When we finished cleaning up—and, honestly, there wasn’t much work to do—and were about to leave, the girl leaned against me (as much as you can say “leaned” considering both her arms were missing up to the deltoids while she carried a bag of trash and cleaning supplies) and nudged me gently in the shoulder, looking up at me from below.

“What?” I couldn’t help but smile. She can be cute when she wants to.

“I’ve always wanted to ask: why are you so driven, Niren?”

I frowned, searching for the right words.

Setsuna continued, speaking hurriedly and clearly losing confidence with each sentence:

“If I’ve more or less figured out Yui’s motives, and I’m familiar with the interests of most of the other kids—they’re probably not much different from mine until recently—I still don’t understand what drives you. Such dedication, but… Sorry if I’m prying into something I shouldn’t… but we’re friends, so I thought… right?”

“Of course, we’re friends. We’ve been through so much together…”

“So much?” she widened her eyes.

“Cleaning one classroom, Tsuna,” I nodded seriously. “Things like that bring people closer.”

The girl giggled and, gathering herself together, spun gracefully out into the hallway like a ballerina. From my reaction, she probably realized that she wouldn’t get any childhood trauma stories or personal details from my answer.

And that’s how it was.

“You know, maybe… I just want to be ready. For the future. Whatever it might be.”

We walked calmly through the school’s halls. A group of students in blue blazers hung out further down the corridor, but otherwise, it was pretty deserted.

“That’s all?”

Evening was falling. From the windows on the left, the sunset light poured in like a fiery river, making it seem like a fire was starting in the school.

“You know, maybe… it’s just a defense mechanism. I’ve never been able to sit around doing nothing or lie on the couch all day when there’s… well, a sort of Sword of Damocles hanging over you. A threat. You can always hide from the fears of a dark future and doubts about your own decisions in monotonous, repetitive, hard work.”

And I gave a slight smile, showing that I wasn’t speaking too seriously. We were almost at the group of kids chatting ahead, possibly even her classmates, so I hoped Setsuna would get distracted.

I wasn’t ready yet to talk about my knowledge of the future, let alone the phenomenon of reincarnation. Maybe I never would be.

But Tokage frowned anyway:

“A threat?”

“You know, maybe…”

I briefly considered whether I should tell her about the quirk singularity theory…

But then I noticed something troubling up ahead and quickly picked up my pace.

From a distance, I’d already spotted a girl, a smiling and sweet blonde with a medium-length haircut. The boys were openly staring at her, and from what I could hear—distant whistles and subdued laughter—some of them were making borderline inappropriate comments. The girl clearly seemed too well-mannered to tell the rude boys off.

But my intuition, just looking at her, screamed “Danger! Dangerous opponent!” even before I noticed how she was standing. And then, when I unintentionally started walking faster, I realized: perfect positioning relative to the crowd and the main entrances and exits of the building; a subtly braced support leg; extraordinary fluidity of movement; one hand always kept close to her slightly open, girlish, cute backpack; never breaking eye contact with her target…

The girl smoothly and inconspicuously moved out of most people’s sight, edged closer to the boy who was distracted by conversation, and her right hand slipped toward a weapon in her backpack…

I got there just in time and stopped her hand at the last moment.

The tightly clenched hand stung with pain; perhaps the instrument of revenge—or justice?—was a kitchen knife. Or a letter opener?

Well, at least it wasn’t a gun; that’s something.

Whatever it was, my body had been moving almost on its own up until now, and only now did my brain kick in to start sorting things out. Oh…

“Don’t do it,” I said in a low voice, trying not to attract the attention of the other kids in blue uniforms who were engrossed in their conversation about graduation. Well, of course, they were.

My mind raced, registering the tiniest details.

The girl gasped softly but quietly, looking at me with wide eyes. She didn’t look aggressive or, for that matter, dangerous at all.

Even more so: it looked so natural that I even wondered if I had just imagined her professionalism. Really, where could such skills have come from in an ordinary schoolgirl, after all?

And I couldn’t check what exactly I was holding in my hand; that would definitely attract attention, and while I could probably talk my way out of it, the girl—if I was right—might face ostracism and a worsening of her situation. But I couldn’t prove anything either.

