All My White Lies | bnha

thirteen | unbridled anger

"HOLD ON," My jaw fell slack, fingers curled against the armrests of the chair across from Nezu's desk. Aizawa stood not far from him, arms crossed in front of his chest with an exhausted expression that made it clear he didn't want to be here either. "So, you're telling me, you got me fired just so I'd be forced to take on your offer?"

The rat seemed hardly bothered by my shock, smiling at me maliciously. It would seem warm and welcoming to anyone else but I could see the glint of slyness within his eyes, one that told me that he could make anyone's life fall apart like a house of cards if he wished.

He simply nodded and Aizawa even eyed him, questioning his ethics. "Well, I think you're much better off benefiting from a career as a pro-hero rather than a future tattoo artist, correct? Unless you think I should tell your friend group about this. . . " He threw down a manila folder, my face instantly paling.

A part of me felt queasy, hands reaching for the folder I had grown so familiar with at my job. Having worked there for the past year, I accumulated several clients. And with that, a better set of art skills. Steadier hands, smoother curves, accentuated details; not only on myself but on others.

My art settled in the eternity of other people's canvas.

"I think you'd be better suited for a hero-esque career, hm? Especially after all this training," He chided. My head dipped both in solemness and embarrassment. With my portfolio, and the tons of pictures of tattoos I had taken with each appointment, it would've been enough to get me transferred.

Maybe into a nice art school in the States like my mother planned. Even though it had been a year since I had last talked to her, it still felt as if the ghost of her lingered, threaded through me with her hands curled over my shoulder. "I just promised to graduate with them, not to be heroes," I muttered lowly.

Even when I spoke, it still sounded like a lie. As if I was ready to leave at any given second; that this happiness simply wasn't meant for me. I knew what she had promised me, what Mirio and Tamaki had assured me of, but even then, I was ready to back out.

"So then it'll be alright for me to show this to—"

"—no!" I exclaimed, slamming the folder out of his grasp and onto the floor. His paw was poised in the air as if he hadn't expected such a reaction out of me. I swallowed, settling back into my seat after my outburst and trying my best to ignore the prying eyes of 1-A's teacher. "I-I'll comply. What do you want?"

Nezu spun his chair, his smirk now directed at the black-haired teacher who stared dead at me, glaring through my figure. "Well, seeing as 1-A has proven to be plenty for Aizawa to handle, we figured that it would be best if he were to have a teaching assistant. And since your grades are much lower than the average as well and you'll be paid, you see. . . "

I grew even more flustered, looking down at my hands that settled against the edge of the chair. He was right, technically speaking, this deal would benefit the both of us. However, I had no idea what the exhausted adult near me had anything to do with my deal; in fact, it looked like he'd rather die than have a teaching assistant.

"Don't speak for me. He figured it would be a better idea," The man finally spoke, his tone deep and gravelly as if he hadn't had water in the past twelve hours. Looking at him, I doubted he had; he reminded me a little bit of the wrinkled tissue cat. He gestured at the rat next to which Nezu unapologetically beamed.

I had to admit, it was enticing. My grades weren't exactly the best; I was more academically inept than physically inclined. Studying, paying attention, and getting good grades wasn't exactly my forte compared to training, sparring, and figuring out other good uses for my quirk.

"Take it like this, Y/n," My head tilted up towards the sniveling rodent and then at Aizawa next to him. "Constantly improving your quirk and training won't get you very far as a hero or as a person. You're treating your quirk like that's all your worth despite being a person yourself. And you know what I think of that?"

Nezu leaned forward, hopping up onto the table and tapping my head with his paw.

"I think you're a coward,"

I looked back at him, lips thinning into a frail smile. "Congrats, you got me," I waved my fingers in a pathetic jazz hand motion, slumping into my seat. Aizawa raised a brow at me, shoulders sloped forward with interest as he tried to catch my gaze. "Kioshi's life is worth more than mine, my mother even said so. To me, it doesn't make much of a difference."

I blew the hair out of my eyes, my gaze falling to the floor. "I'm living this life for him and if that includes making him as strong as possible, I don't see an issue with that. I want to create the reality that he desired and if it counts for anything, I'm not going to let you destroy it."

My jaw clenched at the white rodent who now backed up, seeming satisfied with my reaction. "You're mad, upset, even," Nezu chuckled, reversing all the way until he plopped into his seat again. I hadn't noticed, but Aizawa had inched closer to the principal, more awake than earlier.

"Yeah, no shit," I spat.

"Is that yours or his?"

I raised a brow at him silently, hands hung in front of my lap. Nezu folded his paws on his table, that glimmer of cleverness still lingering in his eyes. As much as the man was a rat, he had the mind of a fox; smart, cunning, deceitful. In a way, he was his own version of selfish.

"Your anger. Is that Kioshi's or yours?"

I pursed my lips, unable to answer. It was hard to tell much of a difference anymore; the ink was a part of me, it pumped to keep me alive. Did it make any sense to separate my emotions from his? Kioshi was sentient, an unbridled life within me, there was no logical way to divide the two.

He was me and I was him; bound by blood, scrawled into my heart like ink.

An art that was with me for eternity.

"For now, you'll be 1-A's teaching assistant. Aizawa will introduce you to the class as well as their information; ID's, pictures, quirks, et cetera, et cetera. . . " The white mouse smiled at me. "I'm glad we had this chat and I most definitely look forward to our next one, Reaper." I tensed as he called me by my hero name, my tongue poking at my ink-stained teeth.

"Meet you again? I'd never do that voluntarily,"

"Oh, you will," Nezu hummed, hopping off his chair as he peered out the window. "We'll talk again when you can tell your two selves apart."