The Ocean: BNHA x OP!Reader

Raisin Bran and Boy Band Haircuts

Hours passed like that — me, sitting alone in the quiet and the dark.  Finally, after what felt like forever, I forced myself to my feet.  My stomach had been screaming at me for quite some time to fill it with some food and water.

My feet dragged tiredly over the floor and into the kitchen.  I reached up, pulling the box of cereal off the shelf along with a bowl.  I sighed when I opened the door of the fridge only to find it void of any milk.  The designated drawer for plastic cutlery also seemed to be empty of any spoons, though there was a massive excess of wooden chopsticks.  We should really start trying to expand our diet beyond just Chinese takeout.

I set the bowl of Raisin Bran — Aizawa refused to buy any other brand no matter how much I begged him — down on the counter before me, my plastic fork in hand, not even bothering to sit down.  I let out the softest of laughs as I stared at the feast before me.  Honestly, this was even more pitiful than the so-called 'meals' I'd eat back when I was broke and living on my own back in my old world.  At least back then I could just steal any cutlery I needed from the dining hall, my fridge filled to the brim with Tupperware containers of who knows what alongside endless amounts of those tiny milk cartons they stocked the fridges with so they didn't have to spend as much money, though I guess I couldn't exactly afford to be critical in that department, considering part of the reason they did so was because people like me kept on stealing them.

Just as I was bringing the first fork-full to my mouth, I finally caught sight of the piece of paper left out for me right in front of the second seat to the right — the seat I had claimed as my own only my second night here over a shared carton of crispy shredded beef.  Slowly, I set the fork back down and picked up the piece of paper, my eyes dancing over the Japanese writing that stained the once white page.

(Y/N),

I really am sorry for everything that happened.  Just tell me what I need to do to make it up to you.  If it's within my power, I promise I'll get it done.

The words entered my brain numbly, barely even registering what it actually said.  Instead, my mind went back to what had happened during the Hero Killer incident.

When I first arrived in this world, I'd made the decision to leave everything up to my memory. If I ever wrote anything down about the future and someone found it, my cover would have been blown, and one of the many terrible scenarios I'd been trying so hard to avoid would almost definitely come to pass. It wasn't until the Hero Killer incident that I had started to realize how problematic that strategy would be, though. The more time I spent here, the more little details began to slip from my brain one by one with no way for me to stop it.  The limits of my memory were becoming abundantly clear.

Slowly, I grabbed the pen off the counter, scrutinizing it thoughtfully.  I was still worried about somebody finding anything I'd write, but there were still at least some measures I could take to minimize the risks.

I grabbed my backpack, which had been thrown on the couch in anger sometime between when I'd stomped through the entrance and when I'd slammed the door to my room shut, and pulled one of the many still blank notebooks out from inside.  It's not like I hadn't already learned all the material once anyways, so I'd refrained from taking any notes thus far.  I opened the stiff cover, the crinkling of the fresh, untouched material bringing a slight smile to my face.  It'd been a while since I'd heard that sound.  It always reminded me of my very first semester, a wide-eyed, bushy-tailed freshman ready to take on the whole world and everything in it.  I shook my head of the memory and instead started writing.

English Notes:

I almost patted myself on the back for this idea.  While it wouldn't get me completely off the hook, especially if someone like Nezu decided to take a peak at what I was writing, it would at least throw off suspicion from most, if not all of the teachers, and even if they were suspicious, it would still take them some time to translate it, at which point I could just get rid of it.