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Think: Chapter Eighty-Two: Lockdown

My Hero Academia Fan Fiction by Agent ARK 88

Disclaimer: The following is a work of fan fiction using characters and settings from My Hero Academia/Boku no Hero Academia created by Kohei Horikoshi. I do not claim any ownership of characters present in this piece that are owned and created by Kohei Horikoshi. I do not own My Hero Academia/Boku no Hero Academia.

Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Warnings: This work contains blood and violence.

Please be aware this piece is in second person perspective, following my original character, Think, Anna Kokoro, who is a transfer student from America.

Chapter Eighty-Two: Lockdown

Light spilled into your room in the early morning, but it was quickly doused by the door that had creaked open, only to be slammed shut again. A tray of food was left on the ground. You weren’t hungry. You curled up into a tight ball on your bed, ignoring breakfast, feeling your wounds from the previous day ache.

You’d forgotten how cold it felt while in the company of your parents. You’d often be left for hours with only the comfort of your own room, but they’d stripped the life from it. There wasn’t a single ounce of what was left of your old space, other than what you carried in with your box from U.A.. Had they thrown it all away in their haste to relocate?

You sat up in bed, leaning your head back against the headboard and looking toward the ceiling. You shivered. Had it always been this bad? How did you endure your time with them day by day? Having lost what you’d been looking for all this time at U.A., you started to realize how your parents had been treating you wasn’t normal.

You sat up a little straighter, placing your hands on your knees. Your quirk, fully awake and buzzing, was beginning to fluctuate again. Whether that was from not using it, or the stress, you didn’t know. You breathed in a shaky breath. Maybe, you could reach your classmates from your new house, at least so you could properly say goodbye. It was a long shot, but it was worth a shot.

You closed your eyes, feeling strands of your mind glide around your head and lift your hair. Thoughts, thousands of thoughts filtered in and out of your stream of consciousness. If you could reach into someone’s memories, you could do this. You would just need to focus. The air around you grew lighter, less stifling. You squeezed your eyes shut even tighter. Exhaustion took you by the shoulders and held you down from floating out too far. Your brain was scraped by the strain, and pain vibrated into your temples. Sweat pooled on your forehead.

Like a rope reaching its end, you were snagged back from going any farther. Your quirk forced you back. Your eyes flew open, and objects that had started floating due to your quirk came crashing back down to your floor.

“Anna? Are you okay?” your mother called.

You had just enough time to cover your nose before she came in. You felt the warm sticky bloody press against your fingers.

“Nightmare,” you lied quickly. “Sorry to frighten you.” Why were you apologizing? This was all their fault.

“Oh, sweetie. Were you sleepwalking again? Good thing we locked the door. You would have gotten out and ruined something,” she said.

The door was locked? You hadn’t even tested it, knowing full-well that being grounded meant that you were not to leave the room. If you’d actually been sleepwalking, you would have found your way out regardless. A locked door was never known to hold in your quirk.

Her gaze moved down to the uneaten food, and she scowled. “You didn’t eat your breakfast? Why? Is my cooking not good enough for you anymore?”

“I wasn’t hungry,” you said.

Your mother shook her head in disappointment. “It’s gone cold. You’re such a wasteful child.”

Your mother slammed the door shut again. This time you heard the lock engage, and a wave of uneasiness filled your chest. You pulled your hand away from your face, but your bloody nose was about as bad as you had expected. After cleaning yourself up, you went back to bed, losing time.

The next time your mother opened the door, she was dragging you to the family bathroom by the forearm. She was wearing loose fitting plastic gloves. You were only half awake as she forced you to sit on the edge of the tub. There was a box of brown hair dye on the counter, and the contents had been strewn across the sink.

“What’s going on?” you asked.

“I’m dying your hair back to its original color. It’s inappropriate for your hair to stand out like that so abnormally. People would think that you’re not even our child.” Your mother reached toward you with a towel to put around your shoulders, and you shifted back, nearly falling into the tub.

“I don’t want to change the color of my hair. It’s natural,” you said.