Damn, how did I manage to step in it for no reason…

But we’re still in the real world. A world where school bullying still exists, where there are still winners and losers, where sexual harassment is still a thing, where natural selection, hormonal development, puberty, and social interactions are further complicated by quirks…

And it’s not like I care about minor school squabbles—she’s not going to kill him here… but in a caste-like Japanese society, this incident could very well ruin her life.

So maybe right now, I’m going to look like a blabbering fool, shooting blindly into thin air—but I need to take precautions. Just in case. If there’s even a small chance that this will save someone—it doesn’t matter if it’s herself or her victim—I’ll intervene if all that’s at stake is a few minutes of embarrassment and apologies.

Am I a hero or not, after all? My usual motto.

Aiming to get into U.A., which trains heroes, and passing by without preventing a disaster would be, at the very least, cynical and hypocritical.

So I opened my mouth, dry in an instant:

“I don’t know what that guy did to you, but… don’t do anything like this to him,” I whispered, nodding down at the unknown weapon (or “weapon”) I was holding. “This… erm… world is complicated, uncomfortable; it’s not for everyone. Like you’re different. Maybe you think you’re alone, that people don’t understand… don’t hear you… being rude and hurting you…”

A strange expression flickered in the girl’s eyes, but—surprisingly, I hadn’t noticed such talents for soul-saving speeches in myself before—she made no attempt to pull her hand away or scream. She just listened quietly.

I took this as a good sign and continued my impromptu session of psychological help from Niren Shoda:

“But, you know, I’m not like everyone else, either. And she isn’t,” I bobbed my head toward Setsuna, who was tensely standing a couple of steps away from me. “We’re all alone, and none of us fit this world. And that…”

The girl’s facial features twisted, her lips spread into an unexpectedly cynical grin… but I didn’t let her say anything, interrupting with a soft voice, almost a pleading whisper:

“And that’s okay! Even a good thing! Cos it makes things simple. Don’t like the world? Become strong! If you’re strong—you’ll make YOUR place, and this world WILL suit you. Remember Cementoss, a hero and teacher at U.A. Academy, who looks like a concrete block. Was it easy to get through school until he was sixteen, looking like a living toilet tank? Don’t think so. But now he doesn’t give a damn because he became a hero. Strong.”

Sparks of something appeared in the yellow eyes of my listener.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Kami-sama, I hope these are sparks of understanding, and I’m not just spouting some meaningless bullshit but actually conveying my point. I hurried to finish before we got interrupted:

“Precisely because I don’t like something in the world, I’m applying to U.A. myself. And she is too,” I ignored a quiet “Hey!” from the left. “We decided we want to be strong and don’t want to listen to others. You understand? The parents of my friend are against her becoming a hero; don’t believe in her, but she kept preparing, and now I know for sure: she’ll become a great pro, she’s already strong! But what YOU do—and decide—is up to you. Not the people around, not rude guys, not family, not the quirk, but you. Forget their opinions; don’t waste time and energy. What’s important is only what you want—to do and to achieve. Instead of blaming the world and giving up, just TRY to win first, oka—”

“Hey!” a voice called out from the side. A guy noticed I had my hand in the schoolgirl’s bag.

Tsk. Can I just finish speaking!

“And to win, play by the rules. If we’re all alone, it doesn’t matter where you’re alone—at the bottom of society or at the top where most people won’t reach. Make the world accept you, and…”

At this point, the great orator Niren Shoda was grabbed by the shoulder. I, not resisting, released my hand and stepped back a couple of steps.

“Hey, what’s your deal here? Are you okay? What do you want from her? You okay?” The blonde girl’s classmates fired off aggressive questions at me.

I grimaced. This kind of attention was unwanted and unpleasant.

And I’d lost my voice.

“Calm down, guys, calm down, everything’s okay!” Setsuna burst onto the scene. “He’s my senpai from another school, I asked him to come help me! Stop harassing him, or he’ll refuse to help me! Come on, guys…”

The “guys” quieted down, but the looks they threw at me were far from friendly. A few pals and that guy approached the girl who had “suffered” from me, forming an impromptu "shield" around her.

