Chapter Text
“God, Kawada, you don’t get to be absolutely insufferable just because I don’t want to fuck you!” Kyoka winces at the voice, pitched high in frustration, coming from a few meters down the hall.
“You’re a frigid bitch, that isn’t MY fault.” She can now see the speakers, a pretty girl with long blonde hair and a tall guy that other people might label as attractive. They're facing off in the middle of the hallway and drawing a crowd. Momo hesitates before veering off their path to their homeroom. Kyoka follows her friend dutifully as she gently strong-arms her way to the front of the circle forming in UA’s halls.
“That’s not what you were saying last week when you wanted in my pants, asshat!” the blonde girl growls, jabbing a finger at the guy — Kawada?
Kawada scoffs. His greased back hair and sneer make Kyoka instantly dislike him, and the words he's spitting cement that. “That’s because I didn’t know you were a goddamn dyke.”
Kyoka freezes, a bucket of cold dread splashing over her at the slur. She...hasn’t heard much of that at UA. She’s forgotten the shock of adrenaline it can shoot through her veins, screaming for her to get away, get somewhere safe. At her side, Momo gives a sharply displeased huff and steps forward into the circle.
“Excuse me, but I think you should leave now,” Momo says to the guy, her infamous stoney look of displeasure in place. Anyone in class 1-A would immediately drop everything at that look. Kawada doesn’t seem to care either way, waving her off and stepping closer to the girl he's loudly arguing with.
The blonde doesn’t look very grateful for Momo’s interference. She glares at the taller girl. “I don’t need rescuing , hero girl. Go find some other damsel.”
Momo blinks, surprised. Kyoka shakes off the ice that held her frozen in place and steps forward, silent support at Momo’s side. She wants to glare at Kawada, but a stupid part of her is afraid she’ll draw his ire as well. Like he could know. As if he has some horrible homophobic gaydar. She’s spent her life sitting silently and listening to people, and plenty of people say awful things when they think they can’t be heard. She isn’t keen on having it aimed her way. But she’s also a hero student, and she can’t just let this happen.
Thankfully, Momo is braver than her. She purses her lips, addressing the girl. “I don’t mean to offend, but he’s disrupting the rest of us as well,” she says tactfully.
“He’s just being a piss baby like usual.” The girl rolls her eyes.
“Yeah, hero bitch. Get that stick out of your ass and leave us alone. Unless you like that kind of shit.” Kawada’s smile is predatory as he leers over Momo, who suddenly looks keenly aware of how close he’s gotten as he looks down at her — god, he’s tall. Momo’s jaw works as she takes a step back, clearly uncomfortable but gaze steely nonetheless. The guy steps right back into her space.
“Leave her the fuck alone, Kawada. Stop harassing every fucking girl you meet.” The blonde whips her anger back to the boy, ignoring Momo again.
“Hey, it’s not like they don’t like it. You know I can make them admit it.” He smirks and raises a hand casually, a soft white glow sparking at his fingertips.
“Oh, please, you fucking pig, you know that isn’t fucking consent—,”
“What, you want me to prove it? Just ‘cause it doesn’t work on your dyke ass doesn’t mean girls don’t think I’m sexy as hell—,”
Kyoka is the only one who seems to see his glowing hand reaching for Momo. Her friend has been looking between the two arguing students and trying to calm them down again and is currently half-wedged between them with her hands raised placatingly toward the girl, who is pulling at her own hair and looks seconds from leaping at the tall boy and tearing his throat out with her sharp teeth. Kawada is smirking over Momo’s shoulder and egging her on, but his glowing hand is reaching out like he intends to grab Momo’s waist and pull her closer. Kyoka moves on instinct, shoving herself in what little space is between the two much taller students. She grabs Kawada’s wrist — she assumes it’s safe, it looks like a five-point contact quirk — and yanks it to the side, away from Momo, and makes a startled noise when the glow lighting up his fingers siphons itself over his hand and up her arm.
Kyoka stumbles woozily backward, bumping into Momo. She vaguely feels her friend whirl around and catch her by the shoulders, steadying her. The nerves in Kyoka’s arm feel numb and tingly. Kawada snarls down at her and barks something she can’t hear through the cotton in her ears. He shakes his hand sharply and the remnants of the glow flick off his fingers like water, fizzling out midair. The twisting imprints on Kyoka’s arm sink slowly into her skin.
There’s a lot of noise in the hallway — there always is just before school starts — but she can’t parse it and sort it into relevant or not when everything is melting together. Kyoka blinks rapidly for a few seconds until her vision starts to make sense again. The circle seems to have broken up, Kawada nowhere to be seen. She’s leaning heavily against Momo but surprisingly standing on her own still. As her hearing clears up, she realizes her friend is talking to the pretty blonde girl, who doesn’t look hostile anymore but also doesn’t seem pleased to be talking to hero students.
