Guilty fuchsia flittered to the right, and were once again met with a vengeful aqua glare.

Hitomi pursed her lips, ducking her head with hunched shoulders. Her hands played restlessly on her lap, fingers intertwining again and again in an anxious dance, invisible knots tying them together in some phantom game of cat's cradle. She did her best to block out the sound of her mother's irate voice as it batted back and forth with the principal and her classmate's own mother.

Her classmate, a boy with spiky sky blue hair, and aqua eyes. Ones that hadn't stopped piercing the side of Hitomi's head since they were both sat down to wait out in the hallway.

She swallowed, tongue heavy in her mouth, weighed down by the remorse that threatened to refill her already wet eyes.

"I-I'm really sorry."

Her classmate scoffed, and she winced.

She tied the knots tighter. "I don't know what came over me. Honest."

It was the truth, Hitomi had no idea what had possessed her body only a short while ago, and that scared her.

Hitomi had a horrible day. First, she woke up late because her alarm hadn't gone off. Then while she was rushing to get ready, she tripped and slammed her face into her floor, knocking out a premature tooth that still hurt. The test she had spent so much time on with the encouragement of Momo, came back covered in red ink and a failing grade. Nori mixed up their bentos, and Hitomi was left with stir fry full of garlic and onions— her allergies making it impossible to eat. And it all culminated into a session of crying isolated in the girls' bathroom.

Tired, sad, embarrassed, and hungry, there was really no hope for her when it happened.

The boy had been walking back from lunch with his group of friends, and as they passed Hitomi and Momo, a jeer was uttered just under his breath.

"Look, it's the stray and her high-and-mighty owner."

Hitomi went rigid.

She really didn't care about people calling her names, she could take it on the chin and move on. When you had hearing as good as she did, you had to get used to hearing things about yourself that stung. But going after Momo simply because she was already a beautiful girl who would clearly only come to be more lovely, and easily maintained the highest grades in their class, was different.

Later, Momo would tell her that she began to growl, her canines growing, (and maybe her eyes flashed red? Momo insisted she was probably just seeing things), before she whirled around and tackled the aqua eyed boy in a flurry of swift but harsh fists.

So, here they were. Hitomi and the boy— who's name was apparently Aoi Hamasaki, both sitting in sullen silence, waiting for their mothers to handle the situation they wound up in.

And in the end, it was no surprise when the child without a scratch on her, was the one the blame was pinned upon.

Hitomi took the heated lecture from the principal with a wobbling lip, but elevated head. She didn't remember attacking the boy, Hamasaki, but nevertheless, she did it. So while his snide comment about the two girls was uncalled for and crude, he wasn't the one who took it to a physical level, even at her age Hitomi could clearly grasp the difference.

Anything the principal said was put to shame, though, compared to when Naomi gave her a disappointed shake of her head.

"I just don't understand what got into you!" The woman exclaimed once they were both in the car. "You almost broke his nose, if his friends hadn't pulled you off of him!"

Hitomi shrunk down in her seat, shame turning her stomach. "I'm sorry."

Naomi sighed, refusing to look at her daughter, for fear of giving in to those big teary eyes. "I know. But, Hitomi, this isn't the first time."

Right, she was in the same sort of altercation when her Quirk activated for the first time. It was even with the same boy, if she recalled correctly. Maybe it was Hamasaki's doing, somehow. He was the only consistent connection so far.

Him, and his bullying of Momo.

"I-I don't know why I did it." Some of her uncertainty and fear seeped into her voice, making her mother frown with concern. "My body felt hot, a-and it was like I could jump around, you know? But I was all, like—" Hitomi, lacking the right words, tensed up stiffly for example, "but then— well, I mean, I guess I started hitting him…"

Naomi glowered at the road thoughtfully, her hands tightening and relaxing on the wheel. "Hitomi, when you get angry, how does it feel, exactly?"

The pinkette lifted her head, her brows drawn together in innocent confusion. "Um, I… I don't know. I guess how I said? I get hot, and all weird, and then I, uh, hit people…" she mumbled the last few words sheepishly.

