The hug disperses as quickly as it began.
I step into the kitchen, quietly registering the comforting aroma of Lunch Rush's cooking. Even with my nap, exhaustion presses down on me, my limbs heavy and my mind clouded with the weight of the day.
But then, the familiar buzz of my classmates' laughter cuts through the fog.
"Rin-chan! Just in time!" Mina's voice rings out, bright and cheerful. She stands by the counter, ladle in hand, her grin as wide as ever. "Lunch Rush just dropped off dinner! Doesn't it smell amazing?"
I force a small smile, letting the warmth of their voices wash over me. My feet carry me automatically, and I reach for a bowl. Kirishima lifts his already overflowing plate and grins. "Man, this stuff smells great! Ya'll remember the curry from training camp this summer?"
I can't help but huff a quiet snort.
"The one that tasted like feet?" Kyoka adds, wrinkling her nose, her earjacks twitching in mock disgust.
Sero nearly chokes mid-bite.
"Can anyone really forget that? Dude, I didn't even know you could mess up rice!"
The banter pulls me in, tugging at the edges of my exhaustion, and for a moment, I let myself relax. The warmth of the room, the ease of their conversation—it's enough to make me almost forget the illusionary laughter, Mama's screams in the dark.
I scoop out some rice and curry, and the smell really does seem to melt away some of my fatigue. I let out a quiet breath, amused by their energy despite how drained I feel.
That moment of calm shatters with Kaminari's next words.
"Hey, isn't Rin-chan interning with Kamui Woods?" His voice cuts through the easy atmosphere, and I still, my hand hovering above my utensils. My fingers twitch.
"Yeah, why?" Sero asks, his tone still light, unaware of the shift already tightening in my chest.
"I just got a notification… it's trending." Kaminari's voice drops. "Some kind of pro-hero operation."
I reach for the utensils and pretend not to notice, my pulse quickening. I don't even realize my hands are trembling until Tsuyu, standing beside me, murmurs, "Rin-chan, ribbit…"
Before I can respond, someone's phone blares. The familiar jingle of a breaking news report echoes through the kitchen, and I feel every muscle in my body tense.
"This just in," the anchor's voice breaks the silence. It's too calm. Too professional. "The illusionary hero, The Owl, has been apprehended following a covert operation. Witnesses report several explosions at a local residence before pro-heroes stormed the property. Among those on scene were Kamui Woods, several underground heroes, and UA officials."
The world around me blurs as the words sink in. My grip tightens on the utensil until my knuckles turn white, my heart hammering in my chest.
"There are unconfirmed reports suggesting the involvement of the domestic terrorist group, the Asps. Information remains scarce, but this raid marks a significant escalation in recent conflicts. Stay tuned as more details emerge."
The kitchen falls into a stunned silence, the warmth and laughter gone in an instant.
My stomach churns, the curry in my bowl forgotten. Whispers begin to spread through the room, their voices low and uncertain.
"The Owl?" Momo's soft voice breaks through the haze. "Isn't that…"
The name of the hero in charge of Kaito's case.
"Do you think that's why Rin-chan…"
"They mentioned Asps. Like more than one?"
"Look here's another…"
What sounds like a video recording captures multiple explosions, a civilian screaming, and someone in the background shouting Kamui Woods name.
"But they arrested a hero!" Kaminari's voice interrupts, sounding confused. "That's… That's not normal. Nobody said why?"
I swallow, but my throat feels tight. Then collecting my things, step out into the lobby. I can feel their eyes on me, the weight of their stares heavy. I sit at the table, face blank.
"Rin-chan," Satous says, voice low and full of confusion. "What's going on? Was… Is that the mission you weren't allowed to talk about?"
I nod.
"Then—Then does that mean they arrested your brother?" Midoriya asks, his eyes wide and bright as my attention shifts back to him.
I… I frown, slowly shaking my head, and then blink as the classmates around me erupt into their typical chaos.
"Brother?"
"Wait—Are we talking about the villain?"
Midoriya just meets my eye, frowning.
"He… He escaped," I admit, not sure I really want to talk about this. Then, noticing my classmates' nosy expressions, I sigh, sitting down. "There… There was an operation to stop the Owl. He's been running the human trafficking ring that caught Kagura-nee and I. And… He was also the one responsible for hurting Kaito."
Toru is beside me in seconds, her body sinking into the chair beside my own.
"Are you okay?"
I shrug, unsurprised when the others fill the table.
"That's really dangerous," Momo says, voice low, taking the place across from me. "I… I'm kinda surprised Kamui Woods or even Sensei went along with it. Most heroes that fall end up taking everyone around them with them."
"Yeah, like Pumpkin-eater," Midoriya says, taking the seat beside Momo quickly. "Or the horned hero, Loom."
"Who?" Toru asks, and Kaminari wrinkles his nose, a bowl in hand as he leans against the table, not bothering to sit.
"Yeah, Pumpkin-what?"
Midoriya flushes.
"Uh…"
"Nerd," Bakugou huffs, sliding into the seat a few chairs down.
I glance his way, unsurprised at his twitchy eye.
"You gonna cry about it?" he sneers.
I sigh, half tempted to roll my eyes at his sour disposition.
"No…"
"Good, cause your brother's a fucking psychopath. And when I catch his ass, I'm gonna beat him and drag his ass to jail. Damn quirkless bastard."
