The morning light seemed less offensive today.
It had been a late night but he couldn't recall a time he'd been more well-rested.
A scratching drew him to the back door. A calico cat, belly swollen, was looking at him with great, doleful eyes. Her body swayed with each step, meowing politely before her food and water bowls were brought out. Aizawa scratched behind her ears with a ghost of a smile.
Even dragging, he made it to school forty minutes earlier than necessary, duffle bag filled for the weekend away from home.
Away, with Chiyo Tsutomi.
The amount of derision he'd held for this seminar just a week ago could have tranquilized an elephant. Now, he was almost- dare he think it- looking forward to the trip.
Her car was already in the lot, which was a problem; he'd intended to offer to drive them both. If her driving was anything like the other physical actions he'd witnessed, there was a significant chance he would end up roadkill and it was still so early in the semester.
He sighed, wondering how he could pitch the idea without creating an over-exaggerated response from the newly-reactive woman.
Present Mic was subbing in for his classes, students glazed and spines hunched, uninterested in whatever story his friend was bragging to them about. Aizawa glowered out of sight from the students. There would be hell to pay for this lack of effort Monday morning.
The students within Tsutomi's room seemed far more interested, faces aglow with wonder. Who'd she snag?
A small, furry animal was standing on her desk, spinning a globe three times his size on a single finger- er, paw.
"It's all physics, students! With an understanding of science, everything is possible-"
Aizawa wondered how the class had gotten Principal Nezu so off-topic in an ethics class. He then wondered why the students seemed so much more interested in the very subject he'd been teaching about for the past week when he couldn't get much more than a slow blink in response to questioning. Mild annoyance ticked his brow but didn't slow his leisure pace down the hall, discreetly keeping an eye out for Chiyo.
Not that he'd admit that's who he was actually looking for.
A thought had been buzzing about him all morning- about her quirk, and her mother. In the safety of his car, away from attentive ears, would provide the perfect chance to voice his thoughts.
Laughter fell out of the second floor teacher's lounge, tone warm and familiar. Something unknown rippled in Aizawa's chest at the sound. He grabbed the door handle, hesitated.
What was he to her? How, exactly, was Chiyo going to react after last night? Did he- or she- think they were more than the other did?
He'd thought she was a mirage on the track; some strange, disturbingly attractive and clumsy ghost he'd dreamed up, maybe from fatigue or unconscious desire. He had been thinking about her, and the soft curves of her legs in the dress she'd worn to school that day, when suddenly he'd felt another presence. He slipped into a shadow of rain and then there she was, freaking out in a puddle of rainwater and filth, holding onto her head like it might snap off.
Upon drawing closer he'd witnessed the frozen rain, caught in time and humming around her crumpled body, as if fighting to shield her.
But shield her from what?
He hadn't asked her, didn't want to scare her off. She was interesting and, mostly unbeknownst to her, sensual. Not in the over-the-top way Kayama was, but softly. The way she flicked her eyes, how she touched his face, the nape of his neck.
He hadn't expected her to kiss him.
Now that she had, his mind kept returning to the taste of her lips, his own personal idea of luxury.
He took a breath and made the plunge, pushing open the door. Chiyo and All Might- Toshinori, he reminded himself- sat across from each other, sipping from paper coffee cups and talking quietly. Her smile was bright and open, body comfortable in his presence. The skeletal body of Toshinori, meanwhile, seemed a little more tense, the prevalent reddening of his cheeks apparent from even where Aizawa stood in the doorway.
He knew he'd forgotten something.
"Aizawa!" Toshinori greeted, friendly. An unreadable flicker widened Chiyo's eyes as she turned towards him. Then, like dawn, her face cracked into a luminescent grin. Aizawa ignored the sudden roil of his stomach.
"I can't believe you're here this early; you know we don't leave for almost another hour, right?"
"I could tell you the same thing; I'd expected you to show up two minutes before departure."
She flung a throw pillow towards his head. Instead of easily dodging, he allowed the plush cushion to lose inertia against his face. As expected, Chiyo let out a gasp and was instantly in his personal space, hands around his jaw and wide eyes surveying for injuries. His small smirk broke her concern and she quickly pulled away. Pink tinted her features.
"You're the worst."
"That's my line."
They stood, probably looking coolly, quietly infatuated with one another, in total silence. Her hair was pulled from her face today. The smoothed surface of a mole, just kissing the hairline above her right ear, was newly visible. The idea of connecting the beauty marks, creating a constellation, crossed his mind.
A throat-clearing cough from Toshinori tore Chiyo's gaze away, bouncing with embarrassment.
"Toshinori was just telling me about the last seminar you went on,"
Aizawa's hair rose with the glowing of his eyes. "We vowed to never speak of that."
"No, you vowed to never speak of it," Toshinori rejected with a laugh. "If anything, you should be honored you got to participate in the activity."
