Trigger Warning:

- fear of abuse

- anti-disability comments

- hints of depression

After my hero license, the writing-competition final results were what I looked forward to.

Now that day has come.

Everyone who participated, the judges, teachers, and the principal are gathered in one of the gymnasiums to announce the Top Three finalists. The fact that Aizawa-sensei, All Might-sensei, Midnight-sensei, and Present Mic-sensei are among the spectators causes Selene to stay on her guard. Our teachers already knew that we were partaking in the competition, but she made me promise not to tell anyone besides my family - not even our classmates. Her reasoning was that it would create unnecessary pressure on us. I agreed then, but now, I really wish my friends were here to cheer us on.

We find an empty table for two and take a seat. Her small bites and lengthy gaps after each one are a sign that she is lost in contemplation. It's unignorable.

I joke, "That daifuku must taste horrendous, given it's mostly untouched."

At my remark, Selene snaps out of her reverie and takes a big bite out of the sweet. "N-No! It's tasty! Surprisingly scrumptious for a school event!"

"Okay, what's going on?"

Selene frowns and scrutinizes the cameramen. Her voice is low. "I kept this event a secret from Hanada-sama because I knew that he wouldn't approve. But pictures and videos of this event will be posted online. He will find out. What worries me is how he will take out his anger."

She does have a point. She told me that the reason she came to this school was because of Hanada-shi's order: to suck up to the teachers and boost his business. I won't dare to call him her father when he has never treated her like his daughter. When he learns that his daughter has been engaging in activities besides his demands, he will be livid because he will believe that his control over Selene is slipping. I can only imagine what kinds of punishments he will invoke.

Verifying there are no prying eyes at the moment, I reach for her hand and grasp it. "Is there a possibility I could talk to him?" I mutter. "I'll tell him that it was my idea, and you went along with it because it gave you an opportunity to get closer to Endeavor's son. These four months were spent to achieve that goal. Knowing that his goals are being met, he won't hurt you." He will not let you be assaulted again.

Selene gives a forlorn half-smile. "I appreciate the thought, but things are not that simple. If he hears those words from me, he will believe that I am a liar. If he hears those words from you, he will assume that I am a coward. In both cases, my image will be tarnished. Better you don't get involved and blame yourself for when I do get punished."

"There's no reason for you to be disciplined. You did nothing wrong." Anger seizes me just thinking at how unjust and unfair it is to her. "No one should be penalized for following their passion," I grit out.

She returns the squeeze with her own. "You really are a great person. I wish everyone could think the way you do. But it is all right."

No. It is most certainly not all right. You should be allowed to be happy for all the effort you've put in. You should be excited today.

I'm considering all methods to get her out of this mess when Midnight-sensei approaches us. Our hands detach and return to ourselves. Immediately, a mask of enthusiasm masks our dismal moods. I hate how this act is second nature to us.

"The teachers and I saw your work. Splendid!" she compliments. "From the start I knew that you two would make a brillant team beyond the training field! Shouto with your artistic finesse; Selene with your literary caliber. Such unique ideas and such beautiful drawings. Every piece touched my heart. The only complaint I have is that the judges should have chosen topics besides loss. I have no doubt that both of you would have excelled at other emotions. I look forward to what you two create in the future."

We give a cordial thanks and watch her figure retreat. The despondence returns. We eat the rest of our food in silence. I return to musing about potential solutions.

An hour after we finish our meals, the moment of revelation arrives. Principal Nezu himself will announce the finalists. He goes through the formalities: acknowledging everyone who took part, congratulating everyone who made it this far, the usual spiel. When he announces the names of those who ranked in the Top Ten, the students who didn't qualify glare daggers at us. We pointedly ignore them. As Selene and I walk onto the makeshift stage and take our place amongst the contestants, I spot our teachers gazing at us with pride.

Principal Nezu garlands a medal on each of us. The fact that we bow out of respect covers the height difference between us and him. Then he returns to the podium to announce what everyone has been waiting for. Silence falls. Contagious tension, stress, anticipation, and fear accumulate on the stage.

"In third place is Kimura Yuriko from Class 1-D." A copper brooch is gifted. The agitated atmosphere rises.

