I grinned goofily, looking at the light-brown haired girl as she explained why her favorite song meant so much to her.
I wasn't expecting to laugh and smile so carelessly when I met her. My older sister told me that middle school was a big deal so I couldn't screw it up by being how I was in fourth and fifth grade.
Relaxing on the swing set and listening to Alina was already a sure method that I would be happy again.
Spending time with her throughout the school day and discussing random topics until boredom fell over us was what happened the first week.
Then, the rumors flooded in. The classmates that stemmed from the same elementary school as me told others that I was a weird, creepy girl who spent her time watching others and speaking oddly.
That was true to an extent. I spoke differently as a result of the abuse I endured when I was nine. It left me with a stutter and a speech issue that left my sentences rushed with words and phrases misplaced.
I didn't mean to watch others in a creepy way; I had just wanted to see what it was like to try and act normal as a method of recuperating. After studying my classmates, I'd go to the obscure corner of the library, plucking books to read as I practiced my mannerisms and speech to try and make friends when the opportunity presented itself.
This label worsened when anything went wrong in my classroom. If papers were cluttered or anything went missing, I became the scapegoat. I accepted the blame, hoping my peers would see me as someone worth talking to if I covered for them.
I was wrong.
Harsh words turned into physical attacks. I thought I could leave it behind when I started sixth grade; but I. Was. Wrong.
Alina stopped coming with me to the swings. She would ignore my offers to exercise in gym together and eventually, I was alone once again.
I thought things would be different. 6th and 7th grade passed with the usual taunts and bruises while I only confided in Isabella. She would pat my shoulder sympathetically, saying I needed to talk to someone, but how could I? It wouldn't change the image they had of me.
I had accepted my internal defeat and would flee to the library time after time to solidify my speech skills. I remembered how my mother offered speech therapy but I dismissed the idea. I was too ashamed, it seemed as if I had been a toy that was already broken down, everything I went through only made me that much more discarded and unworthy.
The intensity of the bullying grew, bruises turned to bleeds, sprains, and scars littered throughout my skin. I knew something needed to be said, but my smile drifted along with words spoken to others. How do I come forward with the truth? I remembered the heartbreak I placed on my mother's shoulders when I told her about her ex-boyfriend.
"It's like a weight lifted off my chest," I said quietly, when I finally told her the truth of what happened the summer before, seeking a solution to the storm that raged in my mind.
"And I feel like I got a weight thrown on mine." She replied, a lost look in her eyes. From then on, I decided I wouldn't be a burden anymore. It wasn't worth the expression she donned.
I was recalling that memory in the same corner of the library, a Dr. Seuss book in hand as I practiced on speaking at a normal speed without words blurring together.
Then, two sets of arms wrapped around mine, yanking me upwards.
Two boys, one pale and wide while the other was lean and tanned hovered over me with malicious countenances.
"W-what do you w-want?" I sounded so pathetic, grazing over the words in a fearful tone.
They shot the usual insults at me, saying I was ugly and deserved to die. They were right, but I'd never admit that out loud.
I was surprised there wasn't any administration in sight to witness the ordeal; they yanked me to the restroom and I felt blood trickling from the crevices of my face as I was repeatedly slammed into the sink.
This is the worst it's been. I can't do this anymore.
My quirk was weak, my pediatrician told me I was the equivalent of quirkless. It was only considered a green thumb, plants could grow better around me but not well enough where I could flourish as some sort of farmer.
Well at least that's what we thought.
I heard their screams but I was too busy drifting off into oblivion to realize what I had done.
When the QAP took hold of me after I spent two days in the hospital, they told me the "witness account" of what I'd committed.
I summoned the nature surrounding the school building and instantaneously destroyed the walls of the restroom and hallway with an onslaught of trees, stone, anything Earth-like. I had fractured their bones with my vines and vanished to the middle of the woods nearby by allowing the Earth to absorb me.
