A/N: Kwamis refer to their partner's friends and family members the animal equivalent name to their relation to the Miraculous holder, as every kwami calls their partner their "insert baby animal name"
Plagg's ears twitch when an obnoxious noise filters through the bedroom waking her up. Yawning, Plagg sits up. Looking to the left, Plagg sees her Kit has his face smushed in the pillow and there may or may not be a small puddle of drool leaking out of his opened mouth.
He really is a sight.
Plagg couldn't be prouder.
When the bedroom door opens, Plagg flies under the sheet. The queen enters the bedroom and expertly shuts off the obnoxious blaring from the computer desk. With two curious younger siblings and two very interactive parents, there have been numerous close calls for Plagg being seen around the house. Not that Plagg cares much about being seen by her Kit's clowder. The Guardian, however, would have Plagg's whiskers if she got discovered and it added strain onto her Intended who is still learning the ropes. It's only been about two weeks since they've been together and they've only taken on – what? – three akuma attacks?
The most recent being a baby that got transformed, mages only know why! [Plagg doesn't think the infant was the intended target but they were akumatized all-the-same.] Rather than fight, the team worked together to pacify the akuma by putting on a puppet show for them.
For such a young group of Miraculous users [one of, if not the, youngest group Plagg's ever been part of] who know next to nothing about their powers and absolutely nothing about one another, they are a very solid, quick-thinking team.
In the history of history, Plagg has never seen an akuma be laughed out of a body.
Then again, Plagg has also never seen an infant akumatized.
"Morning Sweetheart!" Rebecca kisses her eldest on the forehead, moving some hair out of his face. "The twins are helping your papa make breakfast."
The brunette gently shakes the teen still in bed until he mumbles out something incoherent.
Rebecca chuckles, "uh-huh. Sure you're awake—"
There's a loud crash. "Ma!" The twins simultaneously scream.
"Just a—"
The fire alarm goes off. "Rebecca!" Jeff wails.
"Oh for crying out loud! How many times have I told you two to not fight in the kitchen!" Plagg watches the queen leave in a huff, then floats out from under the sheet and gently pats Billy on the face.
"C'mon Kit, get up. You don't want to be that stereotype of the new kid late on the first day." Billy yawns then slowly sits up. "Oh good. I wasn't above tickling you awake." Plagg stares at the teen, then pats him on the face again, "don't fall asleep sitting up."
"Wha—?" Billy slowly opens his eyes, "I—Is something burning?"
"You have two eight-year-olds in the kitchen." Is the response. Billy gets out of bed but his right leg gets caught in the sheet and he falls on the floor. Plagg grimaces then flies over to him. "Are you okay, Kit?"
"I think so." Plagg flies over to the sheet and unwraps it from Billy's ankle. "Tha—I don't think my ankle is supposed to bend inward."
"It isn't. I can try to fix it." Billy nods.
"Are you—" He gasps then bites his lip to muffle his scream, "why didn't you give me some kind of warning?" He grits out.
"I did. I told you I was gonna try and fix it and I fixed it."
"That is not a warning." Billy hisses, "that... that's a warning of a warning." He gingerly gets up, "injuring myself before the damn school day even begins. That's such a cliché. I've watched way too many cartoons and school serials to be making these rookie mistakes." He takes a deep breath. "No." He shakes his head, "can't think like that. Television experiences are not universal."
Plagg pats him on the shoulder, "you got this. Let's crush this first day. Put it in the books. Some other kind of pep talk."
Billy pets Plagg's head, "thanks, Plagg. I needed some other kind of pep talk." The kwami beams at him.
Once he's done showering and getting dressed, Billy gathers up his schoolbag. He and Plagg came to an agreement ...of sorts regarding Billy's current wardrobe. While Plagg did conjure up some clothing, Jeff took the kids back to school clothes shopping over the weekend and Billy picked up things that his father looked at questioningly but never voiced his concern. It was so very tempting to fall back into old habits, especially with the new line of X-Men themed clothing on the window display, but he (reluctantly) resisted; though he did pick up that yellow and brown Anansi hooded sweatshirt with the little spider legs on the hood.
Billy's wearing a plain dark green hooded sweatshirt about a size bigger than him but not big enough that it engulfs him. His jeans are a light blue and also just a smidge bigger than his size.
He carefully put his rings (he bought a few more) on his fingers making sure his Miraculous doesn't look completely out of place on his hand. He's still not a ring fan but it completes "his look." Plagg also suggested getting his ears pierced rather urgently but when Billy asked why, Plagg merely stated it was for aesthetic. Billy wasn't entirely convinced but he is a fan of the tiny silver spider earrings. Having just done his ears yesterday, they are a bit tender.
"How do you feel?"
Billy stares at his closed bedroom door, particularly the Scarlet Witch poster staring back at him, then adjusts his glasses. "Like I'm lining up in front of a firing squad. No amount of prep or pep talks are gonna make me not feel like I wanna puke."
"Lemon helps with nausea. Also, a daily recommended dose of Plagg." The kwami pats herself on the chest, then pats Billy on the shoulder, "we got this, remember? You've got Plagg on your side."
Billy takes a deep breath, "right. You're so right. It's not just me, I've got you and we got this." Plagg nods enthusiastically. "I... just won't be able to talk to you much if I'm trying to stay invisible. This staying under the radar advice really would've helped in primary school." With a sigh, Billy opens the bedroom door then heads to the kitchen.
🐈/🐞
"I like the purple." Wayzz says fluffing up Ramone's afro. Her kwami assured her that her change in hair color would not affect her transformation look. Which was a huge relief because Ramone colored her hair every few months or so, depending on how she felt. She was in a purple kind of mood so she dyed her hair like a lavenderish color – or she tried to but the blue she had in before was too dark and she – like a novice – forgot to bleach her hair. She's lucky it came out purple at all.
Ramone puts on some reddish-purple lipgloss, debating on whether or not to have on grey eyeshadow or black. Johnny usually does her makeup, perks of having a twin, but Wayzz offered to help.
The kwami puts the grey on her left eye and the black on her right, "well?"
"Definitely the grey." Wayzz nods in agreement, carefully applying the makeup remover to her eye. "Johnny might ask how I managed to do my eyes without messing 'em up."
"Tell him you got lucky." Ramone stares at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.
"And both my eyes being perfect?"
"You got extra lucky?" Ramone gives Wayzz a flat look, "you spent the past two weeks practicing?"
There's a knock on the bathroom door, "Mona, you two have to take the metro to school."
"I know, Tante Cam, I'm almost done. Just fixing up my makeup."
"You are already a beautiful, beautiful girl, Mona. You don't need to put on a pound of makeup."
"I just have on eyeshadow... or is it eyeliner. I could never remember which is which." She glances at Wayzz who shrugs. "I'm not... I'll just show you." Wayzz flies into the makeup bag as Ramone opens the door. Her great-aunt is on the other side of the door gently putting her hand under Ramone's chin.
"Subtle. I like it. And I love the hair. I don't know why your brother went the bald route."
"It's more of a fade."
"Honey, it's bald. You can color all the feathers of a peacock brown but you wouldn't call it a turkey."
"...What?"