The others erupt as usual, thankfully changing the conversation, and I can't help but send the blonde a thankful glance he completely ignores. And… well, if Toru doesn't move until I'm done… well, I can appreciate that as well.
.
.
.
Sensei returns eventually, the sound of the door clicking shut behind him barely registering through the fog of my exhaustion. He doesn't say anything at first, just moves through the apartment with a quiet efficiency. I watch him out of the corner of my eye, eyes half-closed on the couch with a kitten against my chest, but even in his silence, I can feel the weight of his presence.
He changes before finally returning to me, his expression unreadable beneath a calm mask.
"Rin," he says, an edge in his voice. "Sit up. We need to talk."
The conversation that follows takes nearly an hour.
Reluctantly—haltingly—Slowly, I tell Sensei about the hallucination. He listens, silent and lips thinning as I whisper my brother's name, the way everyone had smiled and grinned, glow worm. Sensei's body is nearly stiff with anger when I repeat Mama's last screams, Kaito's pleading, and Nanimonai's parting grin.
He doesn't say anything for a long minute after that. Body nearly vibrating as he breathes deeply again and again and again. Then, fishing out his phone, he sends a text and maybe twenty minutes later Uncle Zashi is there, carrying in late night takeout as Sensei stalks out to 'finish some paperwork.'
Whatever that means.
Honestly, I'm too exhausted to care.
.
.
.
The media frenzy that follows is… intense.
The capture of a supposedly crooked hero is on every news outlet and social media account. The press swarms Kamui Woods' Agency, with video feedback of them harassing him and several of the office workers for days. There's a police conference, several analyst panels, and even an interview with principal Nezu over the thing.
As a result, Kamui cuts back my internship hours almost immediately, shuffling my working schedule to every other Saturday, with pending events following the whole Lurkers situation—which he claimed was still up in the air.
As for my classmates, it doesn't take them long to piece together my involvement in the whole ordeal, especially with the news media running reruns of Nanimonai in prison sweats and several debates breaking out over quirk equality, the disparity of hero justice, and more. Much to my embarrassment, Sensei takes everything a step forward, making the whole class listen to several debates and outline how current events could impact legislative sensitivity and write an essay on politics on the battlefield.
Art, however, felt the most personal.
I grimace down at my phone and the image of a brightly lit news studio.
Two reporters sit opposite one another, each armed with an armful of paper as the screen behind them shows images of The Owl in prison sweats, juxtaposed with shots of Kamui Woods and the burning aftermath of the raid.
"Welcome back to Pro-Hero Watch," the host of the show says, expression grim. "Tonight, we're diving deeper into the arrest of the illusionary hero, The Owl, and what this means for the future of our hero society. Was The Owl's capture a sign that the system is broken? Or is this an example of justice being served? With me tonight is political analyst Shinohara Aki and pro-hero commentator Sakurai Rin to help break it all down. Let's get right into it, Sakurai-san, what do you make of this whole situation?"
"Well, Kentaro, this is a complex issue. On the one hand, The Owl's arrest is a clear victory for justice. His manipulation of illusions and alleged criminal connections seem to have been a concern for years. Kamui Woods and his team acted swiftly to bring him down, and this shows that even among heroes, there's no tolerance for corruption. But on the other hand, this brings up questions about oversight and whether more should've been done earlier to prevent this from escalating. The Owl was a registered pro-hero for years, and if these allegations are true, how did it take this long to uncover?"
"That's a good point, Sakurai-san. Aki-san, you've been vocal about your concerns regarding hero accountability. Where do you stand on this?"
"Frankly, I think this whole ordeal highlights a much bigger problem—one we've ignored for too long. The pro-hero system is flawed. There's no consistent oversight on heroes who operate in the shadows or 'underground.' The Owl wasn't just corrupt; he was operating unchecked for years. And let's not forget, his arrest was only the result of a high-stakes raid that destroyed an entire residential block. What about the civilians caught in the middle? Where's the accountability for the damage caused in the name of justice?"
The screen flashes briefly with images of the explosion, alongside footage of Kamui Woods and myself.
"With all due respect," Sakurai interrupts, "Aki-san, you're overlooking the fact that these heroes were dealing with a highly dangerous domestic terrorist group, the Asps. The property destruction was an unfortunate consequence, but it was necessary to take down individuals who pose a real threat to society. The Owl might've been a hero once, but his actions—if proven—are indefensible. This wasn't about a lack of oversight, it was about responding to an immediate and present danger."
"You say that now," Aki-san rebukes, "but isn't it troubling that we're seeing a growing number of so-called 'rogue heroes'? The Owl, and heroes like him, point to a larger disparity in how we apply 'hero justice.' We claim to uphold equality, but look at the quirkless population, or those with quirks deemed 'inconvenient' for hero work. How many of them turn to crime because the system fails to support them? The Owl's downfall was inevitable in a society that pushes heroes into narrow molds of perfection, rewarding power and public image over true justice."
"Interesting point Aki-san," the Host says, grinning at the camera as the images behind him change. "So, you're saying that The Owl is a symptom of a larger societal issue, rather than just a singular case of hero corruption?"
"Exactly. This isn't just about The Owl. It's about the inequality and the hypocrisy that exists in the hero world. There's a reason we keep seeing these 'fall from grace' stories, and unless the system addresses these underlying disparities—especially for heroes who don't fit the typical mold—we're going to see more of them."
Sakurai Rin, still holding his papers, leans forward, expression irate.