I was stunned. My entire family was. Yet, the Quirk Assessment Personnel took my quirk as an opportunity to enhance their name. They investigated me, learning of my past, my family's as well and the full details of my quirk.
Once they were satisfied that I was their "perfect candidate," training began, and I changed my entire mentality: now aiming for the ability to just not be weak anymore.
I hadn't realized that I shoved down what I needed for what I wanted.
-
I felt myself stirring, releasing a short groan as my muscles protested the movement.
"Reyna." A voice called my name; I ignored it for the time being, I didn't have it in me to respond.
Shuffling ensued, wait, where am I?
I was too afraid to open my eyes, I couldn't recall why my entire body felt like it got crashed into by a speeding car.
Oh, that's right. I cracked a joke to the Pro-Hero Snipe; my spine and head were tossed into a cement wall and that explained why I was experiencing so much strain.
Is Shota okay? I need to ask someone. Well if I need to know, it's now or never.
I sighed, before allowing my eyelids to partially open. I was startled by the sight.
Yellow hair with black tufts was nestled by the crook of my elbow, light snores escaping his figure.
On the other side with his curls grazing my stomach lied Izuku Midoriya.
Tentatively, I reached both of my hands out, nearing the tips of my fingers to touch them apprehensively.
What am I doing?
Immediately, I pulled my hands back and settled for watching their bodies move up and down slowly with their steady breaths.
I'm in a hospital bed but why? Most importantly, why are they here? When I ended up in the hospital last time, only my mother and the QAP showed up. I forced the tears that threatened to escape to dissipate and vanish.
"Reyna, how are you, sweetheart?" I looked to see Recovery Girl peeking through a curtain with a crinkled eye.
"I'm okay. How's Mr. Aizawa?" I whispered, gaze focused downwards in shame as I felt heartbreak at the last time I saw him, bloodied and battered to protect his students.
She moved closer to my hospital bed with light steps to avoid waking up the two boys beside me.
"He'll be alright, Reyna. Severe injuries but he healed rather quickly. Make sure he takes it easy, though."
I mulled over that, at least he's alive, but I wouldn't be comfortable until I discerned the notion for myself.
"I'm really sorry, Recovery Girl."
"It's not your fault, but you're just like this boy over here," she added, hooking her thumb towards Midoriya's frame.
Not knowing how to interpret that, I added, "I'll try and avoid this place, seriously. I'll make sure Mr. Aizawa gets enough rest, too." A gut feeling told me that I could trust her with discussing Shota as the guardian he was to me.
She seemed unfazed, and continued to study the boys at my bedside. "You know, they haven't left your side since Midoriya woke up. This blonde child came and started fussing over seeing you. I figured they came from the kindness of their heart, so I wouldn't ask them to leave."
I shifted my vision to the two classmates of mine; they looked so peaceful. Midoriya's eyes were closed lightly, the dim ray of moonshine casted his freckles in an evening glow that was to be appreciated. Kaminari wore a childish pout, he would crinkle his eyebrows here and there, releasing soft sighs while leaning his head further into my arm.
I hummed in agreement to Recovery Girl's statement, surprised to see that my body was only tense in the smallest way.
That was improvement.
The kind, old lady headed back to the curtain, whispering that she'd check on me in the morning but mentioned one last thing before fading from my view.
"Nothing you've been through is your fault, child. It's okay to smile."
My head snapped up at that. What exactly is she referring to?
I had a suspicion of what, but again, I decided against saying anything to contradict her.
I returned my gaze to the boys, assessing them to see if any injuries showed. Everything seemed to be alright with both. I breathed out in relief and leaned my head back, counting the cracks in the ceilings.
This isn't so bad.
Give it a week, and they'll hate you, the voice in my brain told me. For once, I didn't try to deny it, who was I to predict the future. All of 1-A seemed nice and genuine, but if they see me for who I am, they'll become like the rest.
I expected nothing less of them.
