Feyblue

You Can Become a Hero!

If I was actually trying to make friends and influence people, I suppose I'd probably be pretty embarrassed that possibly the worst self-introduction I've given in my life was overheard by not one, but two people.

...And one of them is the condescending one that thinks in blue from the entrance.

Well, thankfully, she seemed to have something else on her mind, so she probably didn't catch the whole thing. It seems Akisuji-kun isn't the only one worrying about his first impression -- a fact which makes her choice of words all the more ironic. True, we do sound nervous -- but I'd say that worrying about people reading your innermost thoughts just by watching your hair constitutes being nervous, too.

Besides, it's not like I wanted to read your innermost thoughts, anyway. Don't worry. I won't tell anyone that kids used to call you Tentacruel. Your secret's safe with me.

Still... Being called out like that probably won't be good for Akisuji-kun's burgeoning anxiety -- and I did choose to sit here to try to alleviate those worries. Since I'm aware of the situation, though it goes against my usual principles of strict observation, I think I should probably take this opportunity to divert attention away from him. I'll act as though she was talking about me, and give him a chance to step out of the spotlight for a bit.

Besides, none of us will probably see each other or talk again for the rest of the year. Isshin's a pretty big school, and we probably won't even be in the same class. Even if I make a fool out of myself now, there's no shortage of unusual and spectacular individuals to draw attention away from me later. I'm sure nobody will look twice at little old me once Quirk assessment begins.

"You got me," I say, giving a slight shrug. I already know I'm a bad actor, so I won't try to act overly flustered at being called out. "It's my first time living on my own like this, and after coming all this way, I guess I got cold feet. Isshin's got a pretty intimidating reputation, so I guess I'm just sort of wondering if I can make it, is all."

...Yeah, just about every single thing I just said was a lie. First time living on my own? As if I haven't been taking care of myself since elementary school. This won't be any different. Traveling a long way? I've moved and changed schools more times than I can count. And as for Isshin's reputation, if I've made it this far, I know they won't throw me out on a whim. Plus, even if I can't cut it in the hero class, I can always transfer to the support program and carry my credits over. Others might think of that as a failure, but all I care about is the financial security an Isshin education can provide.

Youthful hopes and dreams? Don't need them. What can I say? I'm a realist.

Still, that should be a boring enough answer that she'll dismiss me mentally -- and possibly vocally -- as a "sidekick" and lose interest. After all, I'm just a boring, everyday, average girl with normal person worries who couldn't possibly understand an elite like you. Isn't that right, miss --

Ah, crap. I still don't know her name, and I really don't want to call her Tentacruel. Couldn't you have at least bothered to introduce yourself? I'm gonna start thinking of you as Tentacruel if you don't, so please, just say your actual name before it becomes a habit!

Still, that situation seems to have been resolved successfully -- or so I thought?! Colorless, you're here too!? Your thoughts are so clear that I almost didn't see you!

"Ah. No. You're not interrupting at all. Though, the people up here do seem rather high-strung, if you ask me." I shake my head, unsure of how else to respond. It doesn't seem like she's particularly interested in talking to me, anyway, since she immediately hits it off with Not-Tentacruel. As for me, I find my fake worries disappearing, and my real ones crawling back to the surface. Akisuji-kun and now this girl also... Both of them are from Tokyo. Thinking about it realistically, there's almost no way that they could have ever gone to the same school as me, and I certainly don't remember either of them. Right. It's a huge city, and I was just one person, living in it. The odds of them knowing me already are slim to none. And the odds of them having heard about my Quirk are practically non-existent.

Right. I'm just being paranoid. Besides, as Colorless said about the girl who bumped into her, once the semester starts, everyone will forget all about me, too.

Ah. But speaking of forgetting things. I'm forgetting something here too. Akisuji-kun's caught in the middle of this whole mess, and my earlier diversion has now backfired. Everybody's ignoring him completely.

Well, for a boy, being surrounded by three girls in the opening ceremony probably sounds like a dream come true -- especially since things like this are usually segregated by gender for the sake of order. But somehow, I doubt Akisuji-kun is thinking of this situation as a gift.

...Actually, wait a second. There's no way a school as strict as Isshin would let us just do things so haphazardly, would they? I wasn't really paying attention up until now, but is it possible that maybe, Akisuji-kun sat down in the wrong seating area? He's not gonna get scolded for that, is he? But if I point it out to him, he's definitely going to get embarrassed... Ah, crap, what am I supposed to do in a situation like this? Think, Kokone -- how do I resolve this without ruining his day or making a spectacle of myself?

You Can Become a Hero!

...He's afraid of me.

He's afraid of me.

Okay. Let's backtrack here. It's not as though the sensation of fear is a new one to me -- though I wish I could say it was. But that and this are two different things! What do you mean, "threat of bullies?!" Have you seen me? I'm probably the shortest person in this entire school! What am I gonna do, kick your shins?

...Well, to be fair, I do have a mean shin kick, if I do say so myself -- but that's neither here nor there.