"That's a dangerous narrative to push. Yes, the system needs improvement—no one's denying that. But The Owl's actions aren't excused by societal pressure. He chose to align himself with terrorists. That's a conscious decision, not a cry for help. We have to be careful not to blur the lines between real criminal activity and broader social issues. Kamui Woods and his team were doing their jobs—protecting civilians from a threat. And let's not forget the Asps are a known domestic terrorist group responsible for multiple attacks on public and private property."
"It sounds like we're getting into the larger debate about hero accountability versus societal responsibility," says the host. "Where does the line get drawn between a hero's personal decisions and the pressures of the society they operate in? We'll take a closer look at that in just a moment, but first, a word from our sponsor—stay tuned."
I pause the video and sigh.
Then, glancing towards Aunt Nemuri, who had been watching the video beside me, I grimace again.
"Well?" she asks, having forced me to stay after for social media training.
"I don't know," I admit, slumping. "They were arguing about hero responsibility, I know but…"
"It was rather obnoxious," my aunt smiles, leaning back against the desk and running a hand through her hair. "I know, but you need to be able to read through the lines if you don't want to be caught unaware at the press conference."
The press conference I was going to be required to attend in two days.
I scrub my face.
"I… know."
"Good, then what did you notice?"
"I don't know," I scowl, fingers moving to rub at the back of my neck. "I… I guess they said something about the Owl and societal pressure?"
"Good," Aunt Nemuri nods. "They're building excuses. It's how the press develops public affection, by making it an accident or a social issue."
"He sold people," I growl stubbornly. "I don't understand how that can be a social issues."
"It's not," Aunt Nemuri agrees. "But if you respond with too much aggression to the press or if you don't show enough enthusiasm, they'll use it against you. Honestly, at this point, it's probably best to play up your youth and have the public connect with your sense of righteousness."
I sigh.
This is an absolute waste of time.
"And we can't just come out and say he's an ass because…?"
"Well, one, it's crude. But also, being an ass isn't what got him in this mess. Him putting people under mind control. Look, that's not relevant, but did you see how Sakurai-san got the group back on track with that line about that being a dangerous narrative? Memorize that, it's a good counter for ridiculous arguments that can have dangerous implications."
I breathe deeply, picking up my pencil to add the comment to my notes. I already had half a page of those.
"Alright, last one," Aunt Nemuri says, unlocking her phone and pulling up a new video. "This one's a little triggering, but I want you to pay attention, okay?"
I nod a little reluctantly, especially as my phone dings with the message sent.
Then, pulling up the video, I'm unsurprised when this video takes place in yet another brightly lit studio.
"Welcome back to Current Affairs: Hero Edition. Tonight, I'm your host, Takahashi Hiro, and tonight we'll be tackling a growing concern: the nature of so-called 'villainous quirks' and the fallout from The Owl's recent capture. Reports are now flooding in—hundreds of people coming forward, claiming they were under The Owl's influence. Many say they've woken up, with fragmented memories of doing terrible things they can barely comprehend."
The studio disappears and clips of various citizens appear instead, many visibly shaken, some tearfully recounting their experiences. Some hold their heads in their hands, one clutches what appears to be family members.
"Here with me tonight are criminal psychologist Dr. Natsuki Ayumi and hero law expert Saito Genji. Dr. Natsuki, let's start with you. What do you make of these reports, and how should we as a society respond to this sudden influx of people claiming to have been under The Owl's quirk?"
The camera shifts to a rather composed woman with glasses and a thoughtful expression, who adjusts her glasses before speaking.
"Takahashi-san, this is unprecedented. We're hearing from hundreds—possibly even more—who describe a sense of being controlled, manipulated into actions that range from small infractions to serious crimes. From what we know about The Owl's quirk, his ability to create illusions is extraordinarily powerful, and it's possible he could've altered their perceptions to the point where they acted against their will."
The screen behind them splits, and I frown as a side-by-side of the now uncomfortably familiar Owl's arrest pairs with several civilian accounts describing waking up with no memory of the things they had done.
"Saito-san," says the host, with the camera focusing back on him. "What do you think this means for hero law and public safety? Should we have been more aware of The Owl's quirk capabilities from the start?"
Saito, a stern-looking man with neatly combed hair and a formal suit, leans forward, his hands clasped on the table.
"This is where the debate on quirk transparency comes into play. If people had known the full extent of Nanimonai's quirk from the beginning, we might've been able to prevent the scale of his influence. The public deserves to know if a quirk has the potential to be used in ways that could endanger them, and heroes or individuals with quirks of this nature should be closely monitored. I'm not suggesting we strip people of their privacy, but there's a real public safety concern here."
"Let's not forget, The Owl trafficked who knows how many quirkless individuals. If people had known what his quirk could truly do, he wouldn't have been able to manipulate so many for so long. It's a failure on multiple levels—hero oversight, quirk regulation, and public awareness. We need a system in place to identify and track quirks that have high potential for abuse, especially when they blur the lines between autonomy and manipulation."
"While I agree that public safety is important," argues the woman with glasses, "We have to tread carefully. Not every quirk that can be dangerous is inherently villainous. There are people born with quirks that could be seen as dangerous—telepathy, copy quirks, or even more common quirks like strength. Are we going to label them all as threats before they've done anything wrong? There's a fine line between protecting society and infringing on individual rights."
"But how do we handle the hundreds of people now claiming they were under The Owl's control?" asks the host. "What should be done with them? Are they excused from their actions, or do they still bear responsibility?"
