"We demand you explain yourself- now."
I'd expected a handful of students. Five, tops.
So when I entered the school's weight room to find a dozen sets of narrowed, grouchy-browed eyes demanding immediate answers from me, the dropping of my bag onto a bauble-headed idiot was totally understandable.
"What-"
"Sensei, we are all aware of your relations with Class 1-A's homeroom teacher, Mr. Aizawa-"
"Why did you introduce him like that? It's not like we all don't know who Mr. Aizawa is." Jiro, whom I'd never seen at one of these workouts before, asked of Iida. His abrupt turn, glasses fogged up from his heightened Iida-ness, did nothing to dispel the girl's neutral features.
"As you may have noticed, Jiro, we have new trainees among us; some background information might prove necessary-"
"Ew, don't call them- us- trainees."
Indeed, two other faces were new to the club. One- Yui Kodai, from class 1-B shifted under my sudden attention. I wonder if Kendo convinced her to join?
The other attendee scratched at his lavender head, turned as if to leave. Tsuyu caught his forearm without ever looking away from the spectacle unfolding front and center. I, meanwhile, continued to count the students, coming up one explosive teenager short.
"Yes, well, as I was saying, I was simply attempting to produce a clear statement for those who-"
"They still know who Mr. Aizawa is." Jiro pointed a headjack towards an uncomfortable-looking Kodai. "She was with us during the summer training, remember? And you said-"
"Enough! We came here for a reason!" Mineta suddenly raged. Foam practically flew from his lips as he flailed about, drawing enough attention to silence the others. He slapped one fist in the other hand's palm and pivoted towards me, serious as the grave. I was almost concerned.
"Miss Tsutomi."
"Ah, yes?"
He moved towards me, determination incarnate.
"Now that Aizawa-sensei is out of the picture, now is the time for the two of us to-"
A stampede of fists beat out whatever unfortunate words Mineta would have spoken next. Again those lavender tufts moved to abruptly leave, again deterred by a vigilant amphibian.
"Right, well, now that that's settled-" I steepled my fingers before my chest with a great, toothy grin. "I'm so excited to see you all! Going so long without seeing my kids was more painful than I expected."
"Where did you go, Tsutomi-sensei? More training with Gang Orca?"
"K-Kids?" Mineta asked weakly.
"Something like that. And, speaking of which, I have some training exercises I wanted to share with everyone."
A moment of murmuring interest. Sakamata's interaction with Midoriya had been Kodak-worthy; anything related to a top ten hero- especially one he'd personally met- appeared nearly as exciting for him, already slipping out his notebook to take down my instructions. He's trying so hard.
So is everyone else, Cynical Logic made sure to remind me. Namely, one certain student currently absent.
After the initial strength-training I jumped right into the lung capacity lesson. They seemed particularly interested in my breath-holding talent, counting down each second in awe until I hit the ten minute mark.
Maybe I should start holding my breath in class to regain attention.
I demonstrated the tendon-tendering stretches before leading a few minutes of slow, conscious breathing, trying not to start a chain of yawning with the rather cozy, relaxing features of the training. Kirishima acted as the first domino instead, infecting nearly every student at some point.
But by the end, even Mineta had added fifteen seconds to his retaining time.
"Now, this was only step one of a multi-pieced process; tomorrow, we'll be hitting the pool to practice in a different format. Be sure to bring an appropriate suit."
Mineta didn't even pretend to be insulted by my direct side eye in his direction.
A hand jutted into the air. I raised my brows. Would his formality ever become unsurprising to me?
"Excuse me, but what is planned for Wednesday? You said there are multiple levels to this lung capacity program; however, on Wednesdays, we run. Will we be deviating from the norm?"
"Oh," How had I almost forgotten? I bent my legs under me as the others continued in their frog-limbed stretches. Tsuyu, I noticed, was keenly talented in this entire endeavor. "Actually, I have forms for you all to take. Principal Nezu has given me permission to take Operation Submersion, along with any other UA students, to a sort of training retreat at the base of Mount Fuji-"
The excited response nearly created its own wind. I held my hands up in pacification, trying to press their voices back into manageable decibels. It made absolutely no difference.
"Will there be further endurance testing on site?"
"We're not gonna try and climb the mountain...right?"
"Is there a hot spring?"
"Will we be doing breathing training in a higher altitude?"
"Is said hot spring co-ed?"
"Is it an overnight trip?"
"If you all would shut up, she could tell us,"
The quiet-until-now Gen Ed student, Hitoshi Shinso, created a quiet of his own after his accurate- albeit dryly critical- statement. He didn't attempt another escape; in fact, he didn't even seem particularly bothered by the sudden, thorough attention his declaration created.
Something's different about him.
I shook off the notion to pick up later.