With that thought in mind, my eyelids faded into fatigue once more.
-
"Good morning, sunshine!" My cheek was being poked lightly. Begrudgingly, I lifted one eye and watched Kaminari centimeters away with a smug grin on his face.
"Good morning," I muttered, while pressing his shoulder to move him away.
Where's Midoriya?
I looked around, frowning.
"Midoriya went to go get us breakfast! He's so cool," Kaminari stated, as if he could read my mind.
"He doesn't need to do that. Why are you here, anyways?"
I watched as he feigned a look of hurt. "Why wouldn't I see my favorite person in the universe?"
Huh? "I don't think that title belongs to me, Kaminari."
"Sure, it does." I pestered him again to answer my question.
"Well," he began. "We all heard how injured you got, all of us were worried sick but after heated competitions of paper, scissors, rock, I won the championship so I got to visit you. Bakugo nearly killed me for it, though."
I'm sure Bakugo was only upset to lose the competition, not because he wanted to see me.
I scoffed, wanting to laugh. Recovery Girl walked in and listed my injuries that she had healed.
A fractured spine, two broken ribs, a broken jaw, tears along the muscles of my back and neck, and a severe concussion.
Kaminari's eyes grew the more she droned on, before he faked a horrifying wail, forcing me to jump in bed.
"That's so bad, Reyna, if you don't take care of yourself, you'll just worry us to death!" With that, he swatted my forehead as Midoriya entered in with breakfast.
I recalled the last thing I saw when he was awake. He seemed to have figured out what I was thinking of, as his eyes flitted to every corner of the room to avoid my stare.
"Kaminari, can you help me with something?" Recovery Girl blurted out, yanking him by his collar as he threw a fit of protest.
When the door shut, I suddenly found myself unable to look at Midoriya properly or think of something to say.
How do we address what I was never supposed to know?
From my peripheral vision, he sat on the corner of my bed, scratching at the pages of his hero notebook, biting his lip in thought.
I sighed, before speaking. "How are your legs? With that last jump at that villain, I saw you broke them."
Midoriya turned, eyes meeting mine with a hopeful appearance. "They're fine, Recovery Girl told me she didn't like that I put myself on the line like that, though."
"I figured, good to know that you're alright."
"How do you feel?"
What was the point of skirting around the subject?
I suppose I'm going to have to speak a lot for this.
I tried forming my thoughts into understandable sentences, not just random words jumping at my cranium a million miles per second. "Midoriya, I'm fine, but let me tell you something."
His eyes widened in fear, I was surprised to see the pang of sadness flit between his pupils as he frowned and nodded for me to continue.
"Well, I know that you know what I saw down there." Seriously, that was such a stupid way to confess of how All Might crumbled into a miniature and hollowed version of himself.
I continued, "I have a good idea of the bond you and him have. I figured you guys must share the same quirk or something, it explains the similarities in your power and how you both seem attached to each other. It also makes sense that he deflates like that, he's running out of power and he gave it to you. I just want you to know that I won't say anything about what I saw. I'll pretend I never saw that. I wouldn't betray the both of you, especially you, Midoriya. I wouldn't because we're friends and because it will never be any of my business. I will... always lend an ear if you ever want to talk about it, but if you want let's just forget, okay?"
That took forever.
"Call me Izuku, then." He snapped, standing and briefly rushing his hand through his hair with the same frown.
"What?"
"You said we're friends, now that you know about All Might and I, stick to Izuku. There's no need for you to call me Midoriya." Where is all this coming from?
Nonetheless, I admitted what had really been plaguing my mind since I noticed him curled at my stomach when I woke up last night.
"I only called you Midoriya right now because I thought you wouldn't wanna be my friend anymore after I found out." He stared, rather blankly, before a relaxed smile adorned his face.
"Why would I stop now? We just met but I," he paused, turning his body to face the curtain rather than my frame. "I feel like I've known you my whole life."
I froze, no, he couldn't mean that.
