Don't let me go. (Todoroki x oc)

Class Representative

"Shut up and walk." — Ikari Hebinoya

Credit for art: 遊屋ゆと

*warning: slight language

POV – Todoroki Shoto

Class Representative

Don't let me go.

Hope, faith.

Some people see it as a blessing, as a fire of resistance.

I dread it when I feel hope.

It makes me believe in the best, the brightest.

But they never come true.

Don't let me go.

I cannot get Hebinoya or Ami out of my head. Why are they living in such conditions? How did they end up there? How did Hebinoya even get into UA under those circumstances?

She is there in the store the next day, but one of her eyes has been covered by an eye patch, and her other visible eye has dark circles under it.

"Are you all right? What happened to your eye?"

"It's nothing. It's just a simple eye infection, nothing too serious."

Her voice is small, tired. She draws out a sigh every time she completes a sentence, as if the very act of speaking tires her. Hebinoya's body is unmoving as she says this. I do not know if she is telling a lie, but she's strangely quiet. She hands me the tea she introduced to me and give me a small, forced smile as we walk out of the store. She's trying to signal to me that she's okay. Everything else besides her smile screams at me that she's not, so I try to convey the message by saying something subtle.

"You know, you don't need to smile around me if you don't want to." I start.

It does not take her long to respond.

"You don't smile either."

"I don't feel like smiling oftentimes, so I don't. A lot of people tell me to, but I don't see the reason why. If I am happy I will smile. If I don't feel like it, I won't."

Even her sharpness seems to be slow today. It takes her awhile to process my sentence, but when she finally digests all of it she gives me a genuine, real smile. It is small, but I appreciate it either way. Now that I've gotten that out of the way, I should inch towards the subject that's been on my mind ever since yesterday.

"So... who are you living with?"

She flinches, the subject clearly sensitive. I let her take time to answer.

"My uncle. His name is Ryo."

"The one who was yelling?"

I can see her eyes, conflicted, as she debates what to say. Finally, she chooses her words carefully.

"You heard that?"

"Yes. What was with the smashing?"

"He just... dropped something."

I don't fully believe it, but just by her tone of voice I choose not to pry more. Instead of focusing on her uncle, I take a different approach.

"You shouldn't be living in such conditions—"

"Are you pitying me?" It's almost scary how Hebinoya's tone can change from exhausted to terrifying in a split second. "If you are, don't ever do it again. I don't want or need pity." She spits out the last word as if it tastes strange in her mouth.