Dr. Natsuki glances at the camera, adjusting her glasses.
"That's the difficult question. In many cases, these individuals were likely acting without full awareness of their actions. If The Owl's quirk truly took over their perception, they may not have had the free will to resist. But the real challenge is proving that. How can we definitively tell who was under The Owl's influence and who might be using it as an excuse? It's nearly impossible to verify every case."
"This is why it's so important to have a legal framework for quirks like The Owl's," says the man, frowning. "If we had regulations that required heroes to disclose the full extent of their abilities to the Hero Commission or even a neutral body, we might have been able to stop this before it reached this scale. As for those people coming forward now, we can't just take their word for it. We need investigations—thorough ones—to determine who was truly affected. But we also need to be compassionate. Some of these people are likely victims, manipulated into actions they would never have taken on their own."
"You've both raised valid points. But this brings us to the bigger question: What constitutes a 'villainous quirk'? Are we at the point where certain quirks should be regulated or even prohibited for public safety?"
The man nods, a somber look crossing his face.
"I think we are. Certain quirks have the potential to cause mass harm, whether through mind control, illusions, or physical destruction. We regulate dangerous weapons, and quirks that can be weaponized should fall under similar scrutiny. Not everyone with a dangerous quirk will turn into a villain, but we need safeguards in place for those that do."
"But again, this is about balance," argues the woman with the glasses. "Labeling quirks as 'villainous' risks pushing people with those quirks into dangerous situations, where they feel rejected by society. We've seen this with the rise of quirkless discrimination and with those who have 'undesirable' quirks. We have to offer support, not just surveillance."
"It's a complex issue, no doubt. We'll have to wait and see how the Hero Commission responds to these new revelations. Thank you both for your insights. Up next, we'll discuss the implications of these events on the international hero stage-"
I pause the video, lips thin with irritation.
"What do they mean, regulate certain quirks?" I ask, voice dangerous.
Hitoshi's worries of having a villainous quirk echoing in my mind. I turn to my aunt with narrowed eyes.
"Quirks aren't villainous."
"No, but certain ones do have the potential to pose extreme damage," my aunt says softly. "It's a common enough debate. The problem is the Owl's actions have pushed this debate to the forefront and it will likely be brought up at your press conference. You need to be mindful. Politics is a quick way to ruin a reputation."
I pull my hair and stand.
"Quirks aren't villainous," I repeat, irritated. "I—Do I really have to do this? I—I can't do this! This is stupid! Why am I telling people things that are obvious? That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard!"
"This is part of being a hero," Aunt Nemuri frowns.
I glower at my phone and the old many staring back.
"Sensei doesn't deal with any of this," I argue, petulant.
"Shouta has sat through his share of press conferences," Aunt Nemuri sighs. "Now, if they do ask you about this, I want you to say…"
.
.
.
Press conference are apparently also really boring.
I shift from one foot to the other, trying to keep my face neutral, but my boredom must be painfully obvious. The bright lights of the press cameras feel like they're melting my brain, and the low hum of murmuring reporters isn't helping. I glance at Kamui Woods, standing just in front of me at the podium, his mask hiding whatever expression he's got on right now.
He's talking, of course, answering yet another round of questions, and I should be paying attention. I know I should, but my mind keeps drifting. I catch snippets of what's being said, enough to get the general idea.
"Can you explain how The Owl evaded capture for so long?"
"Was the raid truly necessary, given the civilian risk?"
I stifle a yawn and lean back slightly, eyes flicking over the sea of faces—reporters scribbling in their notepads or typing frantically on their phones. They look like they're all trying to eat him alive. Shishou, to his credit, handles them with his usual calm. His voice is low and steady, though I barely register his words.
"The Owl's quirk was difficult to counter," Kamui explains, his tone measured. "His illusions made it hard to distinguish between what was real and what wasn't. We took every precaution to ensure minimal civilian casualties."
Another hand shoots up in the crowd, and I tune out again, my eyes glazing over. They've been grilling him for what feels like hours, asking the same questions in different ways. It's always the same—why did you do this, how could you allow that, should things have been handled differently? The Owl this, the raid that until it all blended together in my head.
Beside Kamui, Detective Tsukauchi steps up to the microphone. He'd been part of this circus since the start, representing the police's side of things. His voice cuts through the static in my brain, though I don't really focus on the specifics.
"Due to the nature of his quirk," Tsukauchi says, his hands resting calmly on the podium. "The Owl was able to bury many of his activities behind mental blockades and changed memories. When we realized the extent of his purposed crimes, we had no choice but to act."
I zone out again, my gaze drifting to the floor. I count the tiles beneath my feet, trying to distract myself from the sheer monotony of standing here like a prop. Maybe if I stare hard enough, I'll disappear into them. Just sink into the floor and escape the flashing cameras and endless questions.
"Why wasn't the public informed about The Owl's quirk sooner?" someone asks.
Kamui Woods starts answering, but it's all a blur. Something about confidentiality, strategic information. I'm only half listening, and the rest of my brain is busy wondering how long this will last. Maybe if I'm lucky, I'll get out of here before lunch.
"Nova"
The sound of my name snaps me back to reality like a rubber band. My heart skips a beat, and I blink, looking out at the crowd. They're all staring at me now, cameras swiveling in my direction, reporters leaning forward with renewed interest.
Wait. Did they just call on me?
"Nova, a question for you!" one of the reporters shouts, her voice cutting through the low buzz of conversation. "What can you tell us about your involvement in The Owl's capture?"
