I. Deluge

I hated the rain.

Rain was always a bad omen. A sign that something terrible would soon happen with its arrival. Of course, how bad the thing was depended on the type of rain. A light drizzle meant a slight inconvenience. A downpour meant tears and heartbreak were to be expected. A storm— a storm meant death. Always.

Rain had its own smell, like everything else. I could tell it was coming when the scent of the air would shift and become heavy, musty, dreadfully unpleasant. When rain was to be expected, I'd always have to pull the collar of my shirt over my nose and run for cover. The first drop of rain was always the most merciful. At the very least, I had a bit of time to prepare between it and the last drop. Because when the last drop fell and the gray clouds split in half, what emerged from behind them was not the sun, but instead a terrible fate. Whoever it struck, no one would know until it did.

Unfortunately, it seemed I was the most recent victim of fate's cruel schemes. When I woke up, my skin was littered with goosebumps, hairs rising on their ends as I shivered desperately yet felt like I was on fire. My head was pounding, as if someone had bashed a hammer right into it. The skin on my nose felt raw after I had rubbed so many napkins against it while sneezing. My lungs wheezed as coughs wracked my entire body.

Needless to say, I was sick.

It was, of course, a light drizzle that fell the night before. I sat up trying my best to ignore the tapping against my window, a melody that irritated my ears and made my nose itch. I was upset, but not very surprised when I woke up in this condition. If this were any other day, I wouldn't hesitate to curl under my blankets and wait for this sickness to pass. But, coincidentally or not, it was my first day of school— my first day at Yūei High School.

Yūei is a school that boasted the ranking of the number one hero school in all of Japan. It's a highly admired and prestigious institution that graduated some of the finest heroes we have today. There were hundreds of students who applied each year, and only a minuscule and rather disheartening amount were allowed to step through its doors. My acceptance into Yūei was a means for celebration— not that I had anyone to celebrate with, but at the time I didn't really care. I was far too elated to worry about things like that. Now, though, a small part of me wished I didn't have to be alone when I found out about my enrollment. Just like how I wished I wasn't alone to fight off this sickness.

So is life, I suppose.

I gently pulled on my face mask as I let out another cough. Yūei loomed before me almost threateningly, as if it were challenging me to step inside. I took in a deep breath— as much as my phlegm filled lungs would allow— and I tottered through the entrance doors.

Yūei's halls were as long and grand as one would imagine. It was as if they spanned endlessly— corners were not meant to be rounded as they didn't exist between one end and the other. This, however, could have just been the sickness talking. I couldn't quite tell.

In what felt like an instant, I found myself standing in front of the massive door the held my classroom behind it, '1-A' painted on it in bright red lettering. I blinked once at it as I slowly processed that this was, in fact, my classroom, and once my brain put together the fact that yes, this is really my classroom, I placed my hand in the grip and slid it open. To my surprise, the door was rather light, and didn't require much effort on my end as it slammed against the door frame.

My weary eyes scanned the entirety of the classroom. I saw all seats had been occupied except for one, and then it slowly dawned on me that class had started, and I was incredibly late. Oh. My ears burned hot in embarrassment and I hastily shuffled over to the desk that undoubtedly belonged to me. As I took my seat, I felt a fierce glare that dug into my skin and threw me into another coughing fit. My eyes flickered upwards for just a moment. The man at the front of the room blinked his gaze away and just let out a deep sigh, mumbling something under his breath that my ears couldn't pick up on.

"My name is Aizawa Shota, and I'll be your homeroom teacher," he introduced. He produced a square of blue and white fabric, and held it over his head for all of us to see. "There should be one of these at each desk. This is a bit sudden, but change into these and meet me outside in the field. And don't be late."

Our teacher didn't bother stick around for a moment longer as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and strode out of the classroom. I was quick to notice the irate look on his face as he left.

There were a few situations my mind conjured up that would have been more ideal that what was currently happening. The first, and most favored one, was that I would explode into stardust and become a part of the universe, no longer having to distress about things like sickness and bad impressions. The second was that this was just a dream— a fever dream, perhaps. In just a few moments, I would wake up in my bed in a pool of my own sweat, surrounded by thick blankets. I considered pinching myself to waken myself, but I knew I wasn't masochistic nor gullible, two traits that forced me to ignore the idea that this was just an embarrassing nightmare, and accept the reality that it wasn't.