Okay. Backtrack further. He tried to run away there for a moment when all I did was ask if I could sit next to him. And now that I've actually sat myself down, he's acting like he'll explode if he touches me. I mean, if anything, I would probably explode, since that noise has only gotten louder the closer I've gotten to him. I dread to think of what would happen if my connection got any stronger.

...But what am I even doing? While I'm trying to wrap my head around what he's feeling and what little sense this whole situation makes, he's already resolved himself to get over that fear of his and introduce himself. At least, I think he has. That voice does seem to be coming out of his mouth rather than his head, so... it's probably safe to answer, right? Or rather, at a time like this, why am I remaining silent? Have I been playing at observer so long that I've forgotten how to speak when spoken to?

I try once again to smile, though I'm pretty sure the expression dies instantly the moment I try to speak. I say "try" because it takes me a good several seconds to remember what order the words go in when my every thought is being drowned out by the crowd around me and that infernal static coming from this kid -- or rather, from Akisuji-kun's head.

"Ah. Uh. Right."

...Brain, that's not how you do a self-introduction. Come on, he's scared of me and he managed to do it better than I did anyway!

"Manaka Kokone. That's, uh... my name. Also from Tokyo, actually! Or... well... I lived there most recently, anyway."

...I'm gonna have to make a mental note to rehearse this at some point. Seriously, this is just embarrassing. But, well... if nothing else, maybe my own obvious discomfort may ease his own worries somewhat. It's less stressful being worried about something when you're not the only one, right? Though, thanks to my power, I can tell that the things we're anxious about are completely different... but let's just let him think we're kindred spirits. He'll be happier that way.

You Can Become a Hero!

Where was I?

Ah. Right. I believe when I last left off, I was distancing myself as quickly as I could from the chaos in the front courtyard, and trying my best to ignore the increasingly loud orange thoughts behind me as somebody desperately pleaded for salvation and/or a WcMuffin, in that order.

...Look, just because I like to help people doesn't mean I'm going to march headfirst into that situation. I mean, look at it rationally for a second. What would me, a complete stranger, getting involved even do? That would just make things more awkward for everyone involved, so in the interest of not making even more of a spectacle of myself than that Justice kid is already doing, I think it's best if we just move on.

...Or not. I've only been in the assembly hall for a matter of seconds before I start regretting everything, and instinctively reach for my headphones. But I stop myself before I can pull them out of the pocket of my blazer. At best, I'd get yelled at by a teacher for ignoring the opening ceremony. At worst, I might be suspected.

As always, that thought is enough to stop me in my tracks, even when my head feels like it's going to burst. I have to bear this. Like a normal person. So that I can remain beneath notice. So that nobody will start thinking at me here. This is just another necessary step in securing my peaceful life. I can do this. These thoughts aren't mine.

Excitement, confusion, anxiety, anger, dread, hope, and countless other emotions I can't even begin to process scream through my ears in a language beyond words, despite my insistence. And before I know it, I find myself changing moods faster than flipping channels on TV. As I pass one row, I feel all the elation of a dream come true. As I past the next, I feel the immense frustration of a pointless argument with a stranger. And, as I find myself pushed onward by the crowd behind me -- seriously, STOP. TOUCHING. ME. -- I stumble into a row that only has one other occupant so far... and find myself showered with an unspeakable sense of dread.

...No, perhaps it would be better to call it "gloom." "Dread" seems to imply a fear that something might come to pass, but what I feel from the boy in front of me is more along the lines of a certainty that something will come to pass. And that something is...

Is...

---

⫷𝔡𝔣⊕d̴̜̪͚͔̈́̒̂́͘͘j̶̧̧̻͉̩͇̰̝͔̮̭́̔͛́̋̀̇͐̑̚͘͝͝ͅͅş̷̧̻̻̳͎̼͍̬̳͓͆̐̒̎͛̚𝔦𝔥↝𝔷𝔨ì̷͗̋̀͂̐͂̕͠ͅt̸͙̠̗̦̲́ư̶̖̜͚̬̜͛̊̆͂̋͆͆̍͘ỉ̶̛̯̈́͑͠▱𝔬𝔭⌭❐z̷̡̨̲͖͍͕̺̲̦̼̤͉̱̯̗͎̦̙̬̯̐̿͜ḵ̵̡̧̨̨̠̼͕̗̫̼̟̼̪̖͕̫̜̹͈̲̱͓̥̜̬̼̃̄̀̌̓̓͆̌͑̈̊̈̑̌̆̀́̂͂̚͜͠͝͝͝⤦❖ư̶̖̜͚̬̜͛̊̆͂̋͆͆̍͘ỉ̶̛̯̈́͑͠⫸

---

It hurts!

I clutch my ears, trying to drown out a noise I can't even hear. My head feels like a broken radio, as a sound that tastes like static tries to force its way down my optic nerve. I'm too confused to even speak, or to run away -- and then, just as suddenly as it begins, it's gone.

...No. Not gone. I can still feel it faintly. I can hear it with my skin, smell it on the tip of my tongue. But it's a sound.

It is a sound, right?

I can't tell anymore. My ears are still ringing and my other senses aren't enough. I try to ignore it, but now that I've heard it once I can't help but notice the echo.

