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Life was heavy for May Kataoka. When she lifted her body from her bed, she stared out at the orange sun. It blinded her and cast dark blue shadows across the room. Her feet hit the floor with a thud. A cold jolt rushed up her legs, working its way through her body until her brain froze.

Did that really happen?

May looked to her nightstand, staring at the scarlet blinking number. She felt as though if she reached out to her alarm clock, it would disappear between her fingers like smoke. Dust particles danced in the beam of light through her window. Suspended in the air, the dust looked so carefree. Not worried about anything. Not worried about heroes. Not worried about villains.

Her fingers outstretched themselves in front of her.

I could've died, and that would've been it.

She let her fingers contract and flex.

And no one would've known. I don't have a legacy. I don't have a rank. I don't have— anything.

Her body turned and faced the bed again. May lowered her hands and let them twist into the sheets. When her head hung to meet the floor, a dull ache in her neck grew into a sharp thorn.

There's nothing I could've done. And nothing I can do.

She stood up tall again.

Nothing. So much nothing. Nothing to say, nothing to tell, nothing anybody can do for me.

A deep breath escaped her chest, which was both hollow and hammering. Her heart dared to break through her body and bound away. How was she going to face everyone? They had so much power. Seeing those kids bounce right back from sparring matches seemed like a cruel joke.

It's fine.

May doubled over.

It's just another patient.

She heaved once.

It's fine. He didn't hurt me. He didn't kill me. He won't kill me.

She stopped heaving.

Just another patient.

And May straightened her back.

It's fine. I'll solve the case and move on with my life.

The floor felt cold underfoot. Smooth, her toes understanding every groove as May passed over it.

It's going to be like any other day.

Entering her bathroom was like crossing into another dimension. Peering into the mirror, sickly purple eyebags and marks across her fingers greeted her. Pressing on her cheeks and waking herself up, she swallowed any constricting feelings in her throat. She wasn't going to give herself the pleasure of fear or sadness.

Nothing happened.

She readied herself like a typical weekday. Extra care was taken on her makeup, letting everything sink in and build her into someone she would pass on the streets. The smell of powder swirled around her nostrils, and the berry taste of her lip-gloss tapped her tongue. She stood in the mirror and practiced her smile until it was convincing, engaging every smile line and wrinkle.

Soon, it was as if another person was staring back at her entirely.

Nothing happened, and I'm fine. It was just a bump— a bump in my road.

Stirring her coffee was a chore, and she propped up her elbow. It dug into the table, creating a staticky feeling at the base of her arm. The burner phone laid in the middle of the table.

Should I leave it here? Keep it in my purse? What if I don't respond right away? He knows—what does he know about me?

Nausea warned hunger, and May didn't touch food of any sort.

No. It's a work phone now. He knows what he needs to know as my patient.

She started scanning the room, only to notice a singular item decorating her apartment wall. The air conditioning blew against her face and lifted some loose hairs from her forehead.

Nothing happened, and I'm fine.

A cat calendar that she picked up when she began her new job hung from the wall. Her eyes squinted, the smooth feeling of her coffee cup rubbing against her thumb. A bright red circle was encasing a date, and arrows pointed toward it.

She kept her cup in hand, her low heels clicking in the silent house as she tilted her head. The wall was shiny and without features underneath her fingertips as she gripped the calendar.

What day is it?

May didn't mark the days. In the thick scarlet penmanship, the phrase: Sports Festival Today! screamed at her. Still glaring at the calendar, she dug out her phone and glanced between the two.

The dates matched.

With her mouth gaping, it took May a second to process what was happening. Then, she kicked into action. She scrambled for her purse and shoved both of her phones inside of it. Her nails caught the cheap leather of her bag, gathering small bits of fabric underneath. May slammed her coffee cup into the sink a little too hard.

Damn—

It shattered all over the sink, pieces of caramel porcelain scattered in the basin.

Nothing happened, and I'm fine.

