Bakugo’s POV

I keep my eyes trained on the brain villain until the lights go down and my visibility decreases. This isn’t good. He could make a move for someone at any time.

I briefly consider moving, but as the music starts and I glance around, I notice there isn’t another seat open. How can there not be another seat? It’s not like this is some action movie! This is teenagers dancing! How good can they really be? 

Having glanced through the playbill, I noticed the whole plot was laid out. Sure, there may be death, but my hopes really aren’t that high for this to be interesting.

Even as the first dancers take the stage, I find myself losing what little interest I had left. And it’s even worse when those people in the big, fancy dresses join. I mean, c’mon they’re not even dancing.

But then the girl with skin like molasses pulls forward Yamada and a boy in a matching blue costume. I guess the girl in the green dress deems them acceptable because they start to dance.

I can’t help but think, finally. I mean, why does this ballet have so much acting and practically no dancing at the start? Thus far, I had been making a riveting mental commentary to keep myself from going insane, but at the moment, my brain can’t seem to continue with it.

I watch my classmate dance across the stage, her royal blue dress flounces as she skips arm in arm with a boy our age wearing the ridiculous men’s costume. They raise their legs in synchronized extensions before he lifts her off the ground, making joyful eye contact with her. I clench my hand on the armrest as they begin skipping the other way.

Yamada’s skirt flourishes out as she begins twirling alone across the stage, showing the refined control of her legs as she goes. Upon reaching the front left of the floor, she dips into a curtsey, the fabric of her dress falling back around her like a flower at night. She smiles out towards the audience and I swear I see her sky blue eyes find me for a moment before the two continue their dance.

The girl stands on her toes as the boy takes her hand and begins spinning her around like a decoration on a music box. She stays effortlessly in position as he spins her around by her waist and supports her as she leans back, extending her leg up once more.

The two do another lift and a series of more spins before Yamada exits the stage, leaving the boy on his own to dance. I blink a couple times and resituate myself in my chair, ready to find errors in his performance, but I can’t seem to. His control seems good and I can’t fault him on his jumps when I know they look the way they’re supposed to. When I’m sure he’s about to mess up, he instead leaves the stage and the music swells as my classmate returns.

She skips and flounces around, appearing to put genuine joy into her energetic routine. The way her face relaxes as she spins makes me consider how hard a time she must have giving this up when she obviously enjoys it so much. For the first time, I recognize how sure-footed she always is and that maybe this is connected to that. She has no hesitation as she commands the audience’s attention with every movement.

The two go back and forth one more time before coming together and finishing their number to raucous applause from the audience. I sneak a glance over to the professional scouts to see them pleased. They whisper to each other and make notes on their playbills, glancing up to the stage and back.

The rest of the first act isn’t nearly as interesting to me, not even the death scene was enough to keep me intrigued. C’mon, she’s having a heart failure, I doubt it would be that delicate of a death.

As soon as the lights come up, I stand from my seat and make my way to the foyer. A table of snacks is arranged with caterers standing behind in clean white coats to serve people. I snag a cookie off the edge of a platter and make my way over to the windows. My teeth bite through the crisp biscuit and I glare down at it as lemon invades my senses. 

How is it that even their pastries are the daintiest things I’ve ever fuckin’ tasted?

I shake my head and eat the rest, staring out the window as frost collects on the edges. The lights of the city illuminate the crystalline structure against the stark background of night. 

I let out a heavy breath and head back into the auditorium, the foyer getting a bit too crowded with families for my liking. As I sit and scroll through my phone, I receive text from one of my other classmates.

Kirishima: Hey man! How’s it going?

I click my tongue and type out a response.

Me: Boring as hell

Kirishima: Sorry man I really wish I could’ve been there

Me: You and Pink Cheeks owe me big time

Kirishima: Yeah sure, IOU one favor

I close my messages app, but before I can do anything else, a bright light shines directly into my eyes, blinding me from the front row. I shield my face, ready to attack whatever villain set off the attack, but I notice the assailant and lower my arm. 

A woman settles into her seat, holding a bouquet of flowers wrapped in unnecessarily shiny plastic. The wrap continues to reflect the light, catching my eye a few more times. Glancing around, I notice most families have a bouquet ready for their child at the end of the show.

All except the girl who doesn’t have her family here tonight.

I grumble a bit to myself, eyebrows pitched down steeply, before I begrudgingly make my decision.

Me: You’re doing that favor now

•°•°•°•

Koto’s POV

After the show, I bid one final goodbye to my friends. Admittedly, I tear up quite a bit at the gift they all got me. It’s a framed collage of the pictures we had taken before every show. Every show for the past three years is included, all the ones I was a part of. No matter how bad times had gotten, I could still find my place here. I’ll admit, it’s daunting to say goodbye to it all. 

Waving one last time to them all, I finally let Bakugo drag me out the door. I sniffle as the cold air hits us and I pull my sweatshirt closer. We’re some of the first people out, so we make our way alone to the train station. 