So is life, a voice droned. Disgruntled, I had nothing to say against that.

They say if you peer into one's eyes, you will see the truth of their soul.

They also say one apple per day keeps doctors away.

Whoever 'they' are, they often say a lot of things, many of which aren't necessarily true, but are spoken simply because the one thing people love more than money is talking.

I was born with eyes reminiscent of a hurricane. Dark gray in shade, with pupils that, anomalously, were rectangular in shape, and rather tragically accompanied with dark circles that told people how little sleep I received each night, and told myself how much I needed it. Sleeping, however, was rarely an option. Like the rain, dreams were omens— portents of bad luck. My life was already filled to the brim with that. I hardly needed more.

I've been told that my stormy eyes coupled with my brown skin surrounded me in an air of mystery and peculiarity— as if being unique meant anything in today's society. I was nothing more than another girl, but for some reason people refused to see that as a good thing. In a society where eighty percent of the world population have been blessed with superhuman powers known as Quirks, the idea of distinctiveness has been reduced to mean nothing short of normal. I think now, people were desperate to reclaim that word, and what it meant to be 'unique'. Different. I personally didn't care either way.

In the midst of my poor health, I was unable to fully process what change into these uniforms and meet me in the field meant until I did both of things. And now, rather regretfully, I stood in a sea of nineteen other people, all of whom were more than ready to proceed with the physical activities we would, without a doubt, be doing. And I— with my aching muscles and foggy mind— struggled to even keep my eyes open as the temptations of illness drew me into exhaustion. Dreams are omens, I screamed in my head. Like a mantra, I kept repeating it as a careful reminder of why I wasn't going to give in to sleep.

"We're doing a Quirk Apprehension Test," Aizawa deadpanned. I sighed, which quickly proved to be a terrible decision, as I released another series of coughs that, to my chagrin, drew dozens of eyes towards me. Now, more than ever, I wanted to disappear. Or run away. Or explode into billions of tiny little specks of dust and become one with the universe. I just didn't want to be here.

"Are you okay?" a voice rang out. A boy with red eyes and spiky hair of the same color emerged from between a few others and stepped towards me. I gave a single, firm nod, and readjusted my face mask before turning away.

"This will just be like any other fitness exam you've taken, except you're to use your Quirks," Aizawa continued, thankfully not singling out my illness that served as an ample distraction. "You'll be taking eight tests in total. Oh, and whoever places last will be expelled."

Aizawa delivered the statement so unceremoniously, I almost allowed myself to accept his words. But then, I took an extra moment to process what last place and expelled in the same sentence meant, and panic quickly begin to bubble up within me. This sickness was a hindrance to my overall performance, forcing me to exert extra effort just to live, and now I would have to double up on the effort that I barely had in the first place. I considered giving up. It was for just an instant, but I thought of going right up to Aizawa and asking him to expel me right on the spot, because if I wanted to do anything physically taxing while I was ill, I might as well just drop to the ground and become a part of the earth.

That, however, would be far too morbid to say. Even for me.

So instead, I tried to replace these dreadful thoughts with something slightly more genial. I thought about why I was here at Yūei— why I decided to haul myself out of bed in spite of my poor health, why I thought missing the first day of school was absolutely not an option, and why I wanted to come to Yūei at all. It's all obvious, isn't it?

A fifty meter dash was among the first of tests we were to perform. We would be called up and use our Quirks to cross the track in as little time as possible. Already, I found myself at a glaring disadvantage. One clocked in at three seconds with the engines in his calves. Another at five seconds by thrusting a laser beam from his stomach to get past the finish line. A third tapped her clothes and made it in seven.

One of my classmates walked up to the start line. Todoroki was his name apparently. It was his desk that was beside my own. There was undeniable confidence in his gait, though his expression remained calm and indifferent. As soon as he was given the cue, he held his right hand behind him and a thin layer of rime encased his fingertips. The next thing I felt was a frigid breeze that reminded my body of my illness and threw my lungs into another attempt to get rid of whatever was within them. As I calmed down from my coughing fit, my skin became riddled with goosebumps from the cold but my ears burned hot, so much so that I had to push my black strands behind them and hope the wind would cool them down.