She didn't look twice. May swung open the door and went straight for the stairs. Beads of sweat built on her forehead as she jogged down the city streets. May ignored every dark corner and alleyway, unintentionally moving faster. Commuters were miffed by her urgency and muttered when she brushed by them.

What if he's there? At every corner? What if he's following me? What if there's more of them that know about me? What're they going to do? What if my coworkers find out? Am I going to be fired? Blacklisted? Excommunicated?

Control was lost as she jogged. Making it up the laborious hills felt like a sport on its own, let alone the what-if's poisoning her mind. The humid air clawed at her exposed skin and made it hard to breathe.

Once she was near the school, May hid behind a wall and put her hands on her knees. She gripped the side of her head, letting strands of hair crimp under her hold. Resisting the urge to sink to the concrete ground— she listened.

Birds.

They flew up ahead, diving and twirling in the brilliant blue sky. May slowly lifted her head, focusing on their trills. She imagined herself there instead.

Cars.

Honking, tire-screeching, the smell of gas. People on bikes zooming by and the faint smell of sweat. People shaking their fists and screaming at the top of their lungs. That was her voice now.

Lights.

Green, red, and yellow glowed across the street— artificially gorgeous.

And finally: silence.

May let her hands fall and rest at her side. One of her hands found itself on the wall, the rough brick contouring itself to her specific fingerprint. She let her hair hover over her face, swaying to the beat of her stabilized breathing.

Nothing happened, and I'm fine.

No more thoughts broke through this fortified wall she crafted. May's stomach didn't ache, and she divorced herself from her heart pounding. She focused on the people nearby chattered about the Sports Festival. With the intrusions fading away like ghosts, May blinked and tucked in her shirt again.

She peaked out from behind the wall, watching as two men in suits turned in toward the entrance. They were, most likely, business owners or employees there to scout the Festival. Their voices were varied, one with a sing-song melody and the other with gruff, bear-like laughs. With her chest puffed out, she went in the same thing.

"Miss?"

A gruff voice sent skitters down May's spine. She lifted her shoulders to her ears and slowly turned around. A buff security guard gave her a smile, which May did her best to reciprocate. The security guard had deep-set lines around his forehead and oily skin from hours of being outside. He leaned on his left side only; his right knee was straight.

"That's not the visitor's entrance," he said, holding out his hands in a non-threatening way. "Would you like me to show you? I'd be happy to."

May snuck a quick glance at his baton, then waved her hands back and forth. "No! No, I'm not a visitor. I'm... I'm U.A. staff."

"Can I see your I.D. then?" The man gave an apologetic look.

May's cheeks burned, and she blew a puff of air from her cheeks, before forcing a cheery smile. "Of course!"

They stood in awkward silence while May grappled with her bag. Her split fingernails occasionally snagged on the internal fabric. Footsteps occupied her hearing until her fingers wrapped around the plastic, and May finally extended her identification card to him. As soon as his eyes laid on it, his whole demeanor relaxed.

"Oh! Dr. Kataoka!" The security officer said and gave a jolly laugh. "The Principal asked me to keep an eye out for you."

May felt her face fall a little.

"Well, thank you! I appreciate it. I'll be on my way now," May said, and gently plucked her card from out of his hand. She stalled for a moment, trying to remember the staff entrance.

It had to be left, right?

The security officer watched as May took a confident stab at which direction to go. She didn't look at him, trying to kill the blush scrawled across her face. Shouldering her bag again, May ran a finger along the strap and reminded herself of the texture. But, before she could get very far, she heard his voice again.

"The staff entrance is this way, Doctor."

May brought her hands up to her face and covered both of her eyes with her palms. She scrunched her face with internal frustration. Even though her hand left a red mark behind, the pain didn't register. It felt like a car honk. Whirling around, she walked by him again and nodded.

"Right, I knew that. Thanks anyway!" She called and scratched at her right eyebrow when she got out of view.

