It's good to know that no matter how badly you fuck up, there is always going to be someone who fucked up worse than you—and, to some people, this is seen as a challenge. Perhaps an unintentionally accepted challenge, but an accepted challenge nonetheless. Sometimes it's fun to be a loser, and to young Rumi Chouju it was a welcome reprieve from trying too hard. Of course, it's not the best feeling in the world to be the absolute worst at something—and even Rumi could admit that—but, still, it's better than taking yourself too seriously, even when you have goals and aspirations and all that corny bullshit.
One month prior, Rumi had applied to U.A. High School, the top hero school in Japan—and arguably the world—in hopes that she could join the prestigious Hero Course. Did she get in? No, no she did not. General Studies would have to do.
Two years prior, Rumi had begun training so that she could get into the aforementioned Hero Course by working as a lackey for a local construction group and running in circles for five hours a day on weekends. Did she get stronger? Of course, but it wasn't like she was going to throw hands with Arnold Schwarzenegger anytime soon.
And—most importantly—six years prior, Rumi had confidently shouted out an answer to a question, only to be so incorrect that the damage done to her pride was damn-near unfixable. It happens to the best of us—which is a lie, but hey, it sounds nicer than saying that everyone is an idiot and we all fuck up. And did she get it over it? Hell no.
Regardless, life is full of mistakes, but that's okay because sometimes those mistakes aren't your fault. Oh yeah, and this is the story of how Rumi Chouju became a delightfully average Hero, even though the people around her all thought that she would be mediocre at best. Sometimes you have to settle for what little spite you can get.
Waking up is a chore and Rumi is a 12-year-old going through a rebellious phase. The shrill scream of the alarm slacked off in the terror-department just enough to startle and not kill, but that doesn't mean that her soul didn't try to prematurely sign itself into the afterlife because it mistakenly thought, "Well, that must've done it." It's always a surprise when you wake up instead of die of shock, isn't it?
Not quite having hit the "realization stage" of waking up, Rumi's head popped off her pillow while she frantically patted herself down to confirm that she was not, in fact, dead. Once thoroughly convinced, she scowled at the alarm clock with that blank sense of morning anger that hasn't yet manifested completely, pledging vengeance against the clock and its descendants. She hated the damn thing, ye olde twin bell clock, but it was the only thing that woke her up in the morning that didn't require her mom to start banging pots and pans together at the foot of her bed.
Drowsy and delirious, she reluctantly swung her legs over the edge of the bed, sitting for a moment longer before stepping onto the carpet. Her back arched as she yawned deeply, her hands reaching towards the ceiling as she forced herself to begin walking towards the door. Once she made it to the bathroom, she took a hot shower and got dressed in her school uniform—a gray blazer over a white polo with a red tie resting in the center of her chest, as well as a navy skirt that brushed her knees and thigh-high stockings with penny loafers. Snazzy. Afterwards, she made sure her bag was packed, plants were watered, and desk was mostly put-together before walking downstairs; her mom greeted her from the kitchen counter that overlooked the stair railing. She smiled through tired eyes, the lines on her face becoming more defined.
"Good morning, Rumi," she said, sliding her a plate of waffles from across the counter. "How'd you sleep?" She leaned against the false granite, her straight auburn hair falling in front of her hazel eyes.
Rumi sat down on the stool with a thud, letting her bag drop beside her. "Meh, can't complain—I fell asleep around 11:30, so I shouldn't be tired for too much longer," she said drowsily, sneaking a peak at the oven clock behind her mother to check the time, which was a crisp 6:30, also known as way-too-fucking-early. She groaned to herself and took a bite of the syrupy concoction.
Her mom snorted quietly, the corner of her mouth tugging upwards a sliver as she mumbled, "Careful, Rumi, your self-awareness is showing." With that, she turned around to make herself some coffee. Rumi smirked to herself while she downed the meal.
Once she finished, she took the plate to the sink, rinsed it off, picked up her bag, and walked to the door. "I'm out, Mom," Rumi called, the sleep still heavy in her voice.
