-Are you sure you're okay to come in today?
-I'm fine. I'll be there.
What a boring conversation. Once again I sounded like a nagging mother, worrying over the well-being of a professional hero.
Then again, the imprint of his face now marred the USJ's concrete flooring. No amount of scrubbing would ever remove all the bloodstains.
I fought the urge to ask for photographed proof of his well-being, realizing his beat-up tired face hardly differed from his grouchy-tired normal one.
Tuesday morning was here at last, and while the prospect of the students finding out the Sport Festival was just around the corner wobbled the milk in my stomach like opaque jello, I felt strangely optimistic; the air was crisp, the sun bright, and my body wasn't screaming in pain from last night's workout.
Maybe I'm getting stronger.
Shota mentioned he would be in later than usual so I hadn't dawdled in arriving, walking briskly from the parking lot towards the first-year building. My fingers paused over the phone's keyboard; would it be too weird if I sent a gif?
"Ms. Tsutomi, good morning!"
I startled at the voice, thumb selecting a gif of a kitten rolling into a blanket-burrito and sending it off into the universe. The guardsman was the culprit of my submitted failure, smile too genuine for my annoyance to even bloom. "H-Hello!"
Hang on. Was his expression more of a smile or a grin? Two full rows of teeth gleamed at me, hand raised in a wave, but it was the sweat dampening his receding hairline that caught my eye. What's going on here?
I paused. He fidgeted, beaming smile still slapped across his face. I allotted a suspicious squint. "Did you...have a good weekend?"
"Yes, I did! I get my daughter on weekends, so we went to the new aquarium they opened in Hosu; do you know it?"
Every good deed of my life went up in flames, burnt to a crisp at my abominable suspicion of this pure-hearted man. I jerked, halfway between a bow and a trip, flinging one of my bags into the concrete. "I heard about it on the news, but haven't had a chance to visit! That must've been such a treat for you both!" Idiot. Idiot idiot idiot. With the straps secured around my shoulders I all but sprinted away with an absurd salute. "I'll see you later! Have an excellent day! Thanks for all you do!"
In the safety of the hallway I fell to my knees, asking my ancestors to have pity on my pitiful soul.
A vibration in my pocket pulled me up, sullen as I continued to my classroom.
-If that's your way of asking if I'll be bringing my sleeping bag, the answer is yes.
A snort that would offend my mother huffed out of my nose, just as another text arrived;
-If that's your way of asking about the kittens, they're good. Endo says she misses you.
That fluttery feeling swirled its way through my stomach again, too easily set off by Shota Aizawa. I fumbled with my strangely unlocked door, wondering what answer could possibly match his last comment. Without looking up I flicked on the lights.
"Surprise!"
I screamed, phone flying to the ceiling in my flinching panic. A purple orb shot out and landed against the linoleum, catching my phone before it shattered into a thousand Yen-sized pieces.
The room was packed to the brim, twenty-two faces displaying a variety of expressions- from exuberant grins to reluctant semi-scowls- at my entrance, party poppers and confetti flying. A scandalously-dressed woman stood on a table, holding one end of a banner that read Welcome Back!, the other side held by a grinning man with a striking resemblance to a cockatiel.
Class 1-A stood between the two heroes, all eyes on me.
The hand covering my pounding heart raised to my dumbstruck mouth, confusion melting at the edges into something buttery and warm.
"We just wanted to say thank you for what you did at the USJ!" Uraraka held out a card, littered in different signatures and drawings, colors and comments.
"We know you don't use your quirk often-"
"But you used it, to protect us."
Midoriya nodded, putting a hand on Tsu's shoulder.
"Thank you for protecting us, Miss Tsutomi!"
So.
This is what it's like.
Heart in my mouth, blood made of honey, all I could do was cry.
Panic spread across the face of every person. I shook my head, stomping an angry foot. "That snaky little guard! He was hiding something!"
The fear broke. Laughter filled my classroom of students and friends. Sato produced a cake, icing spelling out another thank you, and began to cut fat chunks for everyone, blushing at the compliments that soon followed sampling. A scowling Bakugo offered me a high five; probably the greatest level of honor I had ever received in my life.