"Six seconds," Aizawa announced. Todoroki didn't react to the time. Rather, he turned around and placed his left hand on the ramp of ice he created. As I watched him, I tried my best not to linger on the burn scar that covered the left of his face. I tore my eyes away and hoped no one— especially him— noticed.

"Karada."

I tried not to flinch at the sound of my family name. It sounded so distorted, even when repeated by my inner voice, like it was a word that didn't even exist. I inched towards the starting line. A small puddle of lukewarm water had gathered at my feet from Todoroki's ice, now melted. Use your Quirk.

I hesitated. But I knew I had no other choice.

I closed my eyes. In the darkness of my shut eyelids I could only see two red orbs, glowing brightly and maliciously. No, no. Think of something else. I forced my mind to shift my thoughts to something different while also trying to erase that image.

When I opened my eyes my entire body was bogged down with the weight of exhaustion. It crawled through my skin and entered my veins. Though I felt like I was on the verge of collapsing, I tried to keep my footing stable and my stance unwavering. In front of me, a scooter had appeared. It was bright pink, covered in stickers of rainbows and sparkles. It looked as if taken straight out of a six year old girl's dreams.

Embarrassingly so, it was taken from mine.

"Go."

I gripped the handlebars and took off. The wind clawed its fingers through my hair, cold still lingering from Todoroki's ice earlier. I was slightly irked this uniform didn't have a long sleeved variant; I was soon plagued with the concerns of the frigidity only worsening my illness.

When I crossed the finish line, I hopped off the scooter and watched it dissipate into smoke, vanishing from this existence and entering the confinements of my headspace. I cleared my throat of the viscous fluid that was building within it and returned to my classmates, whose eyes all remained on me, whether because I was an outlier with my sick self, or because of the showcasing of my Quirk.

My Quirk— I could make my dreams a reality. To most who heard this, they would gape with wide, gleaming eyes, as if my Quirk had some sort of metaphorical meaning behind it, like it was deeply profound and dipped in the gold of hope. I was praised and uplifted for an ability that only brought anguish.

Because my dreams could come to life, and I was constantly tormented by nightmares.

On the worst of nights I remained awake, afraid of what I'd see in the back of my head if I dared to fall asleep. I'd be even more afraid of waking up and finding whatever I dreamt about alive, existing, breathing, and knowing I was the one who gave it life. I was the one who brought it into this world— and I found, oftentimes, taking it out was so much harder.

"5.04 seconds," Aizawa revealed. I just let out another cough in response. "You're sick—" His darkened gaze flickered towards me. "Go to the nurse and get some medicine."

I shook my head in defiance, a few black strands clinging to my skin damp from sweat.

"I'm fine," my muffled voice rasped, forcing me to clear my throat again. "I can keep going."

Aizawa's eyes narrowed. My body trembled not from his gaze, but from a sudden coldness that afflicted me. It seemed, though, that I was the only one who felt it.

"It makes no sense to continue on if you're on the verge of passing out," he said. I exhaled a hot breath.

"I'm not…" I started. My knees were trembling and my vision was blurry and I felt like I was on fire and dipped in ice at the same time— I was a mess, my body was falling apart, and this was my chance to get a much needed break. Part of me wanted to yield and go to the nurse as Aizawa said, but another part of me wanted to continue on, to push myself past my limit and prove that in spite of my incapacitation, I could still go on. But then, carefully, I thought, who am I proving this to?

Aizawa, I told myself. The threat of expulsion still loomed over my head. But, if he was allowing me to go to the nurse, then that meant he was either going to let me finish this test at a later date, or he wasn't going to expel anyone at all. If it were truly that crucial, he would've allowed me to continue on, and then perhaps send me to the nurse afterwards. This thought eased me a bit.

To my classmates, I thought next. But these were people I barely knew. I had no reason to try to impress them. We were all on the same journey, heading to the same destination. Why would I have to prove to them I'm worthy? I made it into Yūei, and we were all in the same class— I asked myself, was that not proof enough?

