Bloodwalker | Chapter 64: Chain-link Fence
Pre-chapter notes: Cherry has constructed this wonderful representation of MC with blue hair! I think it’s the first time we’ve had something like this! Thank you so much, Cherry!
Lava also decided to go wild with art and dropped their version of MC with dark purple hair, a hilarious comic featuring Inasa, the Silencer and the Undertaker posing together like true supervillains, and of course the man himself - Scarface! The villains are so gorgeously constructed and look wonderfully sinister. The curl of Scarface’s lip is perfect! Thank you for your dedication, Lava!
Camellias and Chrysanthemums are flowers often used at funerals and are not great choices as general-use flowers because of this reason.
Art: Samantha James on ArtStation! Somehow she is only a student but has absolutely fantastic command over her art skills. The one I have picked from her portfolio is a beautiful scene that overlooks a city behind a chain-link fence. I hope you will appreciate this piece as much as I do.
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In a pleasant turn of events, Boss does not request your presence at the compound upon the conclusion of internships. You weren’t on the news, and other than a quick text he sends to check that you haven’t exposed yourself, all appears to be truly well and good. His third-in-command doesn’t seem to have notified him of your slip-up, for he would have surely called for you, but then again, maybe the woman didn’t think it was significant.
Scarface’s dealings with Overhaul seem to have kept him busy. Though the visages of him and his henchmen will never leave your mind, as a result of your extended absence from the headquarters, you’ve almost forgotten the scent of carbolic acid that would sting your senses inside the Undertaker’s lab, and it takes you a little longer to conjure up the hissing voice of the Silencer. That bodes well for you, for now. But you’re sure you’ll have to deal with the consequences of whatever firestorm is brewing between the two men eventually.
For now, you relish in the scene of your roistering classmates as you open the door to the classroom.
The first thing you see is… a very tidy Bakugo, with Hanta and Kirishima howling like two hyenas on the side. So of course, the only logical action is to walk up to the blonde and tell him exactly what you think about his new look.
“Hah?!” Bakugo whips around from where he was previously hurling unsavoury curses at his two friends to level you with the leftovers of an incensed snarl. “What’s it to you?”
“Your hair is… flat. Smooth. Like Monoma-san’s hair.” Bakugo goes eerily silent, and so do the boys, though you do notice their faces turning increasingly red with silent laughter. “You are matching. I read on Poogle that sometimes best friends like to match with each other. Are you his best friend?”
There’s a crash and you look over to where Hanta is curled up on the floor, wheezing silently.
“Bakugo,” Kirishima has tears in his eyes, “best friends with Monoma?”
“Hey, someone get Monoma over here. I need a side-by-side comparison!”
At this scene, Midoriya feels an overwhelming sense of déjà vu and slinks away silently into the back corner of the classroom so as to avoid being a target. He doesn’t need danger sense to know what’s about to happen.
And you, completely oblivious to the chaos you’ve just caused, continue your rampage. “…I see. You do not like your new hair. In that case, I have a gift for you.” Probing the contents of your bag, you pull out something that reminds your green-haired classmate of something he would rather forget.
Another wig - made of leaves this time. It is regrettable that you didn’t have access to Shiozaki over the internships, so you had to go forage in the local park for materials the night before. It was a worthy distraction from the events you had endured.
Remarkably, the craftsmanship is even better than the last time you tried to make one. It’s a beautiful short wig that looks a bit like a bush, which just so happens to bear a resemblance to one of your classmates…
“I keep my promises.” You hold it out to him. “Here. You can look like Midoriya-san instead.”
Yep, Midoriya’s instincts are on point.
Kirishima’s grin seems to flare even brighter as he takes your work of art off your hands. “Don’t worry Chibana! I’ll do the manly thing and make sure Bakugo appreciates your hard work!”
“Stay the f*** away from me if you want to keep your head!”
“C’mon, don’t you want to try cosplaying at least once in your life?” snickers Hanta. “You’d make a very dashing Midoriya.”