"This retreat concerns your mental well-being; through the conquering of your psyche, relaxing the near-constant storms of anxiety and fear, one can unlock a new level of power. For example-"
The effort was minimal, even with the distance between us; my thermos levitated up from the bleachers before beelining towards Ojiro. A gasp echoed around the room even after the metal container froze centimeters from his nose. I lifted a hand and drew the thermos back.
"Momo, Ojiro," I said simply. "Spar. Now. First one on the ground loses."
Yaoyorozu was a competent fighter, but martial arts were Ojiro's bread and butter; he should have a clear advantage.
And yet in mere seconds he lay face pressed against the sweaty, spongy mats, arms pretzeled behind him in Momo's grip, a look of surprise rewriting his face. A wave of teacherly tingles goosed my skin. I love when an experiment goes correctly.
I turned to students as Momo helped Ojiro back to his feet.
"Normally, who would you have expected to win?"
"Ojiro."
I hoped the uniformed answer didn't insult Momo.
"So why didn't he?"
Tsuyu raised a thoughtful finger to her chin. "I suppose his guard was put off balance by the attack he'd just faced from your water bottle."
"His emotions weren't in check. He wasn't in the right head space for sudden combat?" Midoriya tried. I nodded, accepting both answers.
"This retreat- aside from being a nice, relaxing end to summer break- is meant to guide you into a new sense of tranquility. When you can recognize and accept your emotions, your power over them can be utilized like a dam amidst rapids." I nabbed the forms from my bag and made quick work of passing them around. "An email went out to all the students as well. It's a bit short notice, but we were in a time crunch. Principal Nezu, Eraser Head, Vlad King, and Midnight will all be chaperoning as well, in order to assure safety."
Nezu had seemed tickled by the idea of a mental reset before the upcoming semester. I'd barely scraped by before a classic ideology lecture nailed me to his office floor.
"Extra training!" Midoriya exclaimed.
"Vacation!" Uraraka cheered.
"Swimsuits!" Mineta rooted.
The session ended with another stampede of fists. I bent down to tie my shoe just in time to avoid culpability.
"Oh, Kirishima. A word?"
"Sensei?"
I waited until the other students filed far enough away not to overhear us. Kirishima smiled like the little baby shark he was.
"You're good friends with Bakugo, aren't you?"
"As good as you can be with a Tasmanian devil!"
What? "Er, yeah. Is he staying at the dorms currently?"
"Nah, he went home for the week." Kirishima's usual sunniness dimmed behind a cloud of worry. "He took failing the PL exam pretty hard. I texted him about training today, but he didn't answer."
A stone, cold and heavy, sank to the bottom of my stomach. I plastered on a cheerful smile.
"I see. Do you have his address, by chance?"
There was gum stuck to the bottom of my shoe.
Thick, gooey from the simmering summer heat.
I tried not to let submersion feel its chomped wetness.
I pretended the blue bubblegum mass was the real reason I was rooted across the street from my destination, watching a woman in a sunshine-yellow cardigan help a child reach a high-positioned fairy tale off a shelf. She had never abided by the Red-Head Rules, defiantly wearing colors others of her tribe would have balked at.
Like a rainbow, I will not be contained by another's preference of spectrum.
My hands shook. At last, enough courage gathered to press call.
Her smile faded when she pulled out her own phone, recognized the name across the screen. Would she answer? Did her pallor whiten from anger, I wondered, or maybe it was surprise that drained her usual peachy disposition.
Days. Weeks. A month. So much time had passed since I last saw her.
Would I know, by the sound of her voice, if she had forgiven me?
"Chiyo?"
Somewhere in the city, Shota Aizawa raised a hand to his heart, made curious by its sudden skipping beat.
"Manami. Hi, Manami," I let out a laugh- a half-choked, wet sound, caught between glowing relief and crushing love.
"Chiyo? Chiyo, I'm so sorry- Where are you? I'm coming to you. Tell me where you are."
"I-"
Fox eyes penetrated the glass, defied what should have been their limits to hone in on my soul, phone slipping from her hand.
And then she was in my arms, bonded tighter than the forgotten chewing gum.
He could lay out his life like a dealt hand of cards. A royal flush, sure to win.
Or so he'd thought, anyway.
From an early age, everything had come naturally: leadership, steel-laced nerves, natural-born talent in enough fields to make his dream a doubtless reality. To follow in the footsteps of the greatest hero to ever walk the earth.
He applied and gained access to His alma mater. The great beacon himself joined the UA staff the same very year- a sign if there ever was one. An omen, if he'd ever believed in such things.
And yet, somehow, he'd let it all go to shit.
The abduction.
The end of All Might's Career.
Failing the hero licensing exam when even that worm passed.
Her eyes wide in shock, hand too slow to hide her lie.
Katsuki Bakugo smothered his face with a pillow and howled.