"In second place is the team consisting of Agawa Suima from Class 2-G, Kurosawa Inei from Class 2-J, Miyamoto Akutenshi from Class 3-B, and Nakano Kiyohime from Class 3-E." Each one receives a silver brooch.

There is only one position left. The remaining eight teams - including us - stare at each other. One group gives a silent prayer to their ancestors. Another scowls so darkly, it's almost threatening. A group in the distance is on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

I feel something brush against my fingers. It is Selene, linking her little finger with mine. Though her expression is stoic, I understand what she needs. I need it, too. I reciprocate the gesture.

Principal Nezu speaks again. "As for the team that ranked in first place, we would like them to share their experience during this competition and give advice as to what makes a successful writer and artist. Our gold brooch finalists are …" I have always hated the dramatic pause that commentators make. Now, more so than ever. "Hanada Selene and Todoroki Shouto from Class 1-A!"

Huh?

We're frozen in place. Like mindless idiots, we look at each other, the same question evident in our eyes. Did our names just get called? It's only when Midnight-sensei surreptitiously comes behind us and whispers in our ears, "Go get your prize," do we regain our senses. Actually, I do. Selene is still in a daze.

"Come on," I urge, tugging at her hand. She follows me, but like a robot. I take my brooch and give her a nudge so that she takes hers. Mechanically, she accepts. I watch Selene observe the gold clasp. I call out her name. No response. Again. Still no response.

I'm about to ask the principal to excuse us for a moment when I barely hear a murmur. "First place?"

"First place," I confirm.

"You did it."

"No." I take the clasp from her and fix to it her uniform jacket collar. "We did it."

Very slowly, she reacts.

No photographer could preserve the radiance of her aura; no artist could capture the shimmer of her eyes; no author could articulate the shape of her mouth. There is only one way to remember her joy: by memory. I have never seen her this jubilant before. Not even when she laughed that rare laugh. I find myself smiling back. We deserve this, I remind myself. We deserve to be proud of our hard work.

"We did it," Selene repeats. She reaches for my brooch and does the same for me. It rests above my heart, just as hers lies above her heart.

You have no idea how much restraint it is taking me to not lift you into my arms and carry you away from here. Away, where I can draw you like this, even though the pen and pencil will never do you justice.

Selene and I prepared our speech beforehand, but I feel out-of-body as I narrate the words I memorized. My head is wandering in the future. I want this to be over, so we can celebrate privately at the gazebo. After Selene gives her part, we thank the principal, the judges, and the teachers before we return to our seats. More drinks and dishes are served. The function continues.

We don't.

"Shouto?" she asks as I take a bite out of a melon pan. I stop eating and wait for her to proceed. My caution rises. "One September night, you encouraged me to step out of my comfort zone and do this contest with you. When I expressed my gratitude for that, you told me to wait until we won. I believe these words are long overdue: thank you, Shouto. For the first time, I achieved something from my own willingness, and you supported me throughout it. You were right. I didn't recognize my own worth. Thank you for teaching me to respect myself more."

Thank you for teaching me to respect myself more. That one sentence reverberates in my head like melodious bells. Isn't that what I wanted? For us to love ourselves before we could love each other? "Selene, sweetheart, that is the sweetest compliment you have given me."

Her breath hitches. My adoration turns to concern when her effervescence fades and hands wring around themselves like a noose. She removes the brooch and passes it to me. "But I have one request. When Hanada-sama learns the truth, he will break this symbol of our hard work, journey, and all the memories shared in this endeavor. If he feels particularly cruel, he will sell it. Shouto, I ask that you keep this. This is the one thing I want spared from his torment."

Silently, I accept it. Disappointment racks me. Not at her, but at myself. Of course, our happiness would be short-lived. She's come so far, but she's not even given the right to savor it. I tuck it in my pocket, reminding myself to keep it safely amongst my other keepsakes of her.

That is when an unfamiliar voice interrupts us. The owner of that voice watched the whole exchange. Did they hear it, too?

"Oh, that's smart! Give your little token of victory to your partner, so you come off as less pretentious. Makes total sense!" My sight snaps to the speaker. It was one of the second-place winners. Miyamoto, I think, was his name. He and his three teammates are with him. They glower at us from their table. So does the girl who ranked third.

My voice becomes sharp-edged. "Is there a problem?"