Kirishima begins to chase Bakugo around the classroom, the latter whose footwork in avoiding the red-haired boy is so precise that it starts to mimic the movements required in Dance Dance Revolution. Midoriya himself has to tear his eyes from his classmate’s rapid pursuit and turn to the fellow classmates also seeking shelter from your chaotic touch (ironically, the very same individuals who fought off Stain with you).
“Does my hair really look like that?” He points at himself. “Like a bush, I mean?”
Iida and Todoroki nod solemnly.
At least they’re honest, Midoriya thinks sullenly. And when he looks back at the commotion, he realises that not even you’ve stuck around to witness the outcome of what will inevitably become a pile of bodies that Bakugo will use to wipe the floor. You’ve just done your damage and left them to deal with the consequences, instead heading over to where you’re being waved over by the girls discussing their internships.
You mutter a polite greeting, but if you’re honest, you’re about as focused as a litter of pups would be when seeing a butterfly for the first time, thinking about how you’ll answer the girls when they inevitably ask you what you did at your internship. What kind of expedient lie can you even conjure up to cover your tracks? It’s hard to concentrate on a solution when in the background, you hear Jirou vaguely say something about helping out with an evacuation during her internship, and Tsuyu mentioning something about smugglers. Ochako also looks strangely enlightened - a bear you would rather not poke.
At the very least, none of them seem to have had a turbulent experience, to which you feel an intense relief.
But your time to consider a response is cut short when Kaminari singles out the four of you who had gone to Hosu, and all at once, your classmates crowd around you with their questions and concerns. You want to hide under a desk. They’re simply worried - you know that - but to reassure and lie in the same breath is not a skill within your proficiency. Your breath comes out in short puffs that you try to hide when Todoroki sidles up to you with a reassuring look in his eye. It’s subtle, but you angle yourself away from him. You’re not ready to indulge in his fragile attempts to reconcile.
“I saw on the news that the Hero Killer was connected to the League of Villains,” Ojiro starts. “Imagining someone that scary coming to USJ freaks me out.”
Some of the girls eye you as you take in a sharp breath.
Stain was connected to the League of Villains? you think to yourself. My poor luck must be studied.
“You’re jumpy today,” Momo whispers from your right. “Are you okay?”
A nod doesn’t seem to satisfy her.
“He is scary, but did you see the video, Ojiro? You can see how he’s really single-minded, and, like, tenacious. Doesn’t it almost make you think he’s cool?”
If the blood inside your body could be visible now, you are sure that they would be sharpened into pinpricks. Cool? A man that almost made you bleed out was cool? A man that left Iida’s older brother permanently crippled was cool? Tenacious or not, you would never think the Hero Killer a justified man - not even by whatever villainous maxims he spoke of to substantiate his actions. After all, Iida’s vengeful gaze, the hurt in Midoriya’s expression and the taut lines of Todoroki’s were a product of the pain he caused.
But one day, these faces will be directed at you.
Will you be able to endure their expressions then? Is this what it means to be the enemy of heroes - to have your friends stare at you in hatred and disdain? By now, it is becoming impossible to deny the care you have for these people; despite how some may have wronged you - you know you would grieve.
Grief is a parasite that buries itself into parts of yourself that you thought tougher than concrete. It is a corrosive, settling thick as molasses in your gut. A fading scent. A starving dog, battering its paws against a chain-link fence. You study the barely concealed deathly pall in Iida’s face, and an uncontrollable empathy envelops you.
He still hurts. Even now, as he commands the class to sit down in preparation for Aizawa Sensei’s arrival. And later, when he opens his notebook to dutifully copy down whatever’s on the board, or when he takes the train home to his family apartment, or when he closes his eyes in bed to see nothing but black, he will still hurt.
It is worse knowing that one day you will be a part of that pain, aligning yourself with the same classifications that mar Stain’s name. You know that Boss will one day command you to take the lives of countless heroes, ending their worlds in a matter of a few seconds.
Dirty, conniving, heinous villain.
