Bakugou POV
Ugh. That shitty nerd, I can't believe she got so close to beating me in a fight. I heard from stupid pinky that her team's entire plan was made by her. And it worked. Even more irritating is her shitty quirk. I can't put my finger on what it is. How was she able to stop my explosion? And what the hell was that lightning at the end? And what the hell is her fighting style?
"You're strong, Bakugou...But I've trained for this my whole life."
What the hell did that even mean? Sure, I'd loosely trained my quirk once I'd decided to be a hero. But I didn't put much thought into it before I got my quirk. It was probably an exaggeration, but still...
My phone rings, the hag's contact popping up on the screen. I groan before reluctantly answering, "What do you want, old hag?"
"Don't be a brat! My sister and her husband had some emergency business and they're traveling for a couple of days. I need you to pick up your little cousin, Kasumi, from dance." Her voice is loud and obnoxious, even through the phone.
I roll my eyes, "Fine. What time and where?"
"Six o'clock. I'll send you the address." The old hag hangs up. Why the hell couldn't she pick the brat up herself? I have time to go to the gym, shower, and do my homework before I have to go pick up the brat.
* * *
"Why the hell did I have to be the one to pick the brat up?" I growl under my breath, walking into the dance studio. It's pretty big, but every wall has something pink or sparkly. I blink, "Shit's giving me a headache."
I'm early too. When I talk to the lady at the front desk, she points me down the hall to where my cousin's dance class is. I lower my head, not eager to be recognized in this stupid place. I sit outside the door of the class, watching the brat inside. Of course, because she's related to me, she's the best in the class. Even if it is a class of five year olds.
Six o'clock comes and the brat comes out. Her stupid pig tails bounce as she whips her head around, looking for her mother. I force myself to my feet, "Oi! Kasumi!"
"Kat-skee!" The brat runs towards me, clinging obnoxiously to my leg. Dear god, I hope none of my shitty classmates see me.
"Pack your bag and let's go." I roll my eyes, "You're staying with your Auntie for a couple days." The irritating brat nods, shoving her things into a stupid little pink bag. She ties on a ridiculously sparkly pair of sneakers before beaming at me. I sniff, feeling irritated but grudgingly offering my hand because I'm not a total dick. And I don't want to get yelled at if the brat runs off somewhere.
As we walk down the hall, the brat pulls on my arm, stopping in front of one of the studio windows. Stupid brat. I scoff, "What the hell is it, brat?"
"Can we watch for a bit?" The girl points her finger at the window. Inside the studio, a single girl dances in the dimly lit room. None of the lights are turned on, so she's only illuminated by the sunlight coming from the floor-length windows on the other side of the room.
"Tch. Only for a couple minutes." I can't find it in myself to pull my gaze away from the dancer. She wears baggy grey sweatpants and a black form-fitting, long sleeved athletic shirt.
Something about her movement is...familiar. Admittedly, her movement is hypnotic, a type of graceful athleticism that I've never cared to master. I can faintly hear music drifting through the door, her body moving in sync with the melody. In the dim room, I can't see her face, but her body is so into her dancing. Some sort of contemporary ballet mixed with acrobatics. She spins and flips through the air so easily, and she gets so high in the air. I guess it's kind of impressive or whatever.
Kasumi squeezes my hand, "She's here a lot. I want to dance like her someday."
"Tch. Let's go." I pull my gaze away from the window and pull Kasumi out of the studio. On the way home, the brat complains about being tired. She ends up napping in my arms the rest of the way home. Brat.
Kai POV
Something feels wrong this morning. I rush through my daily routine, kissing Sora between the ears and grabbing a couple energy bars before running out the door.
"How are All Might's classes?" A mic is shoved in my face, forcing me to recoil. I spin around in the mess of reporters, unable to get my senses about me. Energy from all the people and their equipment buzzes around me, making it impossible to find a way out. In the midst of the swarm of mics and shouting reporters, I hear Bakugou's voice. He must be close.