"Never mind." She lets go of Ramone's face, "looking at you now..." She clears her throat, "let me check on your brother." With a sigh, she walks off.
Ramone frowns but heads back over to the counter. After their mother's death, their maternal grandmother took care of them with her wife as the five of them were already living together. For homophobic and transphobic reasons, her grandmother was estranged from the rest of her family. Having met them at their mother's funeral, Ramone understood why. Those assholes – at a fucking funeral – continuously called their relative by her deadname and using the wrong pronoun when addressing or mentioning her.
When Ramone snapped at them, they "blamed it on the grief" and brushed it off.
Naturally, they didn't show up for their grandmother's funeral – which was a godsend. However, they cheaply and tackily addressed letters to someone who hasn't existed for over twenty-five years.
They flew in for the will reading, because they were specially requested. Because Ramone and Johnny had the greatest grandmother on the planet, she flew them all in to flip them the bird and tell them – in semi-person – that they weren't getting a cent out of her for being such hateful piles of scum and everything she owned was left to the twins.
Which lead to everyone trying to play caretaker, but according to their grandmother's will her wife's older sister, Camilla, was their new legal guardian. The family took it to court and were pretty much laughed out of the courthouse.
Then they went back to being hateful and talking shit about their late relative.
You'd think that would be the end of it but they kept trying to contact the twins to get some money but Camilla would answer, pretend to be sympathetic, then tell them no when they asked for a handout and would hang up on them. Personally, it never got old. It's been over a year and they're still calling and getting hung up on. They even put their kids to try and milk sadness points but they're kids are just as hateful so... it never works in their favor.
It's as funny as it is sad.
Ramone picks up a pair of gold hoop earrings from her makeup bag and puts them in. A second year at François Düpont. That school is such a fucking headache and she can guaran-damn-tee a handful of akumas are gonna come from there. As a collège, the reasons are endless but Ramone knows for a fact the majority of them will stem from one starting point: Chloé Fucking Bourgeois. Now Ramone has never had the displeasure of crossing the girl's path last year. François Düpont is a medium sized school, there will be students you will never know about or see. Because she's the mayor's daughter and apparently never stops reminding people of that fact, the whole school has more or less heard of her – or to be more precise – heard of how awful she is. A mega, ultra brat who uses her father's position as a conversation stopper.
Principal Damocles not only lacks a backbone but he is an avid, vocal supporter of Mayor Bourgeois, despite the mayor... well being the mayor. It is literally the only reason, at least according to the people who "associate" with the girl, she is even enrolled in public school. The mayor is in control of the school's funding and his family pours in "additional" funds to the school. With the staff wrapped around her pinky finger, the girl does whatever she wants, and according to her Instagram, youwishyoucouldbeChloéB (that Johnny found by accident), her grades are perfect.
Ramone has to wonder if she gets nauseous having her head so high in the clouds, being so far detached from reality.
If that girl pulled half the shit people spoke of in a place outside her father's influence, she would've got her ass whooped twice over before she could pull out her cellphone to call her father.
But sadly, that girl wasn't the only student to constantly use their parent's coattails as a red carpet to sashay around claiming to be great and descendants of greatness. How one school was filled with so many pretentious assholes was mind-boggling.
Ramone grabs her jacket hanging on the door and Wayzz flies into one of the inner pockets.
Johnny is talking to Camilla while he's tying his shoes in the foyer.
She still wasn't able to figure out if he has a Miraculous or not. She's leaning more toward not but something is preventing her from dismissing it entirely. "Wayzz, do you know what the other Miraculouses in the group are?" She whispers.
"Yes but we all have explicit instructions from the Guardian not to disclose that information in case our Intended gets akumatized."
Ramone hums, "makes sense."
🐈/🐞
Nora parks her motorcycle on the sidewalk. Alya gets off the motorcycle handing her sister the helmet. Nora holds onto her hand. "Aly, I heard you and ma talking." Alya groans. "If you're having problems with someone, just point me in their direction."
"I can handle my own problems, Nora." Nora scoffs letting Alya's hand go. "I'm not ten anymore. I'm not gonna tattle on whoever makes me mad. And I don't need you to come in and beat up everyone who gets on my nerves."
"I know you're the middle child so you don't get it but us oldest siblings? We are, by design, specifically put on the planet to teach and to beat the shit out of everyone who gets on their siblings' nerves. Because if they're upset by someone else, we won't feel right messing with them." Alya rolls her eyes. "Plus, I'm in the amateur kickboxing league, Als. Gotta get my practice where I can."
"Sometimes I wonder about you. I seriously do."
"I just need a name."
"Forget it. Thanks for the ride. Although now I get why you offered." Alya runs up the stairs.
"I don't have school today, I'll stay here as long as I need to!" The orange-haired teen freezes as she sees students stop what they're doing and outright gape at her sister. The not-so hushed whispers of people not-so-subtly taking pictures of Anansi and collectively losing their shit. Doesn't help that Nora is wearing a hooded sweater that surprisingly isn't of herself yet has her signature colors, and she's perched on her custom one-in-existence Anansi-themed motorcycle.
Groaning loudly, Alya stomps back down the stairs then over to Nora. "Go. Home." Nora beams at her.
"What's wrong, Little Sister?" Alya scowls, "I got nothing but time. You not in the mood for some playful sibling banter is all because of this 'problem' you won't name."
"I'm not gonna cave."
Nora's smile widens, "we'll see. You're stubborn, but not more stubborn than me. And like I said? I got nothing but time." Throwing her hands in the air, Alya storms off up the stairs. "See you at lunch, My Lovely Little Sister Alya! I'll pick you up from school! We can go to the gym together!"
Before Alya enters the building she hears someone asking her sister for an autograph.
"Good morning Alya~" Lila says with a skip in her step. "I just came back from Venice last night. Fashion Week was a~mazing."
"Fashion Week? Wasn't that two weeks ago? And in Milan?"
"Yeah. I was in Milan for Fashion Week and went to Venice after. It's like a two-hour drive so it wasn't that big of a deal. Had to see my grandparents and whatever." Alya nods handing her bag to Lila as she bends down to tie her shoe. With a sigh, Lila twirls around. "My host family has the greatest connections~ I mean I miss my mamma, no doubt, but jetsetting on a whim?" She giggles. "All I need is a cute boyfriend on my arm to accompany me."
Alya turns to the brunette with a raised eyebrow, "I'm gonna assume you have your eyes set on someone new this year?"
Lila frowns, "funny. You know, Teddy only outed himself to humiliate me. He got asked out by girls all the time last year, but all of a sudden when one of the most popular and beautiful girls asks him out he's gay?" She scoffs. "Yeah, okay."
"You think he's faking it?"
"No." Lila's frown deepens, "I think he's on the level, which is unfortunate for me because above all else, he really is super cute." She sighs. "What I also happen to think he was waiting for the right opportunity to get a popularity boost. He was 'one of' the most popular boys in the school before outing himself. And with that Graham kid set to graduate..." Alya makes a seesawing motion with her right hand, "yeah, well, you know ...maybe. Anyway, there was an opening. He saw me then striked... stroked? Strucked? Attacked."
"Girl, that is one hell of a conspiracy theory."
