School was better.
If only marginally so.
"Hey Tenjo! Show us your quirk man!"
"Yeah yeah! set that tree on fire!"
It was easy to ignore them.
"Hey c'mon!"
There weren't any consequences to it.
I would wear earplugs, but then the teacher would notice and tell my parents.
Somehow my parents had enough money to get the teacher to give me special attention.
Harder testing, more supervision.
Constant monitoring.
I had to be perfect at all times.
"Hey Tenjo! Did you talk to your parents about how rough the teachers treat you yet?"
There was one guy I found to be pleasant though.
"Hey Saito."
His grades were fine.
His looks were normal.
His quirk wasn't outstanding, just minor telekinesis.
A good connection to have for the media.
My parents wouldn't say that, but they treated it like such.
Among the non-hero fanatics he was the most popular.
A charismatic, nice, honest guy.
"You've gotta talk to someone about these teachers, man. I've seen your tests, it's not middle school material."
He complained about my treatment on my behalf.
I nodded along to his words.
At least someone could see what's so wrong with my life.
"I can't bring it up to my parents, Saito, they're the ones who put the teachers up to this."
He clasped his hands behind his head.
"Maaa~ That's so suffocating. How do you even relax bro?"
The classroom was nearby.
I lower my voice to answer.
"Secretly."
There was a girl that liked Saito.
Not one in one of those big girl groups, not those weird clingy fangirls.
She stalked Saito from afar, but she acted for all intents and purposes, normal.
But I could tell.
She looked malnourished.
She looked small.
She was definitely acting.
From a hidden compartment in my backpack I pulled out a sketchbook.
It was a pain to make, but so worth it.
From the roof of the school I scarfed my lunch down, making sure to write in the diary.
Opening the book to an empty page I began sketching.
Simple, thin lines.
Soft shading, light and dark values with just one mechanical pencil.
After years of hiding and practicing my craft I could draw the image I wanted with ease.
I don't know the girl's name.
Her hair was tied in two buns.
Her smile, though forced, held a manic lust.
For what I could not tell.
I was certain though that she was hungry.
As her thin frame filled the page I couldn't help but wonder.
Why does she seem so familiar?
I heard the bell ring, signifying the end of lunch time.
I guess I ought to go back to class.
I wonder where Saito is?
The end of the school day happened.
I still couldn't find Saito.
I know I had martial arts practice after school, I know that if I missed the train I would be thirty minutes late.
However, the one normal guy I spoke to, where was he?
He usually says goodbye to me.
I looked through the empty halls, I listened through the waterfall of footsteps.
Then I saw them.
Second years, they hated my guts.
Only by the fact that I was stronger than them, only because my quirk was that much better than theirs.
They came from one of the classrooms on this floor, their knuckles covered in blood.
They caught sight of me and booked it to the stairs.
That didn't matter though.
What mattered was whose blood that was.
I ran, checking through each classroom, one by one I opened the doors and searched.
Did they shove him in a classroom locker?
When I got to the final classroom I saw a girl, kneeling over a body.
There was blood, not that much.
But the girl, she had a straw, and was drinking it.
Her face like that of a desert wanderer who had finally found an oasis after months of travel.
If only my oasis could be found so easily.
I got closer, seeing Saito weakly lying on the ground.
As for the girl, even if she needed this, feeding herself so much would only worsen her condition.
I feel she may go into the same shock Saito is in.
"Stop."
My voice, leveled, even.
Trained and hidden.
The girl stopped drinking more, she pulled her straw back, still sucking on the blood.
"Give me your scarf."
I spoke to her.
I didn't look at her.
Her panic wasn't something I wanted to see.
"- - -"
Her mumbles weren't what I wanted to hear.
"Your scarf."
I had a scarf in hand now, I applied it to Saito, stopping the bleeding.
A few girls walked past the classroom, they saw me stopping the bleeding, they saw Saito unresponsive on the floor.
They saw the hungry girl panicking in a corner.
I didn't bother to listen to her scream.
I waited with the hungry girl for the paramedics to arrive.
There were paper towels in the classroom.
I used them to help stop the bleeding, I used them to wipe the girl's mouth.
She was having what I could only describe as a panic attack.
I watched as the one person in this school I knew was carted away.
"I'm sorry."
She kept saying that.
Really, why did she need to keep saying that?
"It's my fault."
I feel like enough was enough.
I turned to her.
"It's not, it's those second years."
She refuted me.
"N-no I-I"
"You found he was cut, and due to your malnourishment you could only act on instinct."