I freeze, my mind going blank. All those hours of boredom vanish in an instant, replaced by the sudden, overwhelming urge to run. Kamui glances at me from the corner of his eye, probably sensing my discomfort, but he doesn't intervene.
My palms start to sweat as the cameras zoom in on me, dozens of eyes locked onto my face, waiting for me to speak.
I… I have no idea what to say.
"Uhh…"
Shishou steps back, gesturing me to the microphone and I glance at him nervously before stiffly taking his place. He presses a warm hand against my shoulder and I try not to shudder.
Fuuuucccckkkk…
"Ummm… I… I apologize. What—What was the question?"
"What can you tell us about your involvement in The Owl's capture?"
"I… uh, I was involved," I say awkwardly, flinching a little at the sound of my own voice in the microphone.
A couple of the reporters laugh, a few others grinning. I find Uncle Zashi amongst the masses and then have to try not to squirm when he grins, tossing me two excited thumbs up.
Can I go home?
"Nova," shouts a different person, and I nervously pull my eyes away from my uncle to glance over. "Were you aware of The Owl's true nature before the mission? At what point did you realize he was manipulating others with his quirk?"
"Nova was the one who brought the Owl's crimes to our own attention," Shishou says, leaning forward with a comforting squeeze to my shoulder. "Of course, no one was aware of exactly what he could do. Nova, unfortunately, was caught up in one of the hallucinations similarly to many others."
"Can you tell us about your own hallucination?" asks one person.
"Given your close involvement in the mission, do you think the raid could have been handled differently to prevent the damage and casualties?"
"Nova! Nova! What are your thoughts on the idea that villainous quirks, like Nanimonai-san, should be tagged for public notoriety?"
My eyes shift, moving from several reporters to a woman in a peach-colored suit. She stares back, microphone outstretched from a point in the crowd. Realizing she'd caught my attention, she drags the microphone back to her lips.
"This is just one in a dozen such incidents—what are your thoughts?"
I stare at the woman incredulously.
And for a moment, I remember Aunt Nemuri's memorize scripts—even consider using them.
But the sheer stupidity—tagged.
Like a dog tag?!
"I—I think you're an idiot," I say, only to grimace a second later as Kamui's hand tightens noticeably on my shoulder. Shit. "I-I mean, that… that sounds idiotic. Quirks aren't heroic or villainous, people's actions are what make them evil. So why would you tag them? What do you even mean by tag them? Like stickers? Would you have people with 'villainous' quirks wear badges saying they could be villainous? Would I have one?"
The woman shrinks.
I stare her down, frustrated.
"I hate all of this talk about quirk this and quirk that," I tell her angrily. "You aren't even talking about anything important. I thought we were here to discuss the Owl, or why we fought, or what we can do to fix things, but all of you keep asking questions about stupid things. Causes and hero nature and-and the quirkless. We didn't stop Nanimonai because he hurt the quirkless, we stopped him because he was hurting people."
The crowd of reporters stir.
I curl my hands into fists, hating the fact that I don't—that I can't find the words to make them understand.
"It wouldn't matter if his victims had a mutant quirk, a villainous quirk, or even no quirk at all—they were still people. In-Instead I wanna know what you're gonna do to keep this from happening again! My brother was one of the people taken by him, sold—sold into one of the trafficking rings. I was almost sold, and I only managed to escape because of my training as a hero. So—So how are we going to stop that? And how are we gonna make sure someone like him doesn't—can't do this again?"
"Someone with an illusionary quirk?" a young man near the front asks.
I very nearly snarl.
"No, not an illusionary quirk! People with hero status and unchecked power!"
A figure in the back, dressed in a dark, non-descript suit, makes a brief, aborted gesture. Before I can process it, Kamui-shishou moves with a fluidity that surprises even me, smoothly stepping in front of me and taking control of the microphone again.
"Ahh… thank you, Nova," Kamui says, his tone calm as ever. "I can take three more questions, but after that, we'll have to wrap it up. Yes, you?" He points to a reporter in the front.
I grimace instinctively but quickly remember where I am and force my face into something resembling a smile, though it's more of a half-grimace. Shishou finishes fielding the last few questions efficiently, his practiced ease with the media on full display.
After a few more minutes of well-timed theatrics, we're done, slipping behind a curtain, finally away from the flashing cameras and endless eyes of the press. I let out a long, exhausted sigh and press my palm to my forehead.
"That was horrible," I mutter.
Kamui chuckles under his breath, though his posture remains unusually tense. "I'd rate it a solid four out of ten."
I frown, following his gaze to the same man I'd noticed earlier—the one with the dark sunglasses, despite being indoors. Kamui gives him a formal nod, the kind you only see in official meetings.
Uncertain, I mimic Kamui's gesture, though I'm a beat too late.
Who is this guy?
The man in the suit speaks up, his voice low but authoritative. "Kamui Woods. Nova. We'll be in touch."
Kamui bows slightly in response. "Sir."
I quickly copy the motion again, though I still have no idea why we're bowing. My confusion deepens as the man turns and walks away, disappearing from view. The moment he's gone, Kamui's shoulders relax, and he lets out a breath, raising one hand to his helmet.
"Kami, help me," he mutters. I get the distinct feeling he's directing that plea at me. His hand settles on my back as he steers me in the opposite direction, away from where the man had gone. "Nova—I don't even know where to begin. How did you pass any kind of politics class?"