“I’m leaving now. We’ve settled everything, right?” I calmly smiled at the blonde, who was watching me. I never did learn her name, by the way (and why would I?).

Then, showing my open, raised hands, I moved further down the corridor.

A worried Tokage, hurriedly saying goodbye to her schoolmates, caught up with me and immediately bombarded me with questions, suspicions, admiration, dissatisfaction, and other emotions.

I discreetly glanced at my palm. The scratch running across the abductor muscle of my pinky was barely visible, though a couple of drops of blood had surfaced.

Maybe I did imagine it all?

Well, if so, that was a very embarrassing fail, what can I say…

I rambled on and on with three soul-saving speeches to a random poor girl… I don’t even remember the last time I talked this much. And why did I even decide she was lonely?

I shook myself off.

Well, what’s done is done. In any case, I at least achieved one goal, and Setsuna completely forgot about the topic of our conversation.

It’s time for me to clear my head of unnecessary thoughts, too—the exams are in a week, and I need to do my best to get the highest score possible so that no small detail keeps me from getting into Class “A”… and to draft a training and diet plan for the next two weeks… plan the trip to U.A.…

***

Musical Accompaniment:

https://soundcloud.com/akavien/someone-elses-house-slowed

In the Same Place.

Almost giving in to her emotions, the same girl, tilting her head slightly, watched the tall, blue-haired boy walking away down the corridor.

… he had been gone for a while, and with him went another vaguely familiar schoolgirl with dark green hair. Her classmates were already trailing after them—some stood beside her, some started brushing off her backpack… someone shook her shoulder insistently… someone called her… what was his name again… the one she liked, the one she wanted to become… Saito.

She didn’t need Saito anymore.

She kept watching down the now-empty corridor.

Then, almost reflexively, she licked the blood off the letter opener.

The blood turned out to be… good.

Strong.

Tasty.

Right.

Yes, "right" was the word.

The taste of such blood in her mouth felt… right. Something real and true, something so rich and vibrant, the way everything should be. Something she had been missing for so long, something she had probably been unconsciously yearning for all along.

The girl grimaced slightly. She wasn’t very good with words.

And she also felt an overwhelming urge to use her quirk—right here, right now!—but there was too little blood, just enough for a couple of seconds (and she felt disappointment at that). She knew a few seconds wouldn’t be enough. You’d just touch it, just begin to feel it, just start to understand what it’s like… and that would be it. You’d just want more.

And she didn’t know enough about that blue-haired boy yet. Who is he? Where did he come from? She needed to find out, needed to learn more, but he was already gone… he mentioned something about some academy…

First, she needed to get to know him better.

And besides, this wasn’t the right place for using her quirk. People standing around, walking, watching…

To be honest, she had already forgotten about her previous crush and all these unnecessary classmates around her. Why were they making so much noise?

It was time to find a quieter place and think.

The blonde recalled the recent conversation with the blue-haired tasty guy. Yes, that’s what she would call him… "Tasty Guy."

Well, it’s okay.

She would meet him again. And this time, yes, yes, she would take more than just a few pathetic drops!

She licked her lips and felt herself smiling.

A genuine smile.

People usually get nervous when she smiles genuinely.

That’s good.

She felt the mask she had worn for years—the mask of a cheerful, reasonable, well-mannered, normal girl—cracking and falling apart, letting the real her out. She hadn’t felt this freedom in so long… the freedom to be herself… since childhood…

But it didn’t go quite like that. She just felt that she could no longer hold back, that she finally wanted to give in to the desire to be closer to what she liked, to possess what she liked, to be with the one she liked… to be the one she liked…

And suddenly, it turned out that what she liked wasn’t near. And what was nearby—she glanced sideways at the frightened Saito—was no longer nearly enough.

She reluctantly put the mask back on, or rather, what was left of it.

So… it’s too early to be herself. Too soon. Just a bit longer… she could endure. Just a little bit more.

Pushing aside the pale classmates and slowly heading toward the stairs, the girl thoughtfully rolled a new idea around in her mind.

The tasty guy said he was going to become a hero.

Yes, all heroes, and everything built around heroes, had long irritated her deeply.

But… the guy’s blood was tasty. Right.

Yes, in the society as it is, there is no place for someone like her.

But… is that such a bad thing?

