when my foot, by universal design, found the one perfectly-elevated root in this entire park.

I let out an idiotic screech of surprise as my face greeted the not-as-smooth-as-I-thought dirt trail, dusty in my mouth and violent in my eyes. I remained facedown, totally motionless for a solid ten seconds, before writhing around and onto my back with a groan.

"I should've just stayed home," I commented drily to no one, throwing an arm over my dirty, probably-bleeding face. I had never been athletic; that had always been for someone else- someone with coordination and a mother who wasn't terrified of pulled muscles and athlete's foot and papercuts. I was lucky to have pleaded my way into band.

I splayed my arms out, releasing the tension that wrinkled my forehead as I relaxed. I focused on the blood in every vein and artery, slowing its pace to force a sense of calm.

"I'm not into the damsel in distress act, sorry."

His words had been on a constant loop; a paper airplane strung by fishing wire, lazily circling around my thoughts. My fingers curled into the soft dirt.
I wasn't here just to one day stumble into Aizawa for flirting purposes. His pressing morality questions and accusations from day one had had me second guessing myself, analyzing my purpose and beliefs.

If UA was somehow invaded, if my students were endangered, would I be able to do anything to protect them?

It's not your job to protect people, I could hear Mom respond with. But wasn't it? What kind of teacher would I be if I wasn't willing to lay down my life for theirs? Did I want to be that kind of teacher, who put themselves before those they taught?

A burst of annoying pain highlighted my cranium and returned me to reality.

Am I damsel in distress? Well, I'm lying in the middle of a dirt path after falling directly on my face because I couldn't catch myself. I blocked out the sun with my arm again.
At least no one was around to witness it this time.

"Miss...Tsutomi?"

This day literally couldn't get any worse.

A head eclipsed the glaring sun, my skin already cooler in the sudden shade. I squinted open one weary eye, peeking from under my arm to find the young, pale face of Momo Yaoyorozu staring down at me, baffled.

"Tsutomi-san? What are you...Um, what exactly are you doing?"
"Experiencing photosynthesis for myself; why should plants get all the fun?"
"Er, what?"
"Nothing."

Momo offered a helpful hand and I took it, hoisting my clutz self up to brush off my rear. Her look was growing more and more feline, like Nasu when I fell out of bed or forgot a towel before going into the bathroom. I worked myself into an expression of blank passiveness, hoping she didn't also notice the horrifying sweat mark imprinted between my nearly non-existent boobs. I observed that Momo, too, was wearing a sports bra- only she didn't look like a flat-chested little boy in hers. I suddenly had a distinct rekindling of dislike for Nemuri Kayama that I tried to cough off.

"What are you doing here? Training?" I asked, pretending to know what I was doing as I stretched my calves. Momo watched before joining, though holding her leg in the opposite direction. I quickly corrected my posture to mimic hers.

"Something like that. My quirk utilizes my body's lipids, so I have to eat a lot to restore energy; however, if I don't utilize my quirk after eating too much, I'll just gain weight. So! I have to keep up a good regimen. Plus, running is good for your endurance. You never know when you'll need it."

"I see." I didn't really see; she could create whatever she wanted. Why not just create a moped? "Do you...come here often?"
"More often than you," She joked.
"Ouch. Accurate! But harsh."

"If you're going to start running this route, maybe we could do it together! I could help you," Momo's offer felt genuine and her eyes went wide, as if excited by the thought. I hesitated. Would I be breaking some teacher etiquette, working out with a student outside of school? She was of the same gender, and this was a school focused on athleticism.

"Do you know if other teachers-"

"Train with students outside of school? I'm not really sure, but we do spend a significant amount of time working and training with teachers within school, as well as other adults via school-sponsored apprenticeships and field trips." Momo relayed it like a Google Search. I nodded, mostly to myself. If they spent that much time with individual staff members, maybe it wouldn't be too big a deal if I ran after school with a student. My head bobbed with a more-affirming movement.

"Right. Well then, this shouldn't be a problem, and I could really use your help...obviously," I admitted with a laugh before growing serious. "However, this in no way will impact your grade within my class- for better or worse,"

"I understand! Hey, maybe we could get other class members involved- we could make you a workout regime-"

"You're already making me regret this decision," I interrupted flatly. Momo straightened, pretending to zip her grinning mouth shut. She gave me a once-over, much to my discomfort, and frowned.

"Well, first of all, those aren't running shoes."


And so we began a treacherous routine of stretching, running, sprinting, and walking.
The horrible part of exercise isn't that it hurts while you're doing it- it's when the pain creeps in like a thief during the night, seeping into your bones, expanding your muscles with a hot iron and debilitating your movements like a sudden electric shock.

My body felt like I'd been run over with a semi-truck in the morning.
What was worse- I'd promised Momo to return today, too.
And Wednesday.

If I quit my job, how long would it take for the debt collectors to show up to sell my bodily organs?

