RESURGENCE - MHA x FReader

Chapter XVIII: Keep Moving

"See you tomorrow, Y/N!"

Izuku's voice rings out from a few paces ahead. He's already half-swallowed by the crowd of students spilling onto the street, his backpack bouncing, smile bright enough to light up the whole block.

You lift your hand automatically, forcing a cheerful wave. "Yeah! Don't forget the homework!"

He shoots you a frantic thumbs-up, as if that reminder alone just saved his life. The corner of your mouth twitches—almost a laugh—until it catches, heavy, in your throat.

Because the second he disappears into the crowd, so does the smile.

Your feet slow without asking permission. That knot in your chest—the one that settled there last night—hasn't unraveled. Not even a little. If anything, it's pulled tighter. A coil of nerves you can't shake.

That feeling. That prickle at the back of your neck.

The memory of eyes. Watching.

You'd almost convinced yourself it was nothing. An overactive imagination. The trick of shadows and streetlights.

Until today.

Until you saw it again.

That coat.

That man.

Your pulse stutters. You weren't imagining it.

You know you weren't.

...

By the time you're halfway down the block, your brain isn't just thinking — it's running simulations like a machine overheating. Every footstep feels like a keystroke hitting "run program."

Option A: Pretend you didn't see him. Pretend the flicker at the edge of your vision was a car mirror catching sunlight, or some guy walking the same route home. Go inside, shut the door, microwave leftovers, scroll through videos until your brain softens and your mom calls from your uncle's to ask if you're eating. Comfort, routine, plausible deniability.

Option B: Follow him.

Your stomach knots so tightly you can almost map the tension to the vagus nerve you once read about in a random article — the one that's supposed to calm you down when you breathe slowly. It isn't calming you now. Your palms have gone clammy. 

Okay. Dumb idea. Stupid, reckless idea. The kind of decision that gets kids in horror movies killed in the first ten minutes — except those kids don't usually know their escape routes, and you do. You've already mapped three ways home from here. You know which streetlights are out, which alleys curve into dead ends, which convenience store stays open until midnight with a bored cashier behind bulletproof glass.

Still, you hesitate at the curb. Because behind all the rational planning, there's another piece of you — the impulsive part that normally wins arguments inside your head — whispering: This is your only chance. If someone is following you, if you're not just spiraling into paranoia, you either find out now or you'll keep living with the static hiss of "what if" in your skull.

Your fingers tighten on your phone. GPS on, brightness down. Battery at 37%. You flick open the maps app just to make sure location sharing is still on, like some makeshift talisman against worst-case scenarios.

Because if that man really is following you... you need to know why.

....