Suddenly Quirkless

The Clout of One Who Waits and Tries

I know the picture isn't actually something important, but eh, I liked it and wanted it here, so deal. You know what? This actually could be relevant...Alright, so in a few chapters, Class 1B's gonna have that whole Hero class two vs. two showdown simulation thingy, and Killua's gonna be able to show some decent fashion knowledge when that happens, 'kay? Cool. Who knows? I could do something fun with this later. Anywho-

I'm going to be honest with you guys. I realized, 5,000 words into this chapter, that I had the manga. I knew I owned it- that's how I prefer to read it, even though I usually have to resort to my online versions and such just due to travel purposes, but I feel like a fool. A complete and utter fool....Because guess how far in 5,000 words was?

Shota officially hated his life.

To think, all those years of Hizashi slowly but surely whittling away at his sanity only for an overgrown rat to beat him to the punch.

The underground hero sighed gloomily, hunching over to lean on his elbows as he took another sip of the black coffee the aforementioned strident blonde had brought him this morning. He'd spilled half of it, and it was cold, so Shota hadn't verbally thanked him, but had drunken it regardless.

It tasted like heaven had been trampled into the mud and beaten with a stick. 

Mic had been the one doing the beating, obviously.

Shouta sighs again, and immediately cringes when Hizashi loudly points it out in the staff room with that stentorian voice of his. 

"What is with those forlorn sighs, huh? You're bringing me down, Eraser, jeez."

"Nezu asked him to watch that quirkless kid, remember? That, and he had to get up early- sort of- in order to arrange some stuff for his own class, and for another meeting with Mr. Principal," Nemuri replied for him. He gave a grunt of appreciation, in the case of Nemuri, and affirmation, in the case of Hizashi.

It had taken him years of knowing them before he'd learned how to concentrate all of his ire in the general direction of whichever annoyance was worse at the chosen moment.

He was apparently too slow to redirect it back at Nemuri, as she too opened her mouth to unleash a torrent(a trickle, Eraser) of her own particular brand of excessive questions. It was quieter than Mic's, but more persistent, as she possessed the mental capacity to retain one train of thought for extended periods of time.

"What did Nezu tell you this morning anyway?" she started, looking uncharacteristically professional with the sedate frown and furrowed brows. The papers and sleeves of her coat covering up most of her hero costume helped as well. "You were at least better than this when you finished up on your own preparations- I have a hard time believing one kid can be this difficult to handle, even if his situation is unusual."

Shota downed the rest of his coffee cup right then and there. "HEY!" came the indignant shout from the man-child next to him as the poor, sleep-deprived, hard-working hero liberated him of his own cup.

The first taste prompted a grimace. Too sweet, and he'd added milk already; what a shame. Ah well, coffee was coffee, he supposed, and at least it was warmer than the last one. Shota shot Hizashi another dirty look for that, and the latter looked completely taken aback at Shota's distasteful glance. He shouldn't have been.

Honestly, Mic should know by now that heroes have to be considerate: don't bring your friends cold coffee, don't taint your own drink before they explicitly tell you they're not going to steal it, etcetera, etcetera. Shota was an exception. He was an underground hero.