Writing Exercise: Invertia
Lavender rays snuck through the blinds of the Ninth's room.
Izumi still had trouble processing that the events of the past semester were grounded in reality.
But the beating of her heart, the rising and falling of her chest as she slowly came into consciousness. It reminded her that she was alive, she was real.
The pink haired protege stiffly raised herself into a sitting position, her neck popped as she looked to her limited edition 'All Blight - Incinerator collab' calender that had been given to her by that overly cheery classmate, Shoto Himura.
It was the Sports Festival today. Well, fuck.
Izumi ripped of the bedsheets and trudged to to bathroom.
Her pink hair shot in every direction, one wiry eye peered behind the rats nest, glaring at itself like death.
Deku broke contact to grab a comb and try to fashion her hair into something salvageable.
Izumi hissed through her teeth as she realized her mental mistake. Nevertheless, she continued taming her hair.
Her mother was likely out of the house again. Not that Izumi minded, that was natural given her position as the head of a major lawfirm.
Izumi had been taught more than enough to survive on her own. Born in a time where Heroes were only just exploding onto the mainstream meant more risks of a break in.
Cooking, cleaning and self preservation were all skills Izumi had learned by age 9, such was the life of a middle class woman and her unexpected daughter.
Izumi snapped back to the present, finding that she had been on autopilot again and was now standing in the kitchen, fully dressed in a crimson "Woop Weep' band tee and black cargo pants.
Izumi grabbed the necessary items, looking out the window to see the familar crimson sky, perfectly clear. Izumi knew she had plenty of time, maintaining a perfect schedule and living in Musutafu helped with that.
As the pot began to boil and the soba lay in wait, Izumi found her thoughts returning to the subject of her "friends".
Izumi never really had friends, so she didn't know if Shoto, Uraraka or Ida counted.
Shoto was the latest addition. Completely the opposite of what one would expect from Incinerator's son. The number 2 was as unwavering and intense as the Black-Fire she weilded. Shoto was, well, Shoto. Talkative and energetic, a boy who could see a butterfly pass by and have a million questions.
Ida was more in-line with what Izumi had come to expect from a Legacy kid, although Ida's 'devil may care' attitude to most things was something Izumi could appreciate. The ginger haired delinquent seemed to take things in stride, though she supposes coming from a long line of Villains will do that to you.
Uraraka was the most mysterious for Izumi, the one code she couldn't crack.
Izumi was blunt, she spoke her mind and gave no quarter. Uraraka's tounge was barbed and honeyed. She had a way to get you hooked on whatever she was offering.
Thats how Izumi wound up agreeing to train her in hand to hand combat. Techniques she had spent years honing on bullies, earning her 10 suspensions by the time she was in 6th grade (all off record of course, lawyer mom)
The lid rumbles. Izumi listlessly places the soba strands in.
As she waits for breakfast, She looks at this little bobble head her mother had bought her as a gag gift a few years ago. A very familair face stares back at her.
"Toroshinori..." Izumi answers to the open air.
She still remembers that day on the roof. Izumi had clung to the 'Blight of villainy' himself, and she knew they'd tear her apart if they ever found out what she'd shouted at him.
"Why do the bad ones always become heroes!?"
Izumi had been tired, the world's worst manipulator had told her to kill herself. Her mother had been overworked and every day it seemed like another so-called "hero" forgot what side of the law they stood on.
She'd almost opened the door to the stairwell when he spoke.
He'd poofed in a cloud of smoke, the smell of ash filling the air. The man who restored order, was laid bare in front of her. A man who despite hardship after hardship, kept on going.
They hadn't realized the stairwell door had locked until that point, trapped up there until All Blight could recharge.
He gave her his story and Izumi gave hers. Two souls, hurt by the world and looking to reshape itm
He said that he "liked her moxie" and offered to keep on touch. Who was Izumi to refuse?
Izumi looked up at the oven clock, right on time. She turned off the heat, strained the soba and grabbed her seasoning.
By this point it was automatic. Izumi knew just the way she liked her Soba, what techniques and intracies. The craftsmanship of a homemade meal was simply enjoyable to her.
Izumi ate, enjoying the serine silence of the house. Absorbing it, because the Sports Festival was going to be louder than Tear Lord's charity guitar tours.
And just like that Izumi felt her mood sour again. She was going to have to deal with those idiots again. Most of her classmates were alright, but then there were those.
Kaminari was the textbook definition of a misogynist. Constantly trying to mask it through a false veneer of chivalry. Mineta, the paranoid, who was more than likely going to go on a killing spree sometime in the future.
And then of course, Bakugo. The leech of U.Gen, constantly riding on the coat-tails of everyone else. Thinking he's playing 4d chess with his "rumors" when it's little more that locker room gossip.
Izumi shrugs it off as she grabs her supplies. 'Eh, he'll probably have a breakdown the moment he washes out'.
U.Gen was no joke, failing here meant expulsion, effectively immediately. Only the top 50 would go on to the next semester and the only reason she knew that was thanks to Toshinori's messages, which she always appreciated.
The decision came into place following the Ice Hero: Endeavor's, forced retirement. No one knows exactly what happend, Shoto seems to buffer whenever she asks. But the bottom line was Endeavor shouldn't have gotten through at all.
Since then, U.Gen has had two major exams in the first year. Each at the end of the semester. The first, the SF, was meant to weed out incapable or/and unresouceful heroes. The schematics on the next one are vaug, but Izumi knew it had something to do with one's character.
-And would you look at that, she's already in the train. She really needs to stop getting lost in her own head, it's not beneficial.
The tram was packed, no suprise there. Mostly with people either going to work or going to have fun.
What else are they gonna go to? With her to the Sports Festival? That hasn't been open to the public since Izumi was a toddler.
Izumi snorted at the mental image of her in a TerraRiser onesie, complete with the black cape.
The speaker dinged, letting her know that her station was coming up. The concrete practically shifted beneath her feet as she leapt out the tram car.
It didn't take Izumi long to find the bus, Her English Teacher: Silencer mutely greeting her with a soft smile and a head nod, miming tapping a watch to tell her that it was time to haul ass.
It wasn't much different to one's that sent them to the DWJ, it was kind of nostalgic. Even if it relatively recent. Izumi took in a deep breath of filtered air as the bus began to move.
_______________________________________
Gloved fingers met the screen of a TouchPad.
Eerie bright blue eyes pwwred from behind Reddish-Brown locks. The Sports Festival was today...
A black haired girl twirled a clearly stolen pistol in her hand, her expression bored as sin.
A white haired vigilante postured with his back against the wall, waiting for his partner in business and crime to speak.
A dead man watches eagerly from behind the counter. His body as youthful as the day he "died".
The Brunette shifts upright, all eyes suddenly on him. He grins.
"Who's ready to make their mark?"