And to stand by Iida’s side as a hero in training when truthfully you are the very same as the one who had almost torn his family to pieces is a reality you are crushed by. You almost bled out because of Stain, but you’re still standing. Isn’t it ironic that you’ve taken a life by doing the very same?
Some may argue it is worse than grief. More insidious than sadness; more robust than anger. Guilt is a flood that scorches the blood that travels the veins in your body. Not even the tips of your fingers, which receive the least circulation, are safe. When it takes the reins of thought, word, and deed, all become perceived as injurious. And still, you so shamelessly want to make things right, as if any of your solutions would amount to any more than a band-aid on a bullet wound.
A gift might do, perhaps. You have learnt much about gifts, and for something so serious, the gift would need to be heartfelt. Yes, that will do nicely - you’ll send it to Iida’s brother, almost as if you are apologising for how he was hurt by someone of the same villainous background as you.
And to apologise for how you know you will hurt Iida much, much, more,
All Might has all of you assembled at field Gamma for basic hero training, and the thought of being observed by your classmates for the first time in a while has your stomach in knots. Having Iida, Midoriya and Todoroki watch you in close quarters for a few days was enough. Now, you’ll have to grit your teeth as you do it all again, and with Todoroki knowing what he knows about you, you’ll need to take extra precautions as to how you perform today.
But now is not the time to become lily-livered over something you have been doing since the beginning of the school year. After all, everybody else is bristling with varying forms of eagerness and temerity, and so you try not to look so uncomfortable so as to blend in.
Mineta grins sleazily next to you. “I can’t wait to see the girls all sweaty afterwards!”
Your skin crawls. Tsuyu eyes you, makes a cutting rejoinder to him about how he looks like he’s growing a bush of hernias on his head, and then takes your hand and leads you away.
“Chiyo-chan, don’t listen to him. He’s saying nonsense,” she croaks, taking a closer look at you. “You look unwell,” she chides gently. “You went through a lot during internships, huh?”
You shake your head, pulling your hand from her grasp. “I am fine. Nothing happened.”
“You are lying, kero. You tug on your bandages when you are nervous.”
You look down, and sure enough, you’re doing exactly that. She had noticed - caught it, catalogued it, kept it.
“If you’re feeling under the weather, you should tell All Might-sensei,” she continues, giving you a knowing look.
And draw more attention to yourself? No way in hell. You shake your head.
“So stubborn,” she sighs.
Thankfully, before she can question your condition further, the first group; Iida, Ojiro, Midoriya, Mina, and Hanta; step up to the plate. Their job? Be the first in their group to find and reach All Might. There are already vague murmurs rising to the surface amongst your peers debating who will take first place, but you already have an answer on your tongue.
Hanta. It has to be him. Looking at the tangle of pipes and concrete, there is no better quirk suited to an environment like this. You know this because the way he uses his quirk is not unlike how you use yours. Ribbons of tape, ribbons of blood - two sides of the same coin. Midoriya will probably injure himself, Mina and Ojiro are not as fast as the others, and Iida will have trouble scaling concrete walls for long distances. But Hanta will move like water, stable and consistent.
Yet, if he wins, people will look to you to do the same. You don’t need that sort of attention on you. If you weren’t regretting taking Tsuyu’s advice earlier, you sure are now.
In the seconds you’ve spent ruminating on this, the first five have already taken off. As expected, Hanta glides beautifully over iron conduits and lifeless buildings; the rest cannot match the agility and maneuverability he possesses. Well, that’s what you think, anyway, except-
Midoriya leaps past Hanta in a flash of viridian, exhilaration on his face.
Well, this is a welcome surprise. If Midoriya can beat Hanta, less people will expect you to perform as well as the latter is currently. If you’ve taken away anything from crossing paths with him during the internships, one thing you’ve learnt is that Midoriya in action is excellent at drawing attention to himself. Even now, as he leaps and bounds, he calls out to the eyes of your classmates, moving in a way that bears a striking resemblance to Bakugo. You know you aren’t the only one who’s realised it when you watch Ochako murmur under her breath in wonder.
