Barriers Down: Todoroki x OC

Windflower

Chapter 3

an·tic·i·pa·tion

/anˌtisəˈpāSH(ə)n/

noun

the action of anticipating something; expectation or prediction.

Memories.

They are innate to the human experience, their importance unparalleled.

They give us something to hold onto, reminders of what used to be.

Some hide in the recesses of our minds, while others sit at the forefront, ready to be called upon.

I understand the function of memories. I know why they are important.

But sometimes I wish I could just forget.

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"Rose."

Through the throngs of memories and my deafening heartbeat, the sound of my name hits my eardrums. I shake my head lightly, trying to dispel some of the voices swirling around in my head.

I look around, trying to find the source of the word that garnered my attention before my eyes land on Mr. Aizawa. He's holding another softball in his hand before tossing it to me. My hands automatically move to catch it, grabbing the circular object in midair.

"Your turn. Just stay in the circle and use your quirk. Anything goes."

As I make my way toward the pitch, I make eye contact with Aizawa. His eyes reflect an intense desire, a need to see me perform. Halfway to the pitch, everything seems to click.

This is my admissions test. Fail this, and I'm done.

As I make the final steps up toward the circle, I begin to feel the eyes of my classmates, their gazes seemingly glued to me. Sweat builds up on my palms, making the softball slippery. My hands begin to shake, the usage of my quirk looming in front of me not helping calm my nerves.

I take one last look back before I enter the softball pitch, my eyes scanning the crowd, before landing on Bakugou. A smug smirk plays across his face as we lock eyes, practically daring me to beat him.

Anxiety holds the reins, the emotion guiding my actions. However, in a small act of defiance, a drop of confidence leaks through, its influence causing me to smirk back at Bakugou.

I don't need to go all out. I just need to beat this jackass.

A distraction.

Perfect.

I place my feet in the same spot that Bakugou did, my shoes not filling the footprints left on the ground. I take a deep breath, feeling the air fill up my lungs before exhaling, the calming action one that slows the beating of my heart and allows me to focus.

With my heartbeat now under control, I begin to release my energy. Microscopic particles flow from deep within me out through my skin, turning the air around me a soft yellow color. Once there are enough molecules in the air, I close my eyes, allowing myself to feel.

The atmosphere is now my plaything. Wind currents, water vapor, air pressure. I can feel it all, each tiny fragment of my energy feeding me sensory information. I've learned the language of the heavens, and they learned to communicate with me.

My quirk springs to life inside of me, ready to create. I flex my fingers, calling the wind down toward me, accelerating it as it makes its way toward the ground. The wind contorts and spins, forming a tornado-like shape on my hand. I take care not to let it go as fast as it wants, the wind not wanting to show any restraint.