“It certainly is not.” She scowled at you. “The blue in your hair only showed up after you started using that horrid quirk of yours. When you’re in a normal school, with normal students, you’ll thank me for fixing how you look.” She finally managed to hook the towel around your neck.

“No,” you said in a small voice.

Your mother paused with the container of dye in her hands. “What?”

“You’re wrong. It is normal. I am normal. There are other people with quirks like mine, mother. I shouldn’t need to hide my hair,” you said.

Your mother gasped. “Who do you think you are talking back to me like that? The one thing that old school did not teach you was how to respect your parents. Do I need to go get your father? Or, are you going to behave?”

That “school” that they kept badmouthing, taught you more about who you were in under a year than your parents had taught you in your whole life. They protected you, and it wasn’t their fault that villains targeted you. Your quirk shouldn’t have to be hidden, but you were trapped. If she got your father, the situation would escalate quickly. Instead, you shut your mouth, sitting still. Fighting her, would get you nowhere, and it would make your living situation far more miserable. You supposed there wasn’t anything wrong with keeping a low profile at a new school. Perhaps, your mother was right. It would be better this way. You’d be lucky if no one recognized you.

You clenched your fingers on the edge of the tub, unmoving. Your mother grinned, putting the dye to your hair. Hours later, you were completely brunette again. Your blue highlights were erased. Your mother sent you back to your room, locking the door.

You went back to bed, tired of fighting and exhausted. Hunger strangled your stomach. You curled up into yourself, covering your head with your blanket.

…

You woke up outside, shivering in the cold. You sighed, trying to focus your vision in the dark. You hadn’t made it far from the house, and you moved to go back inside. You suddenly hesitated. You were outside, free.

A blustering wind rushed through you, and your teeth chattered. Where would you go at this time of night? Your parents would just call the police and return you home if you just left. They’d find you, especially if you went to the heroes. But, if you didn’t go to the heroes… Kobura came to mind, and you shook your head of the thought.

You plodded back into the house. You stared at your ajar door with its broken lock. You were certain you’d be scolded for that in the morning, and you were. The next day, your parents had little to say and more to yell. You stood there and took it. Arguing would be pointless. Your father installed three bolted locks to your door. The knot in your stomach grew tighter.

To your surprise, the locks kept you in your room, or you just hadn’t been sleepwalking. The glorious respite was overpowered by the looming first day of your new school. Your mother continued to prattle on about it. She’d gotten your uniform pressed, your shoes polished, and ensured your hair was completely dyed brown. You had stared in your mirror for over an hour that morning, already missing your boots and your cloud charm. Of course, it was against school regulations to be comfortable. Instead, you had to wear brown heels with a bow. You grimaced at their impracticality. The rest of your uniform came with a pleated tan skirt, black knee-high socks, and a brown polo. Apparently, sweater vests were worn in the winter months.

Your parents had graciously unlocked your door for the day as they needed to be off to work, and you were to walk to school. How you were going to get there was beyond you, but your mother had insisted the directions she’d given you were easy. Luckily, the school brochure had a district map, so you didn’t solely rely on your mother’s poor instructions.

You left the house early in fear that you’d be late. Coming into the school this late in the year was already odd enough. You didn’t want extra unusual attention on you. Your mother’s instructions became utterly useless as soon as you realized you’d missed “a rock shaped like a frog” because you saw “the tree with a face” and had gone too far. Worse was that you were on the outskirts of where your tiny map was, so you were going to need to back track.

You stumbled upon Okamoto High School five minutes before the first bell, which only made things worse because you had to find the homeroom. The school itself was dreary. The school colors were all muted earth tones, browns, tans, and grays, so color only came from the greenery, which didn’t seem to get much attention. The school’s budget must have been low because, with close inspection, things had become slowly outdated. Signs were fading, some windows were cracked or broken, and there was even a door with a broken hinge that eerily flapped in the wind.

Stepping onto the school grounds was rather unwelcoming. Eyes followed your every move. Students that didn’t recognize you began to scrutinize the very way that you walked. No one bothered to say hello, despite the fact you were in a school uniform.