"It's not a 'theory,' it's the truth! He could've picked any of the 900 girls that fawned all over him all school year! For fuck's sake, that super pale Parisian Barbie doll wannabe with the plastic lips hung off him like a fucking leech!" Lila clears her throat as people walking by stare at her strangely.
"I think she miraculously graduated, and maybe it was just a coincidence with the timing?" Alya gets up and takes her bag back, "from what I heard? You were like the fifteenth girl to ask him out that day, before lunch. So, yeah, it could just've been the timing. But you gotta admit, after having been flirted with for so long it was a long time coming. Even the sweetest person on the planet has a breaking point."
Lila rolls her eyes, then they start walking down the hall. "If he didn't want girls to ask him out, he shouldn't've joined sports. No thirteen-year-old has a four-pack. It's impossible. He must've got held back a year."
Alya hip-checks Lila, "don't be that petty girl."
Lila groans, "it's so difficult not to be!" Alya laughs, "so I saw your sister signing autographs outside on her motorcycle." Alya's face falls as she facepalms. "What's wrong?"
"She..." Alya stops walking then looks around the hall, "she overheard me telling my maman..." She starts walking again, "about a problem I've been having."
"Prob—oh. Who hasn't been having that 'problem?' I would pay good money to see your sister knock... you know who out with one punch. Like the comic guy? Just like one tap and she explodes or something." Lila laughs, "hey, why don't you just let her? Call it an exhibition match in case her family starts something legal."
"No, Lila. I'm not entertaining the idea. You don't think I can fight? Who do you think Nora practices with? I can kick some ass. I choose not to."
"Right. Getting in a fight sets into that whole angry black girl stereotype, I get that. It's why I keep my temper in check too. But damn is it ever tiring. What I wouldn't give to just deck someone who pisses me off though." Alya laughs putting an arm around Lila.
They walk into the classroom and Alya groans out loud seeing Chloé in the front row with an unfamiliar green-eyed blond looking around like some sort of (over)eager puppy. "Oh come on! Dammit! Again!? I'm cursed! I have to be!"
Chloé stands at her desk, "oh no! This is not happening, again! Absolutely not! I demand a class change! Wait, I shouldn't have to go anywhere." She points at Alya, "she should be put in a new class." The blonde smirks. "A remedial one."
Alya drops her backpack as she walks further into the classroom and Lila grabs the orange-haired teen by the waist, "stereotype, stereotype."
"What the hell is going on?" Everyone turns to the bespectacled purple-haired woman walking in the door in the back of the classroom. Everyone watches her walk up the aisle to the front of the classroom. "Well?"
"That girl with her tacky dye job—" Lila keeps her hold on Alya's waist, "—is intent on starting trouble. She should be swiftly ejected from the classroom. From the school. From the city!"
The woman hums. "Seems a little extreme."
"It—" Chloé squints at the woman, "wait, I don't recognize you."
"Why would you? Today is my first day. I had to video call the staff meeting because of travel confusion, but that's not important. My name is Professeur Alexis Mendeleiev. You... blonde girl, what's your name?"
"M-My—" Chloé does a double-take, "my name!? ...You don't know who I am?"
"I wouldn't be asking if I did."
Chloé's jaw drops, but then she quickly recovers. "I'm Chloé Bourgeois."
"Uh-huh—" Chloé's eyebrows furrow. Not the typical reaction, "—and you, with the orange-hair, what's your name?"
"Alya Césaire."
"Césaire? Similar to Marlena Césaire?"
Alya nods, "actually, she's my ma—"
Chloé folds her arms over her chest, "you have got to be kidding me! You recognize her surname but not mine? That Césaire is a nobody who just so happens to have a famous parent way too good to be related to her. Probably a hospital mix up." Alya cracks her knuckles. "I, on the other hand, am Mayor André Bourgeois' amazing, talented, beautiful, famous by my own merits daughter—"
"Who's a natural blonde, right?" Chloé glowers at Alya who rolls her eyes.
"Of course I'm a natural blonde!"
"Tell that to your brown eyebrows."
Chloé gasps and her eyes widen. "You b—"
"Alright, enough. As I said, this is my first day here and I'd rather not have a fight before class officially begins. This is what is going to happen. Bourgeois and Césaire? Both of you are going to take your seats in the front of the classroom where I can keep an eye on you. Whichever of you is first to start trouble is gonna leaving the classroom to take up your drama with the principal."
"Fine with me." Alya picks up her bag then takes the seat in the second row on the left with Lila joining her at the joint desk.
"Fine. Whatever." Chloé mumbles plopping down in her seat.
The professeur sighs, "what's with all the staring? This isn't a theatre, everyone grab a seat." Chloé turns to glare at Alya and Lila flips the blonde the bird. Scowling, she returns the gesture then turns to the front of the classroom. After the bell rings and the remaining stragglers fill the seats, Professeur Mendeleiev takes the next ten minutes to go over the class roster and take attendance. "So... you in the front next to Mlle. Bourgeois? Who are you and why are you in this class?"
"Me? Oh! Right! Sorry professeur! My name is Adrien—"
"As in Adrien Agreste." Chloé interrupts, smugly, "the—"
"Model?!" A classmate finishes breathing heavily.
"That's right~" The class excitedly murmurs, "who just so happens to be one of my best friends!" The murmurs almost immediately stop and Chloé smiles smugly as she looks around the room, "bask in his presence because this is about as close as the lot of you are gonna get to an actual celebrity! Well, another one."
"Thank you for that ...intro, Mlle. Bourgeois, but why is he here?"
"He's here to 'observe classroom life' or some bull." Chloé elbows the green-eyed blond, "show her the thing."
"Oh! Okay! Sure!" The blond gets up and walks to the professeur's desk with a manila envelope. He's wearing a visitor's pass on the left sleeve of his long-sleeved black and gold button-up Agreste® shirt.
Lila shakes her head, "figlio di puttana. We got ourselves another Chloé." Alya slams her head down on the desk.
The professeur reads over the paper in the envelope, "everything checks out—"
There's a loud thud then the front door opens and a blue-haired girl is leaning in the doorway panting. "Mix. Up." She takes a deep breath.
Damocles sidesteps around the girl walking into the classroom, "I do apologize for the interruption, Professeur Mendeleiev. Mlle. Dupain-Cheng was unknowingly registered for two separate classes. There was..." He clears his throat, "an issue with her hyphenated surname. But—! We have resolved said issue and placed her in your class."
"Right. Thanks for that. About this visitor?"
"The Adrien Agreste? Sunshine of Paris? 2020 Face of the Year!?" The class look among themselves in confusion. "We should be humbled—no, honored—by his presence! He's simply observing our school in hopes of one day becoming our student—" The class collectively groans and Chloé glares as she looks around the room. "In any event, let's all show M. Agreste some François Düpont hospitality!" His smile drops as he points at the blue-eyed pink-haired girl in the back of the classroom, "Mlle. Kubdel, that goes double in particular to you!"
The pink-haired girl stands, putting her left hand on her chest. "I solemnly swear I'll be as hospitable as humanely possible, Dumbacles." The class chuckles. The principal narrows his eyes, giving the teen the I'm watching you motion with his fingers as he exits the room by walking backwards.