“Hng,” Kyoka says eloquently.
“There she is,” the blonde smirks, eyes rolling. It isn’t nearly as vicious an action as Kyoka had watched her wield moments ago against Kawada.
“Kyoka, are you okay? Do you need to see Recovery Girl?” Momo has her by the shoulders, searching her face desperately for signs of...something.
“Better now that I can see you, babe,” Kyoka hums. Momo blushes and looks to the side, and Jirou stills, suddenly realizing what she’s said. She can feel her cheeks heat up and takes an awkward step away from her friend.
“I-I didn’t, I mean, I’m sor—,” Kyoka stammers frantically, tugging at her ear jacks and desperately searching for words to undo whatever the hell had just come over her. Why the FUCK had she just said that to Momo of all people? Prettiest girl Kyoka’s ever met and more importantly her best friend?
“Yeah, that’s the shitheel’s quirk,” the blond girl huffs, crossing her arms. “Already filled miss goody-two-shoes in while you were in la-la land. It’s called Flirt. Makes you flirt with anyone you find attractive. Piece of shit hit me with it last week and got his fucking feelings hurt when he realized I wasn’t even physically interested. As if his personality isn’t enough of a deterrent.” She makes a very convincing gagging noise.
“That’s awful!” Momo frowns. Her cheeks have gotten a little redder, and she’s blatantly not looking at Kyoka, which makes Kyoka’s stomach flip unpleasantly.
“You shouldn’t have to put up with that, princess,” Kyoka tells the blonde. The term of endearment at the end was decidedly NOT her choice, and she can’t look the girl in the eye. Her jacks curl around her fingers.
The girl chuckles. “Not so bad yourself, cutie. I’m Ehara, by the way.” She glances between the two of them, Momo’s hand still on her shoulder, before adding, “But I’m not getting between you and your girl.”
“Oh, I’m single, but we could work on that,” Kyoka says more suavely than she’s ever said anything in her life, a soft, confident smile on her face and eyes half-lidded. The expression immediately drops into mortification. Momo’s hand falls to her side again. Kyoka doesn’t think about that.
Ehara throws her head back and cackles. “God, that look! You’re gonna have a rough time of it. Two days and your pretty little face is gonna melt right off. But it's not the end of the world, cutie.”
Kyoka opens her mouth and then shuts it so fast her teeth clack together. She’s resolving herself to a vow of silence when Ehara says, “Listen, I gotta get to class, but good luck, shortie. If Kawada tries to give you more trouble you have my blessing to kick his fucking teeth in. See ya’.” With a wave over her shoulder, the blonde saunters between them and up the hall. She gives a playful nudge to Kyoka’s shoulder, and Kyoka stares carefully at her own shoes, face on fire.
“So…,” Momo says after an awkward amount of silence. She doesn’t continue.
Kyoka doesn’t really want to talk. She definitely doesn’t want to talk about being outed as sapphic at the very least, having flirted with two girls in the span of a minute of having been quirked. She clears her throat and mumbles something about being late to homeroom, which is true but also a convenient escape, before remembering that she literally just took a vow of silence and has already fucked that up. Whatever. This will be fine.
Kyoka is very good at avoiding talking about feelings. This can’t be much harder.
The two best friends are silent all the way to Class 1-A. The halls are weirdly quiet so close to the bell. Just in front of the door to the classroom, Momo reaches out and taps Kyoka’s elbow. Kyoka does not jump. She doesn’t.
“Kyoka, do you, um…,” Kyoka is already frantically shaking her head before the question is even finished. Whatever it is, she does not want to talk about it. She doesn’t want to talk about anything ever again because apparently she can’t open her mouth without embarrassing herself and now she’s been hit by a quirk that makes it a thousand times worse. Talking is for losers and Kyoka refuses to be a loser.
She pushes her way through the door and heads straight toward her seat, head down.
“Hey, living on the edge today?” Mina laughs, nodding toward the clock.
“Well, I’ve always been fond of edging.” Jirou winks.
Not everyone heard her, but the sound in the half of the room nearest the door drops dramatically. After a beat, Mina squeals in delight, on her feet and hands clasped together like she’s holding back her own excitement. Kyoka feels like a bug in a jar, suddenly the sole focus of Mina’s wild-eyed gaze. Heat radiates off her cheeks.
“Fuck, I’m sorry, Mina, I didn’t mean to—,”
“Are you kidding?! That was AMAZING—,”
“I-I got hit by a quirk, it’s making me, just, like, say stuff, I don’t—,”
The bell rings and Aizawa enters the classroom.
“Jirou, Yaoyorozu, sit down,” their teacher grunts. Kyoka drops into her seat, thankful for the emergency exit on the shitshow of a conversation she’d started — and the way her teacher can get an entire room of teenagers just given new gossip to shut up. Aizawa stares at her for a moment.
