No copyright infringement intended.

—

xiii.

road to somewhere

—

Two days had passed since Aizawa-sensei told us about our internships. On my way to drop off my application, I got to thinking about what I could learn from the experience. Yūei nurtured some of the most promising young Heroes in the making, but of the few hundred students at our school, a group of third years known as The Big Three became known as the best of the best.

Togata Mirio, Hadō Nejire, and Amajiki Tamaki boasted more prowess and potential than some Pros in the business, but that didn't make them perfect. The first time I met Amajiki-senpai, he stared at me for all of three seconds before turning on his heel, muttering something about potatoes on his way out. To my surprise, he returned less than a minute later with a girl tugging at his arm.

"Hi, I'm Hadō Nejire," she said. "I don't remember seeing you around, but you look kind of familiar. Are you a first year? How do you know Kan-sensei? Is this your homeroom?"

Her enthusiasm reminded me of a few people in my class. Unlike Ashido reveling in gossip or Ochako making small talk, Hadō-senpai seemed curious about much more than the minutiae. Amajiki-senpai had since ripped away from her grip and spun around to face the board, his chin tucked into the crevice between his collarbones, but it wasn't until Hadō-senpai noticed the space he left behind did the questions simmer down.

"Don't mind him," Hadō-senpai said, stifling her giggles with the back of her hand. "Amajiki's a total chicken when it comes to talking to people. His hair even sort of looks like one, doesn't it? Yours is so beautiful!"

I couldn't help my grimace when she reached forward and took a few strands of my hair in between her fingers. Amajiki-senpai, more accustomed to this sort of behavior from his classmate, shifted uncomfortably where he stood and sighed on my behalf.

"You can't just touch people, Hadō," Amajiki-senpai said, his tone betraying his exasperation. "I mean you can, but… ah, that's not right…"

"Oh, right, sorry! What's your name again?" Hadō-senpai paused, squinting at me. "Hey, I remember seeing you on the news! You're one of the kids in Class 1-A, aren't you?"

I felt a twinge in the pit of my stomach at the sudden attention. Kan-oji remained seated at his desk, making no move to interrupt the conversation, but I could tell he anticipated my response, and I wanted to make a good impression on my seniors. Forcing a smile that I looked slightly out of place, I bowed at the two older teens.

"My name is Higuchi Reiko," I said. "Nice to meet you, Hadō-senpai, Amajiki-senpai."

The instant his name came out of my mouth, Amajiki-senpai bailed. Hadō-senpai chased after him, but not before throwing me another smile, and that was the last time I saw or spoke to either of them. I became so preoccupied by the Sports Festival that I didn't take into account the significance of such an interaction.

Amajiki-senpai did his internship under Fatgum, after all, and the prospect of training with him made me consider picking that agency for my own. His Quirk adopted the characteristics of things he ingested, and though it didn't sound that impressive on paper, Kan-oji said that Amajiki-senpai mastered it to the point where he surpassed even Pro Heroes on the field.

Like Amajiki-senpai, I needed to understand the properties of my Quirk, but I didn't want to pose any distractions. Between internships, graduation, and applying for jobs as either soon-to-be sidekicks or full-fledged Pros, the third years had plenty on their plates, and I wouldn't benefit from the training enough to justify stacking my burdens on top of theirs.

In two and a half years, I would fill in their shoes. The thought of that sent shivers down my spine, but thinking about my future after academia seemed impossible. Class 1-A experienced more in half a year than most people did in half a lifetime. I had too much to worry about right now, and part of me wondered if I depended too much on that stress to confront any of my actual issues.

I refused to get left behind, especially after what happened between me and my mother. It came to a point where I fluctuated between feeling too much or nothing at all, and distractions like this internship seemed like the only thing that could ground me whenever my head hit the clouds. I just had to last seven days without piling on any additional trauma, but all things considered, that was probably easier said than done.

"Why the hell are you just standing there?"

I glanced over my shoulder and found a pair of crimson eyes mirroring mine, but I didn't notice I blocked the entrance until the blond behind me rolled his eyes.

"Move," Bakugou added.

I stepped aside, eyeing the papers in his hand. "Sorry."