...And to make matters worse, the kid sitting in the row I'm still standing dumbly in front of is starting to look at me. I can't let him notice that I've been standing here like this, or he'll definitely take note of me. And I definitely can't let him see how much I want to vomit right now.

Calm. I'm a very calm person. I've never actually lost a game of Old Maid, you know. And I'm proud to say that it's not just because my telepathy tells me which card not to pick. Basically, what I'm trying to explain is that I have a very good poker face. I've never played poker, though. My mom would get worried if I did.

My expression's blank now. I'm sure of it. Then, a slight smile. ...I'm not as sure of that part, admittedly, but at least I tried.

"...Mind if I sit here?" I ask, motioning stiffly to the seat next to him. Truth be told, the last place I want to be is next to this kid, where that noise is strongest and where his gloomy emotions feel like they're choking me. But it would look far stranger to turn around and leave now, and if I did, I'm pretty sure this boy would take it as an insult.

Or rather, doesn't it seem like he's being avoided? Maybe that's what's got him feeling so glum. In a new place, with nobody he knows, and the weight of Isshin's expectations on his shoulders, who wouldn't indulge in a little bit of pessimism? And so, knowing how bad he's feeling, can I really turn and walk away? That little matter in the courtyard is one thing... but right now, somebody's genuinely sad in front of me. And maybe I can help him... I dunno. Not be that, I guess.

...Even if I can't find out why without feeling like he's flashbanging my soul.

Steal Away The Light

Location: Uhladein, Eastern Marches

---

Fianna wasn't expecting a welcome upon her return. During her short stay in Uhladein, the Scilan Hunters she had been assigned along with hadn't so much as spoken a word in her presence. It wasn't as if she blamed them, of course. They might have been her own countrymen, but considering who was holding her leash, she surely must have seemed an enemy in their eyes... assuming they even knew who she had been in the first place. And given the fact that the lot of them had been barely more than children, she highly doubted that.

And now they were dead. What did you expect, when you sent children to a battlefield? She would know, of course, having marched onto her first battlefield at a young age herself. She'd been stupid, and reckless, and... And she had been lucky to have her father to keep her in check.

The Scilan brats she'd fought alongside didn't have that luxury. What, was she supposed to protect them? It was all she'd been able to do not to lose herself and devour them before the void could!

Thinking about it like that, she could almost pretend she hadn't tried. Hadn't failed, more like --

“Hey! Hey Granny!”

The rag-wrapped huntress froze at the voice. Although it had come from right in front of her, it still took her a moment to realize she was being addressed. She reached a hand awkwardly out from under her makeshift poncho, two thumbs and six fingers twisting themselves clumsily through a tangled strand of her own grey hair. Right... Hunters might not age, but that didn't mean that her physiology was immutable. Just how long ago had the color faded from her hair -- her skin -- her eyes? The days were like molasses, but the years were like lightning...

But there was someone talking to her. Someone who, when she looked down, made her realize that perhaps she hadn't failed entirely.

There had been one other child on the battlefield, after all. And now, that same child was standing in front of her, gazing up at her with... with...

Well, understanding people's feelings had never been her strong suit, even before her life had fallen apart. At any rate, the girl seemed excited.

“You exploded!”

"...Yes...?"

Fianna blinked, staring quizzically down at the girl with a blank expression as, a little ways away, a woman with blue hair quickly concurred. That one was... some manner of huntress from Prentiss, if she recalled correctly, though Fianna hadn't quite managed to piece her brains back together well enough yet to recall the woman's name. Still, she and the towering pink-haired woman next to her seemed... oddly happy about the whole situation. Everyone else who'd come to this city with them was dead, right? And of all the people to survive, they'd been left with Fianna the Bloody. It defied reason that any of them would get anywhere near her -- let alone this child looking up at her with such an odd expression. She felt the strangest of urges to reach out and tousle the girl's hair, but mastered this impulse almost as soon as she felt it -- it wouldn't do to show a gesture of affection when one's hands were still in such a sorry state, after all.

But there had been one more among their number, right? A certain someone had hefted a brick at her head. Where was she, anyway? Perhaps she had gone and gotten herself killed again.

It was around that point that a familiarly annoying voice chimed into the conversation, and shortly thereafter, the fist connected with her face. Next thing Fianna knew, she was on the ground, staring up at the sky. She tried to open her mouth to say something, but apparently her jaw had come unhinged. Ah, how annoying... just when she'd gotten done fixing it. And to make matters worse, her brains were sloshing around again, like so many little insects crawling and scuttling inside her head.

Still, at least her head was clearer now. Things didn't seem so strange anymore. This was what she was used to. This was how it was supposed to be. She didn't have to think about anything anymore. All she needed to do was hate.