Is it wrong for you to wish for Midoriya’s victory over Hanta just so that you might once again avoid scrunity? Because Hanta has always been kind and gentle with you. You think back to when he first called himself your friend and the warmth you felt in your chest. You think of how he has always advocated for you quietly, especially against choice individuals such as Mineta. But what can you do when your survival may very well depend on it?
Either way, by now you’ve learned that fate loves to twist your leg, because when you are snapped out of your reverie, you realise Hanta has won. Even crueller are the next few words that are directed at you.
“That was so manly! Think you can replicate that, Chiyo-chan?” Kirishima comments. “You and Sero have pretty similar quirks in some ways, y’know.”
“…no. I was mildly injured at internships,” you quickly lie.
Thankfully, your gregarious classmate drops the subject, and the rest of the group races pass by in a blur until it reaches your turn.
“Since young Chibana hasn’t had a turn and this class has an odd number, we need four people to volunteer for a second time. Think of it as extra training!” All Might yells with an orotund voice and sends a jovial thumbs up to the class.
“I could use the extra practice,” Tokoyami declares.
Shoji steps forwards silently with a nod.
“Another opportunity to sparkle!” Aoyama exclaims.
Then, there’s Todoroki. You watch as he walks towards the front. You watch as his eyes drift over to you before tearing themselves away. “I want to try a second time, All Might Sensei,” he says firmly, voice leaving no room for negotiation.
Why is this happening to you? Why can’t he just leave you alone? There’s no reason for him to participate a second time, and although you know he doesn’t fully understand it, doing so puts you both in danger. He must have some other motive - you just can’t gather as to what.
“Excellent! We have our group! Now go and take your positions!”
You head towards the outskirts of the field, feeling the weight of many gazes bearing down on your back as you leave. Seconds later after you’ve settled away from the others, All Might’s distress signal flickers to life and you launch off from your spot like a bullet leaving the barrel of a gun. Look lively and eager, you think to yourself as you call on your blood ribbons to pull you across the terrain, but not too eager. I should slow down a bit.
It’s easy for you to return to the flow of obscuring the full extent of your abilities, and thanks to your consistency in regulating your quirk at school, people have been slow to catch on that you’ve never really followed the heroes’ precept of Plus Ultra. Plus Ultra for you would mean giving yourself away, after all.
In the distance, you can see Todoroki gaining ground towards the centre of the field, with Tokoyami not far behind. Distantly, you feel a fainter pulse which you think might be Shoji, and another one that seems to be right next to you.
Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a glint of a silver costume, which you know belongs to a certain French classmate of yours. It’s almost as if he’s trying to be subtle. Truthfully, given his blindingly radiant, cataract-causing atrocity of a quirk, you think Aoyama is about as subtle as a circus of monkeys performing bagpipe solos while riding a herd of stampeding elephants, but nevertheless, you do your best to ignore him.
His movement is odd, you realise. He has cut into my path instead of taking the more direct route to All Might Sensei. Is he following me? What does he want?
The young boy answers that question very quickly. “I am fascinated by your quirk, dear Chibana!”
You use your ribbons to pull yourself a little further away from him, but he catches up. Frustratingly enough, you can’t use the full extent of your abilities here knowing that your class is watching you through the cameras, so you’ll have to endure his chatter.
“I would like to sparkle even brighter than I do now and I think training with you would be quite wonderful! What do you think?”
You can’t concentrate on regulating your quirk when he’s talking at you so persistently like this. Maybe the solution is to duck and weave in between the industrial buildings rather than finding a path above them. Aoyama can only push himself into a straight line, after all, and he probably wouldn’t risk beaming himself into any obstacles he couldn’t prepare himself for.
Or so you think. Turns out, Aoyama is actually quite good at controlling the duration of his beam and he joins you in the underbelly of the arena.
“I think we could be of great help to each other, my friend! Please consider my offer!”
More and more, you’re finding that he is as insistent at making noise as a colicky newborn. “Aoyama-san, I am sorry. I am preoccupied with the current task. Can we possibly talk after this is finished? Because I am finding it difficult to concentrate.”