"A speech on student engagement and you fell asleep in the front row. How...typical," Chiyo's voice was as ill-natured as her face. Aizawa scowled.
"Snideness is most unbecoming of a woman, Tsutomi."
"Oh, so you recognize me as a woman now, Aizawa?"
"I'd really hate to see how you two are going to get along for an entire weekend," Toshinori joked with a nervous scratch at his head. Chiyo sniffed, face turning away, but the edge of her smile was just apparent from her profile. As if they shared a common secret she wasn't quite willing to reveal yet.
The thought of sharing a weekend away with just Chiyo, separated by one thin wall, brought Aizawa back to the uncomfortable task at hand.
He hitched a thumb towards the door, face bored.
"I don't know if you're aware, but Principal Nezu is in your classroom teaching about physics. Is that the lesson plan you left him?"
Chiyo choked on her coffee. Which, Aizawa realized, had probably been bought and brought to her by Toshinori. Not a good sign.
"What?" Chiyo jumped up from the couch she had returned to, coffee sloshing from her cup. Droplets stained the cotton of her dress and she cussed. Couldn't she just pull the liquid out with her quirk? "Did he read the lesson plan wrong? Ethics and physics don't even sound that much alike..." She hurried past him, halfway out the door before she shot an apologetic smile at Toshinori.
"I'll text you, okay? Have a good weekend if I don't see you before we leave!"
An awkward silence seeped into the room. Aizawa sighed- his favorite icebreaker.
"I wanted to talk to you-"
"Do you have a moment to-"
They stopped, surprised as they each tried to begin a conversation. Slowly the stealth hero moved to the couch Chiyo had vacated. Her shape was still imprinted in its cushions. He sat, legs and arms crossed, more obviously closed off than he preferred. Before he could speak Toshinori leaned forward, looking serious.
"It's...About Chiyo Tsutomi."
What the hell is he doing?
Our cuddly principal was standing on a massive globe, balanced on one foot (er, paw?) as the students vigorously took notes, hanging on his every word. I was slow to enter the room, afraid to imbalance my employer.
"Ah, Ms. Tsutomi!" His voice, cheerful and calm, relayed the opposite reaction I was currently experiencing. I glared around the room, searching out the student I'd left to instruct the principal on what curriculum to cover.
Tenya Iida's scarlet face was trying to hide behind the notebook he was furiously writing in, glasses shaded and obscuring his eyes. I cleared my throat and he ducked even further into his notes.
"Principal Nezu!" I tried to mirror his animation, faking calm. Several students giggled. Damn, they were already able to recognize my false tones. "I think you might've been led astray on what today's lesson concerns. Will you- May I help you down from there?"
"Ah ah ah!" A white finger (paw?) waggled in my direction. He still stood one-legged on the globe, now dangerously beginning to roll. "Iida explained to me the trouble he's having in Mr. Aizawa's class, so after a brief vote we chose to change this hour into remedial physics! I hope you don't mind."
"Why would I mind?" I laughed, more crazily than I intended. Giggles turned into snickers. Nezu shook his head with a smile. A malevolent part of me was beginning to hope the globe really would roll out from under him.
"Let me rephrase; it appears some teachers, such as yourself, have already learned how to cater to student needs and preferred methods of learning. Others...Well, it's an ongoing learning process, isn't it?"
We might be on better- dare I say- friendly terms now, but the sound of Principal Nezu singing me praises over Aizawa was a spiritual experience I'd never found in any house of worship. I bowed my head, fighting off a grin that was clearly unprofessional. Even still, they should seek help after school; not during my class.
It would take something pretty astounding to get my students more interested in me over the man (animal?) doing a handstand on the globe again. I cleared my mind, breath shaky. In a single movement I moved towards the principal and pulled my thermos from my bag, the liquid innards moving through the spout and against my palm, lacing my fingers and filling the hole in the globe.
I'm not into the damsel in distress thing, sorry.
"Physics is fine and dandy," I began, surrounded by gasps and staggering students, marveling at the sight before them, "But there's more to heroism than the physical mechanics."
By swirling the water inside of the globe, seeping through the wood and making contact with Principal Nezu's leg, I was suspending them both, slowly revolving them like a basketball on the tip of my finger. The globe was a little heavier than I expected, especially coupled with the principal's weight, but I found the action surprisingly easy. Maybe regulating my body all these years actually gave me more control after all.
"Wh-What?!" Iida gasped, slapping his notebook down on the table. Mineta had fallen out of his circle chair, baubles sticking him upside down like a bouncing pervert-baby. Several students shared in a gaping expression.
"How are you doing that?"
"Are you using your quirk?"