"What's got you spacing out like that?" Bakugou asked, trudging past me to walk inside. "You look like a dumbass."

It occurred to me then that I haven't had a proper conversation with Bakugou since my epic meltdown. When his foot kicked back against the door to keep it from slamming in my face, I wondered if he realized the same.

"Who did you pick for your internship?" I asked.

Bakugou frowned. "None of your business."

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

"What are you, five?"

"Don't tell me it's Best Jeanist," I said, trailing closely behind him. "I wouldn't wish that upon anyone."

No matter the circumstance, Bakugou wouldn't tiptoe around others, much less treat them like glass. I could trust him to act the same as he always did, and that brought me more comfort than I expected.

"Why does it sound like you actually know the guy?" Bakugou asked, dumping his papers on Aizawa-sensei's desk.

I shuffled the scattered sheets into a tidy stack and set my application on top of his. "I saw him around a lot growing up. He was friends with my parents. Not all that fun at parties, if I'm honest."

"Fucking rich people."

"Tell me about it."

"'m talkin' about you, Guppy."

Before I could reply, I caught Bakugou inching forward to peek at what I wrote on my application. His eyes narrowed in an attempt to read it from a distance, and I watched him, brows raised, until he noticed me staring.

"You said you didn't care," I pointed out.

Bakugou scowled. "I don't."

"I can see that."

"Spill it or shut up," Bakugou grumbled, turning his head away with a huff.

I smothered the laugh that threatened to slip from my throat with a poorly disguised cough. "I picked Edgeshot."

As soon as I said that, Bakugou whirled around and lunged for my application. I stumbled back a few spaces and opened my mouth to call him out, but the disbelief in his expression made me more curious than concerned.

"Change it," Bakugou said.

I raised a brow. "What?"

"'Maybe you should get your hearing checked,'" Bakugou sneered, slamming the piece of paper down onto the table. "I said change it! Pick someone else! Like hell am I getting stuck with you for a fucking week!"

It took a second for his words to register, but once they did, I shot forward to grab his application with equal speed. His handwriting was surprisingly neat, and that made it impossible to deny that the name scribbled at the top of the page was identical to the one scrawled on mine.

"Oh," I said. "Shit."

Ten minutes later, Aizawa-sensei arrived to see me and Bakugou still bickering and promptly shooed us away. On our way out, he muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like I don't get paid enough for this before essentially lecturing us to behave.

"You agreed to represent the school the moment you accepted his offer," Aizawa-sensei said. "Try not to give him any unwarranted stress."

The underlying warning laced his words like poison, flooding our systems and leaving us momentarily frozen on the spot. It didn't take a genius to understand what Aizawa-sensei meant to say.

Don't make me look bad.

Whatever qualms I had about working with Bakugou disappeared when I remembered that Aizawa-sensei took in Shinsō as an intern. As Eraserhead, Aizawa-sensei must have dealt with plenty of people who could hold their ground even without their Quirk, and Shinsō did not belong in that category.

Shinsō depended too much on his Quirk, to the extent that if his opponents figured out they just had to shut him up to incapacitate him, he wouldn't last a minute longer in a fight. I doubted Aizawa-sensei would take it easy on him, but all things considered, a few sore limbs was a small price to pay for a higher chance at survival.

The more I thought about it, the more I accepted the fact that Bakugou and I could work together in an equally cohesive way. I'd bet once he calmed down from the initial shock of sharing a sponsor, he'd settle the argument with an empty threat like just don't get in my way to hide the fact that it didn't bother him as much as he let on.

"Whatever," Bakugou said, throwing me a glare on his way to the exit. "Just don't get in my way, Guppy."

I almost laughed.

This might actually work out.

The station was crowded and unusually chilly as a cool breeze courtesy of a departing shuttle swept through the corridor. A cacophony of city sounds mingled with the ceaseless chatter amongst my classmates, each displaying varying degrees of excitement on their expressions while we waited to board the monorails taking us to our respective internships.

"Nervous?" Todoroki asked.

I dropped my hand, grazing over the lapels of his blazer. In my stupor, I didn't realize I had reached up to fix his inside-out shirt collar until he peered at me from a proximity much closer than I expected. I considered pretending I didn't hear the question or perhaps ignoring him altogether until I felt a little less like crawling into a hole, but somehow, I mustered a smile.

