Some random person: Who is your favorite OC from this story? Selene? Aline Ahearn? Any of her daughters? The sweet boy Akira or traumatized boy Azul who only appeared for one chapter as minor, inconsequential characters?

Me: Selene's thermos of milk. They are the true hero of this story.

Random person: ... You gave it pronouns?

Me: I should write about the love story between Selene and the thermos. Really, they are true soulmates.

Random person: ...

Me: :)

Trigger Warning:

- guilt

Today a series of mock battles between Class 1-A and Class 1-B is to occur at one of the many training grounds that U.A. operates.

Students from both classmates are present with their winter selection of hero costumes.

I have yet to understand why I was told to wear mine.

I still cannot participate in any practical exercises, so what is my purpose for dressing up?

Even Shouto asks me as much when both classes are busy bickering with each other. He pulls me aside and inquires, "The teachers want you to monitor the students' tactics and growth, right? So you'll be staying with them, away from the site of the actual battle. Are you okay with that? I mean, do you feel slighted by having to wear your hero costume when you cannot actually partake in the hero training?" What should I say to that? It is true that while I am not interested in becoming a hero, I do feel insulted. As though I am being ridiculed for something that was not in my power. When I remain silent, he continues, "We can talk to the teachers, if you would like. I'm sure they will understand and allow you to change."

"No!" I exclaim. "Perhaps they were hoping to boost morale by having all the students wear hero attire. I would rather not dampen their expectations. I am fine, Shouto. This much I can manage."

He doesn't appear completely convinced, but he does not push the subject. I am grateful for that. By then, the teachers announce that ballots must be drawn. A boy I only saw twice and talked to once decided to transfer to the Hero Department - Shinsou-san. So this event was designed to observe the progress of the hero students and measure the aptitude of Shinsou-san. If he was deemed worthy after the battles, he would be transferred. The teachers create eight teams of four and two teams of five for a series of five battles. Shinsou-san will participate in the first and last battles, resulting in his teams having a total of five members.

Shouto will be in the third battle.

The first battle begins.

I take this moment to summon a throne of obsidian, a table of ivory, and my thermos of milk. If my role is simply to observe, then I might as well do so in luxury. However, there is more to it than that. I heard rumors that Midoriya-san was having 'problems' with his quirk. Whatever issues these might be, Shigaraki will want to know. He will want to know details about every student. So I must gather information while looking nonchalant.

I busy myself with taking notes when the four teachers approach me. Wary, I create four stone chairs for them. To my surprise, they accept.

Vlad-sensei looks at my list of notes and hums in approval. "Eraserhead had shown me the reports you made just prior to the Provisional License Exam. Those were good. But these are excellent. Your acumen is astounding, Lucifer."

Oh. They are going to address me by my hero name to boost solidarity. For some reason, it stings. Yet I brush it off. "Just a skill I acquired as a businessman's daughter. Nothing out of the ordinary, Vlad-sensei."

"That is not true," argues Midnight-sensei. "You really are brilliant at management and coordination. Sometimes, I think that you should be hired as a member of the administration department. You do better work than those folks."

I laugh politely. They are making small talk. There are only two reasons why a person does small talk: the first, the person feels awkward about silence and is desperate for any sort of noise; the second, the person wants to get something out of the other. My bet is on the latter.

Rather than raising the question myself, I decide to wait for them to bring it up. All Might-sensei asks how classes are going, Vlad-sensei asks what I like best about heroism, and Midnight-sensei praises me for pursuing my career in spite of my handicap. All the while, I multitask between the conversation and observation.

A long time passes like this. To be more specific, two battles. Twice, the teachers rose to review the strengths and weaknesses of each student before returning to their seats. A part of me felt that this was a test. But a test about what … I did not know.

Just as they sent the third set of adversaries off to the battlefield, they approached me again. I pulled out eight new sheets of paper and wrote down the names of the participants of this battle.

Immediately, Aizawa-sensei snatched the piece of paper with Shouto's name on it and studied it. In turn, I studied him for his reaction. Inconclusive result. His face was perpetually lined with exhaustion. It was impossible for him to express any other emotion. It was then that he spoke. "Let's get to the point. Shouto will be going to his father's agency for his work-study. What about you, Lucifer?" What about me? Indeed. I have nothing to say. He continues, "When internships occurred, you told us that you would be going to an agency in Okinawa. But you didn't. You were in Honshu the entire time." The question arose in my eyes. "We knew. Your father forbid you from pursuing an internship. But that cannot happen now. With the activity of the League of Villains increasing, we need as many of our students to be prepared for war with them."

"And you wish for me to pursue a work-study? Not just my words, but some physical confirmation of it?"

All four teachers nod.