Out of nowhere, a hand roughly grasps me by the wrist, dragging me through the crowd and through the gate. I gasp, the assault on my senses suddenly calming. I pinch the bridge of my nose, fending off the start of a headache, "Thank you."
"Tch." The boy releases my wrist, "You looked like an idiot, spinning around and being so clueless." Despite the harshness in his voice, his aura softens around the edges, the harsh red turning into a more pleasant apricot orangey-red.
"I don't do well in crowds." I admit.
Stupid. Why would you say that?
The boy scoffs, "We're going to be late, let's go." I follow him inside.
* * *
In class, Aizawa brings up the training exercise from a couple days ago that I missed. Jiro had summed up some of what had happened during the training exercise. It sounds like Bakugou and Midoriya have some serious...differences. When Aizawa scolds Bakugou for his actions, the boy in front of me tenses, but mumbles a quiet I know.
So he's aware that he's kind of a pouty asshole?
Aizawa critiques a few others, including Midoriya for breaking his arm again, before moving on. So, Midoriya injuring himself is also normal. Jesus Christ, this entire class is gonna end up in the ER or something.
"Now, let's get to homeroom issues. Sorry for the late notice, but today you'll have to..." Aizawa pauses, causing a strange aura of dread to settle over the entire class. Whoa whoa whoa. What the hell did you do to this class, Aizawa? He continues, "...decide on a class representative."
The entire class collectively sighs except for me. It's enough to convince me that Aizawa somehow already inflicted some form of trauma into these poor children. Immediately after the realization that it's a normal school activity, people begin raising their voices, screaming about wanting to be picked.
Somehow, Bakugou manages to scream even louder than the others. I groan, leaning my head on my desk as the volume rises. Bakugou pauses his aggressive yelling to turn to me, "Oi. What the hell's wrong?"
"Headache." I mumble. After a moment, there's a slamming on my desk. I blink, grabbing what the boy so aggressively put on my desk. It's a bottle of something... I shake the bottle, hearing a rattling noise.
"Can't you read, dumbass?" The boy scoffs, "They're pain killers. Just take a couple so you're not obnoxious about it the whole day." I hum in agreement, shaking a few pills out of the bottle. I swallow them and mutter a quick thank you. At the front of the class, Iida demands for everyone to shut up. Well, he said it in nicer words, but that's basically what he said.
The overly-polite boy goes on a speech about the importance of the role. Quite frankly, I don't listen to any of it. At the end of his whole spiel, he recommends a democratic choice while also somehow trying to promote himself to be the class rep. A few people argue about the voting concept. The whole conversation is so ridiculous and boring that even Aizawa decides to take a nap. When the class eventually agrees to an election, everyone sits thoughtfully at their desk.
Seeing as I can't write very well, I walk to the back of the room and tap Todoroki on the shoulder, asking in a low whisper, "Can you write Yaoyorozu's name on my card?"
"Sure." There's the sound of a pencil scratching on paper and the boy folds and hands the card back to me.
"Himiko, what do you think you're doing?" Iida says accusingly. I turn slowly. I can't see them, but I can feel everyone's eyes on me.
"I know who I want to vote for, I just asked Todoroki to help me write their name." I say quietly. Shit.
"This is meant to be a private voting, you can't have Todoroki influence you, that's unfair."
"He didn't influence me, I just told him what name to write on my damn sheet of paper."
"Why the hell would you need IcyHot's help to write a stupid name?" Bakugou scoffs.
I sigh, muttering under my breath, "This is not how I thought this was gonna go." My hand absentmindedly runs through my hair, "I can't write. Not in Kanji, anyways." The class goes quiet and I decide to continue, "It's not that I'm illiterate, I —um–" I smile awkwardly, "I'm almost completely blind. I have been since I was four years old." Shit shit shit.
"Why didn't you mention that sooner?" Iida says, his harsh tone softening.
"Just because I'm disabled doesn't mean I'm weak. I don't need you guys looking down on me." I sigh, walking up to the front of the room and tossing my vote in the bowl. I grab my bag and leave, not even asking to be dismissed. Aizawa says my name, but he lets me go.