“So,” I decide to start a conversation, nudging the boy’s shoulder with my own, “what did you think?”

He merely grunts in response as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. I take it as enough of a hint to just continue along silently, but I eventually hear him inhale as if he’s going to say something. When I look over, his mouth is set in a harsh frown with his eyebrows furrowed. It seems as though he’s giving what he was going to say a second thought.

I take in a deep breath of the crisp fall air, watching my breath condense as I exhale. The cloud swirls through the air briefly before dissipating. 

“Being here,” he starts, voice a low rumble. He doesn’t meet my eyes. “Again. After last time.”

He forces his hands further into his pockets as he formulates his words and it occurs to me that he’s uncomfortable. I figured that after our encounter last time he came to my studio, he had just forgotten the whole ordeal and had moved on. He’s the last person I would expect to have troubling thoughts about it. His words still haunt me in my nightmares, but after everything, it’s just another monster to chase me that I forget about by the afternoon.

I shake the thoughts from my head to give him my full attention, but something catches my eye.

I stand up straight and glance back out of the corner of my eye. Sure enough, what I thought I saw is confirmed.

A group of five men is trailing behind us at a distance, appearing to loiter by store windows as they pass, but ultimately keeping up with us. I begin to walk a little faster which catches Bakugo’s attention.

He huffs angrily and begins walking faster to keep up with me. “Look, I just shouldn’t have--”

“Don’t look. Gang on our six,” I illuse quietly in his ear. His whole body seems to stiffen and I can smell the tell-tale scent of nitroglycerin as his hands must be heating up in his pockets. I loop my arm through his in an attempt to wordlessly tell him to calm down, but it doesn’t seem to work. 

“Let go of me, Curly,” he growls. “Let me blast these guys into their graves.”

I tighten my hold around his arm and lead him down a different street, raising our pace just a little more. “You c-can’t use your quirk,” I remind him, turning yet again down another road. “We should try to shake them first. Before things have to get ugly.”

He grumbles, but ultimately listens. After all, there’s nothing he can do if he doesn’t have his license. He takes the lead in directing me through the admittedly sketchy neighborhoods as we make our way deeper into the city. I can tell he’s not happy about the decision by the way his jaw is set.

The next road we go down has barely any lights and not a soul in sight. A cold shiver makes its way down my spine. I sneak a glance behind us and see the tall, looming men even closer to us than before. One of them pulls a gun from a concealed holster while another raises a hand in our direction. 

That’s all the indication I need to start fighting. I pull Bakugo behind me as I turn to face the gang head-on. I immediately illuse an incapacitating screech into their bodies, watching as all four double over in pain. The lead man tries to raise his gun once more, but I target his hand with another node of sound, trying to force him to drop his weapon. He manages to fire off a shot before he drops it, but the bullet whizzes past me to the right. He obviously didn’t have enough fight in him to aim properly.

“Yamada!” Bakugo calls out before he pushes me aside. I chance a look over my shoulder to see someone dropping from the roof of the building next to us and aiming an attack at the blonde. 

Damn, there were five, weren’t there?

The man sends a dark blob at Bakugo who sidesteps and sends a powerful punch to the man’s head. 

I have to turn back to the other four so I don’t lose focus, but I can hear the sounds of struggle behind me before they ominously go silent. I check behind me to see if I’m in trouble, but the thug is laying against the brick wall with blood dripping from his nose. Bakugo walks up to me, not taking an eye off the unconscious man. His spiky hair has globs of dark liquid dripping from it, similar to what the man had emitted. His jaw is sporting a small graze, only red, but surely about to turn purple. He seems strangely pale, like he had run a marathon while deathly ill.

“I’ll call someone to get this garbage taken care of,” he says, already pulling out his phone.

Within only a few minutes, a couple police cars have arrived to take the assailants away. I don’t release my hold on the four until they’re restrained in handcuffs.

As soon as I do, I walk up to the head police officer to deliver my statement. Something I had recently rediscovered about my quirk is that I can’t use it at the same time I’m speaking. Of course I knew this from forever ago and I could never hum along when I had illused music, but it just seems to be more relevant of a restriction nowadays.

“These four had followed us about five b-blocks before this one pulled a gun.” I gesture to the weapon on the ground which one of the other officers picks up to examine. “He fired one shot, but it missed. And that one had followed us from the rooftops before surprising us with an attack. I was able t-t-to neutralize all of them with negligible damages.”

I hear Bakugo shifting his feet behind me. I know he’s not pleased that he can’t take the credit for knocking the guy out, but he can’t risk getting called out for not having a license. Even if the other guy had attacked first and the boy didn’t even use his quirk, he could still be in trouble. 

After the cops are done taking down my report, they speed away with the five criminals in their backseats. I turn to see Bakugo leaning up against a wall, hands in his pockets to hide any evidence of his involvement in the fight.

“Let’s go,” I say quietly, once again trying to loop my arm with his. He shakes me off, but continues to walk down the street by my side.

I look up to see a thin sheen of sweat on his skin. His breathing sounds labored.