Familiar breasts wrapped around my head in a hug, Kayama feigning great, fat tears that soaked my hair and wailing about the potential loss of her most promising protege to date, but this time I didn't even mind.
This is what it's like to have people you want to protect.
The morning back flew by in a flurry, with only one topic in the forefront of every teacher and student's mind: the UA Sports Festival, and all its possible glory.
And while I understood the hype and excitement, what it could mean for my students, I was already getting tired of the energy it took to keep classes focused.
The students I expected distracted behavior from- namely, Class 1-A- had proven more subdued, excitement only the undercurrent of the class. I couldn't help but wonder if this was due to the USJ attack. They'd experienced real danger; how would this impact them moving forward?
Several classes had already been spent just discussing the event- what happened, the emotions experienced, if this could happen again. I felt no guilt for skipping my planned lessons.
Class 1-B and the Gen Ed classes, too, had been interested in gleaning all details possible, flavored with unreadable tones and expressions. The growing animosity between the hero course and everyone else was becoming palpable- it would only be a matter of time until something broke the seams between the two.
I'd just sat down for my prep period, wondering if Aizawa had yet shown up, when a loud commotion stampeded outside my classroom door like a herd of bulls.
You could ignore it. Use this next precious hour working on lessons, or watching television.
An ethical mindset dragged me up, leaned me against the door frame to quietly observe an unparalleled sight.
There stood what felt like half the school, peering curiously in on the end of class 1-A's homeroom, a fiery Katsuki Bakugo strutting out like an inflamed peacock.
"I don't have time for extras," He was spitting, shoving his way through the students clearly scoping out their competition. By chance he glanced my way. I crooked a finger, ushering him towards my room. An exaggerated sigh, coupled with muttered curses probably wishing my death, followed him through the crowd, reluctantly skulking my direction. Half the heads turned to watch him go. I gave a polite wave and closed them out.
"So, what. You gonna lecture me too?" He grouched, annoyance enticed when I didn't immediately answer. I slipped my heels off to tuck my legs back into my favored fluffy chair near my desk. Bakugo sunk into his own usual seat, eyes cast to the floor. "Well?"
"Do you want to be a hero?" I smoothed out the skirt of my dress, picking Nasu's fur off the hem. He grunted at such a stupid question.
"So what kind of person do you want to be? One like All Might, right?"
"What? Bakugo had finally looked up.
"There's tons- dozens upon dozens- of heroes you could look up to. Ones with explosive quirks like your own, ones who seem to focus purely on power and being 'the best.' But you didn't choose to idolize them; you someone people put their hope and belief in; someone who smiles and redefined the meaning of the word hero."
I pressed my knuckles into my chin, not breaking eye contact.
"This was something I've wanted to cover in Ethics class but haven't found a way to make it sound like I'm not shitting on other heroes. But I don't feel like I need to hold back with you, Bakugo; who do you want to be?"
"I don't understand what the hell you're asking." His eyes and body language, though, were making it clear that he did, deflecting from my gaze once again. I looked out the window, giving him a moment of privacy.
"I'm not not All Might or anyone else. I'm just me."
"And that's pretty damn impressive. I just don't think you have to be yourself alone."
The usual look of pissed-off was absent, as if momentarily too exhausted to wipe across his face and start another half-argument. I pulled a droplet of water from the indigo bowl on the window sill and flicked it in the direction of his ear, grinning when the veins in his forehead bulged in reaction.
"You're not alone, you know."
"I know." An inflection of anger had returned, simmering around the edges. "But they're not going to make me the strongest-"
"Friends make you stronger, Bakugo. Not always physically, but in ways you don't even realize."
The explosive teenager was quiet, face carved in fury but no answer pulled from his bared teeth. Before he could retaliate by blowing up my classroom or jumping out of a window, the door opened.
A literal mummy stood before us.
"Sho- Mr. Aizawa?" I corrected myself at the last second, eyes bulging at the familiar hair and clothing- the only tells of who lay underneath the bandages. Where the hell did those come from?
"Am I interrupting something?"