Naomi glanced at her daughter, her expression slightly uneasy. "Baby, how often do you get angry?"

Hitomi sat back, eyes staring unseeingly at her lap. "Um… there's this time, and when I got my Quirk."

After a beat, Naomi looked at her with a probing expression. "And?"

Hitomi cocked her head, blinking up at her. "And what?"

Naomi sputtered. "Wh— Hitomi, there has to be other times you were angry!"

"N-no? I've only ever felt hot like that two times." Her ears sat low on her head.

"B-but being angry is more than just feeling hot! You— you get this pit in your gut, and you breathe deeper, and you may say things you never would otherwise! But there are lesser angers, too! Like annoyance! Frustration! You've felt those, right?"

Hitomi slowly shook her head. "I don't know. Sometimes when Nori teases me I get kinda quiet, and don't wanna play with him anymore, but that only lasts like, a minute. Is that what you mean?"

Naomi pulled into their driveway, casting a contemplative stare at the dashboard once the car stopped. "...You two never argue. Ever. Thinking about it now, I don't think I've ever heard you raise your voice over something. You're five, and you haven't thrown anything like a tantrum since you were in diapers." She whispered, stunned by the revelation. "How did I miss this?"

Hitomi wrung her hands, which were starting to become sore. "Is it bad?"

Naomi snapped out of her shock, blinking at her antsy daughter, and rushed to reassure her. "Oh, no! Not at all! I'm just a little surprised, is all."

"You smell scared." Hitomi meekly pointed out.

Naomi huffed a tired laugh. "Not scared, honey. Maybe a little worried, but not scared."

Hitomi nodded slowly, trying to push her senses to gage if that was a lie or not. She had been practicing, but she still got emotions mixed up sometimes, and telling if someone was being truthful or not really depended on the person and their ability to lie.

Recently, she had come to find out that both her parents were either always being honest, or that they were exceptional liars.

…

You might assume that being the number-four Hero, Best Jeanist would be dealing with plenty of problems and Villains when going out on his patrols. And as a result, Hitomi and Bakugou would be seeing some level of action unfold, hopefully giving them some experience.

But, no. And for once Bakugou wasn't unjustly angry. The completely boring and pointless time walking around the city gave merit to the blonde's easily stoked ire. And Hitomi was right there along with him.

"Nothing! Nothing at all! Not even, like, a petty purse-snatcher!" Hitomi ranted into her phone, irritably foraging through her suite's cupboards, uncaring of the disarray she left them in.

"It could be worse. All Kendou and I did with Uwabami was man her schedule and watch her three hour long photoshoot."

Hitomi faltered, settling on a bag of chips with a pout. "Okay, yeah, you win."

There was a pause, before Momo cautiously made an observation. "...Are you sure you're upset about patrol being dull, and not who it was you were on patrol with?"

Hitomi wedged her phone between her shoulder and cheek, opening the bag and walking into the main room. She picked up the television remote from the coffee table, absently flicking it on to some late evening sit-com she'd never heard of before.

"Not at all. I happen to enjoy Bakugou's company."

"You know that's not who I meant—"

"Can't hear you over my chips! Sorry, bye!" Hitomi hung up, ignoring the sting of guilt it caused. She knew Momo was only trying to look out for her.

But sitting down and having a moment to think about what she signed up for, was only going to make her sick with regret. So, turning up the volume on the TV, Hitomi pushed it out of mind.

…

Hitomi kept her eyes straight ahead, studiously avoiding the denim clad narcissist that was currently trying to impart some wisdom onto them.

It was too bad that her resentment drowned out every other word he said.

Glancing to her side, her eyes locked with Bakugou's.

Who was already watching her.

Hitomi jumped, whipping her head away. After a few seconds, she risked peering back, and was met again with Bakugou's narrowed gaze.

"Erm, hi?" She squeaked, keeping quiet enough so Best Jeanist wouldn't hear from where he walked ahead of them.

Bakugou settled her with an expression she couldn't discern. And the hairspray Best Jeanist doused his hair in to get it to stay down this time, hindered her sense of smell enough that she couldn't just pick up on his emotions by scent.