You clenched your fingers around your bag straps to keep them from shaking, picking up your pace and hoping by some miracle you’d find the room you needed to be in. That miracle came tumbling out a nearby doorway, right into you. Maybe, it was more like a bad omen. You tripped, knees scraping against pavement. The boy that collided with you laughed.

“Watch where you’re going, klutz. You’ll make me late for class,” he snapped, grinning as his buddies joined in with his laughter.

You got back up onto your feet, embarrassingly you followed where the boy had gone back into the school. Luckily or unluckily, the yammering squad ventured into the exact room you’d been looking for all morning. You followed them in, only for the boy who had collided with you to look you up and down in annoyance.

“You got a crush on me or something? Get lost,” the boy snapped, shoving you back.

You didn’t defend yourself, but you managed to hold your ground and not fall again. “This is m-my homeroom,” you said in a small voice.

The boy cupped his ear, getting into your face. “Speak up! No one can hear you!” he yelled mockingly.

You pressed your lips into a firm line. Bullies usually lost interest in you when you didn’t engage. Your cheeks reddened in embarrassment. You ducked your head and tried to enter the classroom again. The boy furrowed his eyebrows, scowling at you. He put his hand up, stopping you again.

“I’m not trying to cause trouble. I’m part of this class now,” you said a little louder.

“Oh, you’re the new student?” another boy asked, pushing his way through the group. He adjusted his glasses, slicking back loose strands of his light green hair. “I was supposed to lead you to class, but I assumed you weren’t coming when you didn’t get here early.” The boy reached out his hand. His golden eyes scanned you over. “My name is Hiraku Higa. I’m the class president as well as the top student in our class. Anna Kokoro, correct? It’s customary to shake hands when greeting in America, is it not?” His yellow eyes examined you like a textbook.

You nodded shyly, taking his hand in yours and giving it a curt shake. The bully clenched his teeth, sneering at you.

“The tough guy is Junpei Muto,” Higa said. “I’m certain he will be much nicer to you now that he knows that you’re in his class.”

Muto rolled his brown eyes at him. He pulled loose the band holding back his long brown hair to reset it again, before he glanced at you. “Just keep out of my way, runt,” Muto snapped. He sharply turned around and marched back toward his seat.

Higa helped you find your own desk, toward the back of the room to your chagrin. He didn’t hover by, however, leaving you to your own devices. You removed a couple of your textbooks from your bag and set them up on the desk. No one else greeted you. You were mainly met with distant curious stares.

The teacher showed up early, and the classroom settled down. Mr. Watanabe had you introduce yourself, but he asked that you be quick about it. You went to the front of the class, and it was deathly quiet. You hurriedly stated your full name, avoiding saying anything about your quirk, and instead sharing that your favorite animal was, sharks. The classroom collectively stated a monotone, “Welcome,” and that was the end of it. You walked back to your seat.

It was more difficult to pay attention than you expected. You realized in a short amount of time that you had already learned the material that was being covered. This most likely had to do with the accelerated learning at U.A.. In order to fit in hero training in the curriculum, regular classes were crammed into shorter increments of time.

Just because you were ahead of your classmates, didn’t mean you would fall asleep in the back of class. You were ready with an answer to the teacher’s every question, ensuring that your knowledge was locked in for upcoming quizzes and tests. You promptly raised your hand and answered when called upon. Shortly after answering the third question correctly, you felt the multitude of glares being directed at you. You attempted to raise your hand for another one, when you heard a scoff beside you.

“You’re not impressing anyone, nerd. You can stop trying so hard,” a male classmate beside you snapped quietly.

Your hand wavered in the air. A tightness settled in your chest as memories of being bullied began to infiltrate your mind. It wasn’t like you were shouting out the answer. If no one else had it, you politely raised your hand to give a response. Maybe, it wasn’t fair of you to answer since you were so far ahead. You slowly lowered your hand. Then again, you’d always answered any questions at U.A. if you had an answer, and a lot of the subjects came more easily to you. Still, you placed your hands onto your desk, deterred to raise it again in fear you might be ostracized further.

The remainder of the class moved at a snail’s pace. It wasn’t until the end that anything significant happened.