"A little," I said, fiddling with the handle on my suitcase. "Maybe I should start a betting pool on how long it takes Bakugou to try blowing me up."

Todoroki thought about it for a second. "Do you mean that literally or metaphorically?"

"Literally, knowing him."

"Two days."

"That's generous."

"That's tomorrow," Todoroki pointed out. "I doubt even you can piss him off into trying something today."

I've had plenty of experience training with Pro Heroes, but Kamihara Shinya didn't know me as well as Kan-oji or Aizawa-sensei did. Likewise, I could handle Bakugou at his worst, but Kamihara-sensei had seven days to accomplish what took me months to achieve. With his attention divided, I didn't want to put him in a position where he felt he had to prioritize one of us over the other.

"Even me?" I echoed, lifting a brow. "I can't tell if that's an insult or a compliment."

"It's a fact."

"That I piss people off?"

"That you can stand your ground."

My mouth quirked into a wry smile. "I don't think his ego needs the boost."

"I've seen worse," Todoroki said, shrugging. "Relative to my options, I'd rather spend the week with Bakugou."

It came as a surprise when Todoroki told me he picked Endeavor as his mentor, but I thought he made enough progress at the Sports Festival to warrant such a bold move. Despite coming to terms with it, though, Todoroki made it clear he wasn't ready to completely accept the man who made it unusable for him in the first place. The seven day internship seemed more like a trial run than a mutual agreement.

"That's oddly touching," I mused.

"It's not a big deal."

"I think it is."

"Are we still talking about Bakugou?"

"I'm just saying I think we've come a long way."

"I guess," Todoroki muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. "My old man is more excited about it than I am."

"It's not hard to be more excited than someone who isn't excited at all."

"At least I'm not dreading it."

"I'm happy for you," I said, a touch teasing, but mostly sincere. "To think we're only halfway through our first semester."

"Are you serious?"

Todoroki and I turned around to see Kaminari gaping at us. Sero and Ashido flanked him on either side, and a bit further away stood Kirishima with a very grumpy Bakugou. I didn't expect all twenty people in our class to end up best friends, but looking at them now, I wondered when the inner circles became so apparent.

"I feel like we've been stuck here for years," Kaminari groaned, tugging at his hair.

Sero clapped him on the shoulder. "Try passing a test every once in a while."

"Dude, I'm offended."

"That's kind of the point."

"I bombed the last quiz, too," Kirishima said, sighing sadly.

Kaminari frowned, squinting at him. "What score did you get?"

"Seventy—"

"That's a passing grade," Kaminari interrupted, turning his nose away. "I would appreciate it if you didn't try appropriating my brand of failure."

Sero raised a brow, shaking his head. "You probably shouldn't be proud of that."

"Do you not see me suffering before your very eyes?"

"Cut him some slack," Ashido said, slapping a hand down on the blond's other shoulder. "Tests shouldn't define your intelligence."

Kaminari inched away from her, rubbing at the spot she hit. "I appreciate the support, but can you guys please stop doing that?"

"Me next," Kirishima grinned.

"Not funny, dude!"

"You're only saying that because you got the same score on the last test," Sero said, nudging the pinkette. "Maybe you should try studying with Rei and Yaomomo?"

"Like you're one to talk," Ashido said, pointing a finger at him.

Kaminari vehemently bobbed his head. "You're not ranked much higher than us!"

"What happened to 'tests don't define your intelligence'?" Sero protested, holding his hands up in defense. "I haven't failed a single one!"

"Yet!" Kaminari and Asido added in unison.

"Don't jinx it!"

"Exams are by no means an accurate measure of intelligence," I said, a bit taken aback when all three heads turned to me at the same time. "Alas, we need to pass our classes to graduate."

Ashido looked impressed. "You use 'alas' in sentences?"

"As expected of someone in the top three," Kaminari whispered.

"I'm losing brain cells just listening to this shit," Bakugou muttered. "Fuckin' dumbasses."

Todoroki let out a breath, reluctantly nodding. "This conversation is unusually long."

"I said it first, icy hot!"

"And I agreed."

"Yeah, well, don't fucking do that!"