"Katsuki?" His mom called from somewhere in the house.
Where, down the line, had his life intersected with Deku's? How did he, quirkless-boy-wonder, go from the bottom of the barrel to everyone's shining star?
The bastard was a cuckoo, mouth wide to starve off the other would-be heroes.
"Katsuki! I know you can hear me, damn it!"
"What?!" He shouted back without moving an inch. If it were so important, she could come to him.
"You have a visitor!"
Probably Kirishima again. "Tell them to go to hell!"
Facing them- anyone- after the licensing exam took more energy than he had to spare. Plus, rumor had it that Tsutomi-sensei would soon be the teacher-attendant for the girls' section of the dorms. He wouldn't return to school until he had no other option.
"This isn't a negotiation! Get your ass down here, now!"
The bed creaked as loudly as his groan; by that tone, if he didn't get his ass down there soon, the old hag would stomp up and light his room on fire- literally.
What would he even say to her? What would she say to him? "I'm sorry I saved your life. If you had been stronger, none of this would've happened."
Ethical Studies in Heroism was a mandatory class, but maybe if he chose back corners, played the quiet card more often, he could slip by the rest of the year without any further interactions.
A pair of startling eyes watching his descent from Masaru Bakugo's favorite armchair blew out the idea like a candle.
"Katsuki, Ms. Tsutomi came to inform us of a school retreat," His mom held up a flyer- typed and printed by the ethic's teacher herself, no doubt. "Why didn't you tell us about this?"
"That's my fault; the trip is very last minute. I thought it would be a good opportunity for the students to work on aspects of themselves they don't often reflect on in UA classrooms."
Both his parents seemed at a loss, staring at Tsutomi as if taking in a lost woodland creature that had somehow stumbled into their den. Loose, carefree waves replaced the slicked-back style of the licensing exam, and she wore a button-down dress that looked nearly a decade older than herself. She looked young, despite her formal voice and posture, and this oddly made Bakugo feel even more embarrassed.
He slunk into the couch between his parents, limbs crossed as if that would somehow protect him.
"The retreat is at the base of Mt. Fuji. We- five chaperones, and all the UA students who sign up- will leave Wednesday morning and be home by noon the following day. On top of the resort's staff and attending pro heroes, there is a sort of "curse" around the area; no one has attempted a criminal activity there for fifty years in fear of Mt. Fuji's spirits punishing them. The students will be quite safe,"
"I see."
The teenager's shoulders tensed, as did the husband's, at the too-calm tone of their matriarch. Tsutomi seemed unaware of their growing trepidation until she stood within the lion's cage. Slowly, the beast awakened.
"Sorry, but aren't you just the ethics teacher? What are you doing meddling into the hero program?"
"Mom!"
The fever pitch of embarrassment didn't go unnoticed, nor did his more-appropriate addressing choice. They seemed to only inflame Mitsuki Bakugo's inquiry further.
"I get that you're a new hero on the scene- we watched All Might's fight against One for All, and we're thankful for your assistance in saving Katsuki, but that doesn't really mean you know jack about all this, does it? Plus-" Mitsuki ignored her mild-mannered husband's attempt to interrupt, point out the teacher in question hadn't been given an opportunity to answer the first- let alone all- of her impeding questions. "How many other students' houses have you been to? Who else are you visiting today?"
For a moment, Chiyo Tsutomi simply breathed.
Her eyes closed, opened slowly, chin rising as if having decided her course of action.
"This is my only stop."
Katsuki stiffened, as surprised as his parents. A set of claws flexed.
"What is your relation to my son?"
A thousand protests went to explode, only to have the seriousness of his mother's face wither each and every fuse. The loud, shouty old hag, he was used to; this one, deadly quiet and stone faced, was enough to send shivers down his spine.
Katsuki didn't know if all that training with Gang Orca had made Tsutomi-sensei fearless or if she simply couldn't smell the danger as she lowered her head and chuckled.
"Growing up, I held two notions as ultimate truths- one being that humanity was a fickle, mostly hopeless species, doomed to eventually fail. There was one person, though, who fought for peace, to restore society into something hopeful and beautiful." Tsutomi smiled, but the sentiment didn't quite reach her eyes. "The other notion I held to be an inevitable truth was that, one day, that man would be shot from the sky."
A hand raised; not to brush her bangs back like she'd always done at school in that maddening, nervous habit, but simply to slide across her temple, clearing her face of distraction.
"I originally applied to UA because it was close to home, not because I had any particular interest in heroism, or what the school stood for. I had no intention of leaning into this hero's society idea. They were ordinary students- I would be their teacher, cut and dry, and continue my normal life. But then something changed. These students- these children- saw what I couldn't- at their age or any after."
"And what was that?"