Principal Nezu continued to stand, as still as a dancer with one foot pointed, winking down at me upon one of his revolutions around my finger. I cleared my throat as the students continued to buzz like a hive of bees, seeking attention. Midoriya persisted in mumbling under his breath, lost in a different world. Is this what Uraraka meant by his word vomit?
"All of these questions will be answered when- and only when- the assignment for today is completed and submitted by Monday morning. Everyone's," I emphasized, sending an evil eye in Mineta's direction. He, in turn, cut his eyes away, scratching at his nose. I walked the globe (and principal) back to its stand, pulling the water away and back into the thermos to be disposed of out of sight. My skin was jittery; I hadn't used my quirk in front of this many people in years.
It felt...exhilarating. Like when you think you're falling only to have been halfway asleep, safe in your bed but suddenly wide awake. I wondered how Aizawa and Toshinori would react when I or the students relayed this little parlor trick to them later.
My attention caught as the furry principal suddenly jumped from the globe and into my arms. Embarrassment riddled my bones. What do I do? Would holding him like a little kid be considered inappropriate? A knock resounded throughout the classroom, saving me from the awkward dilemma as the principal hopped down instead, arms held out as if it were an Olympic performance.
Aizawa stood in the doorway, expression like a locked fortress.
"It's time to go." Was all he said before stalking off. I blinked, taken aback at the cold air left in his presence. Was it palpable? Tsu shivered and even Aoyama's annoying nonchalantness seemed to tremble. What the hell was that?
"Well...have a great weekend, guys," My voice was suddenly lethargic. I shook it off, turning to my somber students. I ruffled Midoriya and Tsu's hair and jointly fist-bumped Uraraka and Ashido on my way out, saluting Iida. He gave a severe thumbs up and I smiled. My class would be fine.
My shaking legs and problematic heart might not be, though.
His lanky figure was already out of the building, moving like a black apparition across the campus. The sky was still murky from yesterday's rain. I wondered if it was replicating Aizawa's sudden mood.
"Aizawa! Hey!" I hustled after him, legs impossibly short and slow in comparison to his long strides. "Will you slow down? Shota-" I grabbed his arm, only to nearly be knocked down as he yanked himself out of my grip. I flinched in surprise, eyes like saucers. "Aizawa?"
"Don't," He responded, calm. His face remained cast from mine. "Just don't."
"Don't what?" I asked, annoyance mounting. "Look, if Toshinori told you about me calling you Eraserdick, I was only kidding-"
"Who's Manami?"
If I could bottle his deadly calm, drink it like a poison, I would've.
He turned, maddeningly handsome and closed off. We'd both dressed for the occasion- semi-professional, a tie around his neck, a cheap necklace round mine. Had he even pulled some of his hair up for my expense?
"What? What's that have to do with anything? Can you just-"
"You said you don't use your quirk to give your mom peace of mind, but that's bullshit, isn't it," He pivoted, continued his long, angry strides towards his car with feigned indifference. Irritation colored my brain and quickened my own footfalls, conflicted on which subject to broach first.
"What the hell are you talking about? What did Toshinori tell you? Hey-" I grabbed his arm again, ready this time when he tried to pull away. Two red eyes found mine, though the rest of his face remained just as emotionless as the day I met him. A rock sunk to the bottom of my heart at the sight.
"You could be great, you know that? But you're just a giant coward, hiding behind excuses and your mommy," He took a breath and the glow dimmed, eyes still locked on my frozen face.
"Toshinori wanted to warn me about your fragileness, to look out and take care of you during this seminar. After a little digging, he told me about your run-in with a quirk very different from your own,"
My grip went slack and he extracted his arm, gentler this time. Less caring.
"You had one shitty experience and you shut down. Didn't fight, didn't try; instead you hid behind your mom's skirt tails, just like you'd been taught to do. Now, you've wrapped the world's strongest hero around your finger, huh? You've gotten really good at finding people to take care of you, I see. All that potential you possess; it's wasted on you."
I didn't see logic, or last night's wonder, or how this was exactly what I'd wanted to hear one short week ago.
I only saw red.
My hand stung.
I looked down, watched my fingers shift color.
His face remained turned, bare without his shield of hair as my handprint bloomed.
"I won the game last night. I get one request," His voice was foreign, distant. Dark eyes turned back to me and I blinked, throat closed, helpless to make a sound.
"Forget last night. Forget coming over, and the things I told you. Forget that kiss,"
If I hadn't known better, I could've sworn his voice caught on the last word.
But I did know better.
"I told you before- I'm not looking for a princess waiting for her shining knight- I'm not that guy. Last night was a mistake, and I'm sorry if I led you on, but I need you to forget about it."
He moved, slid into his car. With the slam of the door, the crank of the engine, I breathed in a violent amount of air, nerves settling like ash.
I wondered when I had started crying.
You're overreacting; chill the fuck out.