I sigh, "Do you truly believe that an agency will hire me? My legs won't recover. I am disabled for life. Since All for One's arrest and All Might-sensei's retirement …" I look at All Might-sensei to ensure that he is listening. "U.A. has shifted my curriculum from hero training to hero administration. The reasoning was that until I recovered, this would qualify as meeting the graduation requirements. But let us be honest: none of you thought that I would recuperate. I did not even think that I would recuperate. So if by some miracle I am accepted for a work-study, I would be doing the same thing I am doing now: record-keeping." To make my point, I extend my hand, silently asking for the paper back.

Aizawa-sensei lets out an exasperated groan. "It's only been a few months. Don't be pessimistic so soon," is his counterargument.

"With all due respect, Sensei, talk about optimism from you is unbecoming."

He has no rebuttal for that.

All Might-sensei tries to protest, but it is futile.

"Quirks cannot solve every problem in this world. Some things are dictated only by fate." I am about to ask if there was anything else they wanted to discuss with me, when I hear an eruption. I glance at the jumbo-vision screen. The numerous cameras switch the angle of the footage, giving me the full scope of the damage done. One member from each team is caught. Two people are injured. One is trapped beneath a pile of debris. And three people are unconscious. When the dust clears a bit, I get a look at each person.

What I see makes my heart stop beating.

Shouto is badly hurt and unconscious.

I have only seen like this once: during the one-on-one combat with Bakugou-san at the Sports Festival. Worry filled me then; terror racks me now. I rise from my seat. "May I-"

"Recovery Girl will take care of him, rest assured. You can visit him after the battles are over," Aizawa-sensei interrupts harshly.

He and the other teachers take their leave to oversee the process of taking the students to the infirmary. I vanish the chairs and struggle to keep my cool. My hand quivers when I take a sip from my thermos.

Contrary to what Aizawa-sensei said, I only get to meet him after I finish submitting my reports of every student. Shouto sent a text message to me after he awoke: Meet me at the gazebo.

So here I am. By the docks, sitting on the swing, brushing my bare feet against the frozen surface of the pond, and watching the twilight sky. Class 1-A and Class 1-B are having a buffet at the dormitory at this moment. Over forty people in a single room, including Shouto. Of course, I decided not to attend. I made an excuse about a headache and went to my room. Then I teleported myself here.

After an hour of waiting I hear the crunch of footsteps on dry, broken branches. I jolt up and turn toward the source of the sound. It is Shouto with a sheet and basket. Hurrying to reach him, I rise from the swing, only to trip on a wood plank and fall to my knees. My arthritis stings. The cold only worsens it. I do not care. On shaky legs I stumble my way to him. He drops the items and stares at me. His eyes roam my knees, searching for wounds. Then, a soft smile appears on his lips and his arms open to embrace me.

I do not waste a second. His chest is a haven of warmth. He lifts me by the waist and spins me around. Our laughter becomes one. When he stops, he sets me down on my feet but doesn't let go. Rather, his forehead touches mine and eyes gaze deep into mine. "You weren't there when I woke up. I was scared."

"I tried," I tell him. "But the teachers told me that I had to complete my work before I could see you. When I did, the first place I went to was the infirmary. There, Recovery Girl told me that you had already left. As I headed to the dormitory, I thought about texting you. However, I saw you inside and thought I could talk to you. Then the buffet happened and … you know how I react around crowds."

Shouto remains silent for a long moment. I am about to ask him if everything is all right when I recall what he said about being awed by me. Taking a chance, I remain astutely silent. Finally, he beams. He jokes, "I was sure that you were going to apologize profusely, but you didn't. That is good development. This system is working. Good job, Selene!"

At the reminder, I glower at him. "Let me guess: you brought those disgusting excuses of sweets with you." His wider smirk is all the answer I need.

"But I did bring food from the boarding house. Let's have a picnic." And he unfolds and spreads the blanket on the grass.

I giggle, "Well, this is going to be a problem." I lift up my own basket. "I smuggled food, too."

"Then let's have a feast!"

Like children we laugh nonsensically. The aroma of spices permeates the cool night air. A riot of colors brightens the subdued tones of darkness. In seafood there are containers of tempura, sashimi, and unagi. Terrestrial meat includes sticks of yakitori, bowls of katsudon, and cutlets of tonkatsu. Noodles include Shouto's favorite - soba - along with udon and ramen. Vegetable dishes consist of tofu, miso soup, and edamame. There are onigiri for rice, tamagoyaki for egg, one of my favorites - wagashi - for sweets. And because it is winter, the quintessential oden. It truly is a feast.

We may be out in the open where a cold breeze is blowing, eating out of paper plates with cheap chopsticks, trying not to spill the green tea on the sheet. This is not luxurious by any definition. But it is the happiest meal I have ever had.

