Ame
present
If you turn a corner three times and someone's still behind you, you're being followed. This guy sticks out. Even if there's a crowd of people surrounding me, downtown in the midst of rush hour. He's wearing a cap, hiding his eyes, hands tucked in his pockets.
Part of me panics. My fingers curl around my skateboard, knuckles white. My footsteps quicken. An alleyway just down the street calls my name.
As soon as the smell of trash and narrow walls blur the city's light, I stop dead. My follower's footsteps continue. He's a big guy. I have to aim a little higher. One hit probably won't knock him out. I'm gonna have to run. But for some reason... I don't want to.
I inhale once, admittedly shaking. Everything in my body tenses, my assailant's hand invading my peripheral vision, his fingers creeping towards my shoulder.
I've been beaten up before. I know how to avoid it.
Skidding on my heel, I move just out of reach. His hand grabs the air, tripping his balance just long enough that I can flip my skateboard around, spin, and slam him in the head with it.
The measly piece of wood shatters. Not against a skull, but against an arm held up in defense- green flecks glowing around the muscle, fizzling out like minuscule strikes of lighting. His cap falls off in the process. Frizzy green waves emerge beneath it.
"Deku-san!?"
"Hi, Ame," The hero waves with an awkward laugh, brushing his arm off, and rubbing the side of his head. "You've got a mean swing."
"I'm so sorry!" I yell, flailing my arms around like a madman. "I thought you were Kaido! O-or a murderer!"
"Don't worry I've had much worse." Deku-san merely chuckles. "Kota once hit me on purpose in a much less desirable place."
He cringes at the memory, but somehow the fact that he's so laid back about this calms me. He must've called my name, saw me, and wanted to say hello or something. And what do I do? I assault him with a 30 x 8 piece of wood. This day just gets better and better, doesn't it?
Deku-san must see the toll it's taken on me. His attention is quickly diverted to my broken skateboard. His jaw falls, bros knitting with guilt.
"Oh Ame, you've been having a rough week, haven't you? I'm sorry about your skateboard, I can get you a new one if you like." Before I can protest because it's not his fault I hit him with it, Deku-san wraps his arm around my shoulders, leading me out of the alleyway. "Come on. I know the owner of the restaurant next door. I'll treat you."
As we make our way there, my board's corpse left shattered in the alley, I think of how hard I smiled when Yuki told me Deku-san was coming home back at Sato's restaurant. I was so eager to see him, hear about his journey, his hero work, all of it. If only the metal man hadn't shown up.
Then Deku-san would've told me all his stories. I would've gotten to see Kenji and Mu have the time of their lives on stage. Kaido would've never brought me home and left his raincoat. My mom wouldn't be keeping so many secrets. No one at school would look at me so differently. My chest wouldn't hurt every time I breathe. And My dad wouldn't be working so much that I'm starting to forget what he looks like.
When I pull out a chair and sit beside Deku, a busboy walks behind me, the dishes in his bin clinking together. The little metal sounds make my hair stand on end. My fingers curl around my pant leg. My leg starts to bounce up and down, foot tapping.
I realize something then. Because the same feeling that coursed through my veins when I stood between Mu and that villain returns. It's the same rush that urged me to confront Ito and Suzuki. The same intoxicating adrenaline that shivered up my spine when I confused Deku for an assailant.