Her jaw crawled back across her face and helpfully climbed back into its socket. She clicked her tongue once, then twice -- then spat out a mass of white shards that had probably once been teeth. No matter. She had plenty to spare. In place of her canine, a spider's dripping fang poked out from behind her lips, pulling them open in a paralyzed, lopsided grin as a row of goblin teeth quickly emerged alongside it. Crimson strands of metal, supple as spider's silk, wound their way out of her feet and into the stones beneath her, wrenching her body upward as her knees and ankles rotated in place to allow her to "stand," then snapped back with a crack. Her concussion sorted itself one way or the other, and her vacant scarlet eyes refocused themselves on the noisome dog of Midnos still yapping in front of her.

"Oh. So you were here too, Quinn. Forgive me. I assumed you'd be off burning in a ditch somewhere by now, like usual." Like a dreamer waking from a long sleep, the pale woman stretched her arms, giving a long yawn, and speaking with a disinterest that belied the blood still streaming down her face. "So you didn't die this time, then. What, you want me to fix that for you?" She drawled, wiping the blood from her lip before giving another, even longer yawn.

"So needy."

Steal Away The Light

Location: Uhladein, Eastern Marches

---

Aah, it wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough.

The sound of metal scraping over the flagstones, and the sound of bare feet splashing over the frigid pavement were the only sounds that accompanied her passage, save the whistling wind and the distant thunder. The din of battle had ended, and the symphony of screams and steel that had brought her such clarity was now but a distant memory, lost in a fog of blood and pain.

What corrupted stragglers she could find amongst the ruins of the gatehouse had offered her scarcely any resistance, nor had they provided her even the barest minimum of sustenance. With the euphoria of victory stolen from her, all that remained was a deep and enduring hunger -- a hunger she only barely managed to restrain herself from indulging as she saw the bodies of the fallen defenders all around her.

But she did manage to pull herself away. These were warriors, after all. Warriors who had died an honorable death defending their homes and their people. She would not allow herself to desecrate the last monument to their perseverance. So instead, she raised her gaze to the sky, and distracted herself with wondering what the rain must have felt like upon her numb skin. She could hardly even feel the searing embers buried within her chest, so Fianna supposed that she must have been cold. Yet it still was difficult for her to tell if the thing twitching, shuddering, crawling and writhing underneath her skin was her own body in response to a chill she could not feel, or the sword she wielded continuing to improve her new body.

Pointless.

"...That will be all, Amaryllis." She said, reaching gently down with her free hand and grasping the sword by the roots. It seemed to get the message, as a moment later, its blade unraveled into countless metallic threads, each sinking back into the arm that reformed beneath it, and disappearing from view. Her legs lost their strength, and she slumped against the broken gates as a final wave of shivering, and something that for a moment approached pain wracked her entire body -- then all was still once more.

She cast one final glance to the corpses piled around her, and gave the faintest of sighs. The oldest lesson she had ever learned repeated itself once again in thoughts far too sweet to be her own.

"...Do not worry. I won't forget. You can rest now."

She received no answer. The distant thunder rolled, and as her body at last finished knitting itself back together, the towering woman at last realized she was naked. Another body destroyed, another set of rags lost along with it. She sighed once more, and gave a slight kick to one of the more intact corpses at her feet, turning the dead man over. She wouldn't part him with his flesh, but... She supposed he wouldn't be needing his cloak anymore, either. Surely, he could spare at least that much.

So, she stooped, fumbling with her many fingers to undo the clasp of its collar and drape the garment over her own shoulders without dragging it through too much of the blood pooling on the ground. Wrapped in this ragged mantle, and still dripping from head to toe, the pale huntress at last turned her gaze back towards the keep.

Once again, she had failed to die as expected... which meant there would yet be more work to be done. The luxury of rest was one reserved for the dead -- and so, the sound of bare feet splashing over the flagstones was heard once more, as the pale huntress began shambling back -- leaving one battlefield, in search of another.

You Can Become a Hero!

"Ah, crap... door, door... where's the freakin' doooooorrrrrrrr...?!"

A certain aquatic student was hopping nervously back and forth in hopes of restoring some feeling to her half-frozen legs, her frilled crest curling angrily clear from her gills all the way up to the top of her head, as her transparent scales pulsed a frustrated shade of crimson and her barbels thrashed with impatience.

The front door was blocked by another crowd. Same with the gym. There was a fire escape on the side of the building, but that was probably locked and would set off alarms, and in either case if she actually tried it Saika would never let her hear the end of it.

And where was Saika, anyway? She hadn't even texted to say when she'd be showing up. Didn't she know her best buddy was freezing over here?

Ugh... That jerk! I'll bet she's busy stuffing her face at a WcDenji's or something. Of course she wouldn't care about being late. Curse you, Sai-chan! I'll never forgive you for this!

Her stomach chose that exact moment to rumble.

...Though I guess if you get me some too, I could maybe consider letting you off easy this time.

...Well, that said, it wasn't as if she had a convenient power like telepathy or mind-reading -- Careful what you wish for, Orange. -- so there was no way to actually convey that message. But Saika would understand. Surely. Definitely.

"Excuse me~?"

It took Izuna a moment to realize that the gentle, quizzical voice that only barely reached her ears over the din of the crowd was directed at her -- since the tap on her shoulder went unfortunately unnoticed due to the thickness of both her tarp-like blazer and the ice coating it. Still, after a moment of delayed realization, her pointed ears flicked up, and the pale girl spun around, only to find herself looking down at a mass of curly, oddly shiny green hair.