"How exactly do you plan to spend a week with him?" Sero asked, poking my shoulder.

Kaminari folded his arms behind his head. "At least Yokohama's only half an hour away by train."

"That's not bad," Kirishima said, brows pinched in thought. "Tokoyami's internship is a little over two hours from here."

Ashido cooed, wiggling her brows. "I bet Rei would rather spend the week with someone else."

"Yeah," I said, straight-faced. "How am I supposed to survive seven days without Ochako and Yaoyorozu?"

The brunette suddenly appeared in front of me, eyes sparkling as a smile spread across her face. From a short distance away, Deku gaped at the space where she once stood, and the implication that she .

"I'll miss you, too!" Ochako said, looping her arm through mine. "I wish we had a way to keep in touch!"

Bakugou rolled his eyes. "What do you think fucking phones are for, Chipmunk?"

"Stop calling me that!" Ochako snapped, her features twisting into a rather impressive glare.

"Don't tell me what to d—"

"I think that's a wonderful idea, Bakugou-san," Yaoyorozu interrupted. "Why don't we all exchange numbers?"

Bakugou and Ochako halted mid-shout and turned to see our vice president smiling at us, hands clasped in front of her. It amazed me even now how effortlessly she commanded attention, especially considering the many unique personalities in our class, but I suppose it didn't come as much of a surprise.

"I'm in!" Kaminari said, his arm shooting up above his head.

Kirishima excitedly dug through his pockets with his spare hand. "Same here!"

"That's not what I meant!" Bakugou snarled, jabbing his fist into what had unfortunately turned into the redhead's rock solid stomach. "Don't even think about it, Shitty Hair!"

I stared at the chaos that suddenly unfolded before me. Undeterred by the blond's attempts to escape, Kirishima punched his number into Bakugou's phone. Kaminari pumped a fist into the air as Yaoyorozu input her information into his contacts, and Sero, Ashido, and Ochako took turns taking photos of each other to use as their profile pictures.

Of the twenty people in our class, Ochako and Yaoyorozu had my number. The fact that I only had four other people in my contacts, three of them parents or parental figures, said enough about my experiences with a social life. I never called and always replied late to texts, but I looked forward to their messages and practiced better response times whenever I could.

Talking to more than one person at a time came easier in some aspects and harder in others. While I didn't have to worry about carrying the conversation, I had to flip between personas that catered to each individual. It happened often during those first few weeks of school, but looking back at recent months, I realized I hadn't felt the need to do that.

I might have found it strange that something so daunting during my childhood suddenly seemed like some semblance of normal now, but I knew the answer to that question. Not too long ago, I entrusted my life to these people. It made no sense to come out of that experience and still insist on holding them at arm's length.

"Here," Todoroki said.

I doubted he knew, much less cared, that he had such an expensive model, but somehow, I found that even more endearing. After exchanging information, I passed him back his phone, and he gave me mine, our hands brushing for a split-second. Before I could put much thought into why I noticed such a minuscule gesture, Todoroki let out an inquisitive sound.

"You included your nickname," Todoroki said, tilting his head. "Did you want me to start calling you that?"

"If you want."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"I won't start calling you that," Todoroki clarified. "It's only fair since I don't have any nicknames you can call me."

"Are you sure about that, icy hot?"

Todoroki soured. "I don't understand him."

"Don't worry," I said, stifling a smile. "I like your name. Besides, I should probably get used to calling you Shouto since it'll be your Hero name, too."

Todoroki blinked twice, then a third time. I opened my mouth to ask what happened, but it snapped shut when my voice echoed in my head.

I like your name.

Shouto.

"Not right now," I stiffly added. "I meant in the future when you're a Pro Hero, or you know, if, at some point, you decide you want people to call you that."

I shut my mouth, testing the sound of it in my mind, and the realization that I found his name as beautiful as him felt less like an epiphany and more like the acceptance of something I must have thought to myself all this time.

"Thank you."

I looked at him. "What?"

"It's the name my mom gave me," Todoroki said, lips twitching into a ghost of a smile. "I like it, too."

My breath hitched in my throat. Todoroki sometimes confided in me concerns about his father, but I knew little about his mother apart from that she had inadvertently caused his scar. Despite that, and despite whatever else happened between them, I could tell that he loved her a lot.

