Contrary to the buzzing loudness in the inner area of I-Speed stadium, the outer areas are almost dead calm. Arata doesn't think she has encountered more than five people since she changed back to her maroon hoodie and grabbed her things in the locker room. The spectators' cheers are echoing in the vacant hallway she trudges along.
Her left hand rubs her other arm to shake off the leftover coldness wrapping it. She doesn't stop even though her muscles spasm and her skin stings, for the chills bother her more than the pain. As she bites her lips, her green eyes are frantically searching for a public washroom.
Once Arata finds it, she staggers inside and half-collapses to the sink. Automatically, a sense of relief floods her when water runs down her right arm, washing away the sense of the solid coldness. At the same time, it is as if liquid guilt invades her flesh and creeps up to her chest.
Pathetic... Water, ice—they are basically the same thing. But, why am I so afraid of one of them?
Arata closes her eyes and pictures the dismay in Shoto's expression. She didn't get to actually see his face, but she could hear it in the slight crack of his voice. Her seeing him as a Shirayuki was uncalled for.
It was just ice, her fist clenches under the flowing water. Her muscles are screaming under the strain, but somehow the pain pales in comparison to the one in her chest. It was the ice that has just saved my arm from getting snapped in two. The same ice that has protected me from Donki-san's bullets.
It was Shoto-san's ice. When will I learn not to jump out at the first sign of cold?
Sighing softly, Arata opens her eyes back and stares at her drenched arm in the sink bowl. How am I going to face him after this? I doubt a "sorry" will suffice—
Then, all of a sudden, a light clink chimes in the room. Next, a roll of toilet paper tumbles to the floor, rolling until it barely pokes the heel of her left shoe. Just as she wonders why it could fall off out of the blue by itself, another sound follows and a cubicle door creaks.
"Oops."
Startled, Arata lifts her head up for the first time since she entered the restroom. In the mirror, she finds a pair of yellow eyes staring back at her from the furthest stall. She blinks in confusion, not certain what to make of the situation.
The person starts speaking in a husky, masculine voice, yet Arata doesn't understand a single word. Is it a foreign language? She throws a blank look at him and grimaces. "... What?"
Clearing his throat, he tries again. This time, it is a flawless, fluent Japanese that comes out from his mouth, lips forming a smile. "Apologies to you, my lady. I thought if I was being quiet, you wouldn't notice me doing my business here."
"Um..." Arata glances around, making sure there are no urinals hanging on the wall. "But, Sir... Isn't this a female restroom?"
He pays no heed to her question. His yellow eyes travel to the maroon hoodie she is wearing, then down to her casual jeans. "You're neither wearing a hero suit nor a formal outfit. Hmm, that's quite a rare sight in I-Expo."
"I didn't realize it was a problem," Arata replies defensively, then drags the maroon sleeves to her wrists back.
His velvety chuckle reverberates as he slips out of the cubicle, dark purple tresses swaying gently above shoulders. A pair of curly, ram horns sit behind his pointed ears while his bat-like wings furl behind his back. "Of course it isn't a problem. It is a bliss, even."
"A bliss?" she repeats, feeling weird about his choice of words.
"So, Little Red Riding Hood... Are you perhaps, quirkless?"
There is something in his voice that sends chills all over her body, yet Arata can't take her eyes off him. It is like there is a magnetic force that draws her gaze to his aristocratic facial features.
And, although he takes each of his step with a refined composure, her heart is fluttering madly against her will. Out of anticipation or out of something else, she doesn't know.
"N— No," she forces out an answer, desperately trying to sort the bumbling mess in her head.
"Really? Then, what is this?" As confident as ever, the man stops in front of her, smiling wider. With a quick swipe, he sweeps the item off her hand and throws it sideways without looking. "It's cute that you think you can use a roll of toilet paper to distract me. You don't have to lie with me, Little Red Riding Hood."
"I'm not lying!"
"Your mannerism reeks of someone who doesn't have anything to fall back on. Most of the time, it means that either her quirk isn't useful or she is quirkless."
Arata wants to deny his claim, but her body doesn't even budge, let alone cooperate. Her throat is going dry in his presence and her heart is thumping louder and louder. His yellow eyes are glimmering attractively as his long fingers curl around her left wrist.
Attractive? Snap out of it! That man looks even older than Aizawa-san! A more logical part of her reasons in her mind. Its voice is strangely faint and unclear, in such a way that she thinks maybe her brain is getting clogged up with balls of cotton.
"Don't be ashamed," he coos and takes her other arm. "I indeed have that kind of effect on females."
It isn't a rough pull, but Arata's bruised arm throbs when he tugs on it. The pain clears her mind for a second, and she uses it to yank herself from him and scrambles to the restroom door. Not wasting any time, the only thing she registers as she runs away is his amused chuckle.
"Oh well, you're a little on the young side for me, anyway."
Too bad she didn't look back, or she would have seen a pair of boots-clad feet sagging from the stall where the man had been.
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"Hey, Arata-chan, you were so manly back there during I-Speed!" Kirishima grins and waves his hand to the girl, when she's approaching them in front of the participants' locker room. "It was crazy unpredictable. Todoroki and you make such a good team. Nice job at throwing us off our game!"
