I bounced out of my hospital room, feeling ecstatic. Yesterday, as thanks for my help, Native had done me an extra favor: paying the hospital bill. I had been extremely concerned about that, because I couldn't afford to pay for the medical care I'd received. I was so happy, I hugged the man, then apologized profusely for doing so. The Pro Hero fortunately took my behavior in stride, saying that he would look forward to seeing me again during the upcoming Press Conference before leaving.
As we exited the hospital once and for all, Mister Aizawa stared at me in deadpan, watching me dance my way through the halls towards the front exit doors. "You look ridiculous," he pointed out as we stepped through the automatic glass doors.
I grinned widely. "I honestly don't care," I announced, darting out into the sunlight. I twirled happily, spreading out my arms. After a few moments of enjoying the fresh air, I stopped spinning, still giggling joyfully. I inhaled deeply, and then turned back to Mister Aizawa. "So… where do we go now?"
Mister Aizawa sighed heavily. "Back to the hotel to pack our stuff, and then to the police station. There's two hours before the conference," he answered. I nodded, skipping over to his side.
"So? Let's go!" I chirped, resisting the urge to grab his hand and tug him forwards. Mister Aizawa sighed again, leading the way towards the car, and I hopped after him enthusiastically, finally having escaped Hosu General Hospital and to never return. Hopefully.
The minutes leading up to the Press Conference were nerve wracking. After reaching the hotel room, Mister Aizawa informed me that the Press Conference would require me being in full uniform. In other words, I had to wear "the costume" on television. I whined and complained all the way up the elevator, right until Mister Aizawa threatened me with one thousand push-ups if another word left my mouth.
We drove all the way to the police headquarters in silence.
Squirming fitfully backstage, I reviewed how this was going to go. The head of police was going to make a statement about the Hero Killer's capture, along with the officers who had made the arrest and the pro heroes involved, including Native. Todoroki, Izuku, and I would be given credit for our involvement in the murderer's detainment, and then it would, in theory, be over. It was a simple, easy plan. All I had to do was stand there and look pretty.
Sitting on a metal bench behind the curtains, I could hear the journalists conversing on the other side. I gulped. Staying calm was easier said than done.
"Excuse me? Ichigo?" My head snapped around, seeing Todoroki. He was in his hero costume as well. "I was informed by Midoriya that after you asked me to call you by your first name, I should have extended the same offer," Todoroki said formally. "I apologize." The words were stilted and awkward, and I had to suppress the urge to giggle. Todoroki was just as bad at conversing as I was.
I waved my hand dismissively. "It's fine. So, I can call you 'Shouto' from now on?" I asked. "Or would you prefer I continue to call you 'Todoroki'?"
He shook his head. "I don't mind," he answered. There was a long, awkward pause, and then Todoroki sat down next to me on the bench. I caught a glimpse of Izuku's head peeking out from behind a potted plant, before the green haired boy hid again.
"So…" I started slowly. "You nervous about this?"
Shouto glanced over at me. "Not really," he answered. "This isn't my first time on television."
My eyes widened, and I face palmed. "R-right, I'm stupid. Your father's Endeavor, what was I thinking…" I shook my head, and then looked up at him. "Any tips?" I wondered.
"Don't answer any questions without permission," Shouto said bluntly. "The journalists will want to ask a million things. You only speak if you're told to by the people standing next to the camera men. Their job is to make sure you don't look stupid," he paused thoughtfully, before adding, "You probably won't have to talk though."
My shoulders slumped in relief. "That's good," I said. There was another long stretch of silence.
Suddenly, a man in an official looking black suit rushed up to us. He was wearing a headset, and gesturing to Shouto and I frantically. "You need to get out there now!" he urged.
I gasped, feeling panicked all over again. Shouto, with all the confidence I didn't have, strode towards the stage entrance calmly. Izuku was already waiting near the door, looking anxious as well. I hurried after Shouto, deciding to follow the only person who didn't look ready to keel over from nerves.
I glanced at Izuku as Shouto opened the door, more people wearing suits and headsets rushing around us. "This is terrifying," I whispered to him fearfully.
"Yeah," Izuku agreed, green eyes wide in fear. "All Might and Gran Torino didn't prepare me for this at all." I giggled, but didn't get a chance to respond before we were being ushered out on stage. Izuku and I hurried after Shouto, who walked over to the back left and calmly stood next to the Pro Heroes, who were gathered behind the Chief of Police as well. Lining up next to him, I resisted the urge to hid behind Izuku and disappear.
Kenji Tsugarame was a tall, intimidating man with the head of dog. His voice was deep and slow, and he exuded a presence that demanded respect. He extended a hand towards us, and I tensed automatically. "These are the three heroes-in-training credited with the Hero Killer's capture. Ichigo Kurosaki, hero name 'Hime-Hime', Izuku Midoriya, hero name 'Deku', and Shouto Todoroki. Through their brave actions, we managed to detain the villain," he introduced. "The Police and Pro Heroes thank them for their valiant efforts." Cameras started to flash immediately, and hands shot into the air. I bit my lip, straightening my shoulders and trying to hide how nervous I was.