"You hate him."

Hitomi stiffened, her steps slowing.

He didn't pose it as a question, but an accusation. And she was reminded of the train ride, and his suspicion over her agency choice.

She knew she hadn't exactly been being subtle, but being called out on her attitude towards Best Jeanist was unexpected, especially considering it was Bakugou.

"W-what? No! I just—"

"Are either of you listening?" Best Jeanist stopped, turning to look back at them with a displeased arch of his brow. "You're not going to learn anything if you don't pay attention."

Oh.

"Right…" Hitomi tipped her head up— what was she doing?— eyes half-lidded and aimed down her nose— her mouth burned like it was full of lava —at the Hero. "Of course. Teach us all about mimicking your wonderful fashion sense, and how that will somehow affect our Hero careers at all." —Why can't she stop?

Best Jeanist leveled her with a strange look. It wasn't angry, or offended, or even hurt. The stare he was giving her was one of pity.

And that just made the heat licking at her skin, burn worse.

Hitomi scoffed— an action that felt so wildly foreign, and marched on.

Best Jeanist gave no reaction when her shoulder clipped his.

…

What the hell was that?!

Katsuki glowered thoughtfully, keeping his eyes on the tense back of his— until now —annoyingly sweet classmate.

Saito was a fucking enigma, and it came out of nowhere. The way she was constantly on the verge of sneering at Best Jeanist, blatantly so, was such a reverse of how infuriatingly kind she was to anything with a pulse.

Katsuki scoffed under his breath. No, it didn't stop at a pulse either. He distinctly remembered an incident about a week ago, when she had bumped into Tentacles' empty desk and apologized to it.

The desk. She apologized to the desk, and drove the whole situation home by offering it a gentle pat in remorse.

So, that all begged the question—

What the hell was that? Her little outburst at Jeanist from their first day went completely ignored. The Hero brushed it off like nothing, and Katsuki was positive that if he had said what she did, he very well could've been sent straight home.

But Saito went unpunished, and unacknowledged.

...He didn't acknowledge her at all, actually. From the moment they stepped into his office, to when they left for patrol, Jeanist didn't address her once past saying both their names. Thinking back on it, Katsuki wasn't even sure if he looked at her before she threw the (almost admirably vicious) barb at him.

And now, here they were again. With her jab at Jeanist still ringing in the air, with no sign of any response coming from the Hero.

Watching her back, her posture and stance, Katsuki recognized her gait. The high shoulders, straight spine, and heavy steps.

He recognized it, because it was his.

Just what the hell was going on?

The curiosity eating away at Katsuki almost made him forget how fucking stupid his hair looked.

Almost.

…

Wandering around in her suite, Hitomi kept herself entertained by singing a song under her breath. Oddly enough, though, no matter how hard she tried she couldn't remember where she learned it.

"I know you're scared~ that fear we share~ but we gotta live our lives. You're not alone~ so keep on smiling~ and riding on that wind."

She was growing restless. Best Jeanist was proving to be a (very obviously) inexperienced teacher. And if there was any sign that Hitomi was at her wits end, it would be the fact that Bakugou of all people had been acting as a buffer and mediator between her and the Hero. Maybe it was because it gave him something better to do than walking around aimlessly, who knows.

In spite of her boredom, Hitomi refrained from calling or texting Momo, knowing the ravenette would inevitably bring up Best Jeanist and how this wasn't solving anything. Momo was always right, so hearing her lay out the reasons why this all was a bad idea, didn't sound very appealing.

Idly clicking through the countless channels, Hitomi leaned back on the uncomfortably firm sofa, yawning from a mixture of her aforementioned boredom, and exhaustion.

When she blinked away the tears it brought, her vision was full of fire and destruction.

Wha—

Hitomi shot to her feet, adrenaline jolting her wide-awake. From an aerial view, the chaos shown on the TV screen was fiery and violent, with a handful of Heroes trying to put out the raging fire enveloping a crashed bus. But while that was being doused unsuccessfully, the more pressing issue was the two brain Villains attacking people. They looked so much like the one from the USJ, that there was no doubt about it. It had to be the League of Villains' doing.