"Both of you played us like fools," a blond-haired guy, who seems to be Dace, next to him agrees, his sky blue eyes shining under his cap. "I've never seen anything remotely close to it anywhere, and that comes from a pro racer like me."
Arata glances at Shoto, expecting him to be the one who deals with their compliment. However, he is just leaning on the wall beside her in silence, so the task of giving a reply falls on her. Not that she's perfectly not awkward at it, though.
She fidgets with the cuffs of her sleeves. "Um... Thanks...?"
On Kirishima's other side, Bakugou retorts angrily, "Us? More like, you shitheads! If you did your jobs right, I would have won!"
"Psh, someone is a sore loser. You sure talk big for someone who crossed the finish line last."
"What did you say, Dumb Blond!? I don't want to hear it from somebody who's named after fish! I'll have you know that I've won this race twice before!"
"Hey, take it back! 'Dace' is a creative combination of my parents' names! It has nothing to do with fish, and learn to accept your defeat, moron."
Ignoring Bakugou's incoming crass remarks, Dace cranes his neck to face Arata. "It's a pity that you missed the winner announcement. It's supposed to be a publicity-stunt kind of event. You know, the part where the talent hunters in the stadium can learn about your identity and propose all kinds of gigs to you. Kirishima even got an offer because of his driving skills. I had been hoping to see a familiar face in the F1 Junior's next batch, but damn, he turned it down."
"Peace, man. I'm going to be a hero, not a racer."
"It's cool, Kirishima. Racing is not for everyone. So, Arata?"
"Exposure is just not for me," Arata replies sheepishly. "Besides, I'm not cut out for these things."
"That's an understatement, but it's up to you." Dace shrugs. "I just wanna ask one thing. Your quirk—a green scythe or whatever it is, I didn't have a good look—why didn't you use it since the beginning of the race?"
Arata is pretty sure that the moment Dace spews out that question out of his mouth, Bakugou shoots a dark glare to her over his shoulder. His gaze is boring a hole on her face, and suddenly the floor looks very interesting to her.
"I mean, there were plenty of chances where you could use it to put us at a disadvantage, but you didn't. My mom and I seriously thought you were quirkless and crossed that possibility off our list. In hindsight, it was a bad move on our part. But, why didn't you use it sooner? Together with Todoroki's ice, you could've taken us out during the pyramid climb, or even before that."
"I— I just didn't think it would have to come to that."
"So, you think Half-and-Half Bastard can beat us all single-handedly," Bakugou snarls, his red eyes flashing with menace.
"I didn't say that!"
"Then, what had you been doing all race, Extra!? While all of us worked our ass off like idiots, you didn't even take it seriously! Are you having fun in the fact that you managed to blow past me with a fucking cheap trick?"
"Whoa! Bakubro, calm down! It's just a game!"
"Yeah, idiot," Dace scorns the ash blond and crosses his arms. "You're so hot-headed I swear there's an imaginary fire up your hair."
As Kirishima tries to cool his friend's head, Arata mutters quietly, "I didn't mean to offend or hurt anyone... It's just my lack of judgement... I'm sorry..."
Her green eyes meet Shoto's grey-cyan ones. It won't suffice as an apology, but she wishes that it is enough for him to know that she's sorry, really sorry, from the bottom of her heart. He doesn't say anything to her, but he doesn't look away either. He is just standing close, staring into her eyes with an incomprehensible expression.
"Stop making eyes at each other!" Bakugou roars, foot stomping on the poor floor. "This extra right here has unfinished business with me!"
"Geez, you kids are so loud." an adult, gender-bent version of Dace walks up to them, a phone half-hidden behind her blond locks. "I just left to get some reception, and there you are fighting again. Did you even hear what happened?"
"Hi, Mom," Dace greets her and raises his cap. Now that his mom mentions about it, he realizes a few people around them are flocking and whispering in small groups. "No, we didn't catch the news."
"Obviously, considering how loud you all were."
"Sorry, Ma'am." Kirishima sends an apologetic grin her way.
"Except Todoroki, he's all doom and gloom ever since the competition ended. Anyone who looked his way would think that he was the loser of this race while he is actually the winner. Why so bummed out, Todoroki? Your pet goldfish just died?"
"No, I don't keep pets. I'm just—" Shoto's eyes flick to his right hand for a millisecond before resuming his words. "— not in the mood to talk."
"Duh, Mom. Care to spill the tea for us?"
"Nothing big, actually," she sighs, her fingers running through her hair. "A female janitor was found unconscious. Nothing's stolen and no bruises, but she was out like a light."
"Again?" Dace raises his eyebrows. "That's like, the third time we've heard about it this day."
"Fourth," she corrects him. "This one was in one of the I-Speed's female restrooms. A toilet cubicle, to be exact."
"W— Wait!" Arata interjects, a bit panicked. "Which restroom?"
"You're I-Kart 8's missing driver, aren't you?" the woman's gaze darts to Arata, who nods politely in reply. "I heard it's the west restroom."
West restroom, the one where I was in... Arata bites her lips, trying to contain the nausea that springs in her stomach at the mental image of bewitching yellow eyes. What on earth had happened?