“Oh, I forgot to mention this. Despite her entrance so late into the school year, Kokoro’s grades have shot her up into our class ranks. She is now the new top student in the class,” Mr. Watanabe said in disinterest. He continued filling up his bag with supplies.

Most of the class seemed indifferent to this. They filtered out of the room in a rush to leave. You were the top student in class 1-A, so the announcement had not surprised you either. But, then a loud crack resounded in the small classroom. Your eyes trained on the noise. Higa had snapped a pencil clear in half simply by holding it too tightly.

“Mr. Watanabe, there must have been a miscalculation when the grades transferred over. I am the top student in our class,” Higa said, smiling tensely. His whole body was trembling.

“There weren’t any mistakes made, Higa. It was clear based on Kokoro’s test scores compared to yours that she is number one,” Mr. Watanabe said. He didn’t give Higa any time to say anything further as he left the room.

“That’s not possible,” Higa said through his teeth. He took hold of his light green hair, tugging at the strands. “I’ve worked far harder than anyone else to be ranked first.”

You stood up from your chair, hoisting your backpack further up onto your shoulder. Guilt tugged your shoulders down as you watched Higa’s increasingly distressed expression. You slowly approached him, trying to figure out what to say to make him feel a bit better about the situation.

“So, um, Higa—”

Higa snapped his attention back on you. His yellow eyes bloodshot and furious. “You cheated!” he shouted at you. “There’s no way a transfer student could get better grades than me! Go straight to administration and tell them of your deceitfulness!”

“I-I didn’t cheat,” you said, taking a step backward. “I’m not sure how the credits transfer over, but I score rather highly on most of my tests. I can’t choose my placement in the rankings.”

“Of course you cheated! There’s absolutely no way someone coming from a hero school’s hero course can be academically superior to the average Japanese student. It’s a well-known fact that brawn is superior to brains in order for you to actually get anywhere as a hero in those schools, and your face is so plain, you would need a spectacular physical quirk to even be considered for the course. Unless…” Higa narrowed his golden yellow eyes at you. “You have some kind of brainy quirk! That’s it! I’m going to have to tell the principal on you! Quirk use is absolutely prohibited during class hours and on any exams. You cheated on all of your tests, didn’t you?!”

“I did not cheat,” you said firmly. “Any teacher would notice me using my quirk during a test because my hair would stand up on end. Every grade I’ve ever gotten was given to me by my own merits. My quirk had nothing to do with it.”

“Liar!” he shouted.

You had backed up so far that your body finally hit the back wall. Higa had followed you with every step, jamming his finger into your face.

“Do you really think no one would have caught you?” he asked. “This is a complete injustice. I’ve worked too hard for some criminal to take my top spot away.”

“I didn’t cheat!” you said a bit louder. Panic rose into your chest. Your quirk vibrated in your veins. You felt strands of your hair rising. You were trapped, and if you retaliated in any way physically, you could be expelled. You were already on thin ice because this school was highly against quirk use. If your quirk exploded out now, you might be forced into an even worse one.

Suddenly, the desk beside you made a horrifying screeching sound as someone dragged it away. Higa took a step back, scowling toward the sudden intrusion. Junpei Muto’s brown-eyed gaze met yours.

“Forgot my pencil,” Muto growled out. He took you by the arm, pulling you behind him and putting himself between you and Higa. He proceeded to lean down to pick up an invisible pencil, but his eyebrows furrowed. “Thought I left it here,” he murmured. “Damn, it was my only one.” Muto shrugged. “My bad.” He turned back toward you. “You gonna stand in my way all day, klutz, or are you going to head to lunch?” With Muto’s hands in his pockets, he leaned toward you with a distant sneer. “Well?”

You unfroze, finally realizing you had an out from Higa’s wrath. You bolted for the door, taking your chances. There was absolutely no evidence you’ve ever cheated, and thanks to Muto’s interruption, you wouldn’t be blamed for a physical altercation. You were quick to leave the building, hoping to find a place to hide, in fear that Higa would confront you again.

