Chapter Text
Her skin felt rugged and tight, where the flesh was pink and angry, like some form of twisted, wilted flower had been plastered on. Even with soothing creams and those face exercises, Nejire couldn't get her mouth to open properly, and she had difficulty smiling properly on one side, because it just felt a bit numb, and when she forced it, her entire cheek screamed out in pain.
And it was too early for makeup or whatnot, so she couldn't cover up the colour. That could have been tolerable, but this, this just wouldn't do. Part of her bottom lip was scarred too, but it could handle a bit of lip gloss. Shaky, paling hands moved to swipe the hue onto her lips - cherry bloom, Togata had gotten it for her at Christmas, among other things. He had such a strange affinity for knowing exactly what suited her, style and makeup wise. Amajiki-kun was better at knowing about food, and she could count on him when her sugar levels were low, which was, like, all the time.
Her face wasn't as swollen as it had been, so at least she could use tactics to divert eyes away from the ugly burns. She couldn't remember the whole incident. One moment, she was about to fire on her biggest villain yet, take him out once and for all. Then there was a large burst of flame, azure and hotter than anything, completely enveloping her. She could remember screaming in pure agony as she felt her body cook, every little part of her just trying to wither and die under the heat. She could somewhat remember hitting the ground, the crack of bones - she didn't know which ones, if they even belonged to her or not.
She didn't remember if anyone heard her though, she'd forgotten who helped her up. Togata? Iida-kun, perhaps. She didn't remember what happened after that. She knew she kept fighting, people told her that. In some tabloids, they said she looked like a fairy of fire. Her entire physique was a juxtaposition - periwinkle, river like hair, burning up, the flames almost like a continuation of her singed locks, until it cooled down and clashed horribly. On any reports, they didn't mention her face. Maybe they were too disturbed, maybe it just didn't show.
People said she was lucky. That hardly anyone could survive such a blast. That Dabi - no, Touya Todoroki, as he really was - had flames so powerful that he could turn heroes to ash.
Part of her wished she had been.
"Hadou-San! You almost ready?"
The familiar, bright voice broke her thoughts, and she glanced at the door of her hotel room. UA grounds had been deemed entirely unsafe, and the students had been split up. First years went home. Second years were allowed home, or they went to a different school, just across the city. Third years were given access to the top two floors of an apart-hotel, this fancy complex with rooms that were more like apartments, but that also had cleaning services and those weird little sugar packets and biscuits that Nejire could never be 100% sure were free. Her three best friends had managed to snag her a room with a balcony that overlooked the inner courtyard, so far down. The room was smaller than the others, but the peace and quiet of a private balcony was well worth it.
Yuyu was just across the hall from her, and their balconies were only separated by this iron fence that was covered by foliage and leaves. Amajiki-kun and Togata were above, with the rest of the boys. Not that half the year stuck to boy/girl separation rules anymore, but, as bizarre and out of place as it sounded, Nejire's friends knew she liked tradition, and in some form, rules.
"Hadou, don't make me come through the wall to find you!"
There he was again. Such a beautifully positive ray of light. Always wanting his friends to be happy. And she was sure wherever Togata was, Amajiki-kun was sure to follow. She glanced at her hair - it had grown out a bit more now and she'd been able to get rid of the blackened ends, but now her hair sat just above her shoulders. It had really been the pride and joy of her appearance, almost 14 years in the works. She hadn't cut it properly since she was four, when she decided that she wanted to look like a fairy princess with gorgeous, flowing hair. Her mother had laughed and agreed. Nejire wanted her mother.
Tears pricked at her eyes as she tucked waht was left of her hair behind her ears, before quickly deciding against it, and letting it fall back into her face. It would sort of cover her up that way. Maybe she'd also adopt the Amajiki-kun style of walking - head down, shoulders hunched. Maybe he had the right idea all along.
She didn't know why she was so fussed about them finding her beautiful. She was vain, sure, she had been since that time in junior high when a guy told her to get plastic surgery and she was destined for ever more to pick out every flaw of hers in a mirror. She had a record time for finding out-of-place eyebrow hairs and spots around her fringe, and gosh, her nose was so crooked and her nostrils looked like they'd been stung by a wasp then ran over. And now, there was the problem of half of her face being something from a horror movie.
Amajiki-kun called her beautiful even still, but it felt like a pity compliment. He didn't actually feel like that, it had simply been a natural response to seeing her bawl her eyes out like a baby.
"Hadou-San, have you passed out in there-"
Nejire cut Togata off as she opened the door, slinging her bag over her shoulder. This was meant to be some sort of therapeutic shopping trip, but she knew only Togata even had a chance of enjoying it.
"There you are! We were wondering if you'd died or something!" The tall blonde pulled her into a bear hug, and she was sure he was just finding an excuse not to look at her hideous face.
"You said passed out, Mirio," Amajiki-kun corrected, voice soft and timid and rather wonderful to hear. His eyes never met Nejire's, so it was even harder to tell what he was thinking about how she looked. Nejire assumed it was bad. She had a sudden epiphany as to why one's own shoes could become suddenly very interesting when one felt as if they didn't want to look at anyone.
"Yeah, well, she could have passed out then died," was Togata's rebuttal.
Normally, Nejire would have laughed. But all that came from her now was a strangled, deflated sigh, and her paces sped up so she was in front of them, only slightly. If she stayed in front, they wouldn't look at her.
Then she remembered that staying in front meant they'd be seeing her hair constantly. Gods, her hair - choppy and short and not pretty. The ends were matted and the colour was dull now. She just wasn't pretty.
For the first time in her life, she thought that she just might start to miss the cat calls and love confessions. At least they assured her she was pretty. Now all she would get was cameras in her face and reports trying to find out the 'latest inside scoop.'
Nothing interesting was happening, not to her at least. Well, nothing they deserved to know, those killer media companies. Nobody deserved to know what was going on.