Entering the arena's backdoor wasn't the most exciting thing May had ever done. The steel was cold, just as everything else, and she avoided her appearance in the glass door. A reminder of the stranger in the mirror didn't need to taint her silence.

She remembered in medical school flitting through channels and occasionally coming across this so-called Sport's Festival. It felt so— May couldn't place the feeling. But feelings were irrelevant. Her blank mind allowed the building's silence to rest upon her chest, like dunking into an icy river.

No one was situated by the door when she opened it and wrangled her I.D. around her neck. She figured it would be the best way to avoid a mix-up like earlier. The rumble of the stadium buzzed overhead. May tilted her head upward, wondering how many people sat above her. And what it would take to crush her into the earth.

"And that's when I said—that's not a dog! That's my daughter ."

May squeezed her eyes tight as Present Mic's laugh bellowed down the hallway. Up ahead, she saw the faint outline of Present Mic and four other heroes. She waited for her brain to come up with anything, but no one responded with anything self-deprecating. May stood, frozen in place, listening to the buzzing of a struggling lightbulb overhead.

"Yo! Doc! Thought you'd never make it!" Present Mic hollered.

The four other figures became clearer.

"Aha, yeah! This place is a labyrinth," May said, her eyes skating over to the other heroes.

She recognized Mt. Lady immediately. Her costume was just as tight as it looked in every picture. Kamui Woods wasn't far behind, his wooden expression unchanging. The other two, May had to think as to who they were. Oh! Yes, Rock Lock. One was a relatively younger hero—what was her name.

"Everyone, this is the new medical staffer at U.A. Dr. Kataoka, this is your cue to say something! She's not really a loudmouth like I am," Present Mic said with a wide grin, holding his arm like he was presenting a project.

The other heroes smiled at her. May imitated.

"Uh, hello. I'll add you all to the professional heroes I've met. The list is getting long," May said, nodding once.

Mt. Lady leaned over to Kamui Woods and whispered out loud. "A list? That's a little weird, don't you think?"

Before May could open her mouth again, Rock Lock stepped forward.

"Nice to meet you, Doctor. How're you adjusting to the hero world?" he asked.

"To be honest," May started and then realized the number of eyes on her. "—Great!"

"It's a damn shame you're stuck in a school all day with this riot!" The unnamed hero interrupted, wrapping her arm around Present Mic. Her bunny ears poked out from her long white hair. "You excited for the Festival? Those kids are gonna kick ass! I wish I was out there."

Ah, the name popped up in her head.

Miruko.

May grimaced and gave a nervous laugh. "I don't know if that's such a great thing for me."

"I've got no doubt that you'll be busy today! Too bad, you won't be able to hear my amazing announcing," Present Mic said, grunting under the weight of Miruko's leaning.

"I have a television in my room where I'll be monitoring everything," May said, securing her bag over her shoulder again. She wiggled her toes in her shoes. "I'll still be able to hear your—er— commentary."

"It's not the same, Doc," Present Mic said, sounding dejected. Then he perked up again. "You should head to your office! I think Eraser mentioned something about checking his bandages?"

"Right!" May slammed a hand into her forehead, then started off in the direction from which they came. "It was nice to meet you all."

They waved and started talking again. Miruko landed a punch on Rock Lock's arm, to which a yelp sounded down the hallway. Then, a cackle echoed in response. Even though Miruko's name popped up in her head, silence reigned over her again. May picked up her pace, passing by other heroes. Some stopped to watch her pass by, others continued about their business.

May could've sworn she saw a glimpse of flames.

Outside of her office, two individuals stood talking to each other. No one's face would register until their voices wrapped around May's body.

"Hey, Dr. Late! What took you so long?" Midnight asked, putting a hand on her hip. "I decided I'd accompany Eraser because you didn't respond to my text last night. Thought we'd chat."

The sharp tone in Midnight's voice would've filled May with dread on any other day. May approached her office door, while Midnight babbled about things May couldn't care about. Her arena office was a little more rudimentary than her usual office. The floor was dustier and more uneven. Her equilibrium rocked when she stepped on a sloping tile.