Oh, and, uh, the person underneath all of it. Izuna's own oddly bright golden eyes met two vertically slit green ones as she took in the face -- the scaled face of their owner. The frills along her head and neck flicked outward immediately, and the dim crimson halo that had been pulsating from the tips of her barbels clear up to her cheeks gave way to a much more welcoming blend of blue and orange.

A comrade! So I'm not the only one with scales this time!

"Ah, sorry 'bout that -- didn't see you there!" The fishy freshman gave a nervous laugh, rubbing her palm back and forth over the scales of her neck. "Can I, uh... help you, or something?"

"You're an upperclassman, right? I'm Nigata Kayo, a first year. I'm a liiiittle bit lost, so could you show me where the event hall is, please?"

...

"...Eh?" Izuna blinked, cocking her head to the side. Then slowly, deliberately, she pointed to herself. The girl standing in front of her cocked her head to the side too, not seeming to understand her confusion.

"An upperclassman?" The green-haired girl nodded.

"Who is? Me?" The green-haired girl nodded again, pursing her lips cutely, still not seeming to understand.

"I'm a first year too, though?"

...

Suddenly the air between them got really quiet, and for just a second, Izuna could have sworn she saw the other girl's eyebrow twitch -- but surely she must have been mistaken, since that innocent smile just kept on shining up at her. Oh, geez, this new kid was a little dense, wasn't she? Well, Izuna didn't know the way, but she'd feel bad about leaving someone so clueless to her own devices, so...

"Don't worry, though! I read the pamphlet. Uh... at one point. So I'm pretty sure the assembly hall is, uh... Uhhh..."

It sure would have been convenient if literally anything else happened right now so they could pay attention to it. That would have been great. Then maybe she'd have enough time to remember where she was even supposed to be going -- since her plan had basically ended at "get inside before you become an ice cube!"

...How regrettable that she hadn't made her wish more specific. Something did indeed happen at that exact moment -- but it was a something that set Izuna's every braincell to screaming as she desperately -- Unsuccessfully, I might add! -- tried to repress, uh... certain memories.

After several seconds of wide-mouthed gawking, she managed to get herself together enough to process what just happened. Some crazy boy had -- or, well, at least, she was pretty sure he was a boy -- anyway! He had just done some sort of... acrobatic ninja-flip out of a tree, then skidded to a stop right in front of them, and started screaming about JUSTICE or how he WAS Justice or... something.

Who does this kid think he is, some kind of superhero?

...It took a moment of thinking about where she was to realize how stupid that question sounded. But also, there could really only be one explanation for the... entity currently standing in front of her -- and it was one with which she was all too painfully familiar.

Making a herculean attempt not to visibly cringe, she slapped her cheeks, pasted a smile across her face, and hoped nobody noticed the frantic pulsing of her photophores or the sudden shower of water dripping from her sleeves and freezing on the ground beneath her as she tried and failed to keep her cool.

Two people were asking her for directions. One was a little dumb, the other was the physical manifestation of the phrase "dark history" despite looking like a boy idol crossed with a lightbulb. She had no idea where to go, but people all seemed to be heading in one direction, so with all the natural-ness of a robot in an old SF film, she slowly, jerkily raised her now-dripping arm and pointed vaguely in the general direction of the main building.

"...Uh... that way. To the... uh... assembly hall. Where everybody else is going."

...Yeah, no shit.

Sai-chan, everybody here is all weird and I'm the only normal one and how did this even happen? Seriously, what am I even supposed to do in this situation? Is this some kind of trial?! Augh, just hurry up and come save me!

...Or at least bring me a WcMuffin!

You Can Become a Hero!

Omake: What if Kokone tried to narrate like a hard-boiled detective instead?

---

...I may, perhaps, have underestimated the natures of those who, in today's peaceful day and age, would seek to become heroes of justice. So it was that with a dreadful sense of sudden certainty, I realized far too late that perhaps, in time, the indistinct noise and bustle of stumbling drunkards, angry wage slaves, and depressed public servants in the old districts of Tokyo might quickly begin to seem preferable to my current environs.

But it's a terribly unpleasant feeling, viewing the world through the lens of somebody else's thoughts -- isn't it? So rather than taking the first opportunity I get to regale you with an unending diatribe of my own jaded (Heh.) musings, perhaps it would be better to treat this as a sort of conversation? But where to begin, then? After all, I haven't had any of those worth remembering in quite some time.

Ah. Right. A self-introduction.

My name is Manaka Kokone. I'm 14 years old, and am just starting my first year of junior high as a student of Isshin Academy, in Hokkaido. I have never had a boyfriend, nor is there anyone from my former class whom I was particularly close to.

If I had to describe myself, I suppose I would say that I am something of a recluse by nature. I strongly dislike crowds, noisy people, and social functions that serve no purpose but to uphold meaningless ceremony. If I must do something, I should like that thing to be important. And, if I can at all help it, I would much prefer the company of a good movie or book to that of my peers.