I wished I could have that with my mother. Not so much a perfect relationship than something to make me smile through the harder days. The thought of her ached like an old injury that never properly healed, but seeing Todoroki like this replaced those ill feelings with a warmth courtesy of his smile.

"Rei?"

Releasing a breath I didn't realize I held, I looked beside me to see a bashful Deku, phone in hand. It seemed more of our classmates noticed the ruckus and offered to exchange their information, as well. As I typed in my name and number, I caught myself contemplating, for the first time in my life, how many people could fit in a chatroom.

"You're headed to Tokyo, right, Deku?" I asked, handing him back his phone.

Deku nodded, fidgeting where he stood. "It's not that far from home, but I'm still kind of nervous."

"No need to worry," Ochako said, suddenly peering at him from over my shoulder. "You'll do great, Deku-kun!"

Kirishima breathed out a wistful sigh. "Man, Bakugou, you and Rei are so lucky that you don't have to do this alone."

"As if I want to spend any of that time with Guppy," Bakugou scoffed, turning away.

"What the hell, Bakugou?" Kaminari said, punching his shoulder and cowering when Bakugou growled. "You get an entire week at the beach with a cute girl and still have that totally unattractive expression on your face?"

"I think that's just his face," Sero said, smiling conspicuously.

"You shitty pieces of—"

"Kanagawa is a coastal prefecture," Yaoyorozu said. "It consists of not just one beach, but a plethora of them. I'm sure Higuchi-san will be very much in her element."

"I've been told the view of Mount Fuji from there is quite impressive," Shōji said, crossing a pair of his many arms.

Tokoyami looked at him, mildly amused. "Not afraid of heights?"

"Shōji-chan is already tall," Tsuyu said, blinking at the barely visible top of his head. "I don't think he'd be scared of some altitude."

Hagakure squealed, her voice reverberating somewhere to my left. "That's so close to Hakone! I've always wanted to go to an onsen!"

"We should ask Kamihara-sensei if we can stop by those hot springs," I absentmindedly mumbled under my breath.

Ashido perked up and leaned towards me. "Did I hear that correctly?"

"You want to go to the hot springs with Bakugou?" Kaminari screeched.

"For training, yes."

"How is that related to training at all?"

"Steam from the springs will expand the pores in his palms and subsequently increase the size and strength of his explosions during training," I said, bluntly. "I don't have to explain why I'd benefit from being surrounded by water, do I?"

Jirō let out a snort, and from my peripheral, I saw Yaoyorozu grappling to hide a smile. Kaminari laughed nervously, and though she initiated the teasing, Ashido snickered at his reddening cheeks.

"She got us there, buddy," Ashido said, gently patting him on the back.

The added layers of conversation made it evident when Bakugou sobered, staring intently at nothing in particular. I watched him for a while, curious about his silence until I realized he heard what I said about his Quirk. As I explored that thought, he suddenly met my gaze.

His eyes mirrored flames, not so much an angry blaze, but a stubborn ember refusing to snuff out. Knowing him, Bakugou probably started thinking about it the moment he decided on his mentor and had dozens of strategies in mind by now. I expected nothing less.

"Looks like I worried about nothing," Kirishima sighed contentedly. "If I had to trust anyone to look out for you, it's definitely Rei!"

Bakugou scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Glad I don't have to deal with you for a week, too."

"Kirishima-kun puts up with you the most," Ochako said, arms crossed.

"Did you say something, Pipsqueak?"

"Pipsqueak?!"

"What happened to 'chipmunk'?" I asked, genuinely curious.

Kirishima huh'd, brows furrowed. "Is it just me or do they both sound kind of adorable?"

"Come on, Rei, Kirishima-kun!" Ochako groaned, cradling her head in her hands. "Don't encourage him!"

"Everyone please gather around."

Two dozen heads immediately turned to a tired-looking Aizawa-sensei. Beside him stood Shinsō, seemingly just as bored. Neither of them had to go very far right now, but I wondered if Aizawa-sensei planned to spend all seven days of the internship in Musutafu. No matter the case, I doubted Shinsō would have a lot to worry about.

