Chapter Text
Class ended in five minutes, and all Taylor could think was, an hour is too long for lunch.
Since the start of the semester, Taylor had been looking forward to the part of Mr. Gladly's World Issues class where they'd start discussing capes. Now that it had finally arrived, Taylor couldn't focus. Taylor fidgeted, her pen moving from hand to hand, tapping or absently drawing some figure in the corner of the page to join the other doodles. Her eyes were restless too, darting from the clock above the door to Mr. Gladly and back to the clock. Taylor wasn't picking up enough of his lesson to follow along. Twenty minutes to twelve; five minutes left before class ended.
He was animated, clearly excited about what he was talking about, and for once, the class was listening. He was the sort of teacher who tried to be friends with his students, the sort who went by "Mr. G" instead of Mr. Gladly. He liked to end class a little earlier than usual and chat with the popular kids, gave lots of group work so others could hang out with their friends in class, and had 'fun' assignments like mock trials.
He struck her as one of the 'popular' kids who had become a teacher. He probably thought he was everyone's favorite. Taylor wondered how he'd react if he heard her opinion on the subject. Would it shatter his self-image, or would he shrug it off as an anomaly from the gloomy girl that never spoke up in class?
Taylor glanced over her shoulder. Madison Clements sat two rows to her left and two seats back. Madison saw Taylor looking and smirked, her eyes narrowing, and Taylor lowered her eyes to her notebook. She tried to ignore the ugly, sour feeling that stewed in her stomach. Taylor glanced up at the clock. Eleven-forty-three.
"Let me wrap up here," Mr. Gladly said, "Sorry, guys, but there is homework for the weekend. Think about capes and how they've impacted the world around you. Make a list if you want, but it's not mandatory. On Monday, we'll break up into four groups and see which group has the best list. I'll buy the winning group treats from the vending machine."
There were a series of cheers, followed by the classroom devolving into noisy chaos. Sounds of binders snapping shut, textbooks and notebooks being slammed closed, chairs screeching on cheap tile, and the dull roar of emerging conversation filled the room with sounds of binders snapping shut, textbooks and notebooks being slammed closed, chairs screeching on cheap tile, and the dull roar of emerging conversation. A bunch of the more social members of the class gathered around Mr. Gladly to chat.
Taylor? She just put her books away and kept quiet. She'd written down almost nothing in the way of notes; there were collections of doodles spreading across the page and numbers in the margins where she'd counted down the minutes to lunch as if she was keeping track of the timer on a bomb.
Madison was talking with her friends. She was popular but not gorgeous in the way the stereotypical popular girls on TV were. She was 'adorable,' instead. Petite. She played up the image with sky blue pins in her shoulder-length brown hair and a cutesy attitude. Madison wore a strapless top and denim skirt, which seemed absolutely moronic to her given the fact that it was still early enough in the spring that they could see their breath in the mornings.
Taylor wasn't exactly in a position to criticize her. Boys liked her, and she had friends, while the same was hardly true for her. The only feminine feature she had going for her was her dark curly hair, which she'd grown long. The clothes she wore didn't show skin, and she didn't deck herself out in bright colors like a bird showing off its plumage.
Guys liked her, she thought, because she was appealing without being intimidating.
If they only knew.
The bell rang with a lilting ding-dong, and Taylor was the first one out the door. She didn't run, but she moved at a decent clip as she headed up the stairwell to the third floor and made her way to the girl's washroom.
A half dozen girls were there already, which meant she had to wait for a stall to open up. She nervously watched the bathroom door, feeling her heart drop every time someone entered the room.
As soon as there was a free stall, Taylor let herself in and locked the door. She leaned against the wall and exhaled slowly. It wasn't quite a sigh of relief. Relief implied you felt better. She wouldn't feel better until she got home. No, she just felt less uneasy.
It took maybe five minutes before the noise of others in the washroom stopped. A peek below the partitions showed that there was nobody else in the other stalls. She sat on the lid of the toilet and got her brown bag lunch to begin eating.