A glimmer of the teacher he knew- the one always nagging about thorough explanations and slapping B-'s on his essays, only to scribble half a novel of commentary in the margins about his impressive maturity and thoughtfulness- shined through her eyes, the curve of her mouth.
"Hope. Hope in the future, and what they can do to change my inevitable truths."
Tsutomi shifted, seemed to again contemplate her answer, the audience before her.
She stared at him for a long time. Discomfort- or was it nervousness?- shook his bones like a guitar riff. Finally her gaze turned to his mother's with resolve.
"A few months ago, I was abducted. There was no true, obvious evidence; the police didn't even open an investigation. But your son- because of his attention to detail, the ability to read and understand people- he found the singular clue to finding me. A moody, loudmouth high schooler who's as likely to start a fight with a six year-old as he is a real villain, who dreams of becoming the world's strongest hero, saved my life."
"You're oversimplifying things-" He began, halfway off the couch before an arm held him back.
Again with that terrifying calm, eyes trained on the woman across from her. Tsutomi didn't waver under the pressure, expression just as serious.
"I'm...not a gambling woman, Mrs. Bakugo. I've lived my life, for so long, knowing exactly who I am and what my beliefs are. And yet here I sit, in the living room of a student I would have once scorned for possessing an impossible dream, imploring you to trust me with your son. There are mountains yet for Bakugo to climb; ones laden with snares and dangers we can't even fully understand yet. However," Tsutomi looked at him as if truly seeing what no one else could; the obstacles and their many deadly devices. How to overcome them. How to help him tear apart the mountains, stone by stone. Her eyes slid back to their true judge.
"I believe your son has what it takes to create that hopeful, beautiful future. Not as the next All Might; as himself, a new kind of hero. One I am willing to dedicate my life towards lifting until he reaches that goal."
No one moved. The air itself froze.
The crisp fluttering of a paper being placed against the coffee table broke the spell.
Mitsuki Bakugo scribbled her permission across the bottom of the form.
The ethics instructor stood, took the slip with a slight bow. She paused when a pale hand lifted, palm extended towards hers. The surprise quickly melted into something not understandable to Katsuki; an emotion shared between two women coming to an understanding.
And then she left.
"Yo."
Somehow, Tsutomi still had enough energy to glare at him for such an informal greeting. He sniffed, unable to hold her gaze even in his own front yard. The sun had dropped like a half-split egg on the horizon, coloring everything too gently for his liking.
"What really happened that day?"
Her life's work consisted of explaining ethics and comparing its teachings against morality's. Of putting them both on the scale to see whose worth weighed more. If she were to be guided by utilitarian ethics, lying might be justified in this situation.
Instead, she allowed morality to flavor her tongue.
"The projectile itself didn't cause the irreversible damage; the infected pool water did."
He hadn't really expected her to answer, made obvious by his sharp inhale, but it was too late to stop now. "They had to remove the majority of my reproductive organs in order to suppress the infection. The only entity to blame here is microscopic bacteria."
This was far out of his realm of comfort. Panic slackened the usual anger in his jaw. "Does that mean you can't-"
"In a manner of speaking, yes."
She smiled at his confusion. Peered up at the pinking clouds.
"You know, it's funny; after the USJ incident, I couldn't comprehend Aizawa's unrelenting view about heroism. How, even though he almost died, he would've done it all over again, and again, and again, if his sacrifice meant we all lived."
A bird loudly addressed them from a fence post, annoyed with their presence. His mom had bugged him to find its nest and move it out of their yard weeks ago, complaining about the racket of the mother bird's defensive squawking. The irony.
"Why?"
She waited for him to continue, unsure of his question. Bakugo breathed through glass lungs.
"Why tell me the truth?"
Tsutomi winced, though didn't look particularly surprised. "The fact you feel the need to ask should be answer enough."
Fed up or deciding to trust them, the mother bird took flight towards a low-hanging limb. Three mouths greeted her with ravenous hellos. Tsutomi appeared thoughtful.
"They say adversity builds character- they never say what kind, though." She watched the bird nestle onto her young, bellies full of insect bits. "What character will you turn out to be, I wonder?"
"Sensei-"
His tone lifted one of her hands, stilling whatever words he intended to waste on her unrelenting position.
"Choices often involve sacrifice, yes, but also reward. I sacrificed something that day, but in turn, I gained you, and every other student in my life. You are the children I've chosen to raise." This time the smile did reach her eyes, soft-edged and warm like the setting sun's yawning arms. "Just...don't make me regret it, okay?"
There was a disturbing, snotting lump choking his airways.
"I won't."
A chipped-tooth grin bid him farewell before she stopped barely past the gate.
"Oh, and by the way? You've already missed a training experience. Even Mineta is ahead of you now."
Explosions and curse-riddled screams drew Mitsuki Bakugo out of her house.
