The Class That Cried Werewolf

44 - Bittersweet Innovation

Trigger Warning: This chapter contains graphic depictions of PTSD, dark thoughts, and potentially distressing themes such as suicidal ideation, which people may find distressing. Reader discretion is advised. Also, please take care of yourself and seek support if needed.

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-Tatsuya's POV-

The others left me alone for the rest of the night. Whether that was a good thing or not, I couldn't say. A part of me wanted the space, the silence to collect my thoughts, but another part—one I wasn't ready to confront—felt strangely isolated. It wasn't like I could blame them for keeping their distance.

If someone else reacted like that, I'd probably have done the same. Still, the absence of my friends' curious eyes and cautious words was a relief. Midnight had been the only one to approach me since, and she'd been kind enough to give me a heads-up on what had happened since I was gone.

With the training camp canceled after... that, we'd be finishing our preparation for the licensing exam back at U.A. The thought of it twisted something in my chest. Part of me wanted to dive headfirst into the training and push myself harder, if only to forget.

But another part—the anxious, trembling part—wondered if I was even ready for it. The idea of being around the others again, of facing them after the way I reacted... it gnawed at the back of my mind, feeding into the storm of uncertainty that had been brewing ever since I woke up in that hospital bed.

Unfortunately, the anxiety didn't leave me alone for long. It resurfaced after calming down from another nightmare, digging its claws deeper into my thoughts. I couldn't stay still, not with my heart pounding like this.

So, in the dim hours before dawn, I decided to take action. My body still felt wrong, sluggish even, but I needed to move—needed to remind myself I could. Maybe if I got a head start, some early exercise before training officially began would help. I was already behind... and I couldn't afford to fall any further.

After gnawing on some jerky, I changed into my sportswear. The morning air was crisp, carrying with it the promise of another day of grueling training, but for now, I just needed to move. The silence in the halls echoed around me as I made my way outside, my footsteps bouncing off the walls like faint reminders of the life that was starting to stir within the dorms.

As I stepped onto the field, the track stretched out before me like an old memory—the same place where we'd taken the Quirk assessment test. Back then, my body had responded on command, pushing itself to the limits with precision. But now, even the idea of a simple run felt daunting. Still, I wasn't about to back down. It was supposed to be relaxing—just a few laps to clear my head. As I set off, the rhythm of my feet hitting the pavement was steady at first, almost soothing.

But by the fourth lap, my lungs burned, and each breath felt like a struggle. Once agile and sure, my legs grew heavy and sluggish under the weight of my expectations. Panting, I slowed down, a bead of sweat rolling down my temple as frustration began to bubble up inside me. It shouldn't be this hard. I wasn't this weak before.

The track that once felt familiar now loomed, mocking my inability to keep up. It was more harrowing than I had expected. Each step forward was a reminder of how much ground I'd lost since... since the incident. My heart pounded not only from exertion but from the gnawing anxiety that threatened to overwhelm me.

But I couldn't let it break me. I slowed to a walk, trying to steady my breathing. This weakness, this fear—it wasn't permanent. It couldn't be. I may have had a moment of weakness yesterday, but that was temporary. I was stronger than that, wasn't I? I needed the others to know I was okay and that I could keep up, even if my body was rebelling against me. I had to show them that.