You didn’t think it were possible, but the blonde beams even brighter. “It would be my pleasure, mon ami!”
You make it to All Might without much fanfare, just behind Tokoyami who’s in second. This training session has gone perfectly for you - you weren’t fast enough to draw attention nor slow enough to warrant concern - but it doesn’t feel right to be satisfied with your performance when Todoroki, who made it to the hero before any of you did, is staring at you like you’ve suddenly decided to go naked. You suppose the scrutiny of some is harder to shake than the scrutiny of others.
A quick getaway is in order. You’re about to leave when a sonorous voice rings out and stops you.
“Young Chibana! Don’t leave so soon. Come over here and let’s have a chat.”
That’s… All Might’s voice.
He wants to talk to you alone.
So much for a successful performance.
“Hello, All Might Sensei,” you whisper, trembling slightly. You must have made him angry in some way if he wants to speak like this. As much as he grins, one cannot deny the imposing figure he presents - broad-shouldered and with sinewy muscles, altogether casting a shadow probably large enough to shelter a few children. But when you move to stand right in front of him, he lowers his voice, as if he knows you are afraid.
“I heard what happened to you. Make sure you get some rest tonight, young one, and come back better.”
You aren’t surprised that he knew about Hosu - the heroes at UA probably had to be informed of the realities of the incident since students were directly involved. What does surprise you is how soothed you feel. The gentle pity in his voice should sting you, but instead the words wash over you in waves of relief. He isn’t angry. He doesn’t blame you for performing at a mediocre level. He doesn’t think you’re suspicious or that you should be pulled aside for questioning. You are safe from any more unpleasant surprises.
That is, until All Might shoos you away and Todoroki takes his chances at making contact.
“Chibana,” he calls out, “wait, where are you going?”
“Away from you,” you mutter, not bothering to glance back at him.
“I know you don’t want to talk to me.” If you turn around now, you might cave in and indulge him with a conversation if you see the expression on his face, so you don’t. “I know that, but… you shouldn’t push yourself so much during training so soon,” he grinds his teeth in worry, “especially not after…”
“You do not know what it looks like when I am pushing myself.” Todoroki’s eyes widen at your clipped reply. He looks like he wants to say something else, but for both your sakes, you need to keep your distance from him. So you set your jaw, and tell him, “I don’t want to talk to you right now… please.”
“Okay,” he mutters, “…I understand. I’ll give you space. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to ignore what happened. Even if you hate me for it.”
“You don’t care if I hate you?”
“I do… it’s just, at least you’d be here to hate me.”
The implications of his words crack like a gunshot and you hurry away from the field before any more of his words can lay their barbs into your skin.
The end of school finds you anxiously waiting outside Class 1C’s room for a familiar purple-haired student to waltz into your vicinity with his usual impassive expression and quiet confidence. You’re going to make an important request, and you’re nervous - for good reason. After all, the last time he helped you with this particular issue, he had essentially caught you in the act of defacing public garden beds.
Shinsou walks out with his bag slung lazily over his shoulder. You barely have to signal for his attention before his eyes gravitate towards you and he’s moving towards you in strides, ignoring the curious stares of his classmates as they leave the room. When he reaches you, he doesn’t say anything - just tilts his head quietly, waiting for you to elaborate.
“Shinsou-san. I… need your help. Can you please help me?”
He huffs, not unkindly. “Alright. What is it?”
You wring your hands together. “Well… I need your help.”
“Uh huh. You’ve said that three times now. C’mon, get to the point.”
“…I need to buy some flowers,” you explain. When he raises a lazy eyebrow at you, the rest of your words come tumbling out. “I saved up some money this time. I promise not to destroy any more garden beds.” You fumble with the hem of your shirt. “So will you… will you come with me?”
He’s silent for a few seconds, and you worry he’s going to say no. He can tell. He’s tempted to tease you for a bit longer, to pretend like he’s busy or disinterested just to watch that adorable pout form on your face. It’s not often he gets to see you like this, but he ruins it when his face automatically splits into his usual wide grin.