Miyamoto smirks languidly. "Yeah. The daughter of a business magnate and the son of Japan's Number One hero receive gold fastenings. Both of whom are from the hero department. Seems too good to be true."

Selene's ire flares. Coldly, she inquires, "What are you insinuating?"

"Oh, please! Don't pretend like you don't know. Two kids from the most powerful and influential families in this country. How much did your daddies pay the judges? One million yen? Ten million yen?"

How dare you, you sick bastard! I'm about to tell this guy off when my gaze falls on one of the cameramen. Having found something possibly gossip-worthy, he is recording the entire situation. I cannot afford to add fuel to the sparks. Focusing my fury into clenching my fist, I narrow a level stare at the douchebag. "Maybe you should consider your own shortcomings before coming at us. Blaming us for not winning gold only goes to show how petulant you are. How about you go to your daddy and project your issues onto him?"

One of the girls shrieks, "How dare you?! Just who do you think are?"

Selene beats me to it. She smirks diabolically. "I should be the one asking you that question. Who the bloody hell are you to incite a fight with us?" No one has a comeback for that question. I lean back and enjoy watching Selene be the badass she is. Although, I do get a little worried when she rises from her chair and strolls leisurely toward them. Her smirk quickly switches to a flirtatious smile and finger wave at the cameraman before returning to the smirk. The guy's cheeks redden embarrassingly, and he looks away with an audible cough. At their table, she leans over Miyamoto and presses one hand against the tablecloth. The other uses the cane to tilt his head to her eye level. From the camera's perspective, the cane is hidden, so the scene would look like two rivals having a friendly chat. Clever. I strain my ears to hear what she says next.

"Let me a wager a guess. Your next insult was going to be about my handicap. How could someone with a disability surpass us? Then it would be about my partner. Given his track record, of course he would be preferred by the judges. Bribery, nepotism, and favoritism had to be involved. Let me tell you something, ableist. I've met thousands like you. They are an excellent source of inspiration for stories and art. In fact, it was people like you that my partner and I described in all four tales of this competition. If that was the key to paving the path for us to win gold prize, then I have to thank you for being such a discriminatory, sexist, and insecure person. Thank you, Miyamoto Akutenshi, for being a disgusting human being."

I wish the cameraman could shift angles to take a picture of all their faces after that amazing riposte. They look like they're about to vomit onto themselves. The perfect victory. A secretive grin passes between us. I mimic the whisper of approval, and she stifles her giggle. She tells me that she wasn't going to let some manchild spoil the mood than it already was.

"Nonsensical people will always spout nonsense. Better to not give them ammunition to spurt out more."

Speaking of nonsensical people, when the function ends, Hanada-shi is waiting by his car outside. It certainly didn't take him long to find out.

Selene expresses the same sentiment. "I thought you had a meeting with your business associates today," is her greeting.

He returns it likewise. "I postponed it for two hours. Speaking with you was more important. What have you done, Selene?"

I intervene. "Sir, this was my doing." And I articulate the lie I had prepared. I make sure to include every detail that will appeal to his motives. He hangs on to every word, while Selene tenses in retaliation of anything. I finish with, "None of this is her fault, so don't scold her for it." His attention turns toward Selene.

An unspoken staring contest occurs between the two, neither willing to blink. Finally, he breaks eye contact and addresses me. "I'll take your word for it and let the matter slide for now. But don't think you can repeat such stunts again and again."

"Of course, Sir. I would never coerce your daughter to do something she did not want to do." That is the only truth I tell him.

He grunts and sits inside the car. "I'll see you for dinner tonight, Selene," he says just before he closes the door.

"Yes, Hanada-sama," she mutters as the car leaves. Then she looks around and pulls me into a grove of trees. "May I hug you?" she asks. My grin is all the confirmation she needs. Her hug knocks me back into a trunk, but I reciprocate it almost immediately. "I was so scared. Thank you so much, Shouto."

"It was a modification of the strategy I suggested. I interrupted so I could be a witness. He shouldn't dare to harm you after that … You won't be hurt tonight?"

She chuckles, "No. Likely not tonight."

I feel like I can breathe at last.

Even if it's for just one night, it is a small victory.

Since she will be leaving tonight, I ask for her the gladioli in her hair.

My little tokens of victory against her father.

I guess there is a way I can help her.