I wrinkle my nose at him. "We haven't taken any politic classes."
Kamui, mid-stride, nearly trips over his own feet. "W-What?"
I shoot him a confused look. "We don't have a politics class first year?"
He stops dead, blinking down at me. "You—I… Never mind. Of course you don't." He rubs his temples and starts walking faster. "Just… Nova, never suggest on live TV that heroes need less power or more supervision. That's a surefire way to land yourself on the Hero Public Safety Commission's bad side."
H… P… what?
"Who?" I ask, my confusion growing. The name sounds vaguely familiar, but I can't place it.
Kamui freezes, his head snapping down to look at me. His eyes narrow for a moment, but then he shakes his head and starts moving again, even faster this time.
"I'm calling Eraser," he mutters under his breath.
.
.
.
"Rin, why are you asking Kamui Woods who the HPSC is?" Sensei asks the moment I arrive home, arms crossed against his chest and looking like he'd been building up to this moment for the full half-hour it'd taken to get back. Shishou must have called the moment I left… "I tested you on that your first month of school."
I shuffle off my house shoes and close the door behind me, giving Sensei a sour look.
"Hi Sensei, I'm so glad to see you too. Thanks, I had a good day. And you?"
Sensei's eye twitches and I snort.
"Hi, Rin."
"As for your test, I hate to break it to you, but I don't really remember much of anything you taught the first three months of school," I tell my guardian honestly, unbuckling the belt around my waist and passing him to head to my room. "I memorized it for the test and forgot it pretty much instantly."
Sensei makes a face.
I pause at the door to my room.
"No offense…"
"I'm very offended," Sensei says flatly, and I can't help but snort. "Christmas break is coming up, and I'm half tempted to cancel your plans and make you relearn that material. Rin, the HPSC is your boss. They're the commission that pays your salary, when you actually have one, and they're in charge of your licensure and job security."
I step into my room, cracking the door so I can still hear, and peel off my uniform.
"Okay?"
"So when your supervisor tells you not to criticize them on public platforms, your response should not be, who's that!"
I smile, pull on some regular clothes, and set my used uniform across the end of the bed.
"Why?"
Sensei is not smiling when I return.
I pause, realizing just how serious he is.
"Sir?"
"The HPSC is not a joking matter," Sensei says quietly, lips downturned. "Especially not with the state Japan is in right now. You're lucky that the matter wasn't taken seriously, but any criticism of the commission can and will result in a loss of licensure, detainment, or worse."
I frown.
"What do you mean worse?"
"I'd rather not," he says simply. "There's talk in the underground of shady shit they get up to, and I'd rather you not involve yourself—or UA, in. As it is, Nedzu keeps them off our backs, but one day you won't have his backing. Be mindful of what you say, or better yet, just avoid the press in general."
I nod slowly.
Sensei scrubs his face and sighs.
I give him a look, concerned at the stress line deepening around his eyes.
"Sir?"
"We need to talk," he says tiredly, one hand rubbing at his neck. "Hizashi and Nemuri are going to purchase Eri's furniture today, do you want to join them? Do you need anything for yourself?"
I stare at him like he's lost his mind.
"Uh… no." Then at his look, I tack on a "Sir" at the end.
He sighs, not sounding surprised.
"Rin…"
"I said no," I tell him sourly, irritated that he'd even brought her up. "She's coming Friday, isn't she?"
"Yes…"
"Fine."
I look anywhere but at his face and he sighs again. Rude.
"We'll need to set up rules."
"We already have rules," I tell him sharply. He makes a face at my tone, but I ignore it.
"I meant your rules," he says, voice deepening. "Do you need a time out?"
I spin on my heel, turning to face him incredulous.
"Are you-"
"Because your tone is going to have you writing essays in a moment," Sensei interrupts, eyes narrowed. "I know Eri isn't an easy subject for you, so I'm suggesting you take a moment to get yourself together. Because if the next word out of your mouth are as disrespectful as the last two were, I have a whole host of topics you can write about."
I close my mouth with a click, and he waits.
Then, breathing deeply through my nose, I let out a noisy, irritated breath.
"I don't know why I need to come up with rules when the ones you have work fine," I tell him a little more sharply than perhaps is called for. He ignores it.
"The house rules are there to keep you safe," Sensei says flatly. "When sharing a space with other people, it's a good idea to establish things that bother you as rules to prevent issues. For example, you have a particular issue with pots and pans being not being stacked a certain way. Or the fact that you get irritated when toothbrushes aren't put back in the toothbrush holder. I don't like loud rackets at seven in the morning after working late. Those are things you and I learned together the hard way, I'd rather we avoid as much of that as possible. Now, you'll have someone in your room, so I'm asking you are there rules you want to establish from the beginning?"
"Yeah, her not coming," I mumble under my breath.
Sensei's disapproval is nearly palpable.
"Rin."
"You act like I've never lived with someone before," I growl, throwing up my arms in irritation. "I'm not five. I've had roommates since—since forever."
Sensei rubs the bridge of his nose, eyes closing.
"I'm aware-"
"Are you?" I ask, not even caring if I have to write the stupid essays. I shoot the man a dirty look. "I'm not a baby, stop treating me like one!"
"I'm not-"
"You are!" I growl. "I already know how this is gonna go anyways! She'll move in, she'll be all cute and pretty, and you'll give her everything! That's how it always goes! Some cute kid moves in, I make a mistake, and then they're back. Gray suits and suitcase, so we might as well pack my things up now!"