Professeur Mendeleiev shakes her head, "alright, settle down. We can laugh about Damocles later." The class quiets. "Mlle. Dupain-Cheng, find a seat." The girl nods then drags her bag on the ground as she walks to the empty table in front of Alya and Lila. "Alright. M. Agreste, word of caution: if your presence causes a disturbance you won't be able to 'witness classroom life' in this classroom." Gulping, the blond nods. "Now take a seat... next to Mlle. Dupain-Cheng."
"What?!" Chloé stands, "that's ridiculous! Absolutely utterly phenomenally ridiculous! Adrikins is sitting with me! He'll get commoner germs all over him otherwise."
"I doubt he'll experience being in a classroom without 'commoner germs,' Mlle. Bourgeois, and let me tell you one more thing: if you cause his presence to cause a disturbance, you'll both be out of here." The blonde's eyes widen then narrow as she huffs and takes her seat.
The professeur gestures to Adrien to take his seat. Alya slowly lifts her head from the desk staring wide-eyed at the professeur as the green-eyed blond gathers his bag from where he was sitting and takes his new seat, "is this what love feels like?" She whispers to Lila who, just as stunned, wordlessly nods.
"Alright. Time to pass out your chemistry textbooks, along with the class' syllabus." The class groans. "You all may chat among yourselves, quietly, as we sort this out."
Adrien clears his throat inching closer to the blue-haired girl, "hi. I'm Adri—"
The girl holds up a hand and Adrien snaps his mouth shut, "I'm gonna stop you right there, Pretty Boy. I heard your name." Her grey-green eyes narrow. "I'm sure your sunshine smile is meant to disarm but I'm running on thirteen minutes of sleep after two rush job commissions. I am at bullshit capacity."
The blond's jaw drops. "All I did—"
The girl laughs mirthlessly, "spare me the innocent cutesy act. You—" She pokes him in the chest, "came into my parents boulangerie pâtissèrie yesterday with your hoity-toity attitude and bitched about them being kosher and gluten-free which 'didn't suit your needs.'"
Adrien's eyes widen. "N-No, I—That isn't what I said!"
Professeur Mendeleiev loudly clears her throat, raising an eyebrow at Adrien who slinks in his seat with a nervous laugh. She continues to stare until she calls up the last row to get their books.
"So on top of all that... you're also calling me a liar?"
"What? No! Look, can I just—"
"What you can do, is go to hell."
"I think this is what love feels like." Lila whispers to Alya who nods in agreement. "She's making me reconsider if I'd ever be with a girl. Of course, she also sets the standard pretty high."
"If you'd just listen—"
"Take a hint, Blondie." Lila interrupts, "although according to your roots, I wouldn't say natural blond. Anyways, model or no model? No means no, Creep. She isn't interested in what you have to say. Translation in French is leave her the hell alone." Adrien glances up at the brunette and frowns, "still not understanding? I can translate it in Italian and Spanish too. Hell, I'll even try my hand at telling you in English."
"T-There's no need for all that. I get it. I'm just trying to explain she got the wrong idea."
"And I'm trying to explain to you she doesn't care and is not interested in hearing it."
"I—"
"Why wouldn't you plead your case?" Alya says nodding, holding her phone staring at it. "not like you personally ranted on your personal Instagram, adrienAgresteoffical – you misspelled official by the way, about the 'subpar' selection at Sabine & Tom Boulangerie Pâtissèrie, located on Pine Street in the twenty-first arrondissement a block away from here, hashtagging the shop's Instagram, for not carrying your bougie, bland pâtissèries?" The blond bristles. "Must've been another Adrien Aloysius Augustus Agreste employed by Agreste®?"
The blue-haired girl looks up at Alya and smiles. Lila puts her head on Alya's shoulder, sighing lovingly.
Adrien opens his mouth when a bag hits him in the head. He yelps then looks up at the tall smiling brunet with the blond tips with the bag on his arm, "so sorry about that. We're all here hoping you enjoy the hell out of this trial day of schooling, Monsieur Agreste." He heads back to the back row whistling.
Adrien rubs his head. "Don't let them get to you, Adrikins, they're jealous—" A balled up piece of paper bounces off Chloe's head and the class laughs. "You are dead, Kubdel."
"Go cry to your papa about it." Adrien spares a glance at the pink-haired girl in the back balling up a piece of paper in her hands. Staring directly back at him, the girl blows a huge yellow bubble then it pops. Adrien flinches before turning to the front of the classroom. Chloé... may have lied when she told him she was the school's shining idol. And this experience is nothing at all like the serials he's watched! He sighs, putting propping up his head with his fist watching the row two rows behind his get up to get their books.
After all the books are collected, the professeur goes over the class' syllabus (his deskmate reluctantly shared her book with him so he could follow along) and gives everyone homework – on the first day. And on a half-day to boot.
They all also get their lockers and were told their pictures for student identification cards will be taken after lunch tomorrow. Which is an hour-and-a-half long. There is no lunch today as it's a half day.
When class mercifully ends, he's largely ignored when everyone chooses to exit the room through the back door. Even the girl sitting next to him.
Chloé shoves her purse at Adrien's chest, angrily putting in the combination of her locker, "well, who hired her?" She grumbles into the phone, "what? And what about my papa?" Adrien watches people walk by glaring at him. He sighs looking at the ceiling. "Utterly useless!" Chloé yells into the phone hanging up.
"What's the problem, Chloé?"
She laughs humorously, "is that a serious question? Did you not see that professeur with the crazy hair do nothing as I was harassed by that pint-sized bitch and her slobbering guard dog? Not to mention she had no idea who I am! Who. I. Am! What planet was she living on? Everyone knows who I am! I'm Chloé. Fucking. Bourgeois!" She throws her science book into the locker. "I'm so pissed my nails are cracking. Look!" Adrien moves her hand from his face.
"Chlo, have you ever considered changing schools?"
"Run away? Have you hit your head?"
"Yes, my head was hit. Repeatedly! By paper balls. Spitballs. Dried fruit. Notebooks. School bags. Pencils. Packs of gum, thankfully unopened. If the chairs weren't nailed down, I'm sure those would've been thrown too! And the professeur made me clean up all the trash that got thrown at me!"
"Welcome to public schooling, Adrikins." She pats him on the face, "this is what you wanted, right? An authentic experience. You won't find this level of authenticity from television serials. When you assert your authority you're naturally going to have some people hate you. How does that one song go? 'Rising superstar?'" Adrien stares at her confused. "'Something, something? Hating what you can't become? Never reaching?' You know...? By Clara Nightingale?"
"I—I don't think those are the lyrics."
Chloé waves him off, "whatever. Jealousy is such an ugly emotion. They're jealous I'm the closest thing to perfection they'll ever witness!" People stop what they're doing to stare at the blonde who blows them all kisses. "You keep staring and I'll start charging." Everyone goes back to what they're doing.
"So every day people glare and throw stuff at you?"
