The Realist(Shoto Todoroki x reader- Bakugo's twin sister)

Chapter 1

{rewritten}

I was in my room, headphones snug over my ears, listening to an American band to sharpen my English. The lyrics tumbled through my head like half-understood poetry- messy, emotional, and magnetic.

I'd been practicing the language for a while now, and the thought had been sitting with me lately, growing louder- maybe I could write songs of my own. But not in Japanese. Not in any language people around here would easily recognize. That way, no one would know it was me.

I already knew how to play a few instruments, could sing decently on a good day- and Būmubūmu had drums down like it was second nature.

I had even written a few songs. They weren't perfect, not even close, but they existed. They were mine. I just hadn't released them. Mostly because I didn't know what to call myself. What kind of name does someone give to a version of themself no one's supposed to recognize?

Besides, I doubted anyone would actually listen to them.

A sigh slipped out of me before I could catch it. I reached up and turned the volume on my headphones a little higher. Everlong by the Foo Fighters roared in my ears now, a bittersweet ache of sound and memory. I closed my eyes and let the world dissolve into guitar riffs and distant dreams.

My arms folded behind my head, and I crossed my legs as I lay on my bed, the ceiling blurring into the background as my imagination took over.

I dreamed a version of me with a name, a spotlight, and no fear.

I was singing Everlong, mouthing the words like they belonged to me, even though a guy sang it. It didn't matter. A good song was a good song. And for a little while, as the chorus swelled, I could almost hear a crowd singing back to me.

That's when I felt it- that creeping sensation crawling up the back of my neck, like someone was watching me. I sighed and slowly opened my eyes.

There he was. The ugly version of Mom- leaning smugly against my doorframe, glee twinkling in his eyes despite the deep frown etched into his lips.

I yanked off my headphones and met his stare with a glare of my own.

"What?" I asked, already annoyed.

He crossed his arms over his chest, expression unreadable for a moment- until it broke into a smirk.

"It's here."

I blinked at him, unimpressed. "What's here? You're gonna have to be more specific, dumbass."

His arms dropped to his sides, and little crackles of light popped from his palms like angry fireflies.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?!" he snapped, eyes wide with fury.

I didn't flinch. "I know you heard me, you don't have to act deaf to not get your ass beat," I said, rolling my eyes in pure amusement. Watching him lose his temper over nothing was honestly the highlight of my day.

I sat up straighter and narrowed my eyes at him. "Now I'm going to tell you again. What. Is. Here? What is so important that you had to come into my room and tell me?"

He ground his teeth together, jaw tight, and glared back like this was a challenge- like he was trying to win a staring contest we both knew neither of us would back down from.

But before he could open his mouth and let more nonsense spill out, Mom's voice rang out from downstairs, sharp and booming:

"KATSUKI, MAKOTO! GET YOUR ASSES DOWN HERE! YOUR LETTERS FROM UA CAME IN TODAY!"