You found a secluded shadowy place to eat your lunch. Your mother had packed you barely anything. She’d always had a problem with your weight, and the fact that you’d gained so much muscle probably made her even stricter on your diet. As you finished your last carrot stick, your stomach growled. You tucked your knees closer to your chest, wondering if the people you normally sat with at lunch had already sat down to eat. You smiled to yourself, thinking about how Shoto had probably finished his cold soba before Midoriya had a chance to touch his food. You hoped that Ochaco was doing okay. She usually had trouble eating when she was worried. She must have tried to reach out to you a million times, but you had no access to any of your social media accounts, and your phone was as good as gone. You wondered if they’d already moved on, figuring you’d never return.

Large tears dripped down your cheeks. You pressed your glasses up to wipe them away. This was miserable. You hated it here, and your hero dreams were as far out of reach as they had ever been.

Class started up again, but you were quiet. You didn’t want to draw any more attention to yourself. You kept your eyes on your open books, despair clouding your thoughts. This was it. You’d spend the remainder of your high school years here, then you’d get a normal job. You’d disappear into the crowd.

Class had ended without you realizing it had. You jolted back when a book was dropped onto your desk.

“Why the hell are you spacing out, klutz?” Muto asked. “You not going home or something?”

You looked at the things cluttering your desk, and you quickly started putting them away. Muto’s attention moved to the door, where Higa was glaring daggers at you with his golden eyes. You gulped. Your hand trembled over your books for a moment. To your surprise, Higa didn’t wait for you to get up, disappearing from outside the classroom before you’d even shoved everything into your bag.

Muto slowly turned his gaze back onto you. “What the hell did you do to piss off the class president?” he asked, narrowing his gaze at you.

“He doesn’t like that I’m first in the class,” you answered.

“Nerds,” Muto said, grinning. “At least my reason for pushing you around was because I thought you were some damn stalker.” Muto shoved his hands into his pockets. “Do you know that dork has a fan club? I’d watch your back if I were you. Not that anyone would mess with me.”

You stood up with your bag, raising an eyebrow at him. “Why are you helping me?”

Muto furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “I’m not.” He leaned forward, putting his face way too close to your own. “I legitimately lost my pencil earlier today. Thought it was under your stupid tiny feet. Also, I have questions for you. I don’t give a damn about helping anyone.”

“Questions for me?”

“How did a klutz like you end up in a hero course? I thought those were only for rich elites or for kids with exceptional quirks. I couldn’t imagine someone like you getting into U.A., and then transferring out like it were nothing.” Muto straightened, shaking his head. “It doesn’t add up.”

“Well, I’m not a rich elite, and not all the students at U.A. are like that either. There are some quirks that you wouldn’t expect to be for hero material, but they are.”

“But, your quirk is exceptional, isn’t it?” he asked. “I don’t see how else you would have been even considered for that school. What’s your quirk, klutz?”

You tightened your fingers over the bottom of your skirt. “It’s not like it matters what kind of quirk I have here. So, it doesn’t matter what it is, does it?” You weren’t sure you trusted Muto. He had been the same kind of bully you had in your other schools. He did say he thought you were a stalker, but you didn’t know how much truth there was to that.

Muto shrugged. “I was just curious about it. Seemed like a brainless transition to me, so I wanted to know why exactly you’re here. This school ain’t shit.”

“You go here,” you said.

“Not by my own choice. My damn parents think I won’t amount to nothing. But, once I’m out of this shithole, I’m going to be a cop. You’ll see.” Muto grinned. “My quirk is crap too, but it won’t matter when I got one of them fancy cars with the lights and a gun.” Muto mimicked pointing a pistol with his fingers. “I’ll look damn good in a badge, and it won’t matter what quirk I’ve got.”

“Your quirk can’t be that bad.”

Muto clicked his tongue. “It’s bad when a bodysuit can do the same thing that it does. My skin is just resistant to dumb shit. I can’t be cut or stabbed, but I still bruise underneath. I’m heat and cold resistant, but you can still freeze or boil my insides. It’s less like a power and more like a curse if you ask me. If I needed surgery, I’d be shit out of luck.” Muto glanced away. “You tell anyone else that my quirk is shit, and I’ll beat you up, got it?” he snapped.

