𝙵𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝 | 𝙼𝙷𝙰 𝚇 𝙵𝚎𝚖! 𝙾𝚙! 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁

2. "I Solemnly Swear I Have No Powers!"

"Why did you fall out of the sky?"

'I just... did.'

"What is your name? Why did you not know what quirks were?"

'[Name]... did that cat man tell you I had absolutely no idea what a quirk was?'

"What's your quirk? How did you survive?"

'Again, I don't have a quirk! Shut the hell up and stop asking me that! I wished I didn't even survive that fall at all, this is stressing me out!'

You covered your ears. Too many voices. Social contact was something you failed to do, especially with so many people like this. Not a single ounce of genuine concern within them, either. They all just wanted something for their little blog to say. The Miracle Survivor, or whatever. In the end, everyone's just going to forget. You won't make a huge impact. It's not like you're special, either. You've only been taught to murder zombies your entire life.

"Now, now, can we please have everyone exit the room?" A kind, higher pitched male voice asked nervously. You looked up, trying to see who was speaking. "We have things to discuss with the latest show stopper today."

"Show stopper...?" You muttered quietly under your breath. That nickname seemed rather unpleasant for some reason.

To your relief, everyone left without an argument. They probably weren't supposed to even be in here anyways— they all just appeared and overwhelmed you with questions. You finally get a look at who the man was, and notice that there is someone else— definitely more bigger framed than him— standing right next to him with a menacing look. The larger male was tatted, all muscled up, and the other male was smaller, slimmer, and skinner. A kind look was displayed on the tinier male's face, his pure white hair nearly shining. The other man looked like he belonged to the mafia. It was quite scary. Both of them were intimidating, and they could easily beat you into a pulp. That is what you feared.

"Oh, I don't think anyone in this world has gotten your name yet," the man with the pure white hair smiled, he pushed up his glasses, reaching out his hand. "I'm Haruto Yokatashi, you are...?"

'Oh— is this the part where I say my name?' You stared for a moment, glancing at the terrifying male behind Haruto, who still has his hand extended. Should you give him your name?

... Nah.

"You're going to put me on a hit list, then I die," You responded bluntly. "You think I don't know how these cliché movies go? You moron."

The male— suddenly surprised and taken aback— chuckled at your conclusion. "No, that isn't the idea at all, my dear." He shook his head. "This guy, Oji, seems like he's a gangster, but in truth, he isn't. I simply bring him around with me to make sure I don't get, you know, attacked."

"Being attacked by random things is the norm for me, I'm sure if you had my childhood, you wouldn't need him." Now you're babbling about your past life. Overshare, hooray! "... Rough training to not die by the hands of zombies."

"We are still on about that story it seems," Haruto mumbled, putting a hand on his jaw as a way to signal he's thinking. Oji randomly shuffled in the uncomfortably small chair for him, which caused you to flinch thinking he was going to do something. "Say, whatever your name is, do you perhaps have a quirk?"

"No, for the last fucking time— I don't have a power!" You yelled, slamming the coffee table in front of you three.

"Her power is delusions," Oji chuckled, a vein appeared on your forehead.

'That bastard—!'

"Hey! Shut your mouth, your comments aren't needed." Haruto quickly shut him up to your liking. He hit him with his elbow, a small 'ouch' coming from the bigger male. "I'm sorry about him," he shook his head. "I regret making him my partner for these things sometimes, I really do."