maybe | hitoshi shinsou x reader

~chapter 2~

While class 1A isn't big--at least not in comparison to what you're used to--it's very loud, and everyone looks super unique. Some much more than others.

(Does that guy really have six arms? Six webbed arms?)

In the midst of everyone's chatter, Aizawa manages to introduce you.

"This is [l/n][y/n]."

"Hi [l/n][y/n]" everyone echoes in eerie chorus. 

"Hello everyone, nice to meet you." You bow, because you think you're supposed to, but you're not really sure. No one says anything, so you guess it's okay.

Aizawa tells you that you're number in seat number nineteen, and then waves his hand vaguely in the direction of wherever that is. A helpful green-haired kid waves you over, and taps the desk behind him. You give him a nod in thanks and he smiles back. It warms your heart a little.

You're really glad you get to sit behind him, and not whoever's in front of him, because that guy's looking at you like he wants to beat you up. Maybe that's just his face, though.

Aizawa just begins teaching like normal. And it's normal stuff: math. It's honestly a relief. You don't like math, per se, but you're thankful for this beacon of normalcy in a school where everything's so aggressively different from what you know. You half-expected Aizawa to drag you off to some underground training facility where everyone would fight battle royale style, and you would get creamed. 

But it seems like you thought too soon, because after math you do kind of get dragged to an underground training facility. Except it's less underground and more high school gym. Granted, it's the biggest gym you've ever seen.

The ceiling arches high above your head, higher than any ceiling you've ever been under. And there's a lot of room horizontally, too; you don't really know how square feet work in relation to floor space, but you can tell there's tons of it here. If it weren't for the other student's blasé attitudes to the gym, you'd be kind of intimidated. Heck, you're at least a little intimidated, even with that reassurance.

Everyone's in their gym uniforms. Except for you. You get stuck with a spare because U.A. hasnt made yours yet, or whatever it is they do. The sweatshirt part is too big, and not in a cutesy way, more of a help-I'm-being-swallowed-alive way. The pants, however, are just a bit too tight. Like, a little smidgen. Enough to be uncomfortable, but probably not enough to be noticeable. You hope.

  Well, at least the big shirt gives your wings some space. It's hard to wear normal shirts without having them pressed to your back in a way that's near painful. The extra room is comfy.   

Though there is one thing you need.

"Um, Aizawa-sensei?" You approach your teacher, trying to give him a beseeching look in the least annoying way possible.

He hums back, not looking at you, but rather the students milling around.

"Can I have some scissors?"

He doesn't yell at you, which is nice, but his head slowly turns in your direction in a way that reminds you why people find zombies scary.

"Why?"

"Well, um, my wings."

Ah, yeah. You have wings.

You're kind of excited to whip them out in the middle of class. Most people are pretty surprised by that tidbit, even the strange-looking ones.

Not that your wings are super special or anything, aside from the fact that they're big, feathered, and blue, but you look so normal that the wings are really jarring in comparison.

If you're honest, you're not sure how you got lucky enough that you scored the open spot in class 1A. The only special ability your quirk gives you is flight, and aside from being showy and a good leafblower, it doesn't offer much in the way of hero capabilities. All in all, you'd probably be better suited to the gen. ed. course, if even that.

But you're not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

After what feels like a really long time, but is probably actually only a few seconds, Aizawa responds.

"Yeah, okay. Sure." He then pulls scissors from somewhere on his person.

You're not sure how you thought he was going to get the scissors, but it definitely wasn't like that.

But once again, not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Wait, I can cut this, right?" You check, tugging at your shirt, in case of miscommunication.

"It was kind of blanket permission, so yes."

"Oh, okay. Cool, thanks." And, ignoring any incidental awkwardness, you turn around your shirt, and cut vertical slits in the back. The slits are almost exactly where they should be, because you've been doing this to your clothes for years at this point (like a pro).

You see a few kids stop to look at the sound of scissors-in-fabric, but you don't pay them any mind.

Then, as nonchalantly as possible, you turn the shirt back the right way around. You don't poke your wings through the slits yet, because you'd like to keep some element of mystery, and the puzzled looks on some of your classmates' faces--and the weirdly calculating one on that green-haired guy's--are pretty funny. You wouldn't want to dash away whatever implausible reasons they've undoubtedly come up with for why the new kid seems to like tearing holes in their clothes.

Aizawa pulls a whistle from yet another mysterious place and blows it. Loudly. 

"Settle down," he says, and surprisingly enough, they do. The students seem to respect Aizawa, or at least fear him a healthy amount. "The sports festival is coming up soon. That means you need to be prepared, both mentally and physically. We're giving you time to do your physical training right now." Pausing for a moment, he looks at the students crowded around him. "Don't waste it."

Cheers of assurance resound from the kids around you. It all seems lighthearted enough, until you look at their faces; Cold, steely looks of determination on all of them. 

It chills you to remember that all of your classmates have actual combat experience. As in, they've gone up against villains, and lived to tell about it. The world won't let U.A. forget about the USJ incident--new stations from all over the world are still hounding them about it--but it seems like the students don't need that push to remember. The USJ incident left its mark on them, but it's only made them more determined to succeed.

A wary grin pulls at your face.

This could be fun.

Time to give it all you've got.