Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Sure enough, this kind of rough plan wasn't very good in execution. Even though she had gradually swapped out blades to let her body adapt to the sudden increase in load, her arm still couldn't take that much force.

Crouching to the side, holding her hand like a cat's paw, Kirisame felt a bit melancholy.

"Holy crap, is that the legendary forty-meter sword?"

"She actually split it completely!"

"What kind of Quirk is that?"

"...Why did she go after that big robot?"

Amid the chatter around her, Recovery Girl strolled over slowly.

"Good work, good work! Come have some gummy candy! Anyone hurt, speak up!"

Looking at the old lady's cane shaped like a syringe, Kirisame inexplicably felt her arm hurt even more.

"Oh, it's you. Have those injuries from before healed already?"

...Huh?

Suddenly realizing this might be the woman who had treated her before, Kirisame took the bear-shaped gummy candy she offered and nodded.

"Yeah, all healed. Thank you for the treatment!"

She's a polite kid.

—Just not sure where she gets that recklessness from.

"I saw what you did just now. You've never tried that before, have you? Next time, make sure to properly gauge your strength." The old lady sighed, reaching toward Kirisame's arm. "Broke your arm?"

Kirisame obediently offered her arm. Recovery Girl's squinting eyes made her look kindly, but the syringe-shaped hair ornaments still made Kirisame a bit nervous: "Um, actually, I can handle—"

"Mwaaaah!!"

"...—heal it myself"

[Wow, it really healed!]

[Good thing she heals with kisses instead of stabbing people with that cane!]

Kirisame blinked.

"Okay, okay! Any other injured kids?"

...Second time.

Bakugo glanced at Kirisame, who was examining her own arm and hadn't noticed him, then turned and left.

Turns out, "cramming works wonders" is just a lie to calm exam jitters. The thrill of the practical test got completely washed away by the written exam. Kirisame stumbled out of UA's gate feeling half-dead, that hero radio station's song "Will You Still Be Alive Tomorrow Night? :)" playing in her head.

At the gate stood Izuku Midoriya, equally dejected.

A whole conversation of shared misery passed between them in a single look. Nearly a year of friendship meant they both understood each other's situation perfectly. The dark-green-haired boy and the black-haired girl, both with similarly teary expressions, trudged out of UA's gate with their heads low.

"Hey, Kirisame... you think...?"

"Hmm?" She glanced at his tattered outerwear, suspecting something unpleasant had happened during his practical test.

Izuku Midoriya looked down, organizing his thoughts.

...There was so much he wanted to say.

He wanted to say that even after all his training and gaining a Quirk, he still hadn't scored a single point in the practical. He wanted to say that today he had saved a girl from that terrifying big robot. He also wanted to say that he had probably let down his greatest idol's expectations, making a choice he didn't even know was right.

Tears welled up in his eyes, but he held them back—he couldn't cry in front of a girl.

Kirisame looked away.

"Forget it," his companion said, looking at his open hand before ultimately staying quiet.

"I... don't regret it." He clenched his fist and gave a smile that seemed a bit sad.

"Yeah," Kirisame patted his shoulder and handed him some of Recovery Girl's bear gummies. "Want some candy?"

"Huh? This candy... did you get hurt too, Kirisame?"

"No, I have a trick—I can swipe candy from people's boxes without them even noticing."

"What?!"

Laugh.

"You're messing with me again!!"

The next day, at Shota Aizawa's doorstep.

"I came to say goodbye," Kirisame said mournfully. "No matter how I calculate it, I don't think I passed the written exam."

Aizawa looked at the girl, her expression full of sorrow as if saying, "Our teacher-student bond is about to end before it even begins." He almost blurted out a line he'd picked up during a trip to a neighboring country: "Don't be discouraged. You can still try applying to our Zhuhai branch."

He blinked his dry eyes hard. The dark-haired man sighed. "Come in first."

After washing an apple for the girl and letting her hold it, Shota Aizawa sat across from her and asked, "Who would you like to deliver your admission notice?"

"Present Mic!" Without hesitation.

...Oh wait.

Even though she'd heard from Mirio that teachers delivered admission notices, the way he asked now meant—

"I actually passed?!"

"Lucky you. You scored exactly one point above the cutoff."

"!!"

The world suddenly seemed wonderful!

Even Mr. Aizawa—who was slumped in his chair like a wrinkled rag—suddenly looked handsome and cool!

She had actually passed!! For Kirisame, who had been prepared to pack up and go home, this was an unexpected delight. She looked at the apple in her hand and finally felt like taking a bite.

Seeing Kirisame come back to her senses, Shota Aizawa got up and opened a drawer under the cabinet beside him.

For the next two minutes, Kirisame watched in disbelief as he pulled out, one after another, a cat wand, two packs of dried fish, various brands of eye drops, and a thick stack of variously styled, perfume-scented envelopes with lipstick kiss marks on them... Finally, from the very bottom, he pulled out a folder.

This scene, combined with his listless expression, was absolutely spectacular.