“I-I won’t tell anyone,” you stuttered out, uncomfortably shifting your bag on your shoulder.

Muto’s shoulders relaxed. He rubbed the back of his neck. “See you around, klutz. Good luck surviving here.” He left the room.

You found your way out into the courtyard, exhausted from the strain of the day. You still had to walk all the way home on your own, and your legs felt weak as you made your way past a small group of trees. You rubbed your temples, your quirk grumbling in your skull beneath your fingers. Suddenly, you were struck on the side of the head. You fell, pain shooting up your body as you slammed into the ground.

You twisted your attention back at your attackers, surprised you didn’t recognize the student that had slapped you across the face. She gnawed on a pink piece of gum, blowing it out in your direction as she narrowed her eyes at you.

“Anna Kokoro, right?” she asked. “Know your place. No one dishonors The Great Class President Higa on The Higa Fan Club’s watch.” She flipped her braids back over her shoulder, settling in an offensive stance above you.

Irritation rippled over your skin. You pressed your hands into the brick walkway in an attempt to hold yourself back from fighting. Your quirk whined and buzzed in your head, your hair lifting in response to the assault.

“I didn’t dishonor anyone,” you said, gritting your teeth.

“Are you calling Class President Higa a liar?” another one of the girls snapped.

“I haven’t done anything to deserve this,” you argued.

The girls grinned, exchanging a look with each other. “Class President Higa did not deserve the atrocious way that you attempted to shame him. He is the greatest student Okamoto High School has to offer, and you’re a pitiful transfer student, from a hero school no less. We bet you think you’re better than us, don’t you? The bottom line is you were thrown out of U.A., so clearly, you’re a failure. You don’t get to come to our school thinking you’re somehow better than us.”

The lead girl of The Higa Fan Club kicked you in the gut. Tears formed in your eyes. She kicked you over, and you took in a breath between your teeth. You can’t fight back, you thought to yourself. A fight would have you thrown out of Okamoto. Your parents would surely find a way to homeschool you. You’d be trapped forever, never to see the sun again. They’d never believe you were attacked. To your parents, you were the troublemaker. All the bullies would need to tell them was that you were the cause of the fight, and you would be done for.

You covered your head in your hands, digging your fingernails into your scalp as the group of girls continued to pummel you without mercy. You weren’t sure when they stopped, but eventually you were no longer being hit. The group had left, their voices faded into nothing at their departure.

Tears had congregated on the lenses of your glasses. As you slowly lifted your head, you waited a moment to ensure you were truly alone. You lifted your bruised body from the ground, wiping your glass free from debris, so you could properly see. You readjusted your knee-high socks, covering the scrape on your knees. The day was slowly darkening as you made your way off of campus. You carefully retraced your steps home, picking small debris from your skinned palms.

When you entered your home, your parents had still not made it back from work. You cleaned yourself up as best as you could. You winced as you pulled your books out of your backpack and set them on your small desk. Despite what you’d gone through, you completed your homework, holding back tears as you answered question after question. At the completion of your schoolwork, you clambered into your bed, falling into another fitful sleep.

…

A week went by at Okamoto High School. You sleepwalked every night, but you somehow had gone undetected by your parents as you make your way back into your house. Higa hadn’t confronted you since your first day of school, but The Higa Fan Club was relentless in bullying you. Once they’d realized you wouldn’t fight back, they didn’t hesitate to push you around, throwing coarse words at you as they kicked or punched you. The bruises had become harder to hide. Makeup didn’t always conceal the worst of it. You feared a teacher or your parents would ask what had happened.

Muto confronted you on the final day of the week, just after your final class, curiously raising a brow as you flinched away from him. “You look pretty rough, klutz. Have you been tripping on everything on campus? Need an escort or something to make sure you don’t keep falling on your face?”