Something might've, probably, snapped inside my head.
Instead of following him, slumping into his passenger seat and pouting like a puppy, I got in my own car and filed out of the lot. There was no way I was driving an hour and a half with him.
Carbon footprint be damned.
I'd woken up molten sugar, radiating happiness and nearly skipping around my apartment, kissing Nasu more times than I could count and leaving early, just to get a move on this day. I even made a lunch for that asshole.
I considered throwing it at him when we arrived but thought better of it; that's just the childish antics he'd expect, only further proving his point. The urge to scratch at my skin, feeling too tight on my bones in the humidity of my car, gnawed at the back of my mind. I cranked the AC and pushed the sensation aside.
I was an idiot to have thought we'd ever be anything, to feed a ridiculous crush on the man across the hall, who only ever showed interest when I was uncomfortable or had something he wanted. What did you think was going to happen?
Curiously, where I thought there'd be sadness and endless embarrassment, I just felt...rage.
Sure, I hadn't exactly filled him in on the whole situation- Manami and the electric condition she'd left me in was a sensitive subject. I could count on one hand how many people who were trusted with the memory. Shota Aizawa was mistakenly added and rampaged in reaction. It had been the right call, not telling him.
Who the hell did he even think he was, talking down to me like that? My hands clenched around the steering wheel, signaling an abrupt pass around a slow van bumbling down the interstate.
All that potential is wasted on you. What fucking potential? The potential to bless children with nap time via my regulating quirk? The potential to get myself killed trying to act like some mock hero like he did? Who was he to criticize my choices like some tired-eyed life guru?
Yeah, my sentiments towards quirks and all related subjects took a radical pivot after an electric encounter. When you're left with nightmares that sink through unconsciousness, can find you even in broad daylight, chances are you can't just let it go or move on as if nothing ever happened.
When a person is stung by a bee, they tend to avoid bees.
When someone's attacked by a dog, they foster cynophobia.
When my body was riddled with enough electricity to kill a full grown man, I learned to fear quirks.
But even as my mind came to the rescue, providing every logical defense to deny Aizawa's scathing words, something in my chest was curdling like soured milk.
In all this crazed drama, not knowing whether to scream or cry, I found myself instead wanting to laugh.
I might've just been lured, caught, and gutted, but it felt strangely...freeing.
Because it's what you've thought about yourself this whole time. Something clarified from the rotten little pit it had dug between my ribs. Because deep down, you know it was a cop-out. Someone just finally put it into words.
My hands were shaking; this time, it had nothing to do with my condition.
In safety of my car, I realized being called out had felt almost...good. Not having to hide behind some calm, submersed persona and pretend to be something I wasn't, instead letting my heart race and anger burn through my arteries as his words slammed into me.
Had I been hiding behind my mom, trying to be the person she wanted me to be? Sure. Her fear was my greatest weakness. I did everything in my power to give her peace of mind- if my safety was what she needed then I was willing to sacrifice risks, reign in the emotions that swept so many of my friends into stupid situations. It didn't mean I couldn't feel- I just didn't to the degree they did, wild and careless and full-ranged. Unregulated.
Because I had, once. And look where we ended up.
The parties. Friendships outside of acquaintances. Chances.
I'd given them all up for her.
...Right?
His cool words had struck a forgotten chord and awoken that sleeping siren, whose wake-up call I'd deactivated so long ago. It stretched its long limbs, flicked a smug wave from its new residency in my chest.
Maybe I was a coward, spineless.
But maybe it was for different reasons than I'd thought.
He hadn't really expected her not to ride with him.
And he really hadn't expected her to be as good of a driver as she proved, maneuvering through traffic like a demon built for speed and agility. If only she could walk as smoothly.
Toshinori's words swirled like a miasma throughout the drive, from the serious tone of his voice as he explained Chiyo's handicaps to the retelling of the trial by electrocution.
He and Toshinori harbored very different sentiments concerning the event.
While the all-powerful hero pitied Chiyo's history and saw it as a reason to protect the woman made of porcelain and glass, Aizawa was engulfed in fury; both at the sick little sparkplug but at Chiyo herself.
He'd seen, felt, her abilities. With a little badgering Toshinori had admitted he knew Chiyo was in near-constant use of her quirk, quieting the tremors that shook her appendages now and then. Aizawa couldn't use his own quirk for more than a few minutes at a time; All Might had been resorted down to just three hours a day.
And yet Chiyo Tsutomi was in near constant use of hers.
Imagine the control and power reserves she must have.
He might've lost his cool, went overboard in his sentencing. He had half-expected her to make a reprisal on the ride over. That theory died when she went rogue at their departure, never once turning back to glance in his direction.
She must have arrived quite a while ahead of him; her car wasn't even warm. He took a quick survey of the groups of men and women milling about, trying to spot the sticky-bun of a hairstyle she'd had that morning.