I flew from the hospital bed, despite my bones throbbing. When I reached him, I placed my hand firmly on his upper arm before spinning him around.
I searched his face for deception, but he only looked at me in clueless authenticity. "You're not lying." I whispered, before stepping back, I knew I couldn't hide the way my face was trying to twist in joy. Yet, the logical part of my consciousness fought the emotion as I only furrowed my eyebrows in an attempt to keep from smiling.
I spun around, now being the one to hide from his view as my palms flew over my face.
Just in case.
This was a precaution in case I couldn't fight the happiness. I felt the contortions of my facial muscles, the way my lips lifted as my cheeks stung from the rarity of my actions.
It's barely the second day, I hate you, Izuku. I lied, while I realized he was gripping my hands, attempting to remove them from my face while laughter escaped him sheepishly.
"Izuku, no!" I squealed, while flopping around like an idiotic fish as his laughter turned into hysterics.
"I know you're smiling! Let me see, Florence!" He shouted joyously, grip growing stronger.
"Nope, keep touching me and I'm gonna throw stones." I mused, now resorting to throwing myself on the bed, landing face down.
He whined, "No, that's not fair!"
"Life's not fair, Izuku." I mumbled, while rubbing my arms because I moved around too much.
Kaminari and Recovery Girl returned, both brightening as they realized I was no longer speaking in monotone.
I sat upright, chewing on the waffles Izuku brought us while Kaminari sat beside me, giving a story to both of our waffles. He declared that his waffle was a prince from a faraway land while my waffle was a poor, but beautiful peasant girl. They both fell in love with each other and he demonstrated it by jabbing his fork into my waffle and his, simultaneously.
Right when he was wrapping up the epilogue, we heard a noisy slam of the door as a loud yell resounded throughout the room.
"Well, if it isn't dumb, dumber, and dumbest." Bakugo declared, eyes scanning Kaminari and Midoriya, skimming me for a brief second.
"Good morning to you too, Bakugo." I sighed, already feeling mixed emotions towards his presence. I was immune to his insults, but his yelling was what irritated me. I did have to admit that I wasn't opposed to him being near me, as long as he was moderately quiet.
That doesn't seem to be his style, though.
Wait, I need to go see Shota. I felt guilty for being happy around my classmates without going to see my guardian at all. I stood up rather abruptly, walking towards the door before the same rough grip engulfed my hand once again.
"Aren't you on bedrest? Stupid crybaby, what are you prancing around for?" He questioned, I only muttered, "Aizawa" as a reply, before stepping out in search of him.
I found Recovery Girl and she led me to his room, upon entering it, I felt a sinking feeling through my chest, causing me to cease just before pulling his curtain away.
What if he doesn't want to see me? He probably blames us for him ending up so hurt.
With my hesitation, I found myself chewing on the skin of my thumb, lost in thought.
"Come in already, Reyna." Aizawa's voice rang out, without anymore delay, I rushed in. Wincing, I felt the tears prick my eyes as I took in his bandaged state.
"I took some damage to my eye, other than that, I'm fine. Quit beating yourself up for it."
"Mr. Aizawa, I don't want you risking yourself for us!" I broke out, blinking to contain the way I wanted to just hug him and let him know that he could be open of his real thoughts to me.
As per usual, he never lied, as he continued on. "I wouldn't be a hero if I wasn't prepared to sacrifice it all to save others." I breathed in sharply, taken aback by his words. My face morphed into that of pain, as I slapped my palm to my face, wanting to hide the hurt I felt.
He was too good of a person. Yes, he seemed rather cold and detached, but it was a bluff. Anyone who was smart enough would realize that it was only an act to mask the way that he cared deeply, the way he was so detailed and kind.
I didn't know how to show my deep admiration for him, so I only walked to his bedside. Leaning down, I let my head hover over his shoulder for a second, before leaning it on him swiftly and whispering, "Thank you, Shota."