The television on-screen was flipped onto a game show channel, with an announcer brightly dictating the terms of the game. The two MEBOs cleaned up the floor, rounding the office like May had scheduled for that day. There wasn't much preparation that needed to be had, as she had stocked up the office several days prior.

"Are you even listening to me?"

Midnight's voice shattered the thin veil of dissociation circling itself around May. She looked up at the pro-hero now seated on a hospital bed. Midnight's red-rimmed glasses glittered under the fluorescent lights, and she was smacking on a piece of gum. May blinked, trying to create a coherent image within her blurred vision.

Aizawa had moved over toward a separate bed, not contributing to Midnight's snappy conversation.

"I am," May said, swallowing down a yawn.

"You look so awful. Did you even sleep?" Midnight sat up, and her lip upturned in slight disgust. "It's not healthy, and you of all people should know this."

"I was just up late studying," May said. She turned her head away from Midnight and started toward the supply closet to assess Aizawa's injuries. "That's all."

"So, you just ignored me? Is that what you're saying?" Midnight didn't sound amused. Anger sat at the edge of her tone and blazed her words. She crossed her arms. "Also, what the hell are you wearing? It's like fifty-billion degrees outside, and you look like it's snowing outside. Is that a line in your tights?"

The supply closet had glossy olive doors that were opened by silver handles. May swung them open with ease. Her fingers danced over each object, the smell of sterilization and latex flooding her senses. She stretched the gloves over her hands and let them slap her wrists.

"There's a draft in this room," May said while clearing her throat. "It kicks on every ten minutes. It's to counteract the extreme heat outside, and if students come in with overexertion, it'll help them."

Now, Midnight had moved to sit in May's office chair. She slid around on the rolling chair, right next to the bed that Aizawa was contemplating life on. May paused for a moment, finally looking at Midnight, who was aggressively staring.

"I'm sorry, Midnight. It was a long night of studying. I saw your messages and just forgot to respond," May said, trying her best to sound candid.

Midnight processed, then threw up her arms. "Shit, that's all you had to say. I do the same thing!"

She giggled as May put some bandages and other instruments on a silver tray. The heel of her foot already started to bother her, and her calves felt tight as she walked toward the hospital beds. May pulled up a mask across her lips and started taking Aizawa's vital measurements. His blood pressure was normal and his—

"Will I get to see anything nasty today, Doc?" Midnight asked.

"I don't think so," May said absently. "At most, there'll be a small amount of fluid left behind from the healing wounds."

"That sounds terribly boring when you say it like that," Midnight said and started spinning the office chair in circles.

Heavy stillness radiated across the room. The only interaction they had was when May asked Aizawa to take a deep breath or to relax his arm as she checked his elbow. The creaking of the office chair and Midnight's loud chewing were the only two things that could be heard.

"Can you lift your—"

"For heaven's sake, this is the most painful thing I've ever witnessed." Midnight stopped spinning, slapping her hands on her knees. "Is this how all of your appointments have been, Aizawa? You don't even speak!"

"I have no reason to unless Dr. Kataoka needs to know pertinent information," Aizawa said, flinching when he blinked his eyes.

"You're a robot," Midnight said, pointing to Aizawa. Then, her talon-like nails curved in May's direction. "Damn, you're a robot too. You make these guys feel right at home."

A MEBO chirped when Midnight motioned toward the two robots. When silence settled again with Midnight's heeled boots now clicking on the tile, May decided that the silence wasn't normal enough. The latex edge of her glove rolled against her wrist. While unwrapping Aizawa's face, May blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"What's this thing called again?" May asked through her mask, her gloved fingers delicately removing the bandages.

"This should be fun." Midnight's heels stopped tapping, and she spun the chair to face May. She muttered something and gave a devious laugh to herself.

Aizawa's eyes narrowed for a split second, then relaxed. "What thing? That's not very specific."