Aizawa noticed a swivel of heads following a figure, hair being ripped at by small hands until a mane fell out, striking like vipers in the cooled breeze the rain had brought. Bingo.
He'd just caught her shadow, fingers centimeters from grazing her arm when she disappeared into the building. The cacophony of a thousand people created its own sort of silence; Chiyo disappeared instantly. Aizawa cursed under his breath. Different guest speakers had varying times throughout the day, and neither UA teacher had made a specified schedule. For the time being he could do nothing but keep an eye out for her figure; those curved legs and bright dress and wild, freed hair the only telltales since she was nearly a head shorter than the crowd that swallowed her.
With a sigh he succumbed to the commotion, brain dancing over the irrational reaction he'd struck down a fellow teacher with and whether he should apologize.
He'd meant what he said- she had a truly remarkable talent. And, regardless of her clumsy, jittery behavior, she possessed a concise mentality bred through ethics and logic, giving her an edge so many pro heroes seemed to barely scratch the surface of.
He didn't see Chiyo Tsutomi for her limitations, but the mass potential of her raw talent and fluid nature, the level-headedness she hid behind instead of wielding to her advantage. So why didn't I just say that?
Because Toshinori Yagi had spoken so earnestly he was forced to look away. The unfamiliar feeling roused by the earlier sound of her laugh had returned with a vengeance, declaring itself with the realization Chiyo had shared her past with their mutual coworker- one who was still laced in bullshit and lying through his teeth and yet she still chose him, fled to him.
He shouldn't care; he knew he shouldn't. At the time, Chiyo was barely more than the mild annoyance across the hall, whose voice occasionally teased him between classes and stumbling footsteps disrupted his afternoon snoozes.
And yet.
And yet the green-eyed monster had inflected his tone, tensed his jaw at the sight of her smiling, goofy face, raged against the way she said his first name.
He'd acted childishly.
The lights flickered, noting a guest speaker running through one final warm-up exercise before he began. Aizawa slouched into a back row.
His message had been misconstrued through jealousy and unwarranted anger. Even if he wouldn't express the reasonings, he would apologize for his behavior towards her.
Just as soon as he slept through this presentation.
I was beyond out of my element.
UA may have been the most prestigious hero-program school, but it certainly wasn't a singular academy. Groups of teachers, some with outfits as wild as Kayama's, milled about, louder than cicadas in their peak season as they greeted old acquaintances and introduced fellow teachers.
And then there was me, wild-eyed and quietly panicky, vigorously pounding on my phone as if I were trying to kill its soul.
-Why would you tell Aizawa everything I told you in confidence?
-I didn't WANT other people to know.
-Why did you even bring it up? More importantly; why did you think I'd need protection at a public seminar? I'm not some stupid little kid, Toshinori.
-You know what, don't respond. I don't want to hear anything you have to say.
My rapid-fire texts provided no time for a response. I powered off the screen and threw it back in my bag. There had been a fat red "4" above the phone icon; Mom had tried to call me when I didn't show up for our weekly dinner last night, and subsequently tried a few more times even after I explained my whereabouts via text.
I bent at the waist, temple in hands and knees spread in a way Mom would surely scold. My index finger typed nonsensical morse code against my skull, regardless of regulation.
I'd been told off by Aizawa, I was fighting with my only adult-age friend, and I was pretty sure my stomach felt tight with pre-period cramps.
All in all, this was a pretty shitty day.
"Hi, are these seats taken?"
I looked up in time to watch a grinning woman fall into the seat next to me. Two others, one smiling and the other looking rather tired, followed suit. I glanced around. There are vacant seats everywhere. You really couldn't choose somewhere else to sit?
Maybe this was probably for the best; I'd be a lot harder to spot amidst a group of others.
Not that I expected Aizawa to try and find me, anyway.
I straightened my posture, glanced at my watch. If I'd read the schedule correctly, the Teachers Against Trauma lecture would be starting any minute. This didn't stop the woman on my right from continuing to gush idiotically about her "one true love" and how manly he looked today. She didn't even seem bothered by my lack of attention; every five seconds she'd start laughing hysterically, patting my arm like we were old friends.
I considered just leaving altogether- who would even notice? There was no attendance check- I could leave right now and be home in time for-
The thought quaked out of existence as my chair was nearly uprooted. The woman had rocked forward, slapping her knee and laughing till she was on the verge of tears. What's wrong with this woman?
"Ah, sorry, sorry! I get a little carried away!" Her hand on my arm was filling me with locusts. I pushed her blood away with an unconscious nod. She pulled away accordingly, seeming not to notice my assistance. "I just get a little misty eyed when I see my husband walking around so dressed up!"
I noted the lack of a ring on her finger. She caught me looking and threw the hand behind her head, grin full of cheese.