He didn't recoil, rather he returned the gesture by tilting his head to rest atop mine briefly.
When he straightened his head, I stood properly. Humming, I lifted the blanket at his ankles to cover the rest of his body, tucking it by his neck.
"You should rest. Your bags only got worse, sir."
"I should fail you for that remark."
"You wouldn't... or would you?" I asked in amusement, lifting my eyebrows.
"I would, now leave and let me nap. We'll go home when they release me."
"Yes, Shota. See you later." Leaving, I breathed a sigh of relief.
When returning to my room, I only saw Bakugo sitting on the chair with a book resting on his face, obscuring his expression from my field of vision.
Without saying anything, I went back to my bed. I laid on my side, glancing briefly to see if he'd initiate a conversation. He didn't so I only closed my eyes, maintaining the position.
After a few moments of silence, he spoke. "How'd you move so fast?"
Lifting my lids, I responded. "Dangerous part of my quirk, I get sucked into the Earth to move at a rapid speed somewhere else. Lots of science behind it, I'm sure you don't want the details."
"I don't."
I remained quiet. I had to admit, there was a uniquely soothing aspect to communicating with him. He felt no need for formalities or steering clear of subjects. He was to the point and infamously blunt. I didn't feel the need to hold back on my words around him, knowing he felt indifferent to my behavior no matter what.
"I didn't need you to act like some knight in shining armor." He stated, anger reflecting his mood.
"I wasn't trying to be a knight in shining armor. You're definitely not a damsel in distress."
"Screw you."
"Ditto," I muttered, lazily while yawning.
I didn't know why he felt the need to carry on the thick tension of the conversation but he did.
"I'm not thanking you. Ever," Bakugo announced, tossing the book on his face in my direction. It landed on my stomach before falling off the bed.
"I wasn't expecting gratitude." I was feeling the ebbs of exasperation, already wanting him to leave. Why did he come, anyways?
"Good. Start staying out of my way from now on. You're not better than me, you never will be." I was unprepared to hear that from him as he stood, voice raised to a frustrating racket. He was filled with indignation, staring at me with a passionate rage.
You're so easy to figure out, Bakugo. If pride was sincerely a sin, you would be writhing in the pits of hell for it.
Deciding that it was not worth the confrontation, I only nodded while humming in agreement.
His body shook in anger as he stared at me, astonished by my dismissal of his attitude.
"I hate you, you're just as disgusting as that damn nerd," he seethed. I took offense to that on Izuku's behalf, my body stiffened as my fingers curled on themselves. I considered wringing him around my room with my vines, but decided against it.
I shut my eyes, I knew that he wasn't truly mad, he was only threatened and felt that I came off as condescending for pushing him out of the Nomu's way. That wasn't the case. I just hated the idea of anyone getting hurt.
Listening to the seat creak with his weight, I figured he must've simmered down. I couldn't exactly let him slide with the remark he made about Izuku. How do I get him to realize the way he dodges his true feelings is wrong? Please, who am I to lecture him when I'm just as bad.
Debating on what to tell him, I nearly missed the slightest movement by my hair. I refused to open my eyes, I didn't want to know what he was up to.
I whispered, "You know, Bakugo, for someone who seems so loud and angry, I can't help but feel a bit bad for you. You give yourself such a hard time and ignore your flaws, what a contradiction. Try being happy, you'll feel a lot more relief than you do with speaking down on everyone."
Silence engulfed us like a suffocating blanket. I immediately regretted what I said, but it was way too late to forfeit some sort of apology.
"Look who's talking, you haven't smiled once since I've seen your ugly face. Before giving me advice, apply it to yourself. You aren't happy at all with who you are." He bit out, but what was harsh was that he spoke it just as calmly as I did.
"Hmph. Touché," I replied, only peeking at him once more. The proximity of his face didn't startle me. The passive look did. He showed no anger, only serenity as he blinked. Returning to his seat once more, he spoke. "You're real ugly, stupid crybaby."
