𝘚𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘴 𝘍𝘭𝘺 || 𝘒. 𝘉𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘨𝘰

6. Take The Island

Chapter 6:

Keigo arrived home a little after seven.

His schedule had always been sporadic, and I never knew when to expect him, really. But that didn't stop me from watching the clock or checking my phone each hour that went by.

Some evenings he didn't come home because he would be stuck on patrols or tied up with mountains of paperwork depending on what was happening with the agency. Although he'd always checked in on nights like those—late texts and phone calls were the standard since day one.

I would be lying if I said I didn't appreciate the sentiment, even if I thought it was sometimes overkill.

Keigo's philosophy was that if I heard from him, I'd have no reason to worry while he was away. It helped to an extent, but I never could entirely silence the tiny voice that would whisper occasional 'what ifs."

Bouts of radio silence would always follow the latest emergency in the city. And my stomach would always drop watching the news, knowing that's precisely where Keigo would be heading.

But that was the life of a hero—going when and where you're needed at any given time, no matter the cost.

So as gracious as I was to see him come home, his arrival meant it was time for me to retreat to my bedroom for the night. It had been a long day, and the last thing I wanted to do was talk about it—which is exactly what Keigo would make me do if he sensed something was up.

"Hey kid, how was your day?" He asked, setting his goggles and headphones on the counter.

"It was fine." I had to play this right, or else I'd be cornered by one over-considerate, caring monster of a big brother. "School was routine like always—lots of hard training and prolonged, insufferable human interaction. The usual."

"Is that right?" Keigo's back was to me as he pulled a glass down from the top cabinet and fixed himself a glass of water, yet I could practically hear him roll his eyes at my statement.

"Yup."

This was good. He didn't suspect anything. At this rate, I'd get away unscathed from an emotional feelings talk, get into bed, and relax for the night.

Keigo turned to face me, sitting back against the counter. "Anyone you found particularly insufferable today?" By anyone else's standards Keigo might have seemed causal, bored even. But to me, his demeanor was as carefree as a shark circling blood in the water.

Not good. Not good at all.

"No," I shook my head. "Just me being my glorious antisocial self."

Wrong move.

"See, a few weeks ago, I would've believed you saying that," Keigo mused, setting his now empty cup down and crossing his arms over his chest. "But considering you've talked non-stop about all the friends you've made at school, I don't think you can consider yourself antisocial anymore, kid."

My mouth gaped before I had enough sense to close it. I stood from the kitchen bar, closing my textbooks and putting them away—pointedly avoiding Keigo and his searching eyes.

I hadn't talked about the people at UA that much had I?

Maybe I had.

But friend(s) plural was pushing it. I had two people I would consider closer than average acquaintances. Midoriya and Shinso—and that's the minimum parameter of plurality: two or more. Except there is no more. The others in UA were great, but I was nowhere near divulging deep dark secrets or braiding hair at slumber parties with any of them.