Her son stood, mouth set in a grimace and eyes glassy, a pissed-off starling flying around and furiously pecking at his temple.
"You lied to me."
His eyes were murky, unreadable like an overcast sky.
"I disagree."
I stopped dead in my tracks and poked a finger into his chest. Strangely, a dent grew in his cheek instead. "You said Mitsuki Bakugo was just the female version of her son. That was a lie; she's thirty times more terrifying, weaker quirk or not."
"To be fair, she probably thought you were some older student trying to gain her son's-"
I casually kicked in the back of his knee. The words tapered out with his sudden collapse. He cursed me under his breath, even as I graciously helped him back up.
Shota thought approaching the Bakugos- especially after the licensing exam- might prove disastrous, but after Katsuki's no-show to training I couldn't sit on my hands any longer.
Speaking of hands- someone still held one of mine, fingers cool compared to my hot-blooded nature. I gave a furtive glance around.
"Shota- maybe you shouldn't-"
"We're fine, Chiyo."
I didn't see how we were fine. There were people everywhere, trying to enjoy one of the final nights of summer. Manami suggested meeting up for some one-week-only carnival tonight, after we'd cried and apologized and cried some more, carrying on until a group of school kids playing soccer asked us to go flubber somewhere else. So we did, catching one another up in The Knook until our Chinami sisterhood chalice ranneth over with love and rekindled friendship.
Apparently, Toshinori was still as clueless as ever.
Manami seemed far more interested in the given-and-returned ring, but the very topic filled me with a tornado of emotions; I didn't want to sit and pick through the debris again.
"Toshinori will be here too, though. What if people notice the both of us?" I continued to fret anyway. The buzzing of fellow festival goers felt like cicadas thrumming against my eardrums and we hadn't even entered the gates yet. "I just don't want to bring any unnecessary attention."
"Look, there he is now."
Such a weak distraction. Shota was right, though; nearby, a scarecrow given a brain worked to keep an armful of stuffed animals from toppling out of their carefully-made pyramid. Baby blues turned and caught us from a distance. The teddy bears collapsed in a cascade, expression frozen as he took in the sight. I jumped and Toshinori blinked back to life.
"Sorry- I'm sorry," A frantic jumble of knees and elbows bent to collect the lost toys. I hurried after the ones attempting a rolling escape. A jump-rope? Bouncy balls? "You cut your hair- You look so much like Master- like Nana Shimura. I can't believe- how did I never notice in all that time? It's-"
"Almost as crazy as not recognizing a seven-foot, blonde-haired, blue-eyed Skeletor version of All Might?" I jokingly finished. A classic Toshinori blush colored him strawberry.
"Er, Skeletor?"
"An American cartoon reference," Shota offered a plastic bag taken from a nearby vendor. He gestured at the toys and Toshinori added each in with care, careful to keep the little faces upright for breathing purposes. A slight curl in Shota's lips found me. "Kind of an old cartoon for someone like you, isn't it?"
I smiled kindly. "Does that make you a cradle-robber, then? Your mother will be so proud."
"You met his mother?"
Manami's expression burned as severely as her hair. Another three prizes took up her right arm before she dumped them into Toshinori's bag, narrowed eyes never leaving my face. "You didn't tell me you met his parents."
"He can hear you, you know," I tried to laugh while also sending flaming I-will-kill-you signals through our connected heartlines. An inquisition was eminent nonetheless, so I pointed to her newest trophies. "There are games?"
"Oh, yes!"
Crisis averted- within one nervous second Manami linked our arms and dragged me to her battlegrounds. Shota shook his head at my apologetic smile, defenseless against a fox on the prowl.
We made quick work of the balloon darts and coin pushing machines. Shota called foul play after taking a beating at the water-gun game, claiming quirk tampering. I pacified him with a remarkably found Eraser Head plushie, in which I definitely did abuse my quirk to dismantle three lead-heavied milk bottle pyramids, practically beaming when color seeped into his neck at my prize-winning presentation.
"Shouldn't I be winning you the prizes?" He asked, doll in hand and close enough to only murmur the question. I ignored the high-rises growing in my stomach and laughed.
"Are you kidding? Manami's won Toshinori, like, two bags of shit now. If anything, I'm seriously slacking."
Why did he smell so good? Did he always smell this good? I'd replaced my heels with walking-friendly flats after leaving the Bakugo residence, putting my temple level with the top of his sternum, head tilted eighty degrees just to see his crinkle-eyed smile.
"Quality over quantity, Tsutomi," He informed wisely.
"Does that also apply to your love life? Very reassuring to know, Aizawa," I answered. His head shook, laugh soft against my skin, as warm as the fingers brushing against my cheek to slip into my hair. I touched his wrist, couldn't even remember how to breathe, let alone look around for nosy cameras or cell phones.