"Well, he might not know he's my husband yet, but we're truly meant to be! Even our zodiacs are compatible- a love written in the stars, so to speak. Truly star-crossed lovers!"
I honestly couldn't tell if she was joking or not. I gave a polite smile, debating whether to pull my phone back out just to look busy.
She was that intimidating kind of friendly, like the beloved girl in high school who was popular for that exact reason- because she was just genuinely nice. There was nothing more intimidating than sincerity to insecure females like myself.
A flash of grey eyes and sobering truth knocked about my brain, planting a seed of second guessing into my insecurities.
"Are you seeing anyone?"
"I'm looking at you right now," I answered, taking a risk. Jade eyes blinked in surprise. I tried to smile, showing the humor I'd tried and clearly failed at. In seconds she was roaring with laughter, slapping my back hard enough to leave a bruise.
"Hey, that's pretty good! I like you!"
That makes one of us, at least.
Before I could respond the stage lit up, music reminiscent of All Might's commercial theme song crescendoing from backstage. Saved by the music.
I caught snippets of the lecture, mostly lost in my own thoughts. Professional development sounded fancy and important, but really we were told the same regurgitated information, just in new voices and formats. Aizawa wasn't wrong about a time waster, that's for sure.
I wondered where he was. If he was somewhere in the audience behind me.
My lungs constricted every time his stupid face appeared in my thoughts. On one hand, I was pretty sick of his put-downs. From day one he was over-the-top asinine, pushy and questioning and generally infuriating, destabilizing what I'd worked so hard to build around myself. I wasn't just some punching bag stress reliever.
But then there was the person who had waited outside on a rainy day, umbrella in hand as I ran haphazardly from the parking lot, meeting me halfway and taking my bags with a tame comment about my stupidity. Who'd noted my exhaustion on Mondays and genuinely, bizarrely, offered up a yellow sleeping bag for use during my prep period.
Whose mouth had responded so quickly to my own, gentle but urgent, that I'd stayed up half the night thinking about it.
Plus, on the other, more-terrifying hand, he'd told me what I always wondered, what I think I always wanted to secretly hear; that my life hadn't and shouldn't be defined by one single moment. His anger stemmed not from animosity at me, but at the fact that I could be more than I was. A jolt of pain slithered across my skull.
Could I...Did I disagree with him?
I might have chosen the wrong path, maybe, but did that mean it was too late to divert from this chosen route?
Applause burst the silence like a bubble. I brought my own hands together, absentmindedly standing when the woman beside me did. A death grip suddenly pinched my arm and I let out a hiss, quickly turning towards my aggressor. The aqua-haired woman stared intently at something behind us. I followed her gaze, only to find someone else already watching me, steps purposeful and fast.
Shota Aizawa's look was even more severe than before.
Fight or flight kicked in like a lightning strike. I slammed my arm down, breaking the joker's grip and scooping my bag in one fell swoop.
"Sorry, but I've really got to go- lots of presentations to catch today! It was nice meeting you!" My apology was as quick as my break for the closest door, hoping to get lost in the rising crowd. The woman turned, surprised, and I threw out a little wave, just as a looming presence shadowed her features.
"What did you say to her?" His voice broke through my movement. I nearly stopped, turned around to see what was happening. They know each other? I was glad I hadn't said anything too personal.
For the rest of the day I applied my wallflower, blend-in ability at maximum power, never once running into Aizawa and spending the remaining mind-numbing lectures locked inside my own mind, chasing maddening thoughts like escaping white rabbits.
The hotel was a lot ritzier than I expected.
The bedsheets appeared to be made out of angel feathers, creamy in texture and color. The pillows embraced my woozy head better than even Midnight's bosom. I let out a blissful sigh, kicking off my pinching heels and wriggling out of the tight-waisted skirt to truly become one with the bed.
Principal Nezu had allotted such a gross amount of money I could afford to use room service- an extravagance I'd only ever seen in movies. A multi-paged menu blessed me with endless options. I propped the glossy pages up on my chest, acting as a thin filter from the finally-subsiding noise across the room.
A persistent knocking had rattled my door not long after I'd crashed into the bed; hesitant at first, but growing agitated by my obvious, ignoring presence inside. Eventually he gave up, but something told me he'd be back.
He told me to leave him alone. So I was.
In the most childish way possible.
The shower upheld the sheet's high expectations, accommodated by rainfall jets and sweet-smelling potions. I soaked until my skin matched Recovery Girl's. Long-legged thoughts continued to meander around my tired brain, poked holes through the paper-thin walls of my intrinsic beliefs and peeked in with curious eyes. I held my breath under the water's surface until the thoughts shriveled like my lungs.