"The big event today. The Sports Festival? The Sporting Fest? Is it short for something? Sport's Festival sounds so plain," May rambled, looking all around the room. One light was out in the corner of the room, and a small black bug flitted around it.

Her face was level with his, but her eyes weren't focused on his.

"Is this a serious question?" Aizawa asked.

"Yes." May collected the majority of the bandages in her hands. "I'm not sure."

Midnight snorted, and the sound of a camera click echoed throughout the room.

"The Sports Festival," Aizawa finally said. Annoyance trailed through his tone, haunting his sentence.

"Today is already so delicious. Keep talking, May. You're doing great." Midnight's tone dripped with sarcasm. She blew a bubble with her gum, and popped it.

May chose to ignore her. Once she placed the bandages on the tray next, May turned back to face Aizawa. He was clearing the strands of hair from his face using a rubber band from his pocket. The cuts underneath his eyes glistened from the healing flesh. But they weren't deep red anymore. And that's what mattered.

The chair started squeaking again, which meant Midnight was occupied. May took a quick glance at her and then inhaled. The squeaking was quickly drowned out by the draft kicking on, and cold air blasted in the room from a rattling vent.

May tilted her head and held her gloved hands forward. "What would you rate your pain today? Idle pain, I mean."

Aizawa kept his gaze ahead at the door. "A four."

"And when you move or touch the injury sites?"

"A five."

May's eyes brightened. "That's better than what you told me before. Just going to check it out for myself, is that alright?"

The spinning of the chair was much louder now.

Aizawa nodded once, and May placed her left hand underneath his chin, lifting it toward the overhead light. Small veins ran like streams through the cuts. The new skin, transparent, was building off to the side. Slowly but surely reaching across.

"Oh , spicy!" Midnight purred.

Aizawa shot daggers at Midnight, who just chuckled to herself. May didn't acknowledge the comment, too busy assessing Aizawa's face. The silence in her head was outranked by anatomical knowledge.

The flesh hasn't entirely built itself up yet. I can see the beginnings of the stratum corneum. The basal layer is pretty solid; I don't think there's much else I can do below the epidermis.

"I think this needs more time," May said, her eyebrows furrowing in concentration. "I can give you another round of injections if you like."

"It's fine," he replied quickly.

She retracted her hands from his face. "Are you positive? Wait—" May held up a hand. "Before you answer that, I think the injury is close enough to the surface to allow for an ointment-like penetration. How about that?"

"Penetration?" Midnight spun in a circle again. "Now you're speaking my language."

Aizawa drew in a deep breath. With his free hand, he went in to pinch the bridge of his nose but stopped. Instead, his hand fell back to his lap as he exhaled.

"I don't care, but we don't have much time," he said with a wave.

May was already out of her chair, working to collect everything for his new dressing. "That's fine. It'll only take a couple of seconds."

Placing blood-soaked gauze underneath his eyes was less tedious than May thought. She secured them with butterfly bandages and proceeded to wrap his injuries again. The man was obviously not pleased with this assessment, as if he was pleased by anything. No one would be happy about wearing more bandages.

"I know this wasn't what you wanted to hear," May said once she finished all of the wrappings. "But I don't want to see further scarring. Your tissue layers are developing nicely, but the scarring will be noticeable. Once everything is healed, we can try to mitigate those with further therapies. I—"

May stopped talking for a minute, noticing that everything had gone completely silent. Then, with both of them staring at her, she continued. A prick of feeling touched at the back of her head, creating a fuzzy aura around her perfectly built wall.

"—I could've eased the scarring a lot sooner. And I do apologize," May finished.

The fuzziness faded.

By the sound of things, Midnight was furiously typing on her phone, but May's eyes were focused only on Aizawa. Instead, she searched his expression for something. For anything. Why was she searching so hard for emotion from him?

She stopped, zeroing out her balance, and leaning back into her chair. Her lower back burned from poor posture. The sensation simmered, creating a new thing to listen to.