This is not because I am the kind of person who holds petty grudges, mind you; nor is my aloofness due to some misbegotten sense of superiority. I simply find other people's presences unbearably stifling.

Yes, exactly as stifling as you find me right now, in fact. After all, I'm in the prime of my youth, about to make my grand debut upon the glorious and tragic stage known as high school! Why should I be uttering such gloomy thoughts, even if only in the solace of my own psyche?

Hey! Pretentious I'll allow, but I draw the line at narcissistic!

Ugh. Fine. You're free to think whatever you want... But since you're clearly getting tired of listening to me talk about myself, I'll stop being so melodramatic and just... cut to the chase.

Basically, what I'm trying to say is that I’m a person who wishes to live a very quiet life. Making friends is just as stressful as making enemies, so --

Will you stop interrupting me?! And what the heck is a "Jojo's Reference" anyway?

...Ugh. Happy now? I've totally lost my train of thought. Now we have to start all over again! But where should I even begin? It has to be at least sort of dramatic or else nobody will even be interested. How about...

It was a cold and snowy day.

...No, that doesn't work at all. I mean, most of the snow's already melted since the sun came out, and there's barely any more coming down. Sure, it is still cold, but... isn't that just false advertising?

Maybe the genre's the problem. Rather than a hard-boiled film noir detective's internal monologue, maybe something more personal and friendly would be better, like an early morning radio announcer?

Mm. Yeah. That might be a little easier on both of us.

Ehem! From the top, then!

---

TAKE 2

---

Hello, world! It's your girl, Manaka Kokone here, coming to you live from the front gates of Isshin High!

...Ooooooor maybe from the gates of hell. Honestly, looking at the scene in front of me, I'm not actually sure which it is.

For those of you just tuning in, let me set the stage for you. I had a rough trip up from Tokyo via the undersea rail line that took... well, most of yesterday. And by the time I arrived in Sapporo, I was expecting that I could find a place to stay in a hotel somewhere close to the school, then make the rest of the trip in the morning.

The hotel was... quite nice, actually. The walls of my room were mercifully thick -- so much so that I could barely even hear the thoughts of the vacationing college couple in the neighboring suite, even without my headphones on while I was showering. After saying a quick prayer to thank the kami, Jesus, Buddha, and whoever else might be listening for that mercy, I quickly covered my ears before they got any more ideas unfit for a junior high schooler's "pure" mind, set my alarm early for the big day tomorrow, and fell asleep almost before I knew it.

...Well, let it not be said that a mind reader is infallible. Apparently, I had failed to account for the rather important distinction that Isshin wasn't in Sapporo. It was near Sapporo. More specifically, it was almost a full hour's train ride outside of city limits, followed by a bus ride, followed by a walk that felt more like a hike. And, well... I have my pride, but even so, I like to think of myself as a realist. And looking at the situation realistically, it's honestly miraculous that I managed to haul all my luggage that far all by myself at all when it probably weighs twice as much as I do, and is half again as big to boot.

...Yeah. I'm a scrawny little pipsqueak. I know. It's fine. I am at peace with what I am. It doesn't bother me at all. It doesn't. Bother. Me.

...It bothers me a lot.

Needless to say, my plans of arriving early were dashed. Instead, I found myself rather unfortunately located on the far outer ring of the throng of people all nudging, shouting, pushing, and shoving their way through the front gates. And, on account of my afforementioned smallness, the moment I tried to slip through a gap...

...Well, let's put it this way. Do you know what happens to a twig when it's dropped into rushing water?

Yeah. Something like that. Which brings me to my present predicament.

See, as I probably told you before, crowds and I... we don't really mix well. Or, to put it more bluntly, I hate them. I hate the noise of everybody talking over each other. I hate the noise of everybody thinking even louder than that. I hate how angry it makes me when everybody wants to be somewhere and can't get there and so they just sit and sit and stew in their own frustration until it spills over and gets all over my own thoughts and --

And isn't it just a lovely day? Isn't it so nice that the sun is shining and the snow has mostly stopped and so I only had to drag myself here through the mud instead of wading knee deep in the snow? And aren't we all just so excited that in just a few short hours, we're gonna be taking our first steps towards being heroes?

Yeah, it's a great day today. I'm happy. I'm so darned happy I can hardly bear it!

OR AT LEAST I WOULD BE IF PEOPLE WOULD STOP TOUCHING ME.

Seriously, why is everybody so nervous!? You got accepted to the second best hero school in the entire country, and your first thought is to worry that you won't make the cut and you'll get kicked right out again!? Come on, have some bloody confidence! If even a half-baked person like me could make it in, you've got nothing to worry about, right? Oh, sure, you've had a bad few weeks. Your girlfriend dumped you because she didn't want to date long distance? Well maybe you should have talked things over with her first! If people would just actually communicate with each other, then half of their pointless woes would be --

And you! Stop pushing me! I don't care that your grandpa's sick, so stop thinking about it so loudly! ...Although he seems like a very nice man and it would be a terrible shame if anything happened to him, so fine, I hope he gets well soon -- NOW STAY OUT OF MY HEAD! STOP REMINDING ME OF --

...For just a split second, I want to go home. Failing that, I want to curl up in a corner somewhere and disappear. I want to vomit. I want to --

Deep breaths, Kokone. Deep breaths and happy thoughts. Or, if "happy" is too high a bar right now, I can at least take some solace in the fact that I'm not the only one who's miserable. Schadenfreude is a powerful thing, and right now, there's... there's...