"Nope," Bakugo answered, using this as an excuse to stomp out of the room- though slightly less aggressive than before. I bid him farewell as he slid past Mummy-Shota. He threw a passive hand over one slouched shoulder.
"Did I...not leave clear enough directions for how to use those?" I didn't recall Recovery Girl mentioning anything about wrapping his entire face or arms. He hobbled over to the chair he frequented for lunch, as if he'd just been released from the hospital. As if he hadn't carried me like a feather pillow and placed me on the couch, kissing me all the while.
"I figured everyone would leave me alone if I acted like this," He raised a gauzed arm for emphasis, bloodshot eyes impish. "So far it's proved very effective."
I couldn't tell what was more bizarre: his behavior, or that I still found myself attracted to him.
"Right. Well, now that we've cleared that up-" I wandered closer, settled in across from him. "I was thinking maybe we should keep..this-" I gestured between the two of us, trying to maintain a professional air and not succumb to the weird embarrassment tickling my neck, "-under wraps when it comes to the students. Pun intended."
Shota nodded. Or I assumed he did; it was hard to tell with the multiple layers of bandages and long, shaggy hair.
"I agree. We should definitely maintain a professional relationship while on school grounds and during all related events."
I released all the awkwardness I'd felt with a little sigh, though a twinge of reluctance had colored the whole topic in my mind; wasn't it every teacher's secret fantasy to makeout on their desk? It probably wouldn't work anyway; he's too tall. And with our perverted peeping professionals, we'd surely get caught. Another sigh escaped me, though resolutely longer and more dramatic this time.
"The students are going to be a wreck to teach the next two weeks,"
I snorted. "They already are, and it's Day 1."
"It's only going to get worse from here; I'm willing to share my sleeping bag in exchange for boxed lunches."
A smile curled my lips as I gave him a once-over. "With you looking like that? I'll pass, thanks."
On day three post-sports festival news, I considered submersing into the entirety of the class, forcing their heartbeats to comatose levels.
On day five, after a particularly disgusting joke shared not-quietly-enough in the back row, I manipulated a gallon of water through Mineta's baubles, pulling them from his head and using them to stick Kaminari into a chair, permanently.
Principal Nezu emailed me about an inquiry to take place after school on Friday, which I'd gone into with trepidation. Shota had promised I wouldn't be in trouble for having used my quirk at the USJ, but what if he had been wrong?
Instead I was just interviewed by a plain-looking police officer, giving a detailed description of Tomura Shigaraki and what had transpired between us.
I didn't mention the nightmares, or how I'd been surprised to recognize his face about as much as he'd been by mine; I couldn't handle another probe into my life that would lead nowhere.
Toshinori caught my attention upon my release, a smile carved into the seeds of his sunflower head. "Hey! Long time no see!"
"You're telling me!" I responded, giving his shoulder a little punch. He pretended to stumble back, as if I'd wounded him. "I haven't seen you nearly all week? Have you forgotten about your little Chi-Chan already?"
It always pleased me, how easily I could get the towering beanstalk to redden. So far it had proved nearly an impossible task when it came to a certain eraserface- at least when I tried to do so purposefully. Toshinori, however, only needed a few well-placed words.
"I'm so sorry, Chiyo. With the attack on the USJ and the Sports Festival coming up- security is going to need to be increased tenfold, at the very least."
"Is there anything I can do to help?" We walked side by side to my classroom. A glance into Shota's allowed me to spot the yellow caterpillar, cocooned in a corner and clearly passed out. Good grief.
"That's kind of you to offer, but I don't want you to worry, Chiyo; you've already done so much," Toshinori's smile was genuine, kind. It didn't dent my newly-minted armor any less, though. "Teacher attendance isn't mandatory, per say, but I assume you'll be attending to cheer our students on?"
"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Tufts of assignments to be graded feathered out of my bag. I stuffed them in harder, thanking Toshinori as he scooped up a few rogue flyaways. "Do I, er, need to buy a ticket, or something?"
He laughed at my noviceness, waving me off. "I actually went ahead and requested a seat for you, so no need to worry."
