maybe | hitoshi shinsou x reader

~chapter 18~

You passed! You passed, and it's great, and your entire body feels like it's suffused with the energy of a thousand suns, and wow you forgot how good winning could feel. You're completely exhausted, of course, and part of you never wants to move again, but another part of you wants to do a victory quadruple handspring. Or two. Not that you've ever done one of those before, nor are you entirely sure it's even a thing, but, like, how hard could it be?

So, yes, you passed your practical final with what you would (tentatively) call flying colors, but you also spiked your teacher into the ground like she was a volleyball. With a wing. Which, uh, sure wasn't something you thought you could do, so you have no idea how Sero came up with it, but it worked! And you're grateful, but also a little terrified they might try to take your win back because you got it by slapping your teacher so hard she broke the ground.

No one says anything about it though, so you (tentatively) think you're in the clear.

Hm.

Just to be safe, you ask Sero about it.

You're outside Recovery Girl's medic-tent-thingy, waiting in line with him to be looked over for a quick check-up. When you raise your concerns, Sero pauses, like he hadn't even considered it, and the ever-present smile plastered on his face seems a bit more strained around the edges.

"I...I don't think they can do that." He sounds even less confident than you.

Nice. Time to change topics so the two of you don't get stuck in a downward spiral of anxiety, or something else sufficiently angsty.

"So, how'd you come up with the whole paddle ball thing?"

Sero shrugs. "I dunno, thought it would be cool. Saw something like it in a video game once."

That's fair, you guess. "Yeah, but, I didn't even know my wing could do that," you stress. "I thought it was going to end up breaking under the pressure, or something."

"Oh..." He pauses again, and actually frowns—which is a weird configuration for his face to be in. "Hm. I hadn't thought of that."

"Wh—you hadn't thought of it?" You gape, like some sort of useless fish, because what does he mean he didn't think of it that could've gone so bad.

"Um." His smile comes back, but it's sheepish, apologetic. "Nope, not at all."

All the energy your body is suffused with—you know, that which was likened to a thousand suns?—is now devoted entirely to thinking of all of the terrible, terrible ways in which something could've gone wrong.

"Sero, what the heck?"

"Sorry." He doesn't necessarily sound it. "I mean, like, it was kind of a hunch. An educated guess."

You bury your head in your hands.

"But we won! We did it! That's what matters, right?" Sero elbows you a little, trying to elicit a reaction beyond complete mental shutdown.

He gets one, but it's just a measly, plaintive glare. But that seems to be enough for him, becsuse his usual smile is back in full force, even if it's tinged with an emotion you can only think to describe as 'oops'. Even so, it's entirely unrepentant.