"Don't let me go."
"Don't worry, I won't ever let you go. I promise."
Ikari's scar is the first thing that people notice. And it drives them away, since it is the symbol of her father, one of the most feared villains of all time... before he died.
...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
POV—Hebinoya Ikari
Flames
Don't let me go.
I've been exposed to a whole new world.
Now everything
seems more alive,
so much better with Shoto around.
Now I can't get enough of it.
Don't let me go.
Hours after I get back from our date, I still feel like I'm floating. Azani, as expected, explodes into a flurry of questions about our relationship, to which I give her short, vague answers. It's like I've been plunged into a completely new world, and I am craving to be familiar with it. I want to know what to do, what to study to excel in this world, but there are no books or resources for me to consult.
"Don't let this distract you from your hero work," Alessia reminds me, but I can tell she is happy for me too.
Don't let me go.
The next day is a patrol day. Alessia explained we are taking a break from training for Manipulae's attack because of our last mishap. When she told me this, I had scoffed and wrinkled my nose.
Instead, we've split into two groups— Endeavor and his interns are patrolling around the north side, and Alessia and I are inspecting the south side. I pull at my hero suit as we walk, the material unusually tight around my body. Car horns echo in the air as an unpleasant wind pulls my hair, my body tense. I don't want to miss Manipulae again, especially since we are patrolling near the bank he had last attacked.
I clench and unclench my fists, trying to pretend that my heart doesn't jump every time I hear something alarming. I had already flinched twice— once when a car horn sounded, and the next when Alessia had unexpectedly said something to me. Even the thought of Shoto can't calm me down.
That is why an ear-splitting crash ripples through the air I jump three feet into the air, my senses tingling with warning. I whip around to the source of the sound. My first scan of the area tells me that nothing is out of the ordinary— nothing has been destroyed, no screams of panic. For a moment I am convinced that nothing is wrong.
Like a radio in my head has been turned to full volume, shouts of panic and crashes of metal against metal pierces at my ears, painfully ripping at my eardrums. A fire billows in the distance, thick black smoke pouring into the air, and a large, hulking figure emerges from the smokescreen, barely a traffic light away.