"The glaring, yes, they can't help it. I shine so bright it hurts to stare directly. And they're only throwing things at you because they're trying to get a rise out of you. It's honestly never happened before. Okay, well, yes with Kubdel and her scary accuracy but not with anyone else; they're not brain-damaged enough. They think you're an easy target." She pokes Adrien's forehead. "Don't. Be. Don't let them hold any power over you. But most importantly? Do. Not stoop to their level. It's subterranean." She grimaces looking at her hand. "I'm skipping class to get an emergency mani-pedi." She shuts her locker then takes her purse from Adrien's hands. "I know you won't be coming with me so just... try not to—just hang tight until I get back. I'm also trying to get in touch with papa to get rid of that professeur. You can't tell me she didn't catch any of those insects throwing things at you? Come on. It's utterly unbelievable. Anyway, I'm going. Kisses~" Adrien gapes watching her dial a number on her phone as she walks down the hall.
Adrien chuckles nervously as no one staring at him bothers hiding their disdain, not that they did when he was standing next to Chloé but at least she was there to distract him. This... must be what his cousin meant when he said Chloé and Sabrina ruined his public schooling experience. He looks around then sighs in relief spotting a familiar head of orange hair exiting a classroom. Speak of the devil! "Sabrina!" He yells running over to the bespectacled teen. "Thank goodness!"
"Adrien?" The blonde walking beside Sabrina waves goodbye walking down the hall. Sabrina waves to her then fully turns to the green-eyed blond. "What—? What the hell are you doing here?" She hugs him.
"Chloé didn't tell you? My papa finally let me test out a public school and Oncle André suggested this one." The bespectacled teen raises an eyebrow as they separate, "I was sitting in on Chloé's class but she... she left to get an emergency mani-pedi."
"What upset her?"
"What—? This... This is a thing that just happens? Her—Won't she get in trouble for leaving school?"
Sabrina laughs, "is that a serious question?" She's Chloé. You think she gets in trouble anywhere let alone in this school? Damocles is a patsy. He and the entire staff are all practically in love with Tante Audrey and work with Oncle André. Damocles won't punish Chloé if she set him on fire. I'm pretty much immune to trouble myself since my papa got prompted to chief over the summer... after the previous chief got fired for money laundering." She grabs Adrien by the arm, "let their hatred fuel you, Adrien! That's what Chloé and I do. You can sit in on my class. Can't guarantee it'll be as dramatic as Chloé's class but there will be drama."
"Oh great. I just wanted a glimpse of school life."
"And you're getting one! You didn't say you wanted a good glimpse of school life."
"You're right. That was my mistake thinking that bit was obvious."
The professeur checks over his visitor's pass and his manila envelope then shrugs waving him away. Sabrina leads him to the back slash top of the classroom, because why wouldn't you look down on the plebeians when you could? She's... clearly been influenced by Chloé.
As they're walking up the staircase, he bumps into someone. "I'm sorry." Something drops on the floor and he picks it up. He blushes when a beautiful girl with long purple hair and pink tips and red-brown eyes (well, only her left eye is visible) is standing in front of him, turned to him.
A short blonde girl with a pixie cut that has multi-colored tips pops up from behind the purple-haired girl and gasps loudly, "he's trying to steal your wallet!" She yells pointing at the object in Adrien's hand... which just so happens to be a skull wallet he picked up from the floor. The class gasps (theatrically in Adrien's opinion).
"N-No!"
"Seriously?" The purple-haired girl deadpans snatching her wallet out of his hand. "Gonna rant about this on social media too, Creep?" She stomps on his foot then brushes past him to her seat. The blonde slaps him across his face then jogs after the tall girl.
"I am just not having a good day." Adrien groans, holding his throbbing cheek.
"One of the downsides of being famous." Sabrina says pushing him along. "You keep staring and I'll start charging!" Everyone turns back to the front of the class. Sabrina sits in the corner seat and Adrien takes the one to her left. "So... I wish I checked my phone before I left my last class. Apparently, you being here is big. News. Like XY being held back this year big. The school's paper website isn't even active yet and you're on the front page! They say you're a total super diva! An even bigger one than Chloé! An even bigger one than Oncle Gabriel!" Sabrina gasps. "I didn't even think that was possible! And you're anti-Semitic not to mention anti-gluten-free to boot!"
"What!? That's ...ridiculous! I'm not any of that! I made one comment about the weird flavors of the éclairs they were selling and I'm being a 'super diva?'"
"I say you milk it."
"I don't wanna 'milk it!' I'm not a super diva. I'm not even a regular diva!"
"You do kinda sound like one with the yelling." Adrien groans. Sabrina whistles as she stares at her phone, "wait, what did you—? Ooh... oh no. Oh no no no. You... seriously?"
"What is it?"
"'What is it?'" Sabrina laughs humorously then stops abruptly as Adrien stares blankly at her, "you... you really have no idea." The bespectacled teen pinches the bridge of her nose, pushing up her glasses, "the callousness and willful ignorance just makes matters worse. Let me simplify: claiming 'weird' flavors from a kosher, gluten-free Chinese influenced boulangerie pâtissèrie is first-tier racism."
"It—N-No it isn't!"
"Yeah, it is. What was the 'weird' flavor you bitched about? Was it red bean paste? That's common in Chinese pâtissèries. Ergo, not 'weird' at all. So, yeah, like I said it's racist claiming it is 'weird.' And why would you use the word 'weird' anyway?"
Adrien does a double-take, "how—what? How... How do you know that?"
"How do I know what? About the red bean paste?" Adrien nods. "Research. Don't tell Chloé but I'm a regular at Sabine & Tom. She's all in that 'carbs are evil' phase and I am not going down that route. I need to have my sweet dumplings on half-days. Speaking of which, I gotta get some after school."
"D-Do they ...let you? It seems like being associated with Chloé is not a good thing here. She told me she was famous in this school."
"Infamous is the word I'd use." Adrien facepalms. "And I'm not Chloé. Yes, being her best friend does get me barred from some places, but it also give me insider access into others. Since Chloé never stepped foot in the boulangerie pâtissèrie, and probably won't; I'm good. I got nothing to worry about. I do wish we were in the same class like we were last year, but, at the same time, I also kinda like not having to sit with her in every class where we have joint desk and weren't sat alphabetically. She's such a desk hog!"
"Do people glare and throw stuff at you all day?"
"Why wouldn't they glare, Adri-kins? I'm perfection~" She pinches his non-red cheek and he glowers.
"Maybe school isn't such a good idea now?"
"Don't be a baby. So people hate you. Big deal? It's hardly a crisis. Not everyone is gonna love you. Haven't you gotten hate mail or bad reviews from one of your modeling gigs or magazine spreads? Power through it just like you would there."
"No."
"'No?' No what? No, you're not powering through it?"
"No, I've never received hate mail or bad reviews."
"'No?' As in never?" Sabrina snorts. "Right. Okay. 'You never received a bad review.' That's as true as me saying I'm a pixie masquerading as a human." The orange-haired teen rolls her eyes. "I find it very hard to believe you are cruising through your career—your entire ten plus year career—with zero negativity. That's some wicked delusion right there. You are hardly the hottest model Paris has—" She pauses then rubs the back of her neck "...uh no offense."
"None taken and it's true!"