“Alright,” he agrees in his usual syrupy drawl. “I’m with you.”
The way your eyes light up with subtle joy is worth it, anyway. He reaches a hand down to muss with your hair and you shut your eyes expecting an impact. But it’s like Shinsou knows to be gentle, and you find yourself leaning into it.
“Why’d you flinch?” he asks.
“Thought you were going to hit me,” you murmur.
“Hit you?” he repeats, with a note of incredulity. “Why would I hit you?”
“I do not know.” You quicky divert the subject. “Let’s go and pick… I mean, buy some flowers.”
He sighs. “Alright, you weirdo.”
The train ride to the city centre is rather uneventful other than the rocking of the carriage and Shinsou’s attempts to probe into whom the flowers will be for.
“Right. What’s your family like, anyway?”
There’s a pause. “I have a father,” you say, with a voice so vacant it almost sounds to him like you’re trying to convince yourself.
The young boy senses that you don’t really want to talk about it and probes no further.
It is not too long before you arrive at the city centre and quickly find a florist, displaying hundreds of colourful flowers in all shapes and sizes. You’ve never seen so many varieties in one place, and what’s more, the smell is delectable. Right then and there, you decide you like flowers very much, and find yourself wondering if they can be eaten.
The nearest bouquet is a bunch of camellias, and you hold them up to Shinsou questioningly.
He shakes his head. “Uh, bad idea.”
“Those are usually used at funerals.”
“That must mean it is a good choice. It is popular.”
“…Chibana, if I received a bouquet of camellias, it would be like someone wishing death upon me.”
“Oh. Okay. I understand. No camellias.” You put them back. You pick up a bundle of roses. “What about this?”
Shinsou’s jaw sets noticeably tight. “Are you in love with someone?”
“Those are given for romantic reasons. Put those back.”
“Okay. What about those chrysanthemums?”
“Another funeral flower. Absolutely not.” Shinsou wipes a bead of sweat off his brow and thinks that playing a game of minesweeper blind would be less stressful than this. “How about I choose one for you?”
It is by some miracle that by the end of the ordeal, you’re holding a bouquet of non-offensive flowers, wrapped in waxed paper and secured with thick ribbons. You look enamoured with the colourful flowers, cradling them close just to take a sniff.
Then, bravely, you shuffle closer to him and tug on his sleeve to get his attention. “Thank you, Shinsou-san.”
He swallows. You look up at him like he’s just hung the stars in the sky. He wants to ask you, “what now?” but the words are caught in his throat.
Thankfully, you answer the question for him. “I need to go to the hospital now to deliver these flowers. And so… please come with me one more time. I don’t like the hospital.”
Hospital? **You had mentioned that it wasn’t for a family member or a friend. Why then, were you wanting to go to the hospital? Either way, you didn’t need to ask him for favours. Shinsou knew deep down he was going to follow you anyway. “If it’s for someone in hospital, don’t you want to write a note?” he asks.
“Yeah. Usually you write a nice message, like Get well soon or something.”
“Okay. How much is paper?”
The boy shakes his head. “Stay here.” He disappears into the nearest store, past the plexiglass doors that part upon his arrival, while you are left waiting outside like a dog awaiting its owner. You know he’s returned when you hear a pulse get louder and louder as it approaches you.
After picking up Iida’s cardiac signature, you’ve noticed it has become a lot easier to pick up that of others the more consistently you spend time with them. You haven’t fully grasped Shinsou’s signature yet - that needs a little more time - but the memory of how it makes you feel is ingrained into you. While Iida’s is steady and unfaltering, like resolute hoofbeats, Shinsou’s pulse reminds you of the way you’ve seen parents pat a baby to sleep. Perhaps that’s why things always feel so easy around him. No pressure, no expectations - just him ruffling your hair and calling you a weirdo. You know it is only a matter of time before your blood fully accepts his as a pulse you recognise.