I pigged out on more food than I could've ever afforded on my own wages, watched trash tv, and off-handedly worked on using my quirk without destroying anything. My nerves still fizzled at moving water outside of my own body. It was a manageable pain, like reading too late into the night and struggling through the drowsiness eating away at the words.
I'd just stumbled upon the bouquet of dying summer flowers on the table, seeping water into their wilted petals, when severe knocking from the door nearly caused me to explode the entire vase. Limbs gave a violent flinch before settling, fear quickly heating into anger.
"Didn't you get a clue from before? I don't feel like talking to you," I grouched, tying my bathrobe tightly closed and heading towards the vibrating door. "I'm coming! You are so neurotic, you know that-"
Fingers had barely released the handle before the door crashed open. My shriek was cut short as a large hand wrapped around my throat, the other hiding my mouth. I squirmed, nearly lifted off the ground by the colossal being holding me hostage, unable to escape. Panic, shock, and oxygen loss bulged my eyes, hands helplessly scratching against the meaty fingers fastened like deadlocks to my skin.
Chiyo, focus. I tried to feel the blood running in his veins. No luck; my brain was screaming for help, too far gone to be of any use or controlled.
The door, which had slammed shut upon his violent entrance, unhinged with a thunderous clatter. I tried to dislodge a scream even as the two glowing red eyes registered in my memory, a familiar head of hair appearing like a whirlwind around his stricken, furious face.
In an instant he was gone and so was the grip on my throat. Air rushed through my lungs like a freed dam. Spit coated the floor as I gagged, holding onto my own throbbing neck. What the fuck is going on?
"What...the fuck...is going...on," I panted, moving on wobbling legs to a standing position. The room spun slightly, my brain still taking in oxygen in order to re-calibrate my senses.
The figure of Shota Aizawa came into focus. He was ruthlessly kicking the body of my assailant, dark hair still raised as if he'd kissed an electrical socket.
No response came from the crumpled mass on the floor. I moved, hesitant, to take hold of Aizawa's arm.
"I think he's down," I spoke quietly. Eraser Head's motions slowed, though his breath sounded as ragged as mine. I kept my hand on his arm and gently led him away from the slumped body.
He took a deep inhale. With it, his features began to de-escalate and the Aizawa I knew returned.
"Who the hell is that? What...What's going on?"
"Trauma training." He glanced around. I wished I had thrown away all the takeout boxes after my gorging fest, noting the significant piggishness of our surroundings. If he noticed, he didn't say anything.
Clearly there's more pressing matters here, jackass.
"It's probably one of the speaker's irrational ideas to have some of us experience trauma first hand, not taking into account the various types of instructors involved in this. Come on, you're not safe in here."
He moved towards the door. I remained nailed to the carpet.
Aizawa turned, expectant, and I startled, feeling indignant.
"Where do you expect me to go?"
He continued to watch me. A vein remained obvious above one thin eyebrow, as if he still hadn't fully calmed down.
Glad to see he wouldn't use this tactic on the students, at least.
"You can stay in my room; it'd be safest."
I debated taking my chances in the murder room.
He seemed to notice this, annoyance growing.
"Listen, I'm not saving you again, Tsutomi. Now come on so we can get this weekend over with."
The weekend might pass quicker if I stayed and was consequently murdered, I thought unpleasantly. I followed him nonetheless, quickly collecting my belongings and trailing behind him down the hall.
His room was a carbon copy of my own, sans food boxes. I wondered if he'd even eaten. He unwound his scarf and tossed it onto the table, pacing around and scratching at his hair. I stood, awkward and still rather stunned by the events of the past ten minutes, hair in a towel and body clothed in an abundantly fuzzy bathrobe. At last he looked at me, giving my body a once over.
"You can have the bed. I'll take the couch."
"Okay," I complied, unwilling to give up the better-than-chocolate sheets and pillows I'd never get to experience again. His right cheek twitched, moving his mouth in something similar to a grimace.
Valid, I thought. Bet he was hoping I would be the courteous one.
He looked like he wanted to say something- he was totally going to say something about this morning. I faked a yawn and cratered toward the bed like the exact coward he accused me of being.
"Well, I'm pretty tired. Can't wait for the explanation of this little test tomorrow. Sleep well," I melted into the sheets like butter on potatoes, carefully keeping my back to him.
A prolonged moment of silence expanded across the room. I held my breath, counting the time by the frantic heartbeats shaking my chest. Finally he released a soft exhale. The bathroom door closed like an exit cue moment after.
I pulled the covers over my head, quietly freaking out.
Twenty-four hours ago, this would have been my ultimate fantasy.
Now, I was forcing my heart rate to decrease, dangerously slowing my system to force fatigue. I didn't want to think about how Aizawa's point was proven one-hundred percent accurate just moments ago, when I was helpless in the face of violence, or how he said he wouldn't save me again. Did he mean that? Surely they wouldn't attack again- let alone the room of a known professional hero who'd left a...what, actor? in a pile of black eyes and bruises a few rooms over.