You know the truth, I whispered to myself. Of course I did. I was trying to impress no one other than myself. I was trying to tell myself that I wasn't a hindrance despite my condition. That I could keep pushing myself forward even when I shouldn't, even when I couldn't. I wanted to validate this with Yūei's motto— Plus Ultra— a saying that rallied and inspired all who heard it. But going beyond was not an option if my body couldn't handle it.

"Okay," I finally conceded as I held back a cough. "I'll go."

"Todoroki, take her there. Come back as soon as she's in Recovery Girl's hands," Aizawa said. Red and white trotted towards me, and I narrowed my eyes, trying to focus my gaze on my classmate. As he came into my vicinity I felt a chill, but also, rather surprisingly, warmth. A part of me blamed these fluctuating sensations on the delirium caused by illness, but he came closer, and temperatures intensified, and then I knew it was him— just him.

Without either of us uttering so much as a single word, I was led back into the school, though my steps remained slow and heavy, much like how my body felt. I felt like time had decelerated to an almost painful crawl, or perhaps it was just me. At this point, I could no longer tell. I let out another loud sneeze, one that seized my body and forced me to stop in my tracks so I could take a moment to recover. Todoroki turned around to face me, his mismatched eyes staring right into my own.

"You okay?" he asked. I nodded and slipped my mask down. I wiped my nose with my sleeve— cringing I had to do that at all— and I fitted the mask back over my face before speeding up to match my pace with Todoroki's.

"You… have a mole," he muttered. He traced his thumb directly underneath his lip.

"Beauty mark," I corrected, my tone now nasal due to my backed up sinuses. "I have two."

One was located under my eye, and the other near my lip, situated on the left. I held no complex feelings toward them— no deep disdain, nor any immense pride. They were just there, and a part of my face. No matter how I felt about them, they wouldn't go away. I figured I might as well have no feeling towards them at all.

Todoroki didn't say anything to me after that, but he would occasionally flitter his eyes towards me. I assumed he was just making sure I hadn't collapsed yet. Yūei's halls felt infinite and never ending, and it was making my head spin. I wondered if he even knew where the nurse's office was located.

"Do you know where we are?" I questioned with coughs caught between my breath. Todoroki stopped and jerked his head in the direction of a door.

"Here," he responded. Oh. He stepped forward and entered the office, where a small elderly woman sat at a desk in the far end of the room. She turned to us as we entered and, upon seeing me, quickly stood up and scurried towards us.

"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed. "You look so sick!"

I coughed. "Flu."

"On your first day? That's unfortunate."

I had to hold back the urge to roll my eyes and say tell me about it.

"I'll take care of her," Recovery Girl said, although moreso speaking to Todoroki, who nodded. "You can return to your class."

Todoroki inclined his head and promptly left. I was led to one of the beds in the room, where I sat down and watched Recovery Girl rummage through a few drawers, before she went over to me and placed two pills in my hand. She fetched a plastic cup and filled it at a water fountain sitting in the corner of the room and handed it to me. I voiced a quiet thank you as I downed the pills with little effort. A thermometer was placed underneath my tongue and I watched the numbers rise slowly, until the sound of short, repetitive beeping entered my ears.

"Oh, my— thirty eight degrees…" Recovery Girl hummed. "Why did you come to school?"

"First day," I responded. "I didn't want to miss it."

"I suppose that's fair. You should still be getting as much rest as possible!"

"Sorry…" I mumbled.

"Just take care of yourself," she tapped her cane against the floor. "Rest here for a bit. When you feel a bit better, I'll send you back to class."

I just bobbed my head and laid back on the bed. The last thing I wanted now was to sleep. I was scared of dreaming— creating something that I wouldn't be able to get rid of. I was scared of what the nightmares would bring to me this time. But I knew all too well that my body needed it. Even if my mind tried to power through it, my body just couldn't keep up. So, rather reluctantly, I closed my eyes and hoped for the best.

There were some scents that were immediate indicators of something bad.

Rain, for example. It made the air smell stale. Lifeless. It left a taste of copper in my mouth. Jasmine was another scent. Pleasant, yet incredibly tragic. Jasmine smelled the same as a broken heart. Not that broken hearts were pleasant. They had a sweet scent, but also carried a sort of sourness behind it. The smell of a broken heart was rather easy to dislike. There was one particular scent, though, that I hated more than anything.

