i hate you. (Bakugou Katsuki x OC)

18 | Playing the Hero

The first day drags on in a surprisingly pleasant way. Native dedicated the first hour to 'getting my excitement out,' and in that time, Willfall lived up to its name. I hit the ceiling twice, tumbled off four different roofs, and only ate shit once (Native didn't realize it was possible to faceplant off a chimney from a perfectly still, sitting position, so he wasn't ready to catch me). But it did, in fact, get all of my nerves and curiosities out.

With that, the rest of the afternoon was spent on logistics. Native is surprisingly meticulous about those. He walked me through every single movement in exact detail, down to the correct way to breathe during patrols, and wouldn't let us move on until he was satisfied with how it looked.

By the end of the training day, I felt untouchable—like I could leap to the top of Mount Fuji, land on one foot, and jump back down without breaking a sweat.

After a dinner break (which I had to remind Native to take), it was time for my very first patrol. While inspecting my costume, I found a button on my left sleeve that disabled my glowing stripes—because, of course, it had a button to turn the lights off, but nothing to zip up the legs.

The slow pace of training didn't translate well into patrol. Logically, I know it's statistically improbable for there to be a villain attack every night, but I was hoping for something interesting to punctuate the day. Nothing harmful, of course! But I wouldn't have minded stopping an armed robbery.

Or at least catching a vandal.

Instead, we spent the entire night sweeping across the quiet rooftops of Hosu. Native's route starts in the heart of east Hosu where his agency is, drops down to the business district, and skirts west Hosu (where Manual's patrol begins, apparently) before looping back. The whole thing takes about an hour, so we did the mindless loop six times, completely silent.

By the time I shuffle back to the hotel, the sun is just starting to hint at its rise in the distance, and I'm dead on my feet. Mr. Daichi woke up shortly before I arrived and, like the absolute, fucking sweetheart he is, set out a plate of potatoes, danishes, and eggs from the hotel's dining hall. I damn near burst into tears at the sight. I'm going to make sure Father gives this man a vacation—or better yet, a raise—when this is all done.

Sufficiently fed, I barely managed to answer the thousands of questions Izuku texted me in the past twenty-four hours and read about his internship before passing out on top of my bed's blankets.

-

-

-

I can feel the fireworks crackling in the sky long before I see them. Red and blue lights flicker at the edge of the alley, casting strange, shifting shadows. For a fleeting, desperate moment, I think it might be the police, but the thought feels foreign, like it doesn't belong to me, so I let it drift away. Instead, I think about Father, who would be wondering where we are.

"It's too early," one of the three men hisses, his voice sharp but the words distorted, like a whisper caught in a breeze. I look at them, but their faces blur, as if I'm trying to remember something I never fully knew. My eyes drift to my mother. She doesn't belong with them—not in the dress Father made for her, not with hands that have never touched violence. But she slips between them like she's finding her way back home.

For a moment, I think her body glows faintly in the darkness, but that can't be right. Her quirk was memory erasing, not glowing. It's all so hazy, like trying to grasp smoke, and the more I reach for it, the more it slips away.

The men, my mother, become smaller as the alley stretches out, growing longer and narrower. I try to call out for her, but the words stick in my throat. She glances back at me, her face a fleeting, distorted version of concern. It doesn't matter. Her glow intensifies, flickering like a dying star. The men around her lose all shape, becoming blinding, swirling masses that merge with the light.