"Thanks." I felt my body pressuring me to take a small nap. Wait, I recalled something that made me feel nauseous.
I jolted up in fear, bringing my leg closer to me. Why didn't I think to look at it? The haunting burn and pulsing of Shigaraki's ghost touch was dimmed, but my worry revived the feeling with a vengeance.
"Fuck." I heard the crack in my voice.
"What's up with you, Ugly?" Bakugo called out, but I felt dazed, leaving him with no response.
I simply moved my leg in his sight, letting him see the nasty scar that morphed after yesterday's events.
It wasn't a handprint, it was a messy, dragged out, angry-red slash that extended from my calve to my ankle. I only stared, not knowing how to feel. The thing was, scars weren't a novelty to me, but I only had one other scar that was as disgustingly huge as this.
I exhaled roughly, coughing to cover up the distress I wanted to reveal.
For once, Bakugo was quiet, unable to bring words of wrath or relief to distract me.
Oh, well. Only another addition to point out the fact that I was never an attractive person to begin with. I shrugged off the dull twinge of sadness I felt, laying back down.
Bakugo didn't speak again, but he also never broke his eyes from my face. He was probably expecting me to break down, but I couldn't. I figured this was another form of punishment from the universe for me being intolerable.
I resumed my position of laying on my side, wrinkling my eyebrows to keep from sobbing. I would try again and again, searching for different techniques from my sister to enhance my appearance; nothing worked. This new scar, along with other small ones along my body only felt like the cruelest slap in the face.
Eventually, drowsiness began to overtake me as I felt myself drifting to a space where I wasn't fully awake nor was I completely asleep.
I felt a hand graze my hair, while a comforting warmth enveloped me from head to toe.
-
I returned to school the following weekday, adjusting the knee-high socks as I entered my class.
Immediately, small arms wrapped around my neck while I heard a sigh of relief. "My parents didn't let me leave my house! I'm sorry, Reyna! I missed you." Jirou pulled away, sadness grazing her features as she scanned me from top to bottom, lifting my arms slightly.
"You got any more injuries?" She questioned with a frown.
I reached for her hand to squeeze it lightly, shaking my head and watching as she turned a bright pink.
"Thank you, Jirou. I'm fine." The usual, relaxed grin returned as she pushed me towards my seat.
Kaminari joined her side, as they began to explain what they encountered when the attack happened. Before I knew it, my other classmates surrounded me, telling their own version of their different stories. I listened intently to each one, offering praise or asking questions here and there.
Even when the other students returned to their seats, Jirou didn't. "Wanna hang out soon and do our homework together?" She asked, casually. Someone wants to see me outside of school?
I felt warm at the offer and nodded, rushing. She glanced away briefly before adding, "We can invite Mina and Momo too, if you want." I shrugged, saying, "That's up to you. I'm fine with just the two of us." Her eyes widened at that and she only agreed, walking back to her desk as Mr. Aizawa walked in, wrapped with bandages.
The whole class seemed baffled by his entrance, but I remembered what he told me when we returned home yesterday evening.
"I'm going back to school tomorrow. Stop coddling me," he declared, bemused by the way I was attentively by his side, ready to help him with any simple task.
Opening the door for him and carrying everything while cleaning the house seemed to be crossing the line for him, apparently, as he demanded that I needed rest as well.
Shigaraki's distasteful gift on my leg left me rattled, so I stayed busy as a distraction.
Still, Shota was annoyed by me acting as an aid and scolded me, forcing me to sit with him on the couch as we played some random movie on the TV for background noise, talking about both of our injuries and how we need to recover.
Realizing I zoned out, I attempted to focus on Aizawa's words at hand. I heard him say, "The battle's not over yet," in an eerie manner, raising the strain in the air with my peers.
Worried sentences began to arise from the students before Mr. Aizawa silenced it with a simple sentence.
"The U.A Sports Festival."