...There's so many weirdos. And yes, I know I'm one to talk.

Somewhere up ahead of me, a person who thinks in Grey is trying to pretend her thoughts have some color to them. Which is to say, she's pushing and shoving her way forward with every last ounce of strength she has, relishing in the spite-filled gazes of those around her... until she had to actually meet them, anyway.

Yeah. That's right. That's exactly what you looked like. You're not the big girl on campus, you're just... kind of being a jerk.

In the Grey's wake, someone whose thoughts are Colorless angrily shouted after her, grumbling something I couldn't quite hear -- or rather, thinking something I can't quite make out, about becoming a "mega bitch."

...Well, I can understand her frustration, at least, though her way of expressing it was... questionable. Still, at least her thoughts were more intelligible than the... Orange? Blue?

Well, whoever she is, she forced the surrounding crowd aside with a rather shocking display of some kind of water Quirk, blasting a small geyser into the air that sent the people around her scattering.

I almost feel sorry for her, hearing her complaints about the cold and given the ice covering her clothing. And I almost felt grateful there for a moment that she parted the crowd enough for me to slip through in her wake. But mostly, I just feel confused, since, after all, she's currently rejoicing that nobody else knows about the "Dragon" --

...Ah. A secret. Or... more like a dark history. Well, I'm terribly sorry, but there is someone who knows about it, and she's right here.

Seriously, though. Why's everyone so caught up on making a first impression when all of that will be forgotten once our actual training begins? Do they seriously think they'll be remembered for how they entered the school when it's their performance under pressure and their usage of their Quirks that will make or break their aspirations?

Well, it's often said that actions speak louder than words. But, I suppose, some people's actions, like their thoughts, speak too loudly.

...Oh. Speak of the devil. There's a very special sort of person amongst us -- a person whose thoughts echo with glistening Gold. His very presence is like a deafening roar, his aura like blinding sunlight. And to be honest, I couldn't tell if that was just my synesthesia acting up again, or his actual Quirk, given the way he just launched himself over everybody's heads and skidded to a stop in the courtyard, bellowing bombastically all the while... then laughing about how it "wasn't bad for a first try."

He's lying, by the way. This young man had crashed and faceplanted in ways I scarcely even thought possible practicing that little stunt, and even with all that effort he'd almost messed it up this time, too.

...Between him and the lighter, purer Blue thoughts calling me and everyone else in the assembled crowd "sidekicks" just because its owner hadn't quite made the cut for UA, I honestly can't even tell whose ego is more fragile.

This is a hero school, right? I didn't take a wrong turn somewhere and end up in a clown college?

Regardless, I'm not exactly about to stay out in the midst of this throng of lunatics any longer than I have to. So, with the crowd distracted by the various showoffs in front of the school, and with I myself having at last broken through, I make my way to the assembly hall...

Jianghu: Age After War

Shrine of a Forgotten God, Henan

---

Xiáyīng momentarily seemed to lower her guard. Or rather, it could perhaps be better said that her curiosity got the better of her. The man wasn't saying anything, and the woman had just entered the room and begun to speak. She tilted her head ever-so-slightly, wanting to see what they were doing, what their expressions were -- wanted to make sure they really weren't going to hurt her.

Then it happened. In an instant, a dark and familiar something stole its way over the dark-haired woman's face, icy recognition descending upon her from on high like hailstones, and sudden, bristling anger flashing towards her like lightning. Not towards her specifically, but rather towards...

"A young pair of eyes could be helpful in an investigation like yours, Sima."

She knew. She didn't just know, but she craved the power that Xiáyīng so unwillingly bore.

It wasn't a request, or an invitation -- it was a threat. Lend her power, or have it taken from her by force. Even if she complied, there was no guarantee the woman wouldn't turn on her once her usefulness to her had ended. If she let her guard down for even a second... her eyes would be taken.

But she had already seen the woman's strength herself. The path she had walked was long and arduous, and surely, a useless child like her could not possibly hope to match one who had climbed so far, and learned so much. If she drew her blade here, or if she tried to run -- it mattered not. All she could do was comply.

Her only reassurance was that the man did not seem to share the woman's awareness of her nature. Or, if he did know -- he had called her "Blue," after all -- he lacked the same hostility. She could see it -- his sorrow, and his warmth. It was far too presumptuous to expect that he would protect her, necessarily, if push came to shove, but... for the time being, of the two who had pressed her into service, he seemed much safer than his dark-haired companion.

"I'm sorry." Despite his advice, it was the only answer that came naturally to her when she was scolded. What else was she supposed to say? Nevertheless, she tried to hold her head just a little higher -- almost high enough to meet his gaze as she awkwardly, unsubtly scooted just a little closer to him, and away from Yifang. "I did not mean to cause offense. I will... umm... keep your advice in mind."