"Really?" I slapped my hands together in contrition, bending in an abrupt bow. "You're seriously a peach, you know that? A great, sunflowery peach,"
He laughed- probably put off by the strangest analogy of all time. A lull fell into the conversation and my nagging conscience prodded the subject I'd most been dreading.
"Toshinori? There's something I've been meaning to tell you,"
His skeletal body paused at the door, turning with a friendly smile.
I could just not say anything, change my name and try to become a princess at Tokyo Disney. If I leave right now, I could be there before Saturday.
I brushed my hair behind one ear, took a shaky breath. "I...You're a really good friend- probably my best friend, actually. Is that weird to say? I know we haven't known each other that long- it's okay if you don't think the same about me. Like, really, I totally understand. But I can't lie to you. Or rather, I don't want to. I don't want to keep any secrets."
Toshinori's tall frame had went stark still, eyes like two blue marbles shot in my direction. My mouth felt suddenly dry; too dry to continue, but I'd already gone this far.
"Aizawa asked me on a date, and I said yes."
"Really?" He was surprised- by the anti-social Eraserbrain asking me or my affirmative answer, I wasn't sure. I fiddled with the strap of my bags, a mixture of guilt and bashfulness keeping my gaze off his.
"I just- We spent a lot of time together, you and I, and I didn't want you to think- I don't want you to feel bad like you did something wrong- not that you did anything wrong, I just- I really value our friendship, and I want to make sure you're okay. With, you know. Everything."
My name is Chiyo Tsutomi, and someone should probably revoke my teaching license due to my complete inability to form a coherent sentence.
A hand fell on my shoulder. I looked up, feeling the heaviness of my idiocy weigh down every movement. Toshinori Yagi grinned back down at me.
"I'm happy for you. For both of you."
Maybe I wasn't a total idiot sandwich, then. I wiped at my nose, feeling that gooey, wet sensation that alerts when you're about to cry like a moron growing with every second. "Really?"
"Of course!" He slapped my shoulder for emphasis before lowering to grab my other bag, gently looping the strap over my arm. "Aizawa's usually so grumpy and anti-social; maybe you can bring the sunnier side of him out."
"There is no such thing," I answered immediately, perhaps too quickly. A golden mane fell back as he laughed.
"Regardless, you should do what makes you happy. I value your friendship, too. I wouldn't be a very good friend if I didn't want the best for you."
The weight of a thousand bricks slid off my chest all at once. I nearly groaned at the release. Toshinori's hand then scratched at his straw hair and all my relaxation fluttered out the door. The sudden alertness of my face reddened his. The hand quickly fell back to his side.
"Toshinori."
"You've gotten too good at finding my tells, you know that?"
What could he even have to be embarrassed about? I crossed my arms, waiting. He released a long, slow breath.
"There's something I haven't told you about."
-I told Toshinori about us.
-Yeah? How'd that go?
-He's hopeful I can make you sociable. I told him I'm not a miracle worker.
A smirk turned my mouth smug as I placed the phone on my dining room table. Nasu let out an exhausted breath in the chair next to me, coiled like an armadillo in his slumber. I gave his ears a scratch as the phone lit up again;
-Tomorrow night, 6 PM. We will not be outside except to enter various buildings.
Various buildings? Who said stuff like that?
-Do I get a hint?
-I could, but where's the fun in that?
Ouch. Using my own words against me. I sent another gif- this time of a kitten passing out face-first- before returning to the notebook I'd dug out of an old college tote.
Manami Seto
Essential Tremors
These were the four words I had written.
These were the two events my mother had lied about.
Author's Note: One of the crazier aspects about writing is how it sounds as I write it versus when I go back and read it later. Is Toshinori being honest- is he truly happy for Chiyo and her new, budding relationship? And what kind of date is Aizawa planning? I feel like he'd totally be the kind of person to give vague, off-putting instructions like that.
In case it isn't clear (again, writing versus reading, knowing everything versus watching the narrative unfold), Toshinori told Chiyo what Dr. Nao told him- there were no signs of nerve damage/essential tremors or any previous hospitalizations listed in her file. And who did Chiyo believe caused these tremors, again?