"Very doubtful. Utterly impossible. Is it selective searching? Blind optimism? Wait!" She hits her left palm with her right fist, "I got it! Oncle Gabriel runs your Agreste® Instagram account, right? He must moderate your comments!" Adrien blinks at her, "that makes perfect sense. It's literally the only way you'd not know people aren't always saying good things about you. Most of the city doesn't even consider you to be Paris' top model. Not even in the top three." Adrien's jaw drops. "Oncle Gabriel either may be blocking the comments altogether or changing them to something positive. And maybe in the past, before social media, he'd just give you the positive paper fan-mail? Your papa is ...not the greatest when it comes to criticism of any kind. Remember his 'duck' collection? And the soap?" Sabrina shudders. "He must've been was-ted making those." She clears her throat. "Now, I'll show you the comments from your Agreste® Instagram account and your personal one through my account, unfiltered. Just a heads up? It's not all pretty." Sabrina hands Adrien her phone and he gasps.
🐈/🐞
"Hey Teddy~" A group of girls greet passing by. When the black-haired teen takes his head out of his locker the girls squeal running off.
Teddy rubs the back of his neck, shrugs, then goes back into his locker. "I'm so glad school ends before lunchtime because I am starving." Johnny leans against the wall to the left of the lockers.
"You wanna head to Sabine & Tom after school lets out?"
"No way, man. I love Mme. C but everyone is gonna be there. Didn't you hear the support the shop's racking up because of that racist model asshole?"
"Yeah. Saw him too. He was sitting in on my class this morning." Johnny whistles, "I've seen his face in magazine covers in waiting rooms. I always thought he was kinda... bland looking? Scratching my head figuring out why everyone was losing their shit looking at him. Kids our age. Grown-ups. I was completely lost. Seeing him up close only cemented there really isn't anything special to him. At least in my opinion. But I guess when your parents are famous, you can do anything." They both exchange a knowing look.
"Remember when someone stole his cardboard cutout for the short-lived Agreste® soap?"
Teddy laughs, "that... was not a good marketing strategy. 'Smell like an Agreste.'" He shudders and Johnny cackles. "I'm kinda surprised it made it to production."
"When we went to the mall for stuff for Tante Cam last year we passed by the display and it smelled like ass. No, that's an insult to asses."
Teddy gets out of his locker and stands up straight, cracking his back. "I don't know how I'm gonna do this all school year long."
"Ask for a swap with someone shorter. Or get someone shorter to slip into your locker for you. I'm sure you have a couple dozen fans who'd do it willingly."
"I—" A can of fruit juice lands into Johnny's left hand and he juggles it before tossing it back from where it came from. "What the hell—?"
"That one's hers, Rem!" He yells.
"Sorry, J! My bad!"
Teddy turns around and doesn't see anything out of the ordinary. He turns back to Johnny. "I see you two are still express delivering food to each other?"
"What are friends for, Big Guy? If not to help you and your twin keep each other's blood sugar levels balanced." Teddy does a double-take as Johnny catches a bag of dried fruit in his arms without missing a beat, "it's like having a sixth and seventh sense. Ooh, dried bananas. Thanks, Nino!"
"Anytime, Dude!"
Johnny opens the bag offering Teddy some as Teddy closes his locker and they start walking down the hall. "There was a mix up with me and Ramone, they put us both in the same classroom because they only had one kid with the surname Watts. Damocles took like the whole damn class period figuring out what to do."
"What did he do?"
"Kept us in the same damn homeroom anyway."
Teddy shakes his head, "this principal..." He furrows his eyebrows, "hey, wait a sec—! If you two are in the same class why are you throwing food to each other? Why can't you just get the food from each other when you get to class?"
"Where's the fun in that?"
Teddy opens his mouth to respond but the ground shakes violently. A person-sized, two-dimensional paper cutout with a musical note on their head and another on their chest, rounds the corner and takes a step that has the ground shaking again. Teddy braces himself against the wall and grabs Johnny by the arm keeping him upright. "W-What the hell is that?"
"I-I was thinking the same thing!"
"Is this groundbreaking enough for you!?" The cutout screams.
"That was... just a terrible pun." Teddy puts his free hand to his head.
The butterfly mask outline appears over the cutout's eyes. An akuma. Of course it is. This is life now. "Am I still one note? Flat? One-dimensional? A Blank Slate? A Cardboard Cutout!?" As the cutout advances, an all too familiar shell sails through the air catching the akuma in the head.
The students in the hall fleeing cheer as Southpaw jumps in the air catching Aegis' shield. "You need to learn how to take some constructive criticism, bud." She taunts.
The mask reappears over the akuma's eyes, "your Miraculouses are mine!"
"I doubt that very much. And allow me to give you a review for your latest film." Southpaw blows a raspberry and the akuma snarls.
With Teddy still holding his arm, Johnny finds himself being dragged away.
As Johnny turns around, he sees that the cat has showed up as well. It's easier than he expected to "lose" Teddy in the chaos and slip away into an unoccupied room. Even before he tried to free himself some students wrestled Teddy's hand from his arm replacing it with theirs, then fighting with the next arm trying to do the same thing and replace theirs. "To be honest, I was expecting Monarque to strike much sooner than he has."
"Yeah, well, I was hoping he didn't strike at all. So much for an ordinary first day. It's been over a week since the baby." Johnny sighs giving the kwami one of the dried bananas from the bag. The kwami gives him a toothy grin accepting the treat. "I feel like expecting a normal day is gonna be like asking for too much." He brings his hands together, "alright little buddy, go time. Scale along, Sass." With a nod, the kwami merges with the sapphire ouroboros bangle on Johnny's left wrist, turning it turquoise. He stood as far away from the doorway as he could, hoping the bright turquoise light he gets engulfed in remains unseen. Scales begin coating his body from his feet up, forming his suit; almost like he's hatching. His cowl is the last to appear, covering the top half of his face. Lastly, his pupils slit like a snake's and his teeth sharpen. Grabbing the lyre from his waist (he had to ask Sass with the instrument was because he kept calling it a harp [which started a long-winded rant about the differences between the two]), he creeps along the wall to look out the doorway and see the cat and Southpaw both spinning their weapons to deflect the akuma's paper shuriken. Oh boy. It's never just one power with these akumas, is it?
"Aren't we supposed to Power Rangers style fight the bad guy together?" Southpaw asks.
"There were some episodes in which the team wasn't together when the enemy appeared, and they were doing what they could until the others arrive." The cat replies.
"Oh." Southpaw says with a heavy sigh. "Alright. Ooh! I call leader this fight!" Southpaw wraps her jumprope around the akuma's neck and pulls it forward. "Attack!" She shouts. The cat and Aegis shrug as they ready their weapons.
Johnny tiptoes out of the room and around the corner so he doesn't draw attention to himself. As he's ready to turn the corner toward his team, the cat goes flying over his head. "What the—"
"Shit." Aegis mutters.
"Crap, crap! I didn't know he could do that!" The Southpaw on the right says as the one on the left shakes her head. "We'll get it right this time."
Johnny – he needs to come up with a name – clicks his bangle back a fang going back the last twenty seconds. This time, he catches the cat in mid-air. "Sup."