"The trains have arrived," Aizawa-sensei said. "I expect you all to treat your mentors with utmost respect. Don't pass up the chance to learn from them and the experience itself. I'll see the rest of you next week."

"Yes, sir!"

As soon as Aizawa-sensei dismissed us, a weight plowed into my back. I didn't have to look at the person to recognize them, but the chestnut strands tickling my cheeks instantly gave it away. Despite the slight discomfort, an inevitable result of our height difference, I curled an arm around her shoulders.

"See you soon, Ochako."

"Bye, Rei!"

Kaminari and Sero headed the same way, shouting goodbyes down the corridor, much to Aizawa-sensei's annoyance.

East of theat, Yaoyorozu waved to me and flashed a brilliant smile. I smiled back at her before she and Jirō departed in the direction opposite from my train.

A few feet away, I spotted Deku fixated on something nearby. Just as I opened my mouth to call out to him, I realized what made him look so distraught, and my body stiffened.

Iida spared Deku a smile, but left without a word. His expression magnified my guilt tenfold, and I became so caught up in the feeling that I barely registered the blur of green approach.

"Are you alright, Rei?"

His eyes carried a wisdom beyond his years. He deserved more than that. Both of them did. For now, I gave him a small smile, but a smile, nonetheless.

"Yeah," I said. "Don't be a stranger, Deku."

Deku all but beamed and nodded, picking up his suitcase from the floor. As I watched him run off, I felt a faint chill at my side and realized that Todoroki had yet to leave.

I could tell he knew. If I looked back at the past two minutes, I might have seen him staring at Iida, too. Between us and Deku, I had to remind myself that my concern didn't make me special.

"You can't save everyone," Todoroki said. "Not even the best Heroes have that power."

"Where does that put the rest of us, then?"

"Taking care of ourselves first."

"That's pretty insightful."

Todoroki shrugged, picking up his suitcase. "Maybe you're just easily impressed."

"Maybe," I said, defaulting to a humorless snort. "See you later, Todoroki."

When I finally looked at him, I met his gaze in an instant. I tried not to think about the fact that it was because he kept his eyes on me the entire time. As he headed towards the direction Iida had disappeared earlier, I turned to leave, but Todoroki paused and called out once more.

"By the way," he said. "I like your name, too."

I smiled at him in thanks, staring at the back of his head until it disappeared from my sight, but as soon as Todoroki boarded his train, I spun around and slapped a hand over my mouth. It took a minute for the pounding in my chest to ease into a dull throb.

Don't be ridiculous, Reiko.

To my surprise, Bakugou and Kirishima remained standing where I left them, but the redhead looked ready to leave when I got there. He grabbed his stuff and grinned, throwing us a thumbs-up with his free hand.

"I'm going that way," Kirishima said, jerking his head behind him. "Bye, guys! Let's call at least once! Take care of each other!"

Bakugou glowered at him. "I'm blocking you."

"I'll make sure he doesn't," I said, ignoring the glare now pinned on me. "I look forward to hearing from you soon, Kirishima."

When the redhead disappeared into the crowd, Bakugou and I stood in silence for a few seconds, as if taking a moment to prepare ourselves for the week to come. I felt obligated to thank him for waiting, but Kirishima probably had more of a say in that than the blond.

"Let's go, Guppy," he said.

The train to Yokohama seemed less crowded than I remembered it. Early morning commuters often filled the carts to maximum capacity, but late afternoons significantly slowed down tourist traffic.

I found a few empty seats scattered throughout the railcar and claimed one by a window. Bakugou plopped down next to me, haphazardly dumping his bag under our feet.

"Don't wake me up unless we're there or dying," Bakugou said, folding his arms across his chest.

I plugged in my earphones and eyed his position. "You're going to sleep like that?"

"Is that a problem?"

"The ride's only half an hour."

"You've fallen asleep in five minutes."

"Don't worry" I said, leaning my head against the glass. "I'll stay awake this time."

An announcement came from the speakers before Bakugou could reply. As I settled into my seat, eyes staring outside the window, I shuffled a playlist on my phone and allowed myself to feel excited about heading home.