Sensei blinks.
"What?"
"Everyone else already loves her!" I snarl, irritated. "Midoriya won't shut up about her, Ochako wants to make her bracelets, and Tokoyami was talking about giving her a fucking sword—dumbass."
"A wh… Rin," Sensei says, looking at me strangely. "We'll circle back to the sword in a moment. What are you talking about? Eri being cute isn't going to change how I feel about you. Then only way you're leaving is if you get expelled, which would be entirely dependent on you."
"You say that now," I scowl.
He looks at me like I've lost my mind.
"I have a signed piece of paperwork that says not taking care of you is child abandonment," Sensei says a little incredulously. "In case you weren't listening during that lecture, that's a criminal charge. Is this what Midoriya was talking about with that apple? Kid, I knew you were worried about her coming to live here, but I thought it had to do with sharing attention. I—Damn it Rin, I'm not going anywhere. No matter what. You're my child."
I still, unable to hide the spark of warmth those words bring.
He scratches his head, making a face.
"Is… Is that what you've been so upset about?" he asks, head tilting slightly. Then he sighs, features looking even more exhausted then before. "I suppose that shouldn't surprise me."
I look away uncomfortably.
He sighs, the sound worn.
Closing the space between us, he settles a hand on my head, tilting it back to look me in the eye.
"Rin, I love you. I could bring the whole damn school to live with us and I would still love you. I don't know how many times you need me to repeat this before it sinks in, but I'm not going anywhere. No matter what. Regardless of what happens here or around us, I'll be here for you. I'll be by your side, I'll give you advice, I'll help you with your problems, I'll protect you."
His hand shifts, falling from my hair to cup my chin, and he leans forward until we're eye to eye, his dark hair falling in soft waves around his face.
"I don't abandon my charges. Ever. You're stuck with me until you're grown, and even then I'm not going anywhere. Do I make myself clear?"
I stare, surprised at the honesty in his expression.
He raises a brow.
"Do you understand?"
I nod, eyes wide when he removes his hand and straightens.
"Good. Also, you owe me an essay for all of that sass. I want it before dinner."
My mouth falls open.
"I—What! B-But-"
I stop at too wide smile he offers. Shivering, a tendril of fear rises at the look.
"Oh? Are we making it two? I've half a mind to have you rewrite all of those forgotten essays."
I squeak.
"N-No sir!"
.
.
.
When Uncle Zashi and Aunt Nemuri arrive with the furniture, I admittedly scram.
If Sensei gives me a particularly knowing look when I make my excuses… well… It wasn't like I lied. I just wasn't about to stick around to watch them fill my room with baby dolls and junk.
So I slip into Toru's room, unsurprised to find her in the process of painting her nails clear. Why, I had no idea. Throwing myself across her bed, I don't ask, instead groaning and shoving my face into her bright, frilly comforter that smells like vanilla.
She makes a little noise, something akin to amusement.
"Hi," she laughs.
I roll over, curling up with one of her million stuffies and scowling.
"Hi."
"They must be moving Eri in," the ghostly girl snorts, lifting her hand to study the polish.
"No, they're moving in her stuff," I correct, sighing dramatically and making faces at her ceiling. "She's not even here yet and she annoying."
Toru snorts.
"Isn't that like a requirement of siblings?"
I pin her with a dark look.
"She's—she's not my sibling!" I don't need to see her face to know she's amused. The pause itself, is telling enough. Spluttering, I sit up. "She's not!"
"Uh huh…" Toru says, sounding completely unconvinced.
I groan and flop back down, my face now buried in her bed. I can hear her laugh again as she continues with her nails.
I sigh.
She wasn't.
"I believe you," Toru says, voice still irritatingly cheerful. "But if you really don't want to live with her, why don't you just move into the dorms? You still have a room."
I wrinkle my nose, not like the idea but not quite knowing why.
"I… I don't know…"
Toru giggles, shaking her sleeves idly before her phones makes a cute little jingle. I roll over, unsurprised to see Ojiro's picture flashing across the top. Toru's sleeves move, and a second later, the call rolls to ignore.
I watch her curiously, amused when she texts our classmate instead, giggling softly at whatever he's saying.
It… It kinda reminds me of Kagura-nee, especially when she'd first change guys—she was always dating someone new, she said it was because boys sucked, but Niko had heard and called her a tramp. The resulting fight had left Yui-san sour for weeks.
"Are you two dating?" I ask, propping up my chin.
Toru, who'd been mid-text, lets out a squeaky eep and seemingly falls over backwards.
"RIN-CHAN!"
I snicker, especially as she realizes the nail polish hadn't dried, and lets out a few colorful curses. Who knew watching an invisible person pick rug hairs out of invisible fingernail polish could be so amusing?
"Damn it! They were almost dry! Rin-chan!"
I raise an eyebrow, unashamed.
"What?"
"You-You can't just ask people that!"
Stretching lazily, I let out a tired yawn before propping my head up and blinking slowly.
"Why? Kagura-nee-chan was always dating people. I don't remember their names, but this one guy took her everywhere to the movies, skating, a picnic, and uh—hey… are—are you okay?"
I blink as the invisible girl seeming to wiggle in her clothes.
"Ah… Toru?"
"RIN!" she squeals, sleeves moving as though she's covering her face. "Gah!"
I blink again, sitting up to level my strange friend with a look. Not for the first time, I wish Hitoshi were here, if only to translate.