"H-Hey." When they land, he sets the cat upright on his feet. "T-Thanks."
"Ooh you're... wait, I don't know your name. I don't know any of you guys' names." Southpaw jumpropes backwards and her multiple disappears as she and Aegis run over to them.
"I didn't tell you I'm going by Aegis?"
"I thought you were sneezing." Aegis does a double-take at her teammate.
"I'm going by Hex."
"'Hex?'" The team questions.
"Bad luck? Destruction? I based my name off my powers like Aegis did."
"D-Do we all have to do that? I like Southpaw. I've already gotten used to calling himself that."
"It—" Aegis lifts her hand, bringing her shield up as the akuma rudely throws paper shuriken in their direction. "I wasn't trying to start a trend, I was just thinking of a practical name."
"Okay, if we elected the ladybug to be the leader, you are clearly the second in command."
Aegis turns to Hex, "wha—?"
"I second that... second in command." Johnny nods in agreement. "Wait. Is green usually the second in command?" Southpaw asks. "And if she's green and he's green, which of you is really green? Oh whatever. It doesn't matter. We have an ass to kick!"
"But we're gonna need a strategy that isn't us running at him and getting thrown back when he crinkles in on himself and sends out shockwaves." Hex states.
"It's totally unfair! How many powers does he need!? This fake-ass Paper Mario villain reject."
Johnny strums his lyre. It's a little weird his weapon isn't even a weapon and it also is not good for much; it's his Miraculous that allows the do-overs. And it's a last resort power anyhow. Sass told him to be careful using "second chance" as overusage could lead to some rather unpleasant side effects.
Aegis' shell is used as a projectile, though Johnny isn't certain if that is the intended use but it gets the job done all the same. Southpaw has the jumprope that she also uses as a weapon but using it to actually jumprope has her multiple and shrink. Hmmm. He doesn't know about Hex's powers regarding his baton. So far he's only used it to deflect.
Huh. Maybe their weapons their primary fire and their powers are additional?
Maybe he could try to use his lyre offensively. Bash it over the akuma's head? Chuck it at the akuma. He'll have to think.
"Alright. We'll fan out. Corner him, then attack from all sides. Can you use multiple shields Ag... Eg... uh Mlle. Turtle?"
"I guess we'll find out."
"Okay! We should totally come up with a cheer."
"Uh..." Johnny and his other two teammates exchange glances, "how about later?" Aegis says.
"Right! Let's—"
"Wait!" Hex holds up his hands, "we can't corner him, we're in a hallway."
The four of them turn toward the akuma. "Well, shit." Aegis says with a sigh.
"No, no! This can still work. A... or does it start with an E? Whatever. Girl power, the two of us are gonna stay here and you two are gonna try and make your way around the akuma, because almost all hallways connect and whatever, then we can attack from... at least two sides?"
The three of them shrug, "it's worth a shot." Johnny says.
"Team cheer?" They stare at Southpaw. "Alright fine. Let's do this!" Aegis dissolves her shield and the butterfly mask appears over the akuma's eyes.
"You've spent the past two minutes delaying the inevitable—"
"'You're going to take our Miraculouses.'" The team finishes, deadpan with a headshake, before nodding at one another and splitting up.
Southpaw beckons the akuma. "Hope you're ready for your photo op, Blandrien Boregreste~" She jumpropes twice and splits in three. "You know, you should stick to this look." The Southpaw in the center says, "way better than your usual one." The other two nod in agreement.
The akuma's left eye twitches but the mask outline reappears over his face. "...But it would be so easy to—" He growls then the outline disappears and he turns his fingers into shuriken.
"Oh! So that's how he did it!" The three Southpaws chorus.
He fires the shuriken at the three Southpaws but Aegis' shield rises from the ground in front of them, and the shuriken bounce off the shield. He keeps on firing shuriken and they keep on bouncing off the shield.
"Cataclysm!" The akuma turns around as Hex slams his glowing fist into the ground. The ripple effect creates a crack in the ground that spread all the way to where the akuma is standing. One of his legs gets caught in the split ground and Johnny and Aegis both approach from both sides and uppercut the akuma.
"Ass-kicking relay!" Southpaw shouts before all three charge at the akuma.
"Wait!" Hex shouts. The akuma crinkles in itself.
"Oh fu—"
Johnny clicks his bangle back a fang.
"Cataclysm!" The akuma turns around as Hex slams his glowing fist into the ground. The ripple effect creates a crack in the ground that spreads all the way to where the akuma is standing. One of his legs caught in the split ground and he staggers trying to free himself. Johnny and Aegis run at the akuma, approaching from both sides and both simultaneously uppercut the akuma.
"Ass-kicking—" Southpaw shouts.
"Wait!" The three Southpaws pause. "If you come at him he'll repel the attack. Aegis, do you know where the akuma is?"
Aegis pauses then beams. She knees the akuma in the stomach then brings her shield down on his head after he doubles over. As he drops to the ground the akuma flutters out of his left hand, transforming him back to normal through the purplish-black ooze, and they both take a step back. "That's... one way to find out." Southpaw – just one – says approaching them with the jumprope over her right shoulder.
"What do we do with it?!"
Johnny gasps, "try and make a shield around it." He rubs the back of his neck, "last few times I just tried and we touched it? Not great."
Nodding, Aegis creates a shield around the akuma and it angrily flies into the shield from every angle, trying to escape. "Nice." She elbows Johnny with a grin. "Now we know if we knock the victim out the akuma will leave their body. But I can't stay transformed forever, what do I do with the akuma?"
"I don't know."
A portal materializes right in front of them and the horse drops out of it. When she lands she flips her hair back and some of the students – Johnny honestly forgot where they were for a second – swoon. "Hey." She draws a circle in the air and the bubbled akuma gets sucked in it then the circle disappears.
"That's it, huh? So you come out of nowhere after we're already done and just take all the credit?"
"I don't know where the beetle is, so I was sent to grab the akuma. You know, before it spreads and we have another hypermarket mass akuma attack? You're welcome."
Aegis rolls her eyes, "right."
"Hey, guys!" They all turn to Southpaw standing, looking down to where the unconscious Adrien Agreste is laying. She nudges the blond with her foot, "what do we do with 'em? I mean, should we even be helping him? We are all brown—" The others look around at one another realizing it, "—and he is a racist scumbag."
Aegis holds up both hands. "I'm not touching him."
Hex folds his arms over his chest. "I'm Jewish so I'm definitely not touching him."
"Not it." Johnny holds up both hands and shaking his head.
"I don't wanna touch him." Southpaw says.
The horse shakes her head. "Nope."
The team look among one another then shrug before walking off in the opposite direction. The students in the hallway quickly whip out their phones and take pictures of them as they exit the school through the front doors.
🐈/🐞
"An absolute embarrassment!" Adrien flinches. "I told you repeatedly that public schooling was unrealistically glamorized in television and wasn't worth the effort, yet you continued to ignore my warnings. Did you forget I was unfortunate enough to attend six years of public schooling before my talents were recognized?"
"Père—"
"I'm not finished." The blond, seated behind the desk, adjusts his glasses then sighs, "you made a real spectacle of yourself, Adrien. And you wondered why I had you home-schooled for eight years? And on top of everything, you get yourself akumatized. Over meaningless comments."