“Jirou. You said you were hit by a quirk,” Aizawa says flatly. There’s a few noises of confusion from the side of the room that hadn’t seen her eat absolute shit as soon as she entered the room.
“Yes, sir,” Kyoka says weakly.
“You know what it does, presumably?”
“It’s nothing, sir. It’s not important.” Kyoka swallows. She’s staring at her desk but she can feel twenty pairs of eyes on her. Maybe she’ll manifest another quirk and combust on the spot, putting her out of her misery.
“As your teacher, I need to be aware of things like this. What are the parameters?” She can hear the frown in his voice, even if she knows his face is impassive as ever. “Will it affect the rest of the class?”
The mention of her classmates knocks Kyoka out of her pity party a bit. Fuck. She hadn’t even thought — god, this quirk is going to make her harass her friends, isn’t it? Unwanted flirting and sexual comments and — she's just as bad as Mineta right now. She suddenly feels gross and slimy, like she needs a shower. She grips her skirt tightly, knuckles turning white. Fuck. She shouldn’t be around the other girls right now, she's going to make them uncomfortable, she's going to be — predatory, and disgusting, and make them feel like shit, and—
“Jirou. Would you like to tell me in private?” Aizawa’s voice invades her spiraling mind. She jerks her head up and stares at him with wide eyes.
“Can we talk in the hall?” she manages hoarsely.
Aizawa’s eyes narrow, his lips twitching downward. He steps towards the door and she takes it as a sign to follow him into the hallway. Once they're alone, she fidgets nervously under his careful examination for a few seconds, clicking the ends of her jacks together.
Kyoka opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. Closes it. She feels stupid. The words get caught in her throat. She knows she needs to tell Aizawa how she needs to be kept separate from the girls of her class for their own comfort, but she can’t make herself say it. It’s not even like she’s ever had bad experiences with coming out! She’s just...a coward. A coward who has overheard too many of the consequences of it going poorly. Has heard venom spat by teachers and friends as soon as doors close, listened to crying and fists behind the school, and didn't do anything to stop it because she’s a fake who shouldn’t be in heroics.
“Jirou,” Aizawa prompts, making her jolt. His tone is noticeably softer, but it sort of just makes Kyoka feel worse, that she needs that from him. The rhythm of her breathing is getting erratic, and she closes her eyes and digs her nails into her palms and vomits the answers before her own cowardice can drown her again.
“I got hit by a quirk that makes you flirt with anyone you find attractive and I would like to be paired with only the boys during hero class today.” The sentence is airy and rushed, but it’s out there.
Aizawa stares at her for a minute. He seems to read between the lines easily enough. He nods slowly. “It activated when Ashido spoke to you, but not the general chatter in the room. Would you like me to tell your classmates to avoid talking to you until the effects wear off?”
Kyoka nods frantically, dizzy with relief.
“Alright. Do you know how long it will last?”
“Uh, I think the girl said two days?”
“Whenever you can, please officially report the student who used their quirk on you.”
“I was out of it, but I think Yaomomo got his name?”
“I’ll make sure she has the appropriate form before lunch, then.”
Aizawa hums and watches her a little longer. He seems to come to a conclusion and visibly steels himself before awkwardly clasping a hand on her shoulder. He looks so uncomfortable Kyoka could laugh if the squeeze of his hand wasn’t so comforting.
“I’m sorry the choice may have been taken from you, but...this class is very accepting. If something does happen because of this quirk, I’m certain they would support you." He sounds almost in pain, but the words are sweet nonetheless. "If nothing else, I can promise you have UA on your side. There are many anti-discriminatory policies I can and will enforce if anything happens. I and several other teachers are also available for discussion or even counseling.”
Kyoka gives a jerky nod and lets herself be steered back inside, blinking the sting out of her eyes and refusing to make eye contact with anyone as she finds her seat again. She doesn’t see the curious looks at the hand on her shoulder when she enters.
“No one is to speak to Jirou outside of emergencies for the next 48 hours or you will have a month of detention helping the support course test experiments.” The class groans before quieting again as Aizawa glares at them.
“Glad you understand. Now, get out your worksheets from Tuesday and pass them to the front.”
Kyoka leans over her backpack, rested against her desk, and pulls her completed assignment out. As she sits back up, Denki catches her eye. He looks ready to absolutely burst with curiosity and excitement, vibrating in his seat. She knows the only thing keeping him at bay is a bad experience last month with the support course trying to use him as a car battery during detention over some stupid prank on Bakugo. Even that motivation looks like it’s liable to snap at any moment as he makes what he must think are subtle pantomimes in her direction, face twisted in exaggerated confusion.
It’s going to be a long two days.