"[Teacher Aizawa is unexpectedly popular...]"

Sensing the little girl's intense gaze, Aizawa looked down at her.

—Overflowing curiosity.

"..."

Shota Aizawa, who occasionally receives passionate fan letters, awkwardly shifted his body to block Kirisame's view.

The black-haired man smacked the folder on Kirisame's head. "Get serious."

Kirisame hung her head in disappointment.

He carelessly gathered the stack of fan letters and stuffed them back in the drawer.

"U.A. provides special services for admitted students. Fill in the Quirk report, physical parameters, appearance and functionality requirements on the submission form, and the school's exclusive support equipment company will provide a free costume." He pulled an envelope from the folder and handed it to Kirisame. "I was supposed to mail this to you later, but now that you're here, fill it out now."

Kirisame had never heard of needing specialized clothing just for fighting before, but recalling Mirio's situation, she felt she understood a bit.

"I don't think I really need it. My fighting style doesn't rely much on equipment..." Kirisame looked at the form in her hands.

"Write it down whether you need it or not," her guardian handed her a pen. "Even if you don't need support functions, design a look you like. All your classmates will have one. If you don't do it now, you'll be stuck in a gym uniform alone."

He collapsed onto the sofa. "You write. I'll take a nap. Wake me when you're done."

His breathing evened out quickly.

"..."

This question was about to throw Kirisame for a loop.

She roughly wrote down the overview of her fighting style, then had no idea what else to write. Her colleagues at Libra mostly wore suits and cool trench coats, and as a short girl, Kirisame couldn't pull that off. Her master, the Blood God, fought with just an Indian headscarf wrapped around him...

Kirisame recalled the bright, skintight costume on All Might's giant billboard poster and shivered.

The change happened in an instant.

Just as Kirisame was torn between Aizawa Shota's style and Leo's, her mind went blank.

Yeah, blank – about three seconds of nothing.

It was as if a plastic bag had been pulled over her head. In that moment, the sound of the wind outside, the birds chirping, the faint creaking of the chair, and Aizawa Shota's breathing all felt far away, as if she were the only person left in the world. The amplified sound of her heartbeat pounded in her ears, giving her a headache.

It was like being a video game character the moment the player's internet goes out.

The weight of her body vanished in that moment, and ideas rose to the surface as naturally as breathing.

Kirisame suddenly had an idea.

Aizawa Shota lay on the sofa with his eyes closed, listening as the girl muttered to herself after a long pause.

"I could go with white... but white would be way too easy to spot at night. How about black?"

"Wait, what? High-heeled wooden clogs? No way, that screams 'sprained ankle' waiting to happen. How about boots instead?"

"Don't push your luck..."

This kid's really alright, huh?

The guardian had about a second of worry.

—Then he was out cold.

Even though he'd mentally prepared himself, Aizawa Shota's mouth still twitched involuntarily when he took the design sheet from Kirisame's hand.

Yep, it was definitely traditional Japanese style.

"Didn't you grow up in...?" He hesitated, then decided not to meddle. "Never mind, suit yourself."

The girl looked pretty happy.

Since Mr. Aizawa had completely erased cooking from his mental skill set after Kirisame was discharged, the two of them huddled on the couch eating takeout. The guardian remembered that kids needed nutrition and taste, so the takeout had a good mix of meat and veggies.

After eating, Kirisame grabbed the takeout containers and headed out, saying goodbye to him.

"One more thing. I thought about it and decided to tell you."

Even though his attitude was as casual as if he were about to say "you've got rice on your face," Kirisame had a hunch he was about to say something that would crush her mentally.

"...Could you not tell me?"

"That was a lie," the guardian said in a very flat tone, dropping something incredible. "Actually, after that incident, U.A. gave you special admission."

"..."

The months of pain flashed through her mind.

Kirisame was stunned. Trembling, she stuttered, "Th-then, what you said at the time..."

"A necessary tactic to boost your efficiency and straighten out your attitude," Aizawa Shota grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. "That's what you call justifiable deception!"

"!"

Draw blade!! Emergency draw!!

Liar.

As she walked back, Kirisame's face was blank, a complete contrast to her earlier rage.

—If I hadn't measured up, I really would have been rejected.

Recalling Mr. Aizawa's expression when they first met, she tsked.

She stared at her own hand for a long moment, then decided to focus on more important matters.

That afternoon, while she was working on her costume design, she heard a voice.

After that suffocating discomfort passed, Kirisame heard a cheerful, bright male voice greet her warmly.

Even though it was sudden and had never happened before, Kirisame strangely understood what it was.

It wasn't an illusion. After that rooftop conversation, her connection with her weapon had grown stronger. Before, she could only vaguely feel their emotions, but now, she could hear them speak.

The indistinct feeling of being "not alone" suddenly crystallized.

This made her far happier than finding out she'd passed the written test.

Thinking this, Kirisame passed by someone just as they turned the corner.

The evening breeze gently lifted a corner of the young doctor's white coat. He came to a slight stop.

"...Huh?"