"If they were so meaningless, why did you hide them from me?"
The bespectacled blond sighs heavily, "because I knew you'd obsess over them. And I see I was correct. Adrien, I will tell you this one time: the only person's opinion you ever need to worry about is mine." The teen frowns. "As punishment for this horrendous public scandal you're leaving Nathalie and myself to fix, you are going to enroll full time to François Düpont—"
"N-No! You can't—! Père, please! Not there! Everyone hates me there!"
"You should have thought about the consequences of your actions beforehand. You are the face of Agreste®. Do you think we can have a racist, anti-Semitic spokesperson telling people—people of all colors and creeds—to buy our wares? Tomorrow, you are going to issue a public apology for your carelessness then you are going to spend your latest paycheck on as many of that shop's pâtissèries as it'll buy then donate them to some charity. Take the next few days to figure out a way to dig yourself out of this hole you put yourself in because I'm going to enroll you for next week. You're dismissed."
Nodding, Adrien leaves his father's office as the man takes his glasses off and puts both hands over his eyes.
"Adrien." He flinches as his father's personal assistant rounds the corner, as Adrien closes his father's office door behind him.
"I'm so sorry, Nathalie."
The blue-haired woman's face softens a fraction as she puts a hand on his shoulders, "you really need to be careful. A public figure like yourself can't afford something of this magnitude. Sponsors and shareholders are threatening to take their business elsewhere if this issue isn't resolved in 48 hours."
"F-Forty-eight hours!? That's not nearly enough time!"
"Considering, it took one hour for this news to become public as someone livestreamed your conversation with that girl. You're lucky we were given as long as we were given."
"Why would anyone want to livestream—how could they?! Professeur Mendeleiev didn't allow phones to be out—" Adrien pauses then facepalms, "it was before. I was talking to that girl while books were being distributed so yeah..." He sighs, "crap. I really screwed up, didn't I?"
Nathalie wordlessly nods, patting him on the shoulder again before walking off.
When Adrien gets to his room Chloé and Sabrina are inside. They both get up from his bed and hug him as he walks in the room.
"Oh Adrikins, you royally fucked up." Chloé pats his head. Both girls lead Adrien to his bed and they all sit down on it, "don't worry, Nathalie will find a way to fix things. She's like—Well, it's like her superpower fixing up messes. Remember Maman's plaid and gingham faux pas?" Chloé snaps her fingers, "made that picture go away in the blink of an eye. And I never thought it was possible to completely erase something from the internet."
"Chloé, I think this is a bit bigger than Tante Audrey mixing up virtually identical clothing patterns."
Chloé snorts, "says you."
"It's my fault." Sabrina sighs, "I shouldn't've showed you the comments. Granted, I didn't know you'd snap and get akumatized. I guess I sorta forgot that was a thing we have to worry about now. Watching out for purple butterflies. If only there was some kind of way we'd know how to, like, keep an eye out for them."
"This isn't your fault, Sabrina. It's Oncle Gabriel's. I get sheltering you from bad stuff but to shelter you from every bad thing? If you don't experience anything bad you'll never grow."
"No, you know who's fault this really is? Aside from Oncle Gabriel? Whoever shot the video and posted it online."
Chloé gasps pointing at Sabrina, "you're right! Ooh, I bet it was Kubdel! That spiteful little troll! Or Césaire! No, Césaire wouldn't do anything that underhanded. She's not clever enough."
"Maybe it was that shifty-eyed girl Césaire hangs around? The one staying with the Dean family?"
"Dean?" Chloé gasps then smirks, "rejoice, Adrikins! Sabrina has just given me what I needed to fix this."
🐈/🐞
"Kaalki, dismount." The transformation breaks and the horse kwami flutters out of the brunette's glasses. "What the hell is that turtle's deal anyhow?" She grumbles, "not even a thanks for preventing a mass akuma attack. Just starts off giving me attitude."
Kaalki floats over to the brunette, "remember: stress causes wrinkles. We are far too fabulous to worry about the attitudes of others. Wayzz's hatchling is insignificant. You are doing a fantastic job with my Miraculous, America." The brunette smiles at the kwami. "Now come on., let's see Master Fù. Your dimension can only hold the akuma for so long without you transformed, keeping it at bay."
As they round the corner, Kaalki gasps flying into America's hair as she bumps into someone full force. They both sorta just bounce off each other then crumple to the ground. They both shake it off and sit up at the same time. "Ow." They utter simultaneously, "sorry." Blinking, they look up at each other.
The white-haired kid jumps to their feet and offers a hand America takes, "huh... you're... pretty tall."
"Yeah, I get that a lot. Were you about to head in this comic book shop?"
The kid pauses, furrowing his eyebrows, "nah. Sorry again." Shoving their hands in their pockets, the kid walks off.
America shrugs then enters the shop.
Fù is seated on a barstool behind the counter chuckling to himself. "How will you get out of this one Squeezy? Oh!" He puts a bookmark into the comic. "Thank you for... taking care of the trash, Mlle. Chavez. I'll be closing early this afternoon. Can you get the door?"
America locks up the shop then Fù gestures for her to follow and she does.
"Grabbed the akuma before it could infect anyone else. It was in a bubble that I think the Turtle Girl made."
Fù nods, "can you show me?"
America takes a deep breath, "giddy up, Kaalki." The kwami flies into the glasses transforming them then America. White and brown and strings tie together forming around America creating her suit and dying her hair white then braiding them. Unlike the last time, the left side of her hair gets shaved off and her tail is now micro braided as well.
America draws a circle in the air and the bubbled akuma comes out of the created portal. Fù presses a finger against the bubble and it pops, causing the akuma inside to disintegrate.
"How do you do that?"
"Decades of practice. I can counter almost any kwami's ability used for evil."
"That's a useful ability. Dismount, Kaalki." The transformation breaks and the kwami floats out of the glasses, "you're probably starving." The kwami nods floating over to America's left shoulder and plopping down with a yawn. "Let's get some food in you."
"I can assist you with that."
"I feel a but coming."
"It was more of a 'however,' but the point remains. I believe you should tell your parents where you are."
America scoffs, "pass. I ran away for a reason. I've been gone for three weeks and they didn't even send out a missing person's report. They're hardly the first foster family to blame some unseen and unreal outside force for spending all the money they get for having me on themselves. I'm better off on my own, without—" Kaalki pointedly clears her throat, "—huh? Oh, right not on my own anymore. Sorry, Kaalki. Look, I'm better off without them. And you'd have to take my Miraculous and hogtie me if you want me heading back."
"I have no intention of handing you off to a neglectful family. I was not aware of your living situation when I pressed the subject and I apologize. You are not the first runaway I have dealt with in my life and I doubt you will be the last. You are more than welcome to remain here if you choose."
"I feel another but coming."
"You might have a roommate."
"'Might?'"
"I offered lodging to the ladybug Miraculous wielder, but—" Fù jerks his head back and America sees a red and black spotted kwami sitting on the windowsill sighing, holding a circular earring in each paw.
America's eyes widen. "He quit?!"