Aizawa turned his head away and stood up from the hospital bed. Midnight rested her phone on her chest.

"It's..." There was a brief pause between Aizawa's words. If May blinked too fast, she would've missed it. "It's fine."

"Well! Now that that's over, May—"

Midnight started rambling again about fashion or nails. But May squeezed her fists together. It was one little look in his eyes, but she couldn't place it. May tried to decipher him further. Nothing computed. Instead, his casual stance with his hands in his pocket gave her indifference. Standing underneath those fluorescent lights, there was something different about him.

Something different? What did that mean? May tried to pick it out. Maybe it was the fact she could feel his teeth clench underneath her touch. Or perhaps it was the way his eyes slightly narrowed when she turned her head to the side. What was it—

May blanked again.

"Dr. Kataoka! You're totally useless today on the whole listening aspect." Midnight snapped her fingers in May's face.

"Hm?" May asked, walking toward the trashcan to dispose of anything she used. The trash bag shimmied when she dropped objects into it. As did the biohazard bag.

Midnight huffed. "Still on for drinks?"

"Yeah. Just let me know a date and a time," May said while shuffling back toward her desk. She fought against her shifty stare, listening for Midnight's boots to scoot on out of her office. Aizawa had started moving toward the doorway. His silence wasn't abnormal.

"Alright! Today will be fun! You'll see," Midnight exclaimed, pushing May's chair back toward her desk. Leaning in closer to May, Midnight was quieter. "Sleep is important, Doctor. Don't sacrifice it."

Midnight's heeled boots clicked against the white tile, and the tingle of the door signaled her exit, then said something snarky to Aizawa. May flopped down into her office chair.

She let the papers slip through her fingers onto the desk. The sharp corners of each piece poked at her hands.

Midnight's shift in tone caused shivers to skitter down her spine. May propped her face up with her elbows and cradled her forehead with the tips of her fingers. The fuzziness returned, and she focused on the whirring of the computer. Or the corner of the desk that was just a little too round.

Her desperate attempts to make herself appear energized didn't work. Purple bled out from underneath her concealer, dragging her eyes down. Her fingers stretched into her hairline, loosening the black strands out of her tight bun.

But that wasn't her. That was the stranger in the mirror.

Footsteps.

They were stout against the floor, bouncing off the walls and into her office.

Voices.

Several people's voices bounded excitedly down the cavernous halls.

Festival-goers.

They—

Her phone buzzed. When she lifted her eyes from the desk, Sara's name lit up the screen. May reached over and clicked the off button. Dryness and red hotness scorched down her throat, making it difficult to swallow.

Nothing happened, and I'm fine.

She leaned back in her chair and took the glasses off of her face, letting them hover over her face.

Nothing happened, and I'm fine.

"Dr. Kataoka?"

May turned to look back at the door. Aizawa was standing there, his hand raised to knock again. She shot up to her feet, hurrying over to him while adjusting her glasses. Papers fluttered to the ground without her noticing.

"Is everything okay? Did I wrap something wrong? Is it uncomfortable?" She asked, holding her hands in a cradle shape.

"No, uh, it's fine," Aizawa said, leaning backward and away from her hands. "Your earlier apology. It's not needed."

Silence shattered.

May yanked back her hands, holding them tight to her sides. "What?"

"Your apology regarding my scars. It's unnecessary. You saved my life, didn't you?" he said, his voice not changing in its flat, straight tone. "It's illogical to apologize for something positive."

"Scars aren't positive," May countered, widening her eyes and raising her eyebrows. Her wall wasn't as strong as she thought. Emotions leaked into the words that poured out of her mouth.

"They are if you lived."

May's eyebrows knit together at the strange conversation. She tapped her foot and then crossed her arms, then uncrossed them. The inability to stop fidgeting held her tight. The door wasn't as tall as she thought. Her gaze traveled from his head toward the wall above the door. A crack was sloppily painted over.