Izuku glanced over at me, and he grinned reassuringly. I forced myself to smile back, reminding myself that this was all for show.
When the Press Conference finally ended, I returned to the backstage. Izuku, Shouto, and I sat down back at the same bench from before out in the hall. Exhausted, I leaned against Izuku arm. The green haired boy looked slightly startled, but adjusted quickly, allowing me to use him as a resting-post.
I closed my eyes, exhaling heavily. "That was so nerve-wracking," I muttered. "My hands are still shaking, jeez."
Izuku chuckled quietly. "You really don't like being the center of attention," he remarked, and I nodded tiredly.
"If you don't like being the center of attention, why become a hero?" Shouto interjected, turning towards Izuku and I.
I gulped, because that was a very complex topic that I couldn't fully explain without giving up several secrets. "I like helping people," I said simply, deciding a lie of omission wasn't too bad. "And as a future underground hero, my public exposure will be low."
Izuku frowned. "But then, what about hero rankings?" he asked. If I didn't gain popularity, I couldn't receive a rank during the annual hero success rankings.
"I won't be part of them," I said bluntly, shrugging. "Which is fine with me, I don't really want to be either." I squirmed uncomfortably, as Izuku and Shouto stared at me like I was insane. Just as I got ready to make an excuse and hide in the bathroom, Mister Aizawa entered the backstage area. He shuffled over to me immediately.
He scanned the three of us, sitting on the bench in our costumes looking exhausted. "You look ridiculous," he pointed out, and I cracked a smile. "Let's get going, our train leaves in an hour," he ordered, and I climbed to my feet. Mister Aizawa walked back towards the exit, not looking back.
I glanced at Todoroki and Izuku sheepishly, giving a short wave of goodbye. "See you at school," I said, before darting after Mister Aizawa. My mentor led the way out of the Police Headquarters, and I followed him closely, doing my best to avoid being trampled.
As he opened the back exit door, away from the chaotic front entrance where the Pro Heroes were still talking to journalists, I suddenly remembered something. Stepping into the parking lot, I looked at Mister Aizawa suspiciously.
"Where's Tenya?" I asked. Izuku and Shouto had both refused to answer me earlier.
Mister Aizawa didn't look at me. "Tenya Iida went home to his family. He asked permission for a two week break from school as well. He won't be returning until the week of the final exams," he said bluntly.
My jaw dropped. "H-he left? Why?" I asked, confused and scared all at once. Tenya had been my friend since the second day of school, and he was emphatic about his education. Why would he ever consider "taking a break?"
Opening the car door, Mister Aizawa glanced at me. His eyes were dark. "Ichigo, he went through a traumatic experience. Seeing your almost-death made him reconsider his ability to become a hero," he told me.
My shoulders slumped, and I climbed into the rental car defeatedly. As Mister Aizawa turned on the ignition, I muttered, "It's my fault, for not trying harder."
"No," Mister Aizawa disagreed. "Iida just got taste of what a real hero is, and wasn't sure if he could match up," I looked at Mister Aizawa with wide, confused eyes. I wasn't a hero yet, what was he talking about? Mister Aizawa sighed heavily. "Ichigo, most people aren't willing to die for someone else," he said.
I wrinkled my nose. "Not all heroes are put in those situations though. Besides, heroism is just an occupation now, it doesn't require anything more than a proper education and a license," I said, remembering the books and articles I'd read in the library.
"Some people don't just want to be heroes on paper, Ichigo," Mister Aizawa said solemnly, driving the car towards the train station. I frowned, not sure what he meant, and turned to look out the window. Being a hero was no different than being a clerk or a businessman. What I had done to protect Shouto had been reckless, but self-sacrifice wasn't part of a hero's job description. Why would Tenya leave?
If it wasn't my fault, then why go?
The other students in my class didn't like me. I accepted this early on. I was quiet and meek, the perfect victim for bullying. The children who bothered me either lacked confidence or were seeking acceptance, and I was an ideal target. That logical reasoning didn't help me deal with the cruel words they said.
"Chomechome dresses like a boy," one of the girls sneered. I sat at my desk calmly, staring at my hands. My newly cut hair barely brushed my ears, my head and neck felt bare. I did my best to ignore the clique sitting a few feet away, hoping they'd lose interest and leave.
Another girl giggled, adding, "Maybe she thinks she is one," I inhaled sharply at that comment, eyes widening. I ducked my head further, trying to hide my face from the world. "Oh, is that it?" The girl pushed, seeing my reaction. I covered my ears desperately, pressing my face into the polished wood of the desk. "Chomechome wants to be a boy, huh?" She burst into cruel laughter, and the other two girls tittered along.
"N-no," I whispered, still able to hear their muffled laughter through my hands. "N-never."