And what the hell was that? Toshinori had made Eraser Head sound like the infinitely logical, poised hero others should strive to be like. My stomach churned, recalling the brutality of his attacks long after the danger had been dissolved. Something told me that was a sincerely out-of-the-norm episode for the heroic enigma.
So why, then? Because of me? Ridiculous. He'd seemed pretty pissed about the entire scenario; maybe the total lack of logic behind this stupid seminar had pushed him off the edge. How many others like me were attacked?
He'd opted out of the cavernous bathtub and chosen the shower, the pattering from the spout an obvious tell. I tried not to think of his slender, smooth-lined body just one room away, bare of clothing and glistening. I buried like a mole deeper into the blankets.
The door opened and out he walked; I could sense the steam pressed around his skin. There was curious shuffling against the far wall. I peeked between the sheets to catch him rummaging through a duffle bag, nothing but a towel strung around his waist. The steady regulation of submersion stoppered my unnatural, heart-thudding desire to sink into the water still dewy on his calves, the crescent-shaped scar on the curve of his spine.
The towel fell and suddenly Shota Aizawa was flawlessly nude for ten seconds before pulling on a pair of boxers and a soft-looking T-shirt.
Maybe I've been overreacting- if I apologize, all this could turn into something much, much-
"So what happened to Manami?"
Scratch that thought.
Throw it into a deep, dark abyss, never to be seen again.
I maneuvered around to reach the pillows, pulling my face out enough to be audible.
"What do you mean?"
Aizawa fell onto the small loveseat, tucking in for the night.
"She electrocuted you to the point of unconsciousness, right? Kids can't just abuse their quirks without severe repercussions. Was she sent to a reform school?"
"Oh." I'd never even thought about it. "I don't know; Mom pulled me out and transferred me to a private school for non-quirk students."
Aizawa snorted- a response I expected.
"You weren't quirkless, though."
"I never used my quirk out in the open again, so no one ever knew the difference,"
From my vantage point I could see him in profile. The scruff of usual had been trimmed for the weekend trip, accenting his strong jaw. His hair was a wet knot near the back of his head. I shifted, suddenly uncomfortable.
"Does your mom know?"
"Know what?"
"That you've been using your quirk this whole time,"
"No."
His shoulders tensed. Before he could turn to fix me with a questioning stare I leapt under the covers, hiding like a tortoise in its shell.
Of course I couldn't tell her; it was my darkest, most well-kept secret.
Because if she knew, it would be the biggest betrayal of all.
Sleep was more achievable than expected; the next time I opened my eyes, the red stick figures of the clock read 3:35. I shut out the light, annoyed for having woken up at all, but my drowsiness was quickly fleeing.
I was lying on my back; unusual, as laying smash-faced on my belly or curled into the fetal position was more my speed. I tried to turn, favoring my left side, only to find a strange restraint preventing the movement. Wait a second.
A soft weight anchored my hand off the side of the bed. My arm suddenly tingled with the realized lack of blood flow. I gave my fingers a twitch.
They moved against someone else's.
Terror wracked my brain. Was this another idiotic trauma exercise? I slithered closer to the edge, peeping just my eyes over the rim.
Shota Aizawa's long body was lying on the carpet, hand wrapped around mine and face blissfully unconscious. I gaped. He chose sleeping on the floor for my regulation rather than the cushioned couch? I scooted closer to run a finger across the lashes of his right eye.
Not even a flutter.
It still amazed me people could sleep with their mouths perfectly closed and still breathe enough air to survive. The planes of his face were smooth, unwrinkled by exhaustion or worry. Shota Aizawa looked almost...boyish, without the annoyed tick in his brow or scowl clenching his jaw. My lips pulled upward at the sight.
He'd told me to forget the kiss, but I couldn't. Not yet.
It took more concentration than I'd almost ever used, focusing on balancing out his blood, every single capillary. A dull ache warmed the back of my skull and a leg gave an involuntary quake. Ignoring the discomfort, I kept skin-to-skin contact as I moved him across myself and onto the other side of the bed, placing him on top of the downy comforter. He didn't even stir.
Would he be mad? I built a wall of pillows between us before falling onto my own, suddenly more weary than I had been all week.
My hand snuck underneath the wall, searching out his. I wrapped one lone finger around his pinky; enough contact to spread my quirk through the both of us.
I hadn't saved or protected a life, certainly.
But maybe it was a small, discreet start.
Hello, readers. I just wanted to thank you tremendously for continuing with my little story. I hate breaking into the reading experience, so I try to keep these little blurbs sparse. Please know that I'm overjoyed knowing anyone reads this besides my cat, who attempts to sit on my chest every time I sit down to write. See you next week!
