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༉˚*ೃ ᵒ³. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐄𝐒!
𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈 𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 goingto scream. Or jump around. Or cry. One of those three. Her father had come into her room at 6:20AM, a whole two hours before her first U.A. class was going to take place, to find the girl miraculously already awake and getting herself ready for the day. Violently brushing her thin hair into their long pigtails, two on either side of her head—if she was going to stand out as a Pro Hero, she may as well start crafting her look now, and she'd been wearing her hair like that since elementary—, Tsubame had never been so alert so early. After the catastrophe at the Entrance Exam, she'd sworn that she wouldn't be late on the first day. Her fifty or so alarms had begun all the way at 4:30AM.
"Oh, Tsubamemochi," said her dad in surprise, blinking even deeper when she placed her hairbrush down and began to work on her makeup, in the small bedroom mirror. Makeup wasn't always something Tsubame bothered with—but this was her first day at a new high school, a hero school, and fuck if Tsubame wasn't going to look her very best. "You're awake." She herself was surprised too, as she slapped on some shaky liquid eyeliner and tried to brighten up her cheeks.
"Yeah," exchanged the girl in return, looking over her pristine face in the mirror, that was not yet marked in scars. "Thanks for checking, though." It came out in a huff of a laugh. At least he wouldn't let her sleep in, this time.
He tapped at the doorframe, clearly not wanting to impede on her rush of getting ready, as the fifteen-year-old fretted over what shade of lip-gloss to use. "I'll wait downstairs to see you off."
Her crisp U.A. uniform, consisting of a white button-up shirt, a red tie, a grey blazer, and a navy skirt, had arrived clean and ironed a few days earlier and was hanging in its plastic protection sleeve on the handle of her wardrobe. The longer she stared at it, the more she was hesitant to even take it out of the plastic. It looked expensive, and she couldn't bear to think the amount of money that her father and Miki must have rustled up just to afford it.
When I make it big as a Pro Hero, Tsubame promised herself, I'll pay them back.
When she did slip on the crisp uniform, she was delighted to find that it fit perfectly. It was made of comfortable fabric and cinched lightly around her waist. Tsubame glanced at herself in the mirror—her soft, young face, brunette hair pulled up in its many signature pigtails, and with a U.A. High uniform tucked over her. The girl still couldn't really believe it. But she was wearing the uniform. Now, anyone she walked past would know that Akatsuki Tsubame, or That-Girl-With-the-Weird-Hair, had gotten into Japan's most prestigious hero school on her own hard work alone. Pride bloomed up within her.