Shouto and I have a splendid time. We watch the vestiges of twilight disappear from the night sky, only to be greeted with the twinkling of blue stars. Shouto makes facial expressions with his sashimi, making me giggle every time. The warmth of the food is enough to ease the ache of my joints for some time, but when we finish, the pain returns with a vengeance. I say nothing because I do not wish to ruin this moment.

Shouto insists on putting the empty containers and utensils inside the picnic baskets. Then he rests his head on my lap to stare up at the stars. I seize this moment to comb my fingers through his hair. Soothe him and myself.

Mutual silence shelters us in this little secret cove. Then he breaks it when he notices, "It is a new moon tonight." I look up at the sky and confirm that it is true. "But who cares? My moon is here." I focus down on him. And he shifts his gaze to meet mine.

"So is mine," I whisper with a kiss on his forehead.

"I'm okay, sweetheart." Shouto reaches behind to hold my face. "I was just knocked out. A mild concussion with a few scratches. Recovery Girl took care of both."

But I must see for myself. Only after I have inspected every inch of his head with my hands do I feel relief.

However, he has other plans. I heard him purr when I stroked his hair, and this cheeky fox has the gall to ask for more. "There might be untreated cuts on my arms. You should check for those."

Sly fox.

Not willing to back down, I fold his sleeves up to his elbows. Like a masseur I press various parts of his hands with my gloved fingers. And like a seductress, I intertwine them, tickle them, and play with them. His eyes shut at the sensation. The moan that escapes his throat is all the proof I need that I am the dominating one now. The fox and the snake. Both are sneaky. But who is sneakier?

Feeling emboldened, my confidence grows. My fingers brush his forearms. Trail his veins like a road. Seek to set his skin ablaze. It works. Especially when I shift to his upper arms, which are still covered with wool. His sigh professes his lament at losing my touch.

Don't worry, love. You'll get it back soon. I trace the ringlet of skin just above the neck hemline of his sweater.

"Oh my! There is an unattended scratch here!" And I tickle his neck. Instinctively, he closes the gap between his chin and collar but to no avail. He chortles loudly.

"Stop! Stop!" he shouts. "Not there! I'm sensitive there! Wait! Selene!"

I do not listen. The egotistical snake will make the fox beg for her mercy. She will see her victory through. I jest, "Not there, you say? Well then, what about your underarms? Or your feet? Or the side of your stomach?" His waist is easily accessible, so I switch my tickles there. He curls on his side to press my hands to the ground. But I am relentless.

That persistence becomes the cause of my defeat.

Shouto turns to get on his hands and knees. Mine hover in the air momentarily. All of a sudden, he grabs my feet and pulls me toward him. Before I can process what just happened, his hands cross my wrists above my head and his eyes penetrate into mine.

I cannot break away. Yet I realize that he is above me as I am beneath him. His knees bracket my thighs. His chest is palpably close to mine. And his breath … its heat billows against me.

Then he lets go of my wrists. I am free to do whatever I want with them. But I do not. I am too captivated by him.

Finally, he shatters the magic.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs as he helps me sit up. "I didn't mean to force myself on you like that. You were tickling me nonstop … I needed to catch my breath … so my first reaction was to restrain you to make you stop. But I shouldn't have done it like this. Are you okay?"

Shock paralyzes me. He thinks that he triggered my trauma when he actually didn't. "No. Please don't blame yourself. I'm fine, I promise. I should have stopped when you asked me to … but my competitive side got the better of me. It is me who should apologize."

"I guess this is the loophole to our deal, no?"

"I suppose so," I reply, grinning at the fact that no nausea-inducing goodies will go into my mouth.

However, Shouto starts to rub the back of his neck. His telltale sign of nervousness. "Would you … I mean, it's your choice. No requirement or anything. But would you like to lie down with me?"

It is my turn to feel shy. Yet I accept his offer. He reclines back onto the picnic sheet and pulls me with him. My head rests above his heart as his faces up toward the sky. I can feel him activating his left side to warm me. He knew that I was in pain without me saying anything. A smile blooms at that, and I drape an arm across his midriff.

As we stargaze, I ask him for his opinions about the battle. He narrates what occurred and reflects on what he could have done better. Shouto tells me that he texted his father just before arriving at the gazebo. He wanted to learn one of his father's signature fire moves. I know that it is an enormous leap for him. So I press a kiss to his cheek to let him know that I am glad for him. Shouto pulls me closer to him, wrapping both arms around my waist. I listen to him unleash his doubts about working at his father's agency during the winter break and his aspirations to overcome those fears to become a hero worth reckoning. He is already mine. I have no doubt that he will become a phenomenal one.

Then To my dismay, he asks me where I will be going for my work-study.

This question was bound to arise sooner or later.

But I do not have the heart to answer now.

Not when he is so excited about the future.

So I swallow my shame and lie that I do not know.