"Is that all?" May asked. She inadvertently sounded annoyed. It came out like a retort, and May opened her mouth. "Wait, I didn't—"

"Yeah," Aizawa said, shoving his hands back into his pocket. "That's all. Until next time, Dr. Kataoka."

Words were caught on her tongue, unable to free themselves. One of the bricks on her wall crumbled, allowing a string of thoughts. Why do I have to sound so mean, dammit! I don't know how to speak to people, or how to text them apparently either. I—

"By the way, I think some papers fell off your desk." Aizawa's voice interrupted her thoughts.

May whirled around, letting out a groan of frustration. But when she turned around to thank him, he was gone.

Picking up the papers was not the most ideal thing ever. May's back was not happy with her. If she turned her neck too quickly, it would send lightning strikes of pain in protest. She clicked through Aizawa's chart and recorded everything shortly after struggling for ten minutes to claw pieces of paper off of the ground.

She noticed trends in his blood pressure. It appeared to be rising at every meeting they held, not by much, but by single-digit increments. His systolic has only increased a couple of numbers, but his diastolic is a little higher. Is there some sort of stressor in his life that's causing this? I should've asked about sleeping habits.

As she so sorely knew, sleeping habits were poor after... events. She was qualified to give psychiatric evaluations. But it probably was overstepping. She was his healthcare provider in this context.

Quit it, May. Like he'd respond well to being asked if he's utilizing self-care. I bet that's not even in his vocabulary.

After closing his tab, she watched her desktop screen-saver bounce between corners. Trying to replace the wall wasn't easy. She allowed too much to slip through, and it was hard to recover the sweetness of nothing. Silence returned and settled itself into her head. She spent the time listening.

Nothing happened, and I'm fine.

Thirty minutes became an hour, and the roar of the stands only increased. When someone passed by her door, May would crane her neck to see if it was the hulking figure of All Might. He hadn't checked in with her for a week now. Either everything was working, or nothing was. May's pessimistic side went with the latter.

May checked her phone, noticing an alert from Midnight. It was a picture she sent over a different social media site. The image was a selfie of Midnight with the caption: 'Love listening to two people who can't communicate like normal humans. Too cute! ; )'

The urge to throw her phone was squelched as May gently placed it next to her computer mouse. Though she tried to narrow in on the sounds of a banging pipe, she didn't have much time to listen anymore.

Present Mic's voice boomed over the stadium, causing reverb that softly vibrated anything connected to the floor. May reached for the remote on the television, punching in the bolded laminated numbers hanging on the wall.

There they were. All of the first years in the stadium, ready for whatever the instructors were going to throw at them.

I bet it's nothing too bad. The last Sport's Festival I caught a glimpse of was just a game of tag using quirks. I'm sure it'll only become more intense the older the students are.

As May watched the first years enter the first phase of the Festival, she felt her stomach drop. She was in for it, that's for sure. With every student that began to fall behind, that red-hot-piping-stomach-flipping anger squeezed itself into her fists. Some of the students were so outranked it was ridiculous. Unfair. Asinine. And unannounced, unbridled anger started to work its way on to her face.

Everything was elevated to degrees that May hadn't touched in a long time. Her stress, her concerns, everything compiled itself into a burning hot ball in the middle of her forehead. The fuzziness around her wall was becoming to glow brighter and brighter. The burner phone in her bag even dinged as she bounced her leg during the fast-paced obstacle course.

Soon, she couldn't stand it, so she paced back and forth. Her lips pulled tightly together as she thought about all of the ways those teens could've maimed themselves. They had safety, of course— nothing to worry about, nothing to think about like dancing dust.

But watching some of the students struggle on a course built for heroes struck a chord on an instrument she rarely relied on. The wall she built started to crack and crumble the longer the event went on.

One thing was sure— growing rage wasn't a good look on Dr. May Kataoka.

— thank for reading! I have more on the way. Apologies that this is taking so long, my life is supremely hectic so far. I hope you all are doing okay and enjoy! —