"Just don't make a mess," Rina muttered as she finally let herself rest, curling up in the chair, her body aching with exhaustion. She could still hear the soft rustle of Dabi shifting on the couch, his movements slow and deliberate.
"Mess?" he scof...
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Rina had always hated crowds. The noise, the chaos, the overwhelming mass of voices and sounds—it was a constant battle to keep herself grounded. The world had a way of being too loud when you didn't have the right kind of distance from it. Her headphones were her refuge, a barrier between her and the cacophony of thoughts, footsteps, conversations, and distant honks that plagued her every step. With them on, it was like the world had been muted, and she could keep her Echo Sense in check, focusing only on what mattered.
But as she moved through the bustling streets, her grip on her bag tightened when she felt a sudden yank at the side of her head. Her heart skipped a beat as her headphones were ripped away from her ears.
"Hey!" she spun around, her eyes flashing in a mix of surprise and anger, only to see a young man grinning over his shoulder as he dashed into the crowd.
Her breath caught in her throat. The sudden flood of noise that hit her was unbearable.
The roar of the city—the honking of cars, the distant murmur of conversations, the stomping of shoes, the clattering of bike pedals—crashed into her skull all at once. But it wasn't just the sound. It was the thoughts. Fragments of people's private moments, their worries, their idle chatter, their desires—every stray thought echoed in her mind with increasing intensity. It was as though the world had turned into a roaring river of noise and emotion, and she was drowning in it.
She tried to force her way through, but the pressure was suffocating. Her breath quickened, her head spinning. A woman nearby was thinking about her son's birthday party. A man at a stall was fantasizing about his date later that night. A group of teenagers were laughing about a prank they'd played earlier. It was too much. Too many voices.
"Stop..." she whispered, clutching her temples, but it didn't help. Her body tensed as her mind struggled to block out the intrusive sounds. She couldn't concentrate, couldn't focus on any one voice. The world felt too big, too noisy, and she was suddenly too small to handle it.
Her heart began to race as she stumbled through the crowd, trying to regain control. Calm down. Breathe. Focus. But the flood of overlapping sounds made it impossible. The things she wanted to hear were buried under layers of mundane conversations, too distant to catch. The world had come alive in a way that her mind wasn't prepared for, and it was like trying to juggle a thousand thoughts at once.
She turned a corner, the alley offering a bit of relief, but the buzz of nearby people still gnawed at her. She clutched her chest, her breathing shallow, the pressure of the noise growing unbearable.
Just focus. Just focus.
But it was getting worse. The mental overload was like an electrical storm, each voice an individual bolt of lightning.
Suddenly, there was a voice—clear and cold—cutting through the chaos. She recognized it instantly.