The smell of dogs. They never smelled very appealing at all. Even the well washed, decent ones always carried an odor that made me want to melt into a puddle. I didn't particularly fear dogs, nor did I dislike them. But they were always harbingers of disaster.

When I woke up and smelled a mixture of dried blood and bitterness, the same smell dogs carried, my heart nearly stopped. My nose hairs felt like they were burning. I yanked on my face mask and pinched my nose, and I looked around, my eyes examining everywhere for the source of that smell. I looked under the bed; behind the curtain; in the cabinets and drawers; anywhere and everywhere that could've given any indication for where the scent came from.

In the end, I found nothing.

I figured, rather than dwell on it, it would be best to just go back to class and hope my own anxiety was altering my perception of smell. Recovery Girl was no longer in her office, so I exited the office and made my way to the locker rooms to change.

I still had a bit of a cough and experienced chills, but for the most part, the medicine did its job. After changing into my uniform, I made my way back to the classroom. For some reason, I was dreading whatever was awaiting me on the other side of the door. Perhaps the smell of despair still lingered in my nose and on my mind. Perhaps, naturally, I was expecting the worst to happen.

I slid open the door and my muscles tensed apprehensively as all eyes turned to me. I brushed some strands out of my face and stepped into the room. Aizawa no longer stood at the front. Instead, he had been replaced with a man sporting large, blond hair, eyes obscured behind a pair of triangular shaped glasses. I immediately recognized him as the Pro Hero Present Mic, who was also a rather popular radio host. The smile that he so often carried on his expressive face was instead a frown, and he placed his hands on his hips.

"You're late!" he exclaimed. My eyes shifted to him.

"Sorry," I coughed out. "I was at the nurse."

I sniffed, desperate to rid my nose of the smell that sat idle in my system, and I trudged to my seat, plopping down. I glanced at Todoroki and leaned over slightly.

"Thanks for taking me to the nurse," I murmured. He looked at me for a few moments before turning back to the front of the room.

"You're welcome."

Going home was hardly my most awaited part of the day.

As a matter of fact, I would say it was my least favorite part. If I had a choice to avoid it entirely, I would a hundred times over, without hesitation. My home smelled like a storm, always. The smell of heavy rain remained on my clothes, seeped into the pores in my skin and familiarized itself with each thread of my hair. There was also a bitter fragrance. Like that of raw mint, except not nearly as pleasing to take a whiff of. My home had the strong, unmistakable scent of death. But I was the only one who seemed to know this.

When I stepped inside I was greeted with darkness, light only peeking through closed curtains and windows. I was the only one home, but this was something I had grown accustomed to. I took off my shoes at the door and stepped further inside. My mask remained fastened across my face, but then I was hit with that aroma, and I almost gagged.

I walked over the hardwood floors, each board creaking as my weight pressed against it. I stopped when I reached the kitchen. My eyes drifted to the end of the hall, and that's when my gaze landed on it— on them.

A girl and her dog.

Even in the darkness, I could make out their perfect outline. The girl stood at my height, her eyes glowing bright and red, her clothes blending with the shade she hid in, but spots of sanguine dotted her being. It was the dog, though— that damn dog— that made me want to drive my foot right into its throat.

It shuffled towards me with its paws making a distinct slapping sound with each step it took. But that was just due to the fact it didn't have paws at all. It had hands, human hands, with a docked tail and crimson eyes that glowed in the dark and mocked me. Its jet black fur was mangy and matted, and this creature stopped before me and tilted its head as if expecting something from me.

"You're just a nightmare," I uttered as I moved into the kitchen. "You're just a nightmare."

I flicked on the light.

"Yume?"

She never comes out in the light.

I looked back and saw her standing in the safety of the hallway with that dog sitting by her feet. The darkness was her comfort. The light was mine.

"Please go," I pleaded. My heart was being ripped and torn asunder. "Please stop doing this to me."

She continued to stare at me, her eyes not blinking even once. I remained quiet and turned my back to her.

"Okay."

The bitterness went away, but the scent of the storm remained.

a/n

todoroki x oc stories are apparently my kryptonite but that isn't going to stop me from trying to write one :^) i have hopes for this though

yume is a character i've had for a while but i was never sure if i wanted to write about her until now. i hope you guys enjoy her story!