"All I ever see is you," He breathed against my lips before claiming them.
This- we were in sight of everyone- anyone. He looked different with his hair pulled back and un-heroic without his scarf but-
But what? I raged back against logic. Can't I just enjoy this?
So I did. Like the last sunset of summer. Perfectly cooked pancakes. Empty theatres and afternoon naps and freshly-vacuumed carpet. Until the taste of his kiss was so ingrained I would be able to pull the memory out at a moment's notice, fade from reality and relive every perfect second.
"Chiyo,"
"Shota,"
How silly we must have looked, two lovestruck fools in the middle of a park.
Especially to a pair of teenagers, jaws hanging midair.
My pulse raced into Shota, enough to trigger cardiac arrest, but all he did was sigh.
"Sin-says," Denki Kaminari drawled like he'd stumbled upon the scandal of the century.
"So this is what Momo Yao was talking about," Kyoka Jiro commented, milder in surprise.
Do we...Do we run?
"Are you two on a date?" Kaminari seemed tickled by the idea. Shota's hand fell away from the intimate hold and surprisingly slipped down to the curve of my back. He had said he wouldn't deny being in a relationship, but I thought that mostly applied to other adults; not our little-pitcher, big-eared students.
The scar beneath his eye caught the light with his squint, looking between Kaminari and Jiro. "Are you two on a date?"
Crickets.
An excellent play by the defense. Bravo, Eraserbrain.
"Oi, there you two are- Oh,"
Manami stepped into the tangible awkward, hand on my arm before picking up on the situation. She glanced at the two of us before surveying the beet-red teens just a few feet away.
"Am I...interrupting something?"
"O-of course not!" Jiro nearly shouted. Manami's eyes bugged until I could see the translucent line of her contacts rimming her irises. "There's nothing to interrupt ah, ahaha, so we'll, um, we'll just...be going now."
Jiro ripped the human phone charger away before any more questions could be posed and consequently bury her in a pit of jittery embarrassment. I side-eyed Shota. His dark gaze met me halfway.
"I don't think we'll need to worry about this getting out."
"I'm more concerned about the impact on the dorm situation," Shota sighed. "Should we establish room checks? It sounds rational, and a lot of extra, bothersome work."
"Oh, let them have their fun." I'd nearly forgotten Manami's presence until she bound our arms together once again with a pointed look at Shota. What did that expression mean? Meanwhile, I received a friendly squeeze. "Chi-chan, there's a coin-machine booth with prizes of you! They must've been made before your press conference, huh?"
The very idea churned my insides. "Er, maybe it's time for rides?" I held up my string of unused tickets. "I saw one of those spinning teacup rides! We could all fit in one."
Turned out, Toshinori didn't quite have the stomach for spinning rides. The image of All Might heaving his stomach contents into a fly-infested trash can would probably haunt the child onlookers for a good long while, caught between gaping and giggling when Manami and I held back his hair.
"There's a Tunnel of Love," I cooed after our seven-foot sunflower regained some of his golden pallor. Manami sent a benign shock into my side after I made eyes between her and said petaled plant, eyebrows a-waggling.
"With all those cheesy lights and hearts? No thanks."
"Oh, come on," I laughed. "Remember when we were little? We saw one in a cartoon and dreamt up entire scenarios of swaying along in a little gondola, sharing greasy fried foods and, by the end of the ride, hopeful to have received-"
"Enough! You've convinced me," Manami huffed before stopping abruptly. I jerked back via our connected arms, surprised at the seriousness of her expression.
She fell to one knee.
"Chiyo Tsutomi." She began, holding tight to my left hand, the other shooting out to Toshinori. He looked as confused as the rest of us until a light bulb winked on his neurons. A bony hand dug through one of the prize bags before he placed something in Manami's waiting hand.
"Er, yes?"
"The Leia to my Han, Howl to my Sophie. You have made me the happiest woman this side of Tokyo Disney." She placed my hand against her heart. "Will you be my Love Tunnel bride?"
"Wait, why am I Howl?"
"Simple," Manami slipped a cheap copper ring onto my finger. "You're pettier."
"Says the woman who deleted her social media accounts when someone called her carrot-top."
"That was a mental wellness choice," She sniffed. I didn't do a great job of containing an eye roll as she stood, admiring my hand. "It looks good, right?" Fox features appeared, turned to Shota with a sly tilt. "She looks good in a ring, doesn't she?"
I ripped my hand away, blushing a darker shade than Gang Orca's bloody irises.
"If you two are riding together, we'll probably sit this one out,"
His voice sounded normal; a lot more normal than mine would be, trapped in the rolls of my high-tide stomach, still reeling over Manami's cheeky comment. Looking at him proved about as easy as staring into direct sunlight.
"What? You two can ride together. It won't be bumpy."