She looked down at the corner of the screen to see where this was going on, and discovered that it was in Hosu.

Iida was in Hosu. Iida was in trouble.

Hitomi's ears pointed forward, subconsciously on high alert for any approaching sounds of danger. A horrible feeling started to swell in her stomach. "Those are called "instincts", sweetheart. And I bet you've got some of the best. I'd listen to them if I were you." Her mother once proudly said.

"The Heroes seem unable to hurt these strange Villains! There's no telling how strong they—"

The newscaster's commentary was cut off when one of the Nomu-look-alikes threw a car at a Hero. It hit its mark, and the vehicle blew up.

Hitomi put a hand to her mouth, a shudder running down her body.

After seeing that, the newscaster wisely told the person manning the helicopter to fall back, for fear of having something hurled at them.

It was all going on over in Hosu, someplace Hitomi clearly wasn't. So what could she possibly do to help? There was no way she could make it all the way over there before the situation was handled, so it would probably be best to just stay—

Her phone pinged, a text alert from Midoriya lighting up her screen.

No words, just a location. In Hosu.

Her blood went cold.

Acting on impulse, feet bare and dressed in short-shorts and one of Nori's old t-shirts, Hitomi dashed across the room and threw open her door.

Wide carmine eyes locked with her equally startled fuchsia ones.

Stopping in their tracks, both Hitomi and Bakugou stared at each other, left standing stunned in the hallway. Gripping her own phone so tightly it pressed creases into her hand, Hitomi looked down and saw Bakugou holding his the same way, his screen still glowing with Midoriya's cryptic message.

Something in her chest eased. "You got it too?"

The words, breathed out in relief that she wouldn't be doing this— whatever it was she planned to do —alone, snapped the blonde out of his stupor.

A snarl pulled at his face, before he took one step back—

And promptly slammed his door in her face.

Hitomi jumped, gaping at the plank of wood for a few seconds, then knocked frantically.

"Bakugou! Midoriya needs—"

"Fuck off!"

Hitomi stumbled back, wincing at the venom in his voice. A remorseful acidity burned the back of her tongue, brought by the likely assumption that if she hadn't come out of her room at the same time as him, effectively catching him in the act, he would have continued on. But with that pride of his, Bakugou couldn't let her see him showing concern over anyone, especially not Midoriya.

"B-but— I— he— Argh!" Hitomi threw up her arms, feeling that same heat searing her skin.

Anger. Hitomi really hated how she was coming to be so familiar with it.

Fine. Fine. She didn't need Bakugou. She could get there on her own… on foot, all that way, heading into a fight with unknown perils, completely unprepared.

"Shi—shoot." Hitomi glowered at the floor, gripping her phone so hard something audibly creaked.

Who was she kidding? With Bakugou maybe she could feasibly run off and help Midoriya in his mysterious troubles, but alone? She would probably just wind up getting in the way.

Plus, there was the serious issue of it being too dang far.

It was with crushing reluctance that Hitomi turned, dejectedly walking back into her room. After she shut her door, she paused and aimed her ears out toward the hall, waiting to hear if Bakugou was going to try to sneak out undetected.

But there was nothing, and Hitomi lowered her head.

Please be okay, Midoriya.

Happy Fourth of July to any of y'all who celebrate it!

Credit for the "Let It All Out" lyrics used in this chapter go to Amalee (LeeandLie) for their English cover on youtube.

So, now you know why Hitomi's unfazed by Bakugou's bullshit! And it's not because she's got OC-love-interest-foreknowledge!

I had the plan for Hitomi to be kinda, well… happy and forgiving to a fault, pretty early on. Dogs are notorious for being big dumb sweethearts, and while they do get angry (which is scientifically proven) ones who haven't been mistreated and such are ridiculously quick to forgive. That being said, the easiest and most dangerous way to anger a dog is to threaten— physically or emotionally, because they can understand hostile body language —someone they care about.

See where I'm going with this?