You responded to him with silence. He had been nice enough to warn you about Higa’s Fan Club, but you had a feeling that Muto wasn’t willing to go as far as protect you from them. He had his own friends, despite being a bit rough around the edges, and you quickly realized he was a rather popular student in the school. The girls watched him pass with longing looks, sighing gleefully whenever he would give them the slightest bit of attention.

Muto seemed to relish in his standing at the school. He carried himself strongly, and most of the other students feared or respected him. On the surface, he appeared like a brute or bully, but the longer you were around him, the more you realized this was a façade. Intelligence radiated off of his scrutinizing gaze. He was more aware than he let on. Putting his strength in the forefront, made sure that no one ever messed with him, and he preferred it that way. In that same vein, associating with you, would cause his standing to drop. This was why he would go out of his way to speak with you when no one was around. Or, at least, this was what you had thought.

Muto frowned, narrowing his eyes at you. “Did Higa do that to you?” Muto used his finger to turn your face into the light, exposing your bruised cheek to him.

“No,” you said in a small voice.

“His lackeys?” he asked.

You didn’t answer him, pulling away from his hand. Muto furrowed his brow, clicking his tongue.

“I told you to watch out for them,” he said, rolling his shoulders back.

You shrugged, dropping your head below your shoulders. “I always see them coming,” you managed.

Muto cracked a smile, nudging you with his shoulder. You winced as he brushed a bruise on your body.

“Thought you transferred here from a hero school? Can’t you just beat their asses and move on?” Muto asked. His chuckle was lighthearted, considering your previous response. “Or, is that like your quirk? You can see things really good?” He glanced at your glasses. “My guess is that’s not the case.”

“I can’t fight back,” you said.

Muto scowled. “Why not?” he asked.

You took a step away from him, making a move to leave the empty classroom. Muto didn’t stop you from exiting into the hallway. He fell into step with you, letting out an irritated grumble.

“Why not?” he repeated.

“I’ll get in trouble,” you said.

“They’re the ones kicking your ass. Why would you get in trouble?”

“It’s…” you trailed off. “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time,” Muto offered.

Several students gave you dirty looks as you passed with Muto at your side. Your chest tightened out of fear. If Higa had a fan club, then Muto definitely had one. His help might cause even more bullies to target you.

“I don’t,” you said flatly.

Muto stopped in his tracks; his pursuit having been dependent on your consent to have him around. Your exit from the school was dreary and ominous. You realized dismissing Muto so early had been a mistake, as you registered the cackle of your tormentors nearby. You spun on your heel, hoping you had time to get back inside. Just as your hand touched the door, someone grabbed you by your hair.

You shrieked, as you were yanked backward off of the step. Your backpack struck the pavement first, sprawling you across the ground vulnerably. You twisted your body out of the way of a kick, barely managing to get back onto your hands and knees, only to be kicked to the side once you’d gained your bearings. You gasped in a breath, clenching your fists. You scrambled to your feet, keeping your hands up to protect your face. You were shoved into the steps, forcing you back down. The group of girls crowded you, laughing.

“How about you just transfer again? No one wants you here, Kokoro. Don’t you know that?” the lead girl spat. She jammed her shoe into your gut. She pulled her leg back, going for another strike.

You threw your hands up in protection, but the kick never came. A series of gasps and shrieks filled the air. You peered up from your place on the stairs to meet the gaze of Doku Kobura. His green eyes widened wildly at seeing you. His fingers had tangled their way around the attacking girls’ braids, and he had pulled her head all the way back.

Having assessed the situation, Kobura yanked the girl’s hair violently. You cringed as the sound of her body hitting brick resounded in the space. With wild eyes, Kobura reeled back, slamming a fist into another girl’s face. The remainder of the group screeched. Some of the girls managed to lift up the leading bully, running. The girl who had been struck grabbed for her bleeding nose. She burst into tears, chasing after the group. Kobura snarled in their direction, but was quickly shaken from his rage, as he spotted you out of the corner of his eye.

Kobura helped you up from the ground, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into him. You pressed your face into his chest, feeling tears slip down your face. It took a moment, before your mind could adjust to what had just transpired. You slightly pulled away from him.

“W-why are you here?” you asked.

#anna kokoro

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