Shota's hair received a comb of fingers in my periphery. What's that nervous move about? "He didn't want to say anything, but Toshinori still feels pretty nauseous. I thought we could swing by the First Aid station while you two ride the- through the tunnel."
Kind of wanted to hear the great, cool Shota Aizawa utter the phrase Tunnel of Love, but beggars can't be choosers, I guess.
If Manami sniffed out the lie, she didn't act upon it; instead she turned to me, dreamy and chivalrous.
"Shall we depart, my darling?"
I gave a dramatic curtsy. "I thought you would never ask."
"Is this- Do you really think this is a date?"
Shota Aizawa sighed for the ninetieth time, leaning against an intricate fence overlooking the tunnel's outlet. Hearts grew in metal vines between the two railings, curlicue ends catching any unsuspecting shoestrings. It seemed the exact kind of silly design Chiyo would marvel over, demand a picture of. He snapped a quick shot with her phone- snug in his pocket, since she refused to carry a bag- before turning to the anxious pro hero beside him.
"Well, on one hand, you're here with a woman, whom you picked up in your car, bought snacks for, and received a shit ton of hard-won prizes from," A familiar flash of incendiary hair peeked from the tunnel's throat, nearing the exit. "On the other, you two are also here in a group with other people."
"But you two are together."
"Yes."
Toshinori thought about this.
"So is it a double-date?"
Lucky number ninety-one sighed out of Aizawa's mouth.
At one point, he had worried over what Chiyo had been up to with Toshinori during their short "dating" stint; now, Aizawa mostly felt embarrassed for all involved parties.
"Hey, what are they doing?"
The gondola containing the two women was nearing the docking point. Every tooth in Manami's mouth gleamed in a ridiculous grin, eyebrows pulled low over her squinted eyes.
What the hell is she doing?
Chiyo tittered before going completely still, eyes closed in a cool concentration. When she opened them again, a half-lidded, open-mouthed smile turned Chiyo Tsutomi into a true terror. Manami nearly fell out of the boat laughing.
"They're...imitating us." Toshinori said incredulously.
Aizawa couldn't even muster the annoyance needed to sigh again once the two wobbled out of the boat towards them. Chiyo, rosy-cheeked and light, tugged on his sleeve like a dopey little kid.
"Shota, there are fireworks."
"Inside the ride?"
"No!" Her peels of laughter made him wonder what exactly happened in that tunnel. A happy gas, maybe? "Tonight! We have to go to the northern pavilion, come on!"
Whatever did happen on the ride had reduced both women into giggling teenagers, whispering to one another like they were the only two in the world.
It was nice, seeing her so relaxed. As if she didn't currently fear the world would fall apart should she not stay constantly vigilant, carefree with her loud, jubilant laughter.
"The essence of Kichijoten resides in your marrow, child."
In a booth so easily overlooked due to its plain black paneling sat an elder woman, whose creaking-door voice caught their attention to the fullest. Despite her mysticism, her satin robes were sleeveless, displaying papery skin covered in black-ink incantations, in a language no one could decipher. Perhaps not even the writer, as the milky filament of her eyes suggested she was, in fact, blind.
"Ooh, a fortune teller," Manami tugged a reluctant Chiyo closer. "Were you speaking to one of us?"
A blackened nail rose, pointed without a word. Manami promptly lost her mind.
"Chiyo! Chiyo, sit down, maybe she'll reveal your future!"
"I don't know about this," Toshinori took a hesitant step forward. Breaking into the Chinami bubble seemed unwise- downright dangerous, depending on the situation- but he also knew the dangers of gazing between the wrinkles of time all too well. Manami waved him off.
"It's just a gimmick anyway, right? The sign says 500 yen." A coin clinked into the bottom of the price jar before Manami grabbed Chiyo's shoulders and sunk her into the worn wooden chair opposite the psychic.
"Chiyo-"
A dark head swiveled to relieve Toshinori's worries with a lopsided smile. "It's fine. Maybe I'll get the winning lottery numbers."
Winning the lottery seemed more troublesome than the benefits, though Aizawa kept this thought to himself.
"Give me your hand, child."
He assumed the woman possessed some clairvoyant quirk- a weak parlor trick version, perhaps. One hand held Chiyo's in place, the other pressing across Chiyo's fingers, the palm of her hand, purple-veined skin stark against the younger's. She continued the journey until taking hold of Chiyo's forearm. Chiyo's own hand instinctively wrapped around the woman's parallel arm, tensing in surprise.
"The entanglement of two souls. A withered bloom, finding new earth. What was once ravaged by fire, reborn by Kichijoten's ash."
The air pulsed, alive.
A plume of warmth breathed across them as if the deity, future foretold, exhaled a sigh of relief, having found her new vessel.