"Wait!" her mom said, rushing over to her before throwing her arms around Rumi's shoulders, planting a kiss on her cheek, and taking a step back to look at her. Without warning, she ruffled Rumi's long and wavy brown hair, pushing her side-swept bangs behind her ear. "Have a nice day at school," she said with a wistful smile.
Rumi grinned, her brows furrowing slightly as she retorted, "Easy for you to say, you don't have to sit in a chair for eight hours!"
Chuckling to herself, her mom said, "No, I guess not." After the moment had ended, Rumi walked out the front door, waving to her mom as she closed it behind her.
The morning air hit like a slap in the face, no matter how refreshing—the cold bite mixed with the sunrise was enough to wake her up, however, so that was nice. It had been a month since school began, and, despite being thrilled to get in, she couldn't help but be disappointed that she didn't get into the Hero Course. Obviously, they couldn't accept everyone, but it still rubbed her the wrong way, especially since she had been working so hard to get in. It was frustrating, but, even so, getting in was an achievement and she wasn't going to turn down the opportunity because she didn't get into the course she wanted. And besides, what alternative did she have? Exactly, nothing—it was U.A. or bust.
Having been placed in General Studies, she'd have to get used to being an outsider to the Hero Course. Unfortunately, no one had noticed her potential, no one had dropped, and—quite possibly the most disappointing—no one had begged her to take their spot. Bummer, but you can't get everything, can you? Rumi would just have to become a Pro Hero without being in the Hero Course—you know, the same Hero Course that churned out the number one Pro Hero, All Might, and so must obviously be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, but, alas, it's not like everyone went there, just the best of the best. Rumi physically sighed at the thought before straightening her posture with determination; afterall, it's not like it's impossible, it's just very, very hard.
Can you tell that she's still a little salty?
The commute to school wasn't all that interesting either. Her house—or, more accurately, her mom's house—was located on a single-street-suburbia with quasi-cookie-cutter houses stacked next to each other. Sure, there was space between them, but only just—they branched off into the next string of houses, and then the next, and the next, and so on for what felt like infinity but hadn't been checked by Rumi because she did not care enough to find out. Plus, the uncertainty was kind of thrilling. Was it infinite? Maybe. Schrodinger's Houses. Of course, all she really needed to know was that down the street a couple of blocks was a bus stop that would take her to the train station which would then take her to another bus stop from where she would then walk uphill to reach the campus. Simple. It took about an hour every morning just to get there, but, alas, she did technically ask for it by applying and subsequently accepting the acceptance (but what a power move it would have been to get accepted and then not go?).
And that's exactly what happened—silently walking down the sidewalk to the bus stop, waiting a couple of minutes for the bus to arrive before hopping on, riding down to the train station to then scurry onto the train heading into the city, and from there sitting for half an hour doing nothing, and then getting off and walking over to school, still doing nothing. At first, she always had a grin on her face—though perhaps not always of her own free will, but still smiling nonetheless—but as the days wore on and she realized that she really wasn't in the Hero Course, her countenance began to slip until she looked like everyone else, and not like the kid who just got accepted into her dream school. It almost became less of a dream.
Once at school, she walked into the homeroom for class 1-C and sat down in her seat. She always preferred to sit in the front row because she was too short to see over most of her classmates—as such, she got the spot directly in front of the teacher's desk on the left-hand side of the classroom, one row away from the window and two rows away from the door. While waiting for class to begin, Rumi clicked her pen absentmindedly, looking up at the chalkboard and breathing deeply until she got bored enough to take out her notebook and doodle. Her long hair draped loosely over her shoulders and fell onto her paper as she drew her patterns, the dark waves forming a curtain separating her from her classmates—until, that is, her friends finally decided to show up.