"Please stand back from the platform edge until the train has come to a complete stop. Passengers, be aware of potential high speeds. We are now departing for the Kanagawa Prefecture."

Higuchi Ryōta used his Quirk for the first time at the age of four.

Time, that is, stilled for only a moment, fleeting in such a way that his parents dismissed it as a figment of their imagination. The odds of an ordinary boy born into their ordinary family possessing such an extraordinary talent dwindled to mere wishful thinking. It was only when he vanished before their very eyes did they realize that their hopes were not misplaced.

Ryōta recalled fewer and fewer details from his trips to the past, but he always remembered the one. He sat in the back of an out-of-service taxi, and the radio tuned in to a classical station playing a song he didn't know. Despite that, the keys manifested in his mind, flats and sharps that he failed to recognize even in the present day appearing almost familiar.

He had no time to dwell on that. Before the song ended, the cab driver screamed and hit the gas pedal straight into Shibuya Crossing. Ryōta returned ten seconds later, blinking rapidly and unsure of what he saw or where he went. His parents got little else out of him apart from his uttering that something bad happened.

Ryōta switched on the television and stared at the screen where a station broadcasted the local news. He sat there, waiting, repeating the same words, something bad's about to happen, and it'll happen soon. And then a breaking news announcement interrupted the current story.

"Reports came in earlier this morning about a major accident in Tokyo's Shibuya Crossing. Since then, the death toll has risen. First responders on the scene confirm at least twenty-seven people have died in the incident."

He didn't know what all those words meant at the time, but he knew, somehow, that the something bad he watched happen already did. At that moment, four years old and trembling, Higuchi Ryōta decided he hated his Quirk.

What was the point of knowing when bad things happened if he always arrived too late to fix them? Why did he have the power to turn time if after each attempt he returned to a present all bitter and broken?

Stealing seconds and pretty premonitions, a power deserving of a coward. Even as a toddler, an age far too young to experience the world in this way, Ryōta knew he didn't want that. More than anything, he wanted to be a Hero.

And he was, for a while.

"His vitals are dropping again," a voice said. "At this rate, he won't make it to the next hour."

Time, whether Ryōta liked to admit it, became a precious friend, and it would remain loyal to him for as long he respected it. He had the power to see everything, but faced no repercussions because he always observed, never meddled.

"Double the dosage."

"His body can't handle—"

"The child will fix it," came the clipped reply. "Double the dosage. I will not say it a third time."

And he never meddled precisely because he knew about the repercussions. Meddling meant toying with the very essence of reality in this realm, in all the realms, and that, for all its worth, meant becoming God.

To some, one created everything. To others, many ruled the world. It varies vastly from place to place, but in no language, culture, myth, or legend was he the entity they had in mind. Ryōta was mortal, as was the rest of the world.

Heroes were not gods.

His existence made apparent the differences between those who were born great and those who were born. The great lived forever, after all. Who better to live forever than the man who sifted through forever itself?

The song he heard in the back of that taxi suddenly tittered in his mind. His surroundings melted into a swirl of tints, inky like spilled watercolors, and once again, he found himself sitting in the cab.

He sat in the back of an out-of-service taxi, and the radio tuned in to a classical station playing a song he didn't know. Before the song ended, the cab driver screamed and hit the gas pedal straight into Shibuya Crossing.

Ryōta returned ten seconds later, blinking rapidly and unsure of what he had seen or where he had gone. He sat there, waiting, repeating the same words, something bad's about to happen, and it'll happen soon.

"Bring the girl."

That day again, and again, and—

"Reports came in earlier this morning about a major accident in Tokyo's Shibuya Crossing. Since then, the death toll has risen. First responders on the scene confirm at least twenty-seven people have died in the incident."

postscript

hello again! next chapter jumps straight into rei and bakugou's first few days of training and i hope ur looking forward to it ( ᵘ ᵕ ᵘ ⁎) five hundred plus alerts and favorites is honestly five hundred more than i ever expected. as always, i am so thankful for all of the support.

August 11, 2020

THIS CHAPTER IS ALSO NOT PROOFREAD BC IT'S 5AM FML I WILL MAKE EDITS WHEN I WAKE UP GOONIGHT THANK U also gonna be more active on tumblr (same username) so catch me just vibing there