Aizawa's heart pounded like war drums. Manami's lips parted in silent reverence. Toshinori, despite his warning, seemed intensely attuned to this fortune teller's abilities, lungs failing to take in oxygen in fear of missing a single sound.
Chiyo Tsutomi snorted.
"Well, thank you," She said, polite enough before gently pulling away to stand. The clairvoyant's misty eyes followed her figure until they disappeared from her line of other-wordly vision.
The trio caught up to her in an instant.
"Chiyo, holy shit," Manami hissed.
"What?"
"You didn't- That didn't spook you? Even a little bit?" Toshinori asked. Chiyo looked up from a pamphlet she'd snagged at some info booth in surprise.
"No?" Light eyes landed on Shota, gauging his reaction. "Why would it?"
He scratched his neck. "It did seem a little...intense, don't you think?"
Chiyo snorted again before folding up the map, changing their direction. "She put together some whimsical sentences and messed with the air. Probably a humidity quirk, or something."
She seemed to be growing exasperated by their continuous incredulity. "Look, it didn't mean anything, okay? You were right, Toshi- just a deceptive ruse to make some easy money. The fireworks are starting soon-" Chiyo dug into Shota's left pocket- the last time she'd attempted the right he'd nearly bit her head off, muttering an explanation about the complexities of male appendages and jeans before retrieving her wallet himself- and handed Manami a handful of coins. "Why don't you two go get us some snacks?"
The idea perked up the redhead and green-gilled the blonde, but both quickly disappeared as one dragged the other away. Chiyo tugged Shota's sleeve again, nodding towards a set of bleachers.
They waited for their friends to return in a comfortable silence.
...Until Chiyo began to fidget, smoothing the skirt of her dress, crossed and uncrossed her legs, finally giving a slight pout at his quietly amused smile.
"It's just- do you think that last bit was about Tomura?" She began right where her mind must be; mid-thought, harried like a beehive. "What was once ravaged by fire, reborn, or whatever? It isn't positive or negative. Or, like, a withered bloom? Maybe because his skin's all dried out?" Chiyo's face slid behind her hands, elbows propped on the knees hovering off the bleacher in front of them. "I'm sorry. I'm being a Debbie downer."
"A what?"
She peeked at him between her fingers, smile pushing to make an appearance too.
"I heard Tsunotori say it last semester."
He hummed. Chiyo's spine curved with a stretch, revealing her face to the sky.
"What was the Tunnel of Love like?"
She grinned, delighted at the phrase. He noticed she rubbed the back of Manami's prized ring like she had his, twisting around the cheap band to circle the equally-cheap rhinestone with her thumb.
"Similar to that awful haunted house you took us to, there were quirk users afoot, making heart-shaped bubbles and love-laced hallucinations of whatever you wanted. Or thought about, I guess." Chiyo paused, digested the idea. "Actually, couldn't that be a little dangerous?" She laughed. "How many couples break-up after exiting? Manami wouldn't tell me exactly what she saw, but I think her dreamy mirage consisted of golden hair and someone decidedly less perplexed by her."
"And you?" He dared ask. "What did you see?"
The television-winning smile, orchestrated for its one true audience member.
"I just saw you, exactly the way you are."
A sweet-tooth heartache filled his chest, too overwhelmed by her. She was close enough, surely, to feel the quickened thumping of his heart.
"I got you something, while you were on the ride."
Her eyes widened when he pulled out the blue-webbed plushie, dark felt hair nearly as long as the doll's entire height. Aizawa gestured awkwardly at the other toy carefully tucked in her breast pocket.
"He'd be lonely without her."
Chiyo only breathed for a moment, ran a finger down her own fabric skin. Her real face lifted, slow and unreadable. Had he made a mistake? He raised a hand, attempted to brush back his hair before her hand caught his.
"I love you." She said.
He couldn't tell whose heartbeat sang in his veins; maybe both, caught in the same melody.
"I love you, too."
And he meant it, more than any other conviction he'd ever made.
"Chiyo, I-"
An explosion of pinks and purples filled the air, nearly knocked their chibi clones out of her lap in surprise.
"Oh," She exclaimed, laughing at herself and the fireworks, hugging the dolls close.
"You guys!" A fox shouted, too excited to be an adult, running up the bleachers with the world's greatest hero right behind her, caught by the other's hand. "It's starting!"
Bursts of marigold and screaming rockets, a magnificent array of animal punch-outs of light.
And through the brilliant showcase, all he could ever look at was her.
A/N: This would've shown up a lot earlier if my laptop hadn't crashed and deleted all my editing. Three hours, gone. I had to take a breather before I attempted again because by Aizawa's facial hair, I was upset.
A lot happened in this chapter! Shinso has joined the group, Chiyo might be hinting at some special training for Bakugo, and something's going on with our OTP. I wonder what will happen next?