Lunch on the toilet was routine now. Every school day, she would finish off her brown bag lunch, then she'd do homework or read a book until lunch hour was over. The only book in her bag that she hadn't already read was called 'Triumvirate,' a biography of the leading three members of the Protectorate. Taylor thought she would spend as long as she could on Mr. Gladly's assignment before reading because she wasn't enjoying the book. Biographies weren't her thing, and they were especially not her thing when she was suspicious it was all made up.
Whatever her plan, she didn't even have a chance to finish her pita wrap. The door of the bathroom banged open. Taylor froze. She didn’t want to rustle the bag and clue anyone into what she was doing, so she kept still and listened.
Taylor couldn’t make out the voices. The noise of the conversation was obscured by giggling and the sound of water from the sinks. There was a knock on the door, making her jump. She ignored it, but the person on the other side just repeated the knock.
“Occupied,” Taylor called out hesitantly.
“Oh my god, it’s Taylor!” one of the girls on the outside exclaimed with glee, then in response to something, another girl whispered; she barely heard her add, “Yeah, do it!”
At that moment, nobody in that bathroom could have known what was going to happen. Everybody hears a distant screaming before a crash is heard. The mirror on the wall shatters as a body hits it at almost break-neck speeds. The entire bathroom goes silent as Taylor looks through the crack between the stall and the door. This disheveled boy stands up, shaking the glass and wall dust out of his head. "God damn it, Sho. I say hit me. I dare you. That does not mean hit me."
What?
The other girls that Taylor could now see were Emma, Madison, and Sophia was too confused and shocked to actually keep Taylor in the stall, which allows her to force her way out and look at the situation firsthand. Now allowing Taylor to see the boy in full, and he looked worse for wear. However, that was to be expected since he was just punched into a wall and mirror. The boy was dark skin and could not be older than Taylor herself, which was weird since he appeared to be growing some beard if the stubble on his chin was anything to go off of.
The boy looks up at his four spectators in confusion. "Either Sho is using some electro bullshit, or I hit my head harder than I initially thought. Because I swear the entire Kagayaku Kage have three more females than I remember us having." That, of course, is when he is met with a scream, courtesy of Madison, and an attempted punch to the face, courtesy of Sophia, which he thankfully dodges and prepares a counter-attack. He reaches for something on his back that isn't there, and his eyes widen. "Uh oh." Sophia then throws another punch, this one connecting and knocking out the stranger.
Sophia then looks around, her eyes landing on Taylor. Her message of 'tell nobody' being very clear. Sophia grabs the boy and hauls him out of the room, with Emma and a very confused/scared Madison following close behind. Taylor assumed they're going to either the office or the police. Maybe the PRT, but that seems unlikely as it's obvious he was hit with a Parahuman power rather than being one himself.
However, as soon as that thought happens, the world around Taylor starts to crack, like a glass hit by a pebble. It then shatters, leaving most of the world the same. The only difference is that the boy was still here and dusting himself off. "Huh, so that's weaker. Hate that." Taylor is very confused by the boy's sudden reappearance. And his obvious power usage here. So the PRT probably should have been contacted. She was actually doing really well not to scream nor attack this stranger. "So, step one. Figure out what wacky stuff is happening to my crap." The boy looks around and sees Taylor still there. "Oh, uh, you're still here.... why?"
Taylor is not sure how to answer this question initially, but she quickly steels herself and stands straighter. "I'm here because this is the girl's room. Why are you here after Sophia knocked you out and dragged you away?" The buzzing at the edge of her consciousness coming to life as she prepares to defend herself, just in case. "Oh, that wasn't me. The moment I noticed I didn't have my weapon, I quickly noped out of that situation. As for this being the girl's room..." He looks around and nods slightly. "Interesting. Looks exactly how I thought it would."
Taylor has to stop herself from being very disgusted. Why does she feel like this guy was going to be a massive headache. "Alright, just... who are you and why are you here." The boy gives a look before smiling with his teeth. He points two finger guns at his temple, and a hat appears on his head, not there before. "I am Jissoji Bright. Let's Go." The hat then disappears, and he stops the finger guns towards his head. "As for why I am here, I have no clue. Last I remembered, I was punched, but I don't know how I ended up here without breaking anything." He then looks towards the wall and mirror. "On my way in at least, not on impact. That doesn't count."
What a mystery. But first, they needed to get out of the school... how were they going to do that without any of the trio finding out.