“Here,” he presses two items into your hand. “Paper and a pen.”
You make quick work of them, scrawling in miniscule letters “Get well soon” as recommended by your friend. Before you can nestle it within the flowers, Shinsou picks it up and squints. Knowing you, it’s best to triple-check your handiwork before letting the public eye witness whatever monstrosity you’ve created. “You don’t want to write anything else?”
“Not even sign your name?”
“Why’s your handwriting so small?”
She sure knows what she wants, Shinsou thinks to himself, exasperated. I am giving up on this conversation.
It’s another quiet train ride to the hospital that passes by too quickly for someone like you who trembles at the smell of ammonia and the squeal of underoiled gurney wheels. But when the two of you stand outside the building, you notice that it is much quieter than Hosu’s hospital, probably because it is almost certainly a private institution - a place reserved for the wealthy. You don’t know why you’re surprised. You already knew that the recipient of your flowers would be a rich man.
Your aloof friend nods towards the reception desk in encouragement, and with him in tow behind you, you approach the receptionist.
“Excuse me. Is a person by the last name of Iida here?”
The man smiles. “Yes - are you a friend or a relative? Unfortunately no visitors are allowed except direct family.”
“Oh. Um, not really. And I was not going up to see him anyway. Is it okay if someone could please deliver this to him?”
“Certainly.” The man takes the bouquet from you and looks down to scribble down a note. “And if I could just get your name, then-”
You’ve disappeared. The receptionist looks around in bewilderment and rubs his eyes. How… bizarre. Not even the purple-haired boy that was with you is around.
And that purple-haired boy’s current predicament is your fault. You had grabbed Shinsou’s hand so abruptly and ran so fast that he barely had time to react. He’s leaning against the outside wall of the hospital now, breathing so raggedly you would think he had been chased by a villain. It’s unfair because you don’t even look like you’ve broken a sweat.
“Why,” he fights to catch his breath. “are you giving flowers to somebody who doesn’t know who you are?”
“Iida-san is sad because his brother is injured. But if his brother receives a gift and becomes happier, maybe Iida-san will also become happier.”
“…interesting logic. And Iida doesn’t know you’re doing this?”
“…correct. I also don’t think I am supposed to know which hospital Iida-san’s brother was being kept at. The only reason I know is because I overheard him talking about this place on the phone.” You look a little guilty. “Don’t tell him.”
Shinsou laughs. Not a chuckle, but a full-blown cackle that turns a few heads your way and scares a flock of birds nearby. A guffaw so unlike him that his pulse beats harder, more restless, in a way that your own blood feels drawn to. The rhythm of his blood - you know it now. Instinctively, just like Iida’s, you know it’s a rhythm that will stay with you for as long as you live.
“You’re the weirdest person I’ve ever met,” he chuckles finally, wiping away stray tears. “Please never change.”
You pout. “I am not weird.”
He just grins and pokes your cheek.
Together, you start walking back to the station, preparing to head your separate ways, but your blood won’t settle until you’ve said one more thing.
“Shinsou-san, thank you for helping me.”
Your friend raises an eyebrow.
“Because you are always doing something for me, I want to help you in return. So you should tell me if you- if you need help with things.”
“Well, there is something you can do in return…”
Your eyes light up. “What is it?”
Your throat tightens. Is it really okay to become this much closer with him? Would you not be risking his safety by allowing him further into your life?
But Shinsou smiles - a soft, genuine one, and you weaken.
“We’ve known each other for almost a term. I feel like we should be on a first-name basis by now.”
“Does that mean you have to call me Chiyo?”
“…only if you want me to.”
“…formal as always, Chiyo-chan.”
All Might: So I can see that your performance was sub-par today. I’m guessing that was probably because of your injuries from the internships?
Y/N: Actually, based on my empirical research, I have found the cause of my mediocrity. Aoyama-san opening his mouth is not conducive to my success.
Aoyama: Man, what did I do?
Nothing to say here today except my back and knees hurt…
Taglist: @kingexplosionmurda
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