The day passed quickly and before anyone could even say the word "cardio" Momo was cheerfully waving at me on the trail, a seemingly-new pair of running shoes in one hand. On her right, to my immense horror, was another familiar face, the tip of a pink tongue flopped to the side of her thin mouth. Great, another witness.

Tsu proved just as helpful and encouraging as Momo and actually believed in breaks (a concept unheard of to the more-aggressive Yaoyorozu), even bringing extra water bottles with her. I was practically crying with gratitude, hugging myself to her knees and blessing her future web-toed children.

Half my body felt doused in boiling water the majority of Wednesday. To be safe from dehydration I'd downed four extra thermoses of water (and took twice as many bathroom breaks, much to the displeasure of the female staff members having to wait their turn for the single-stall), moving sluggishly throughout class so as not to inflame my groaning muscles further.

Thursday morning my legs were still sore, but in an almost enjoyable way. Walking didn't feel as sadistic, but that after-burn still lingered; a quiet reminder of the growing and stretching tendons beneath my skin. Before I became too focused on the blood running throughout said muscles I kissed Nasu good-bye and raced out the door, rubbing the minuscule scratch I'd received in return from my un-delighted feline friend.

A dark head became apparent as I crossed through security, face nearly nonexistent behind a curtain of shaggy hair, lithe body waiting against the brick building the guards always cheerfully waved from.
Aizawa's behavior had changed since the Monday meeting. Every morning now he'd appeared- either lying in wait or by divine timing, I wasn't quite sure- lazily pausing to watch me walk through security before resuming his slowed pace, five pounds sliding off my shoulder as he carried the heavier of the two bags I always brought.

At first I tried to fill every moment with chatter, often receiving radio static or a muffled "Mmm," or "Yeah" in return. Now if I thought of a good topic or needed to vent I did so; otherwise a comfortable silence lived between us, and I enjoyed the easy aura of being around the tall, quiet eraserhead.

He'd told me a little more about his powers and let me see his goggles, vehemently denying my inquiry into trying them on. In turn I mentioned a bit more about my quirk, though not to the extent I'd revealed to Toshinori. Something I couldn't quite put into words restrained my tongue from ever speaking too much, no matter how I secretly desired to dredge up the past. Was it fear? Fear that he won't understand, or care?

Or fear that his reaction will match Toshinori's pitying look.

Still, it was nice to have a friend, especially since Toshi hadn't been around the past few days. When I'd asked Aizawa about our absent friend he'd just mumbled something under his breath, answer as unhelpful as it was vague.

School passed quickly, lunch a quiet ordeal with Aizawa, long legs crossed and spine slouched in a beanbag chair, and I, shoes off and legs tucked into my desk chair, eating the meals I'd prepared. I readied myself for the next workout ahead of me, hurrying home to change directly after the bell .

I still wasn't brave enough to journey into the park Aizawa frequented; I never even mentioned the other location to my running-mates. Instead I stuck with my new-normal, arriving around the time I usually met up with Momo and Tsu. My car was in desperate need of an oil change so I instead took the bus, enjoying the short walk to the park after being dropped off. The sky had become shaded by dark, pregnant clouds, drifting quickly across the horizon, and with mild disdain I realized I hadn't even checked the weather forecast; had the girls said something about this?

After ten past our usual meeting time and no sign of them, I decided to take off on my own. Even if Momo and Tsu were late, it wasn't like they couldn't catch up with me in two seconds flat. Stretching always came first, as I was properly taught, and I limbered up my arms and legs, ankles and neck, before trotting off at a mellow pace.

The park was alight in sepia tones from the strange weather. Ground squirrels peeped little faces from their burrows and sniffed the air. Medleys of birds' songs, usually so loud, were muted, as if quietly whispering about what was to come. Had I missed a weather alert about a hurricane or something? Usually I knew ahead of time due to my quirk; I could feel the growing waters, the heaviness of the air. The weight was now becoming tangible around me as I focused, pushing down on my limbs, every hair follicle, but I hadn't really thought anything of it. Normal people don't run in the rain, Chiyo. They're not water resistant like you can be.

A figure started to emerge ahead of me just as the first bullets fell, piercing my skin with an icy-cold sting. I hurried my pace, noting the black, dampened ponytail gently swaying back and forth with each stride. Momo.

"Hey!" I called. The rain, growing in strength, drowned my words immediately. The droplets rolling off my skin left no residue, as if I were made of oil, keeping my core temperature steady and clothes dry. If I wanted to catch up with my "trainer", though, I would have to diverge more energy into running and focus less on my water resistance and fluid regulation.
Guess tonight will be a hair-wash night after all.

My legs pumped harder, useless voice continuing to call out to her quickly-escaping figure, oblivious to my attempts.

"Oi, Momo!"

What's with her? The workout outfit I'd chosen clung now like a second skin, sweat mixing with the rain until I couldn't tell the sensations apart anymore.