"Um… yes?"
"I… So I might like Ojiro-kun!" the girl squeaks, and if she weren't invisible, I'm pretty sure she'd be as red as my quirk right about now. "But you can't tell anyone!"
I raise an eyebrow, still not really understanding.
My classmates are so strange…
"Why?"
She squeals and dramatically flops against her back. I snort at the moment, smiling fondly and shaking my head. She kinda looked like a fish, especially with the way she kept wiggling.
"Toru?" I ask, scooting towards the edge of the bed and sliding myself to the rug-carpeted floor. She makes a little noise that I ignore, settling in the space next to her. "Why don't you wanna tell anyone? Shouldn't you at least tell Ojiro-kun? People don't know what you're thinking unless you tell them. That's Sensei's like number three rule."
The invisible girl snorts.
"Number three? What's one and two?"
"Tone," I tell her immediately, thinking about the rather irritating essay he'd had me writing last night. "Or maybe don't do stupid stuff. I dunno, it all usually all ties back to each other though, like don't run off to help people by yourself, tell an adult, and when you talk to people you can't be grumpy, you've gotta use tone."
"You sassed Sensei again, didn't you?"
Toru snickers as I roll my eyes.
It wasn't like it was anything new…
"That's—That's not the point," I huff, leaning back to rest against her bright pink bed. "Why not just tell him how you feel? If you don't say anything, he won't really know."
Toru quiets, and I wait, curious.
"I… I don't wanna mess things up," Toru admits, sitting up and crossing her legs. "I don't… What I mean is, I really like him—you know, like really like. He's so sweet and kind and he does all these things, but—but what if things don't work out? I don't wanna lose his friendship! I don't want things to be awkward!"
I frown.
Brows furrowing.
"Awkward?" I ask, not really understanding her at all. "Our classmates are already awkward… Kaminari-kun came down with underwear on his head last week…"
Toru snorts.
"Yeah, but that's Kaminari!" she says, sleeve waving dismissively. "Ojiro-kun isn't like that at all! And I don't want our relationship to change just—just because I developed feelings."
I nod slowly, sort of understanding.
"Kind of like how I don't want Eri to come, because I like Aizawa-sensei and my relationship as it is?" I ask.
She makes a strange, aborted sound.
"Uh, no. Sensei adores you, if you couldn't kill that at the summer camp, nothing can. Rin-chan, you cursed at him—to his face!"
I blush and scratch the back of my head.
"Yeah, but Ojiro-kun likes you too," I grumble. "He pairs up with you all the time, and he listens to you talk about fashion, even though you can tell he doesn't really know anything about it-"
"Kinda like you," Toru interrupts slyly.
I laugh.
"They're clothes," I roll my eyes. "But I still think you should tell him. Uncle Zashi says it's hard to say things, because it makes you feel vulnerable. But if you both share something, it makes it easier."
"Oh?" Toru asks. "Does that mean you're gonna share something now too?"
"Do you want me to?" I ask, tilting my head.
At her sudden quiet, I realize she does.
I blink, caught a little off-guard by the reaction.
"Oh… I mean, I can," I offer, not really sure where to start. "Um… I don't… I don't know what, though… uh…"
"Who do you like?" Toru supplies helpfully.
I blink again, thrown.
"Uh… you?" I offer, confused. Did she not know that? "You're one of my best friends-"
"No—Rin-chan! I meant like like. You know? Like a crush? I know you—you idiot! I know we're friends! You better like me!" I flush at her exasperation, especially when she throws up her arms in disgust. "No, is there someone you like? Shinsou maybe? You do have this weird thing with Bakugou… Or maybe Mirio-sempai? I dunno though, you were sleeping on Todoroki-kun the other day though…"
I give her a strangely horrified look.
"Todoroki!?" I repeat. "He's… No! And Bakugou? Toru!"
"I notice Shinsou didn't make it to that list… and neither did Mirio," Toru laughs. "Don't tell me your crushing on both! Don't you ever daydream about kissing one of them? What do you think it'd be like? Do you think they'd be a good boyfriend?"
I run a hand through my hair, face hot with embarrassment.
"I—I don't—I don't wanna kiss anybody."
Toru makes a little noise.
"Nobody?"
I quickly shake my head, the ends of my hair smacking painfully against my face.
"No! I… No!" I squeak, fingers rising together to pull at each other. "I… I don't know why everyone assumes Hitoshi and I are—are dating, but we're not! He's… He's my best friend—my other best friend."
"Yeah, but you two are so close," Toru says, leaning forward to grab the bottle of nail polish. "Of course everyone thinks that. You're always hugging him, and you get all bright and glow-y when he's over, and you've never seen your sparring practice, but the two of you wrestle with no inhibitions. You jumped on his back and body slammed him into the dirt!"
I snort.
"He deserved that," I tell her, fondly remembering his disbelief. "He called me princess, and I told him that name was stupid."
"Doesn't like half of 1B call you that?"
"That's not the point," I huff. "I'd body slam Monoma if Vlad-sensei would give us permission to spar!"
Toru laughs.
"Sometimes I think Shinsou-kun's more like your brother than a boyfriend anyways," Toru admits. "Oh, hey, do you want some nail polish?"
"No thanks."
"Ah… Oh, hey! I just remembered, Mama's doing another one of those virtual fashion shows this weekend. Saturday morning, are you off?"
"I think so, you wanna watch it?"
"Yes!"
"Alright."