I learned one thing today, she was hungry for meat. So hungry in fact that it didn't matter if it was human or animal meat.
"It's those second years, they hurt him, they cut him."
She sniffled, her tears still running.
"But I-I d-drank."
I was already sitting next to her, so I leaned in a little more.
I could take the scrutiny, I could lie for us.
She can't, she'll go overboard, drown.
"They don't need to know that. It's those bullies, they hurt him and no one else did."
By the time the police brought us in for questioning she had adopted my story.
We were allowed into the hospital, where Saito was resting.
He was awake, confused, and bedridden.
When he saw the girl he put more effort into thinking.
"Weren't you?"
She tensed, afraid.
She paled, even more than she already was.
Saito shook his head.
"Forget it, no big deal."
He lay back down on the hospital pillows.
"Thank you for helping me Tenjo, and, uh, whoever you are."
To be fair, Saito did look to be feeling much better, if not tired.
Perhaps his blood pressure lowered because of the girl.
Telekinesis people tend to hold their blood sometimes.
The girl lowered her head and muttered her name.
"H-himiko."
A long time passed before she said her last name.
"Toga."
We sat in silence around the bed.
The only thing echoing was the heartbeat monitor indicating Saito was alive.
It looks like I won't be practicing martial arts today.
I texted my mom, telling her about what happened to Saito and braced for the reply.
She would either flip out that I'm "skipping training" or blast off, that I've "gotten a really good backstory."
Whichever way she wants her hero to go.
Her reply was fast.
[Oh!! You'll have to tell me all about it when you come home! Who did this to your friend? How did you save him? What did you do while waiting? Oh how motivating it must be for you to be a hero!]
I let out a breath I didn't know I had, startling Himiko and gaining Saito's attention.
"What's wrong Tenjo?"
I turned my head to the bed.
"My mom, she wants me to spin this into a story."
Saito nodded, "Good luck bro."
We fell into silence again.
Steady beeping filled the room.
I noticed Himiko started crying again.
Her tears falling onto her black thigh high socks.
She started trembling too, as if a horrid monster was soon approaching.
She began muttering again.
"I'm sorry, I drank your blood. I won't do it again. Please don't tell anyone."
She began to spiral, muttering more and more.
I rolled her chair closer to Saito.
He gave me an eyebrow raise but I waved at him to help the girl.
He smiled.
"Himiko."
She was still muttering.
Saito gently reached his hand out, grasping one of hers.
"Himiko."
Her crying slowed and her hands went down.
She was listening.
"It's ok Himiko, it's not your fault. Don't be scared."
She cried into his arms that night.
The days after were a blur.
Saito's parents transferred him out of school as soon as he was out of the hospital.
I don't know where to.
Himiko looked starved.
Bruised too.
Mom's chatterings didn't stop, but I feel like I've crossed a threshold where I only needed to do maintenance on my lie.
Then one day.
I heard crying from an alley.
Children are taught that the alleys are dangerous.
Yokai, villains, the works.
But this crying was so familiar.
I couldn't resist going in.
I walked, past the sidewalk and into the alley.
If these were my final steps I wouldn't care.
If there was a villain who can get through blue and black then not even all might could stop them.
I followed the sound, the sobbing, the choked crying.
"Himiko?"
I found her disheveled, thinner than before, as scared as the day I met her.
"S-stay away!"
She flung some pebbles at me, covering her face, covering her fangs.
I could tell she was hungry.
That she needed help.
But who can I call to help her?
With a quirk like hers there's no way I can spin a story for my home.
There's hardly any charitable heroes who would help her either.
I stood there.
Time would pass, I would be late to practice.
But she needed help.
Then, one person came to mind.
I took my phone and dialed a number.
They picked up after the fifth ring.
"Hmm? Tenjo, are you going to be late?"
My dry lips moved, speaking in Cantonese.
If the people here won't help her, then what if they came from outside?
"Sifu, I need your help."
He immediately got serious, his language switching to cantonese as well.
"Where?"
He arrived with the smoldering fury of a fallen sun.
His muscles coiled and languid like the ocean tide.
The calm before the storm.
"Who dares trouble my student!?"
A roar left his mouth.
I was crouched beside Himiko, trying my best to at least comfort her.
"Sifu, I need you to help her."
My teacher's eyes widened, I could tell he read through Himiko's ailments in a flash.
His intimidating presence immediately dialed back.
His voice became gentle, he kneeled down to Himiko.
"Little girl, what happened?"
I didn't ask that earlier, she needed me to be with her then rather than for me, someone of the same age, to solve her problem.
