Dabis Kid (Edits Complete)

(9) The Day Everything Watched Me -Edited

The morning of the exams arrived without ceremony.

No dramatic sunrise. No sense of readiness.

Just light slipping through my curtains and the heavy realization that I couldn’t hide anymore.

I hadn’t left my room in four—maybe five—days. I stopped counting after the second night when sleep stopped working the way it should. I was lucky I had my own bathroom. If I hadn’t, someone would’ve dragged me out eventually, and I wasn’t ready for that kind of witnessing.
When I finally opened my door, the hallway felt unfamiliar. Like I’d been gone longer than I thought.

Father and Rumi were standing there.
They both froze when they saw me.
Not relief. Not anger. Just shock—like they’d convinced themselves I might not come out at all.

I lifted my hand in a small wave. Nothing dramatic. Nothing defensive.

Then I turned around and went back into my room.

I ate the breakfast I’d made earlier—cold eggs, dry toast—because eating felt like proof I still existed. When I finished, I packed my bag carefully. Gloves. Notebook. Identification.

I hesitated before slipping the bottle of scotch inside.

I didn’t want it. I just needed to know it was there.

Father didn’t come with me. He said he wanted to observe my “skill set,” which told me everything I needed to know about how this day would go for him.

He thought this was a performance.

I knew better.

By the time I reached the alley, my chest felt tight but steady—like something braced for impact.

“Mamagiri,” I said quietly. “Can you take me to the observation tower at U.A., please?”

The darkness answered with a low hum. Agreement. Familiarity.

The portal opened, and I stepped through without looking back.

U.A. always felt too clean. Too intentional. Like a place that expected greatness but never asked what it cost.

I folded my wings close and straightened my posture before anyone could comment. The observation tower already held people who mattered—people who knew more than they let on.

“Grandpa. Shoto. Uncle Aizawa. Hitoshi. Present Mic. Principal Nezu,” I said, bowing.

“Ash,” they replied, returning it.

It grounded me. Just a little.

Then I noticed the girl standing off to the side, her posture perfect but her expression unreadable. She stared at the spot where the portal had closed, then back at me.

“Hello,” she said after a beat. “I’m Momo Yaoyorozu.”

“Ash,” I replied. “Ash Todoroki.”

We shook hands. Hers was warm. Steady.

Then the atmosphere changed.

Father entered with All Might.

My jaw tightened before I could stop it.

“Father. All Might,” I said, my voice clipped despite myself.

I felt Father’s eyes on me immediately—evaluating, measuring, already disappointed by something he hadn’t named yet.

I leaned slightly toward Momo. “I’m not a Todoroki around them,” I said quietly. “Please remember that.”

She nodded without question.

Father’s glare sharpened.

“Why,” he asked, voice tight, “did I not know Endeavor would be present?”

“Because,” Nezu replied calmly, “you didn’t need to.”

Silence followed. Father didn’t argue—but the anger didn’t leave his face.

Then he turned to me.

“You said you didn’t want my recommendation,” he said. “So explain why you’re here.”

The words hit harder than I expected.

For a second, my throat closed. Everything I’d been holding back pressed up all at once, threatening to spill.

Aizawa stepped in before I could break.
“I recommended her,” he said evenly. “Stand down, Hawks.”

I met his eyes briefly—grateful, shaken.

Nezu folded his paws together. “Ash, I arranged for your trainer to observe today.”

I already knew.

“You may come in, Mr. Hiro.”

Dad stepped inside.

The room blurred for half a second.

I crossed it without thinking and hugged him, holding on longer than was appropriate, longer than was polite. I didn’t care.

“I was happy to hear you and Shoto were both recommended,” he said softly.

Shoto and I exchanged confused looks.

Before I could ask, Father spoke again.
“Ash. Come here. Now.”

I hesitated. Then stepped back to stand beside him.

The rest of the exam passed in fragments—movement, restraint, control. I spoke to Shoto, Hitoshi, and Dad through my mind when I could. Quiet reassurances. Shared tension.

I wished Himi and Papa were there. I wished a lot of things.

When it was over, I ran.

“Katsuki! Izuku!” I shouted. “Over here!”

They spotted me instantly.

“I’ll be taking the kids out to celebrate,” Dad said somewhere behind me.

Father didn’t respond.

In the car, Dad wiped the makeup from his face, scars visible again. Real.

“Mamagiri,” I said aloud, “can you bring Himi and Papa?”

The portal opened. Himi appeared beneath me, laughing softly as I landed in her lap. Papa joined Dad with a quiet thump.

For the first time all day, I breathed.

Introductions happened. Familiar voices. Safe teasing.

“You’re a menace,” Katsuki muttered.

“I try,” I said faintly.

As the car pulled away, exhaustion finally settled in. Not the kind that sleeps off. The kind you carry.

But I wasn’t alone with it.

And for now, that was enough.