Rumi glanced up from her mindless doodles and immediately broke into a wide grin, waving at her two friends as they stepped inside the classroom. The boy of average height with short, light hair and dark colored eyes stood out between the two since he rolled up his sleeves and left the top button of his polo undone—his name was Kinaru Nochinochi, and the girl with jet-black hair and a nervous disposition standing beside him was called Yasumi Zenni, and together the three of them formed a small friend-group so none of them had to sit alone at lunch. It was a solid deal, plus they all enjoyed each other's company, so it's not like it was forced too heavily upon them. Beside Rumi, Yasumi took the seat next to the window while Kinaru sat directly behind Rumi. Twisting in her chair, she started up a small conversation.
"Hey, guys," she said, grinning softly with wide eyes.
"Yo," said Kinaru simply, raising his hand to give the peace sign as Yasumi said, "Hello, Chouju," with a quiet voice.
"Hey, did you remember to do the homework?" Yasumi asked, leaning over her desk to look at them with heavy-lidded eyes. "I fell asleep early last night and didn't get it done," she said while stifling a yawn.
"Yeah, I have it right here," Rumi said, reaching into her bag to pull out the assignment. As she handed it to her friend, she asked, "How early did you fall asleep?"
"Ummm," she droned, taking the notebook with a lethargic movement. "I think it was seven." In response to Rumi's incredulous stare, she clarified with, "Seven P.M., Chouju, don't worry."
Rumi sighed, trying not to seem surprised—Yasumi slept like a rock, and she did so at any place and at any time. She was astonished that she didn't fall asleep in class all that often.
"Wow, imagine sleeping—I stayed up until two A.M. playing the new Anima game and I feel so energized," Kinaru added, pulling out his books as he spoke.
"Geez, that should be illegal. I went to bed at eleven—which is, by the way, considered normal—and I still felt like I didn't sleep at all until about ten minutes ago," Rumi said, resting her cheek against her hand. Once Yasumi had taken quick note of the answers, she passed the notebook back to Rumi.
"Thanks, Chouju, you're a lifesaver," Yasumi whispered.
"No problem, my guy," Rumi replied. It took half a second for her to realize that they were both staring at her. "What?" she asked, shrugging.
"God, sorry, you're just so American," Kinaru said, stifling laughter. Yasumi nodded heavily.
Rumi pursed her lips, trying not to laugh at those allegations—afterall, they were true. She was, in fact, American. She grinned smugly before saying, "Well, as the resident American, please call me by my first name, Rumi."
The two of them watched her indignantly.
"Sorry, Chouju, but we have to have gone on at least three dates before I'll call you by your first name," Kinaru joked, Yasumi nodding along. Rumi shrugged, laughing it off.
After what felt like days, lunch was finally upon the triad, and they accepted the break with tired glee. The three of them had been sitting together since the first week of school, which was about when they realized that none of them had anyone to sit with—so, why not sit alone together? It helped that they had the same sense of humor, which mostly consisted of laughing too hard at their own jokes and saying ridiculously uncalled-for puns. While they didn't share Rumi's determination to be a hero, they got along well just the same.
"Okay, but you have to at least agree with me that necromancers are just doctors for dead people," Kinaru reasoned exasperatedly. He looked from Rumi to Yasumi expectantly, gesturing frantically with a wild stare.
"But," Yasumi began, "That kinda goes against what a doctor is—if a necromancer can just be a doctor, then what makes a doctor a doctor? Doctors work on living people, not dead people, so a necromancer should be in its own category like how a vet is different from a doctor, or a nurse, or a surgeon."
"I gotta agree with you there," Rumi added, nodding as she spoke, "Because, like, if a necromancer is a doctor, then that implies that death is something that can be cured."
"But it is—"
"Mm-mm, nope," Yasumi mumbled, Rumi shaking her head along with her. "Death is a state of being but being sick is an aspect of being alive."
Rumi pointed to Yasumi as she took a bite of curry. "That's terrifying, thanks for sharing."
"Alright, so if necromancers aren't doctors…" Kinaru began, gesturing once more, "Then does that mean that you need a necromancy license?" At that, the two girls paused, staring at him blankly; he clapped his hands, a look of triumph lighting his features. "Finally! I got you there!" Rumi and Yasumi shrugged and nodded, admitting defeat.