Water in all forms was, for the most part, calming to me.
My great distaste for wet, heavy ponytails, however, was ruining the tranquil vibe I could have potentially been enjoying, as well as the chilliness of the rain.

I ripped the tie from my hair and immediately the tendrils fell, alive and dancing in the moisture.
I was closing the distance between myself and the dark-clothed runner, thighs wailing in protest as I pushed myself harder.
Just as I reached for her, rain obscuring where my fingers landed, the figure vanished altogether.

"What...the hell?" I gasped, tumbling to my knees. My hand was empty; the arm I'd reached for had dodged, lightning quick. Mud squelched underneath my legs, sinking me in like quicksand. I staggered up, shaking each leg and wiping at my eyes, confused and increasingly drenched. Where did she go? Had she ever even been there?
Oxygen slowly filled my lungs, body stilling. I reached outside myself, allotting more use of my quirk than I had in a decade to capture the figure veiled by the rain, submersing myself.

It was instantaneous.

A sickening sense of foreboding swept through my hair, stretched its claws down my spine. The rain which brought me peace suddenly sounded thunderous; only the constant pounding of my heart and the droning sheets of water filled my mind- demanding, angry. I tried to turn only to find my feet sinking, lost in rising water. Panic consumed me, body and soul, caught between reality and the nightmare that had plagued me since I was a child.
My body was frozen, erratic heart rate uncontrollable.
I gasped for each frantic breath, lungs restricting with the haggard intake as the water rose up, up, up, lapping at my waist, nature's drums of war beating into my skin like knives.

'Your power isn't a gift; quirks are not gifts, they're instruments of death.'

"It's not real; it's not real," I breathed, covering my ears like a frightened child against the razor voice seeping in. This is pathetic, you're a grown woman. Stop this. I pictured my mom, explaining how traumatic memories could be distorted by the mind or triggered by events.

I pictured her brushing my hair, kissing my temple. I pictured Nasu, my heart slowing, my classroom. I focused all my energy into squelching my quirk and regulating my frantic body, fighting the uncontrollable convulsions that were crashing like waves through me.

That face, the face that always appeared, floating in the eddied waters that endlessly drowned me every other week, flashed its luminescent teeth, and I wanted to die.

I'll find you; I'll hurt you. Is that what you want?'

"You're not real," I hissed, anger and shame rising. I'd suffered more panic attacks, more bizarre quirk-related visions or memories or whatever than anyone I had ever known. I knew this wasn't real; I knew I was stronger. My body, betrayed by my mind, would lock itself down as the invaders rallied inside, inviting chaos, but I couldn't allow them to win. Whatever this illness was that came with my quirk could be beaten; it had to be.

"Damsels in distress don't do anything for me, sorry."

I imagined his face, and the way I felt when he smiled at me.
I had heard his words, and wanted to be stronger.

"I can't...let you win anymore," My voice was quiet, as still as my limbs had begun to grow, spine straightening. The water began to subside; on its own or by my quirk, I wasn't sure. The rage was tapering, reluctant to release its vice on my chest. "I have to be strong. For mom. For my students. For-"

I couldn't finish the sentence, even to myself.
The rain, once so enraged, was nothing more than a gentle melody once again.
The cool, running droplets lightened my body, brought a new sense of power and clarity.
I wasn't as weak as I'd led myself to believe; for the first time I'd held the demons at bay, relying on nothing but my own willpower.
The sky was just as grey as before, the path just as muddy.
I'd never seen anything more beautiful in my life.

"Hey, idiot. Why are you laughing to yourself?"

His voice couldn't hide an undertone of concern. Glancing down at my muddy, drenched body, I could hardly blame him.
I turned and grinned, dripping wet and lighter than feathers.

Shota Aizawa raised an eyebrow. His head tilted, a black, sleek tail moving behind him.
It was never Momo I was chasing.

"Are you…stalking me?"

I stood, shivering, unsure how to respond.
His eyes were as murky as the rain.
My throat bobbed with a swallow, mouth opening to speak words I didn't know.

"Not...Exactly."

The rain pattered around us. Cicadas and tree frogs sang love songs to their potential mates. Like a painter adding water, the dust had thickened with the rain and brushed my legs, accenting my arms and pollocking my face and hair. I was a crazed mess with a smile like a cracked egg.

Shota Aizawa watched me.

"What kind of idiot goes running in the rain?"
"Says the man also standing in the rain."
"Are you mouthing off again, Tsutomi?"
"Are you for some reason interested in my mouth, Aizawa?"

A moment passed. His shoulders slumped and that twitch wrinkled just one corner of his mouth.
Here we were, two potential idiots in the rain, unable to express what we were really thinking.
He nodded his head back towards the entryway. "Come on. I don't live far from here."

He walked slightly ahead until I caught up, fingers brushing against his with the movement.

He didn't pull away.