Himiko, glum as she was, still answered.
"T-they told me to leave. I-I couldn't. T-they di-diso-w disowned me."
Her shaking grew a little.
"It's been days, I'm so hungry."
She was at her limit.
I heard footsteps from the other end of the alley.
A glance over showed just a regular salary worker taking a shortcut.
Sifu returned his attention to Himiko.
"How many days has it been since you last had food?"
Himiko raised up her hand shakily.
3 days.
Sifu's face twitched for a moment, showing the underlying rage beneath.
Hidden from Himiko's eyes by her own hands.
Sifu nodded.
"Fear not, I'll get you food and a place to stay, you'll be safe from now on. Well fed, strong. You don't need to be afraid anymore, I will help you, along with Tenjo here. We'll make sure you never have to go through that again, ok?"
Himiko still kept her head down.
"B-but, I d-drink blood. I'm villainous. I'm evil."
Sifu gave me a glance, asking me to translate.
"Her quirk makes it so that part of her diet is human blood."
Sifu nodded in appreciation.
"Fear not little girl, I'll get you your food."
He gave me a look that told me to stay here, beside Himiko.
He left in a blur, the wind stirring in place of him.
Minutes later he returned, a takeout container in hand.
"Sifu, what about the-?"
He nodded.
"I have it."
He brought the container to Himiko, wiping her hands with wipes provided by the restaurant.
"C-can I really?" She began.
Sifu smiled, handing over a pair of chopsticks.
"You can."
She opened the container, the hunger in her eyes being sated just by looking at the meal before her.
A heaping portion of horumonyaki, enough for three days of eating if split into one meal per day.
She swallowed her saliva, her cheeks twitched upwards into her signature smile.
One that was finally coming from good feelings.
She looked around and up for the first time, taking in my face and sifu's face.
"W-what about. What about blood?"
Sifu smiled softly.
"If the food's not enough, I have enough to share."
I noticed at his waist he had an emergency first aid kit too.
But what did he mean if the food's not enough?
Himiko dug into the food, Sifu and I sitting beside her.
She ate slowly, out of her ability to use the chopsticks.
If she could, she would've eaten faster.
I watched her eat.
I saw her reach an oasis.
A hazy illusion that promised everything one could ever hope for.
Only for her.
I glanced at sifu.
It was no illusion.
Mom and dad will never learn of this.
Sifu doesn't tell them things, just what lies they need to hear to keep me safe.
Today, no one was late for practice.
I think I was happy.
I don't know where Saito's parents took him. I hope one day I can see him again.
Ojiro started trying out more moves that work well with his tail.
He's been sparring with the Tae Kwon Do guys at joint practices too.
His tail is getting much more use in our spars.
Himiko got adopted by Sifu Han.
Her parents really disowned her, even putting her into the system.
They took her into an agency, did the papers, and just let her disappear on the streets.
It's gross, why does this happen to people?
When Sifu Han told Himiko about the adoption she cried so joyfully.
Now, on papers she writes Himiko Han.
He transferred her to Aldera middle school in Musutafu prefecture.
I wanted to go too, but my parents didn't let me.
What could I tell them? There was a girl I liked?
Then they'll have to know her whole background and then I'll be punished for associating with her.
I see her at practice though.
She's so much happier now.
I was stuck in the same boring routine as always, though, much to my joy my parents had begun splitting apart.
It began with quirk practices.
The hero who ran the place was taken down for tax evasion.
Officially he found an opportunity in America and decided to move his whole operation there.
Mom couldn't find another place for me to practice, meaning I could do unsupervised self practice at home.
She thought my quirk was too strong to practice alone, so on Sundays she just let me be alone.
I could finally use my quirk for what it was meant.
Actual coloring.
The colors of the setting sun, the colors of the rising sun, the night sky, the night city.
They all sang to me of colors I can use.
My sketchbook was filled with even more vibrantly colored landscapes and people.
I could barely contain myself from pasting them on the walls.
Then, father started coming home much later than usual.
I know he's definitely not someone to work hard for the office.
He isn't the patient sort either.
I could tell by his wrinkled suit, his weary hands, his worsening attitude.
Fourteen years of raising a prodigy child, and I'm still not a hero.
He doesn't have the patience to see me grow to my fullest anymore.
The burning jealousy in his gaze told me all I needed to know.
Mom thought he was cheating, seeing some other lady.
Fat chance.
The only reason they were able to make me was because they found someone toxic enough to match with them.
No, father has been out late at night drinking and gambling.
Oh where did the funds go?
I can't wait for the divorce.