"Yeah, we'll give you this win," Yasumi said as she picked up her plate and walked over to the trashcan to throw away her leftovers.
"Okay, but what if…" Rumi began, elbows on the table as she leaned forward towards Kinaru, "…Necromancers don't have a license, but only because in order to be one they must have their doctor's license revoked?"
The two shrugged, arms in the air as they gestured wildly at each other as Yasumi came back over and sat down. Out of nowhere, the two felt sluggish and drowsy, eyes starting to droop heavily—until Rumi poked Yasumi in the shoulder, jolting her out of her stupor.
"Tired much?" Rumi joked, stifling a yawn.
"Yeah, sorry," Yasumi apologized, stretching and urging herself to wake up.
"No, don't apologize—I could use a nap right about now," Kinaru admitted, scratching his head.
"Petition to bring back naps," Rumi mumbled as she rubbed her eyes.
"Fuck, you've got my signature…"
For the rest of the day, Rumi sat at her desk and took notes while occasionally swapping glances with Yasumi. Once the school day was over, she walked with lethargy the same route she took to get to school that morning. The walk back down her street was a pretty sight, but the direction of her commute meant that in the morning the sun was in her eyes, and at the end of the day the sun was also in her eyes. Basically, she regularly almost went blind, which would completely ruin her ability to become a Pro Hero, but, alas, she liked to live on the edge.
Entering the house with a flourish only possible when nihilism has completely set in, Rumi shouted at the top of her lungs, "'Sup, Mom!" while taking off her shoes at the door.
There wasn't a response, so Rumi glanced over the den and found her mother, Florence Sibley-Chouju, sitting on the couch. She took tentative steps over towards her, seeing she had passed out on the couch with a bottle near her hand. Sighing to herself, Rumi picked up the drink and put it away in the kitchen, leaving her mom alone on the couch as she walked upstairs to her room. She threw her bag against the foot of her bed and face-planted into her comforter. Rolling over, she stared blankly up at the ceiling, hands folded on her chest.
"Something needs to happen real soon or else I might die of boredom," Rumi thought to herself, holding her hand above her face and looking at her palm. She watched as the gelatinous paint began to form against her skin, flinching when a glob of the stuff fell on her face, splattering anticlimactically; she pursed her lips while squeezing her hand. Sitting up, she pulled a cloth out of her pocket and wiped her hand and face before taking off her blazer and tossing it beside her.
After sitting in silence for a moment, Rumi decided to do her homework, grab a snack, and then lie in bed for a few hours doing nothing before falling asleep, only to repeat the cycle again tomorrow, and then the next day, and the next, and the next…
The next morning was—surprise!—the exact same as yesterday. Except it wasn't, at least not exactly. For example, Florence was hungover, so no waffles that morning, and Rumi actually got to see her uncle for the first time in a few days, so, yay? All of that was standard, however, until she reached the train headed for the city. After having taken the same route for a month, it was kind of difficult not to notice her surroundings. Despite her aloof demeanor, she had noticed something interesting—according to her completely non-creepy research, she was fairly certain that she took the same route as a member of her class, and by fairly certain I mean she was completely certain but wanted to remain humble about her findings.
Sitting across from her on the train that morning was a tall kid with purple hair—which was kind of hard to miss—whom she had never spoken to before in her life. He just sat there on his smartphone, doing nothing and looking tired as hell for the entire thirty-minute commute. On the off-chance that he'd glance up and see Rumi conducting research, she had her flip-phone out in front of her and Galaga loaded up just in case. Of course, he didn't look up often—in fact, he didn't do anything often. She only ever saw him walk to and from classes, and while they were on the train, he was exclusively on his phone listening to music or looking out the window. Rumi convinced herself that she wasn't being creepy before she gave in to her carnal desire and played a few rounds of Galaga.
