"Yo!"

Rakugaki stares with disbelief. A worn out Jirou gazes up at her from below, face alight with exuberance. She swallows, the marathon nearly beating her lungs out.

"The hell do ya want? Ya got a sixth sense or somethin'? Ah know ah said ah'd stop, but lookie, ah just can't help mahself. This buildin' is too bland for—"

"I want you to become a street artist!"

…

…

The air is taken from Rakugaki's mouth.

Jirou sees her narrowed eyes and deflated lips, and she blinks so slowly it looks like she's been put in slow motion. Rakugaki closes her mouth and stares disdainfully at the girl beneath her.

"The fuck didja say?"

Jirou winces, her smile dying just like that. Cheeks brightening, the wind somewhat cools the sweat plastering her hair. She can sense the frown behind Rakugaki's mask. Sixth sense be damned. Her jacks pick up the grumble from the girl's hidden mouth.

"I said," she swallows. "I want you to become a street artist. Graffiti isn't helping you whatsoever, a-and if you're caught, then…"

"Then ah'd be arrested and never get to create again. That right?"

"Y-yeah! Exactly what I'm trying to say! So…"

Rakugaki rolls her eyes, wiping some green glue on her soles before warily maneuvering herself on the wall. She ignores Jirou's warnings to be careful and stomps down the structure, hopping off it and facing Jirou head-on.

Some sort of… hatred glowers in her eyes.

"Give me a reason why ah should listen to ya."

"A… reason?"

"Ya heard me," the mask is yanked down and the malicious frown is revealed. "Give me a reason."

Somehow she feels like she's putting her life on the line for this. Why is Rakugaki so upset? Becoming a street artist would be one of the best possibilities for someone like her…

"Well… um, your art is good, and—"

A harsh crack! resounds in Jirou's head as Rakugaki smashes her fist directly into her face. Jirou yelps and reels, the pain coming quickly and throbbing. Her cheek is swelling in tandem with her confusion and sudden fury.

"Ow, fuck!"

"The fuck ya mean, 'mah art is good'? Ah ain't doin' this shit for ya, girlie. Ah don't do shit for anyone."

"What was that for?!" she asks while pressing a hand against her cheek.

Rakugaki glares. "Ya piss me off when ya say it like that. Ah didn't do it for nothin'. Don't say insensitive shit like it ain't a lather."

"What did I say?! That hurt!"

A deft hand locates itself on Jirou's chin, holding her like she's about to get punched again. "A street artist? Get the hell outta here."

Jirou never thought she'd be seeing red today. She was wrong.

"That's why you hit me? Because I suggested something?"

Rakugaki lets her go. "Something that ah hate hearing from ya. Street artists are scams. They might as be robbin' ya! And ah don't have any intention to become one of 'em! Ah do things for mahself, for mah own happiness!"

What is this logic?

She's never seen anything like this before.

Jirou keeps her distance. "What the hell are you even saying? Your art is phenomenal, Raku," she watches for any reaction to the nickname, "you could totally make a living out of it. You'd be incredible."

As expected, Rakugaki only flares. "The hell is wrong with ya? First ya threaten' me with some Hero bullshit, which ah'm startin' to think ain't true, and now ya tellin' me the opposite?"

Really, Jirou wanted this to go as smoothly as possible. Getting socked in the face hurts, but being called a liar sends her heart throbbing with a newfound rage.

"I can assure you I, Jirou Kyouka, am part of UA Class A's Hero course. And again, sorry if I sound like a broken record, but I want you to become a street artist."

"Why the hell—"

"Because I can't stand your art!"

Her voices floats into the world. Rakugaki falls silent as Jirou continues rambling.

"When I had to scrub it off, I couldn't get it out of my head! I had nothing interesting to talk about! All I could think about was your stupid picture, and I hated it! I can't stand that it's so… cool!"

The blonde stares.

"And seeing it again, reborn as something amazing, it… I don't know what happened, but I suddenly want to see more! I love your art, but I can't get it out of my head, and I want to see more! If you go away, how will I see it again?! Become a street artist, and make incredible art!"

There. She said it. Everything that has plagued her these past few days reached the brim and spilled like an overflowing cup of water.

Rakugaki, however, merely blinks at the girl's speech. Her widened eyes narrow back to her usual appearance, but a toothy smirk is spread across her lips. A hint of rosy red blooms on her cheeks.

"So ya just want me to stick 'round for ya own gain, eh?"

"Guess you're not any different, huh?"

She chuckles. "Guess not. Ah still ain't thinkin' twice here. Ah only do what makes me happy, nothin' more. Somethin' ya Heroes prolly don't understand too well."

The rocking-girl's eyes gleam. She knows this feeling all too well. Sweet, sweet confidence.

"What do you have against Heroes?"

…

Something interesting happens. Rakugaki doesn't respond for at least an extra second, yet it's long enough for Jirou to understand she's hit a nerve.

"Ah don't hold nothin'. Ah wanted to be one at some point, but, eh, with a Quirk like this, ah ain't worth squat. So ah just… followed the one other thing that made me happy. Art."

…!

There it is.

Jirou places her hands on her hips. "What are you talking about? I know someone in another class who has a Quirk similar to yours."

Kojiro Bondo.

Rakugaki's glare falls short, replaced by astonishment in an instant. "...Ya do?"

"You bet. He's an excellent fighter and strategist. I'm sure you could've been amazing if you had just given it a shot. In a way, Raku… art is like Heroism."

The blonde recoils for a moment.

"Your art… touched me, Raku. It impressed me so much it frustrated me. I couldn't stop thinking about it. This is something I want to protect… so please. Become a street artist. So many other lives could use your art to help them through hard times."

Astonishment is the only visible emotion in Rakugaki's eyes, yet she had decided to keep them cast down. She holds her arms,

All Jirou can do is smile. Like a Hero.

"Your art made me happy, Raku."

…

…

Rakugaki's hands reach up to her face, and Jirou hears a quiet sob. Her face goes white and she panics for a moment before asking, "A-are you okay?"

"N-nah, nah, ah'm fine, it's just…" suddenly, shark teeth shine brightly in the sun, "...no one's ever said that to me before. That.. ah really needed that."

A muted hush between them is shared, Jirou relaxing from her heart attack.

That scared me…

"S-so… what do you think?" she asks. "What are you going to do…?"

"..." Rakugaki halts. "...Ah'll… give it a shot…"

"Really?! That's great!"

"Yeah… hah, if ah don't like it, though, ah ain't doin' it again. Ah still hate street artists."

"Whatever you say." Jirou feels too confident to care, smiling dumbly.

"Ah never looked at it that way… that kid of yours must be real smart if he got glue as a Quirk. Ah suppose ah best be sayin' it now…"

The rocking-girl tilts her head in wonder before Rakugaki takes a deep breath and sighs. She turns to her, eyes full of devotion.

"Thank ya, Jirou. Ya… ya make a fine Hero."