It wasn't much -- and it could hardly be called an improvement -- but the way she gripped her sword now bespoke a fear much greater than simply being robbed. If she was attacked, she would run, and if forced to fight, she would lose -- but despite the inevitability of such a defeat, she began to steel herself for such an eventuality regardless.

Jianghu: Age After War

Shrine of a Forgotten God, Henan

---

The floorboards creaked outside the threshold, and instinctively, Xiáyīng lowered her head in one last futile attempt to keep her eyes from being seen. It was of no particular use, of course -- the shadow that towered over her swiftly descended to her own level, peering under the brim of her hood and meeting her gaze before she knew it. She clutched the sheathed sword at her side all the more tightly -- not because she thought she would have to use it, but rather because she feared the one defense she had left would be taken away.

Yet, when he did speak, it was in a kinder, gentler tone than she had heard in a long, long time. The mere sound of his voice surprised her so much that she completely failed to mark the meaning of the words he spoke to her, simply staring at him in bewilderment before her old habits reminded her that she did not deserve the privilege of looking upon a true warrior, and she thus quickly lowered her head.

"Um... Please... forgive my trespass. I had thought this place abandoned, and meant merely to rest. Please, forgive me." Before she knew it, apologies and excuses were spilling from her lips, though she hardly expected them to be received. Even if this man seemed kind on the surface, surely, the temple's owner would be less lenient...

Jianghu: Age After War

Shrine of a Forgotten God, Henan

---

She hadn't intended to eavesdrop. Really, she hadn't.

Xiáyīng hadn't even thought about the conversation the two people outside might have been having at first, as she had been almost entirely preoccupied with self-concealment. But once she had erased her already meager presence, and had tucked herself nicely out of their line of sight, her mind had begun to wander away from the silence of her own quiet breathing, to the voices she could hear outside. And so it was that, without really meaning to, she heard what was being discussed.

"-- isolated village a few hours out seemed to have up and vanished. Not too strange to happen during the war, but a peddler seemed to have traded with 'em 3 months ago."

...So the village she had encountered before wasn't the only one to suffer such a fate? Her heart felt heavy, and her head drooped. Of course, it wasn't as though she expected that the only evils in the world were the ones which she had beheld with her own two eyes, but even so, the reminder and the remembrance that came with it weighed heavily upon her.

If they were investigating such things, though, then didn't that mean they were martial artists? Honorable and upstanding folk, like the man who... Well, at any rate, her curiosity was stirred, and so, against her better judgment, she peered meekly out around the fringe of the doorway when she thought nobody was looking, and --

The wind whistled between the mountain's twin crests. The boughs rustled, their petals plucked -- life strewn carelessly upon the surface of the water far below. Ripples formed around her where she lay, soaked and chilled to the bone, merely gazing up at the sky. She had always been here. She would never be able to leave. She clawed at the stone with bloodied fingers, trying in vain to rise, only to fall and sink deeper -- ever deeper into the dark water.

Silent and still. All was silent and still. Ever and always, silent and still. She was but a single droplet in a boundless spring. A single life within a vast world. A tiny and frail thing that could do naught but sink.

Yet even from within those soundless depths, she could still see the ones who stood above.

One was a warrior ascendant upon a steep and winding road, whose every stride carried him closer -- ever closer to the clouds. But though he bore a thousand blades upon his back, the way was so narrow and so treacherous that none could walk beside him to bear his steel, or share in his burden.

The other's burdens were of a different sort. The road ahead of her was easy, and well-traveled -- if only she could but walk it. Yet shadows hounded her -- their grasp stayed her feet, even as the tracks she followed faded into nothing before her eyes. As the sun began to set behind the mountain, the shadows in her wake grew long indeed -- like jaws opened wide to devour her, while she but stood, and waited for the journey's end.

Xiáyīng gasped, and drew back behind the threshold, shutting her aching eyes -- yet the echoes of the vision still seemed painted upon the insides of her eyelids, drifting phantasms and lingering silhouettes dancing across the darkness despite her attempts to blink and rub them away. Why had she dared to look, when she knew she wouldn't be able to control what she might see? Foolish, utterly foolish, and now --

"I know that you're lookin' after someone here already, so I'd understand if you'd want to stay."

Xiáyīng's heart sank. Now they knew she was here.

The woman called out to her a moment later -- or, rather, seemed to be addressing her indirectly, but nevertheless showed that she, too, had witnessed Xiáyīng's moment of indiscretion. But how much had they seen? Just her face, or had they even noticed her eyes? If they had, would they try to hurt her? She'd be able to tell if she looked at them again, but if she looked then they might see if they hadn't already, and if they saw then they definitely would, so should she just stay hidden? But she couldn't stay hidden because they'd already seen her. Should she say something? But what? Saying "I'm not a thief" would only make them think she was one, but if she asked permission to stay only after already entering the temple then -- then...

Her racing thoughts carried her completely away, and ultimately she became so preoccupied wondering what she should say or how she should say it that she said... nothing at all.