Once at U.A., she followed the same drab routine, except this time she managed to convince herself to very subtly scan the classroom to confirm if he did, in fact, attend the same classes as she did. Very inconspicuously, she yawned and stretched, leaning backwards in her chair while searching the room through squinted eyes to find where he sat—and, lo and behold, he sat two rows down in the second seat from the back. He also saw her, so she immediately returned to her regular sitting position, adrenaline pumping, and realized that to her luck Kinaru and Yasumi had just showed up. She waved at them excitedly, willing herself to forget what she had experienced.
At last, the end of the day was steadily approaching, and Rumi had a decision to make—will she try to strike up a conversation, or will she ignore the indirect confrontation from earlier and hope to never speak to him in her life? Decisions, decisions.
As she sat at her desk, eyes forced down at her paper, she doodled geometric shapes and shadows while completely ignoring the lecture happening in front of her. Occasionally she looked up from her doodles to feign attention, but it was all a logical ruse. Glancing at her watch, she saw that there were three minutes left of class, and she still hadn't decided what she wanted to do.
Two minutes left of class…
One minute left of class…
Ten seconds left of class…
The bell rang and her peers scurried to put their books and pencils away, Rumi included. Her hair fell in her face and her head screamed at her to get her ass in gear, but it didn't make her move any faster.
"Shit, I mean, what's the worst that could happen?" Rumi reasoned to herself before standing up straight and throwing her bag over her shoulder. Taking a deep breath, she turned to look behind her at where he sat, only to find that the desk was empty. Her eyes widened as her eyes darted to the door, catching a quick glimpse of him as he walked out into the hall. Rumi cursed at herself internally using every American swear-word she could remember as she scurried towards the door.
"Wait, Chouju!" Yasumi called. Rumi froze, looking behind her at Yasumi and Kinaru. Yasumi waved slowly as she said, "See you tomorrow," with a drowsy grin on her face.
Rumi flashed a distressed grin and a wave before rushing out the door, trying not to seem out of character.
Scanning the swarm of students fleeing the premises, Rumi finally caught sight of the boy with the poofy hair—plus it was purple, which, like I said, some may consider to be quite hard to miss—and so she pulled her bag straps tighter around her shoulders and wove her way through the crowd, squeezing between loitering friends and bystanders as she chased after him. Finally, the cluster dispersed and she reached him, tapping him on the shoulder before she could convince herself it was a bad idea; he looked over his shoulder, saw no one, and then pointedly looked down at Rumi, her hand still raised awkwardly.
He hummed his question of "what are you doing?" while watching her with a blank expression.
"Uh…" she droned for half a second before snapping back into reality. "Hi! I, uh, noticed that we take the same route to school every day, and I was wondering if I could join you?" As though she had become aware of how odd that question sounded, she began to fidget her fingers and look askance.
The two stood still for what felt like ages until he finally said, "Sure," with a shrug. He turned on his heel to continue walking home.
The relief was the only natural high Rumi needed in her life, and she silently fist-pumped the air as she took quick strides to catch up to walk beside him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rumi grinning from ear to ear and almost hopping with each step.
He squinted his eyes slightly, trying to figure out what kind of alien creature he had managed to pick up. After a moment of silence, he asked, "What made you ask me to walk with you?"
Rumi didn't bat an eye as she said, "I see you go the same route as me every day, so I thought 'I'm alone, he's alone—might as well be alone together.'" Her expression shifted as she quickly looked up and added, "But if you'd rather be alone, that's totally fine! I get it, I just thought that maybe—"
"No, no, it's okay," he reassured, gesturing for her to ease-up a bit. "Honestly, I noticed you too, I just decided not to say anything."
"Oh," she deadpanned, snorting at the silence that followed. "What made you think that? Do I look intimidating?"
At that, he let out a quick bark of laughter, covering his face with his hand immediately afterwards. "Chouju, you are quite possibly the most unintimidating person I've ever seen in my life."
She looked away, her face heating at the words—why though? That was a good thing, right? Switching gears, her brows furrowed and a look of incredulousness crossed her face as she said, "Wait, you know my name?"