Maybe she was just looking in the wrong place?

Or rather, she was looking from the wrong side? She had been looking from the crowd, from the base of the mountain, from the darkness… and complaining to herself about how dark it was here and how no one could see the true her, right? Nobody wants to see the true her.

But perhaps… she needed to look from the very top of that mountain instead? Makes sense, right? You see further from a height.

And after all, the one who stands at the top stands so high that they block out the sun… which means they aren’t really seen, right?

The sunlight, the shadows, all that stuff, all these things like public recognition and fame, they sort of hide the flaws of the one at the top, and he hides… in plain sight.

People even love him.

The girl wanted to love—and wanted to be loved.

She had seen it many times on TV—all these pathetic heroes in reality shows where they trash-talk each other and pull out… what’s it called… dirty laundry, that’s it. Or all those boring gossip pieces her mother reads in the tabloids…

And yet, they’re still Heroes. The sun, the glory at the top, all these shiny things hide their dirt. Yes.

They shine so brightly, these trendy glamorous heroes, that their dirt isn’t visible under the glitter.

Or—how scary they are.

And yes… some—not many, but some—heroes are also feared…

She couldn’t help but smile widely again.

Seeing the letter opener in the hands of the maniacally grinning girl heading toward the school exit, a couple of junior high girls squealed and ducked back into the restroom.

… just like her right now.

The blonde froze for a moment.

Yes. YES! That’s it!

Come to think of it, even among the heroes themselves, there are plenty of strange, scary, incomprehensible ones…

And… they often bleed, right?

And if she stays close… no one will say anything, right? And she could, just subtly… Even if they do say something, she can always make it so no one will say anything ever again, right? As they say… “If you’re not caught, you’re not a thief,” right?

And the tasty guy will be there too…

Right now, she so desperately wants to be close, needs to be close, to be right there with him, right there, to BE HIM, which means she has to get there…

What did he say?

“Make the world accept you… huh?”

Sounds… very idealistic.

Like all those disgusting… slogans. And taglines.

But… if she’s right about this shadow and mountain-top thing… and can live well…

If she no longer has to hide. To run. And to pretend… to keep the mask on, the mask she’s worn for years, the mask that’s been so bothersome…

And if there’s a lot of tasty blood like that guy’s…

And the guy himself…

Then…

Then she will be there too.

… and then she can finally truly become what she likes. To love, to be loved… and to become what she loves. Again, and again, and again, and again!

***

Himiko Toga, for that was the name of the girl, absentmindedly tucked the letter opener into the garter of her stockings, typed “U.A. Academy” into a search, and stared thoughtfully at her phone.

[END OF VOLUME ONE]

Illustrations:

image [https://cm.author.today/content/2024/09/03/f14cd1b1d9e143309778cf64c3609738.jpg]

Himiko Toga in her school years.

Isn’t she just adorable without those weird coils on her head…

Interestingly enough: according to the wiki, her birthday is on the seventh of August, and she is sixteen when she appears in the canon storyline. Simple calculations show that yes, she is almost a year older than all the main characters, and yet, yes, when she was still in middle school (and appeared in this fic), she was fifteen—because in Japan, the school year starts

n̶o̶t̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶f̶o̶r̶ ̶n̶o̶r̶m̶a̶l̶ ̶p̶e̶o̶p̶l̶e̶ not on, say, the first of September like in China and Russia, or the fifteenth of August like in America, but on the sixth of April.

So she most likely was in the same class (ninth grade) as Niren, Yui, Setsuna, Midoriya, Bakugo, etc., right before the events of the canon.

image [https://cm.author.today/content/2024/09/03/56ccb3beff90475ab91713e2ac77c860.jpg]

Smile, you’re being screenshotted!

image [https://cm.author.today/content/2024/09/03/9db9b3ae51904d018c60aedf59f5b120.jpg]

The very metaphorical "mask" mentioned at the end of the chapter, and the yandere girl herself—among her noisy classmates, who were all excited about (graduation!) something.

image [https://cm.author.today/content/2024/09/03/cd34c851d9614348a829069d7eebb195.jpg]

And, well… the letter opener that Niren fighted with.

By the way, the First Blood in the fic!