At that point it was his turn to be confused. "Why wouldn't I? We have pretty much every class together," he said, shrugging. After a pause for silence, he mumbled, "Hold on, don't tell me… you don't know my name, do you?"
Rumi's cheeks reddened further—clearly, she hadn't thought this through enough—and she broke into a nervous sweat as she pursed her lips tightly. "Of-Of course I know your name!" she sputtered, laughing it off awkwardly. "You're…" Rumi looked up at his face, and he watched her blankly, almost impressed at her inability to remember. "You're…" she continued to drone. "You're…" Her eyes squinted up at him, as though wracking her brain took physical effort.
"Do you give up?"
"Yes, yes I do."
He tried not to laugh as he said, "I'm Shinsou Hitoshi, and you're Chouju Rumi—just in case you forgot your name, too."
Rumi grabbed her head in anger, letting out a cry of anguish as she shouted, "Fuck, I knew that, I swear!"
At that, Hitoshi couldn't hold back his laughter as he shoved his hands deep into his pockets and slouched forward as the fit made his body convulse. Beside him, Rumi looked away and clutched her forearms tightly while trying not to laugh at her own stupidity. After the fit had died down slightly, Hitoshi said through remaining chuckles, "Damn, you can't fake being that oblivious."
"Well, I'm a woman of many talents," Rumi managed to say through her tightened features.
"Yeah, I can tell," Hitoshi responded, the laughing fit having died down enough to speak normally again.
As the two continued walking, a silence fell over them—not quite awkward, but rather a pause for breath.
Breaking the quiet, Rumi said, "So, what do you think of U.A.? Pretty cool, right?" She almost sounded like a little kid with that outlook.
Hitoshi snorted under his breath, his expression dropping a bit. "It's not bad," he said, hands still in his pockets as they walked. Rumi looked up at him, trying to get more information out of him through her silent interrogation techniques—and when he met her stare, it worked. "I mean," he quickly added, avoiding eye-contact, "It's super cool that I got in, and it's a great opportunity, but… it's really frustrating to go to a Hero school and not be in the Hero Course." He shrugged, gesturing with his hands from within his pockets, shaking his head at himself. "I'm probably just being selfish, but if you really want to achieve your goals then that kind of attitude can be justified."
Rumi looked forward, the conversation having taken a serious turn. After a brief moment of silence, she said, "Yeah, I can understand that. I applied to the Hero Course too, but… well, I obviously didn't get in either." She chuckled at herself, before looking at the ground, brows furrowing as her gaze hardened. "Of course, I'll be dammed if that stops me." She looked up at him, and the two made eye contact as Rumi said, "We can still become heroes, even though we didn't get in. I believe in you, Shinsou."
He paused, watching her silently for a moment before saying, "Thanks, I appreciate it. I believe in you too, even though we just met."
Rumi laughed at that, saying, "Hooray, support!" After a moment of mutual silence, she added, "You know what? I think this is going to be the start of a pretty cash-money friendship."
"How can you tell? Do you have a foresight Quirk, or something?" Hitoshi asked, his deadpan tone returning to his voice.
She shrugged. "No, I just have this feeling. What do you think?"
He pursed his lips and looked at the ground before saying, "I think that you're overstepping your acquaintance-boundaries."
Letting out a bark of laughter, she nudged her elbow into his side while saying, "I am nothing if not overbearing, my dude." Suddenly, Hitoshi stopped walking, so she stopped too.
"This is where I live," he said, nodding towards the house beside him. "It was nice walking with you, though."
"Same here!" Rumi paused for a moment, calling out to him as he began to walk up the steps. "Wait!" He stopped and looked at her. "Do you… do you want to walk together tomorrow?"
He paused, the both of them watching each other silently before he simply said, "Sure."
Rumi beamed before turning around and walking towards her house a few blocks down. She called out, "Cool! See you tomorrow, Shinsou!" as she ran down the sidewalk, absolutely thrilled to have made a new friend. Hitoshi watched her run off, shaking his head at himself before unlocking the front door and disappearing inside.