“Are you okay?” I ask, bewildered. “You look feverish.” He speeds up so he doesn’t have to look at me, but I grab his arm and he flinches, gasping out in pain. “What happened?”

He grits his teeth, growling, “That bullet didn’t miss.”

I turn him around, trying to look for a wound, but he pulls a tiny red dart from his pocket. “It barely got me through my coat, but it hurts like a bitch.”

I take the small projectile and turn it over in my hands, examining it in the dim street lights. There is a small hole in the metal tip, like a tranquilizer dart. Fear fills me as I look up at the blonde, worried he’ll collapse at any moment.

He grabs the bullet from my hands and chucks it in a dumpster.

“Wha-- why would you do that?” I exclaim, about to rush over to find it. “That’s evidence!”

“It didn’t do anything,” he grumbles, yanking me down the street.

“How do you know,” I protest. “Maybe it hasn’t kicked in yet.”

A deep growl rumbles from his throat and eventually, he turns to look at me. “Fine, it did, okay? Kirishima told me about how someone at his work study got shot with one of those and couldn’t use his quirk for a couple minutes. It doesn’t matter.”

“D-doesn’t matter?” I try my best not to yell, but my voice is on the verge of becoming shrill.

“It doesn’t,” Bakugo reaffirms. “Cause it’s not like I can use my quirk anyway,” he says a bit pointedly, as if it’s my fault. I’m about to make a snarky remark in return, but he continues, “Besides, my quirk is just gonna come back in a few minutes anyway. It’s not like I need it right now.”

His voice seems to have lost its bite. I wouldn’t know what to do without my quirk. It would surely feel like a piece of me is missing. I don’t say another word as we walk solemnly to the station.

•°•°•°•

By the time we make it back, I’m extremely worn out. My muscles are aching and all I want is to take off all this makeup, get the hundreds of pins out of my hair, and take a long, hot shower before crashing.

Bakugo’s quirk had returned at some point on our journey back. He seemed confident that it would, but I didn’t miss his sigh of relief when an explosion crackled around his hand, scaring a stray cat.

I push open the door to be caught off guard with the sound of cheers. I’m shocked to see all my classmates crowded around the door with smiles on their faces. Ochaco and Mina rush forward to tackle me in a hug. Sato places a hand on my shoulder and presents me with a personal cake. 

To say I’m overwhelmed is an understatement. I expected my close friends to be waiting up for me, but seeing everyone here is hard to believe. Especially Iida who is so strict about the time he always goes to bed. 

Ei pulls me away from the door to the kitchen to present me with a large vase of roses. Each has a ribbon tied around it with a note attached.

“We’re so proud of you,” he says as he hugs me from behind. 

I hang out with my classmates for a couple minutes before excusing myself to get ready for bed. I’m still stunned with how much my classmates are willing to do for me. What with the gift from my ballet class and the roses from 1-A, I’m overwhelmed with their generosity. 

As I close the door behind me, I place my gift bag on the ground and sit on my bed, looking through the bouquet notes. So many express their love for our friendship and how proud they are of me. I count seventeen flowers in the bouquet, one for every classmate besides Bakugo, but I wouldn’t expect him to do something this cheesy anyway. I smile as I set the vase on my bedside table and collect my stuff to take a shower.

It takes me a long time to scrub all the makeup off my face, but my hair feels like it’s sighing in relief as I take it down and wash it. I manage to stumble back to my room, my whole body screaming for sleep, when I almost step on something set in front of my door. 

I look down and rub the fatigue out of my eyes to see a single red rose, a note tied to it with an orange ribbon. I stare at it for a long while, my heart thudding in my chest, before bending down to pick it up. I walk into my room and return my soaps to the bathroom area, then relax back onto my bed and flip open the note. Words look to be very quickly scrawled across the paper.

“Good job,” the note reads, signed with a cute little drawing of a duck wearing Bakugo’s hero mask.

I can’t fight the smile that spreads across my face. I reread the note about 15 times before I can put it down. I fall back into my mound of pillows and stare up at the ceiling. Of course I didn’t expect him to follow my classmates’ trend, but I’m glad to see that he did. I place Bakugo’s rose at the front of the bouquet, making it an even eighteen.

I let out a content sigh, staring at the flowers from all my friends as I turn out the lights and drift to sleep.

------Author's Note------

Hey guys!!

We have some more awesome fanart!!

Here's some awesome portraits by angela_medenilla!!! Wow! The detail is so crisp! I love them!! And the cracked mask on the first one! Omg the symbolism!! Alright, I'll calm down now, but I love these!!!

Also, this time around, in honor of OC-tober which my friends at UA Storytellers introduced me to, I decided to draw something for my OCs!! This is just something to honor my main characters!

We have the lovely Koto on the left!!! If you have checked out my page, you may notice that I have a Marvel fic as well, featuring my OC Amber on the far right! The other two are characters from books yet to be released!!

Of course, Muted Voices won't go on forever, but I have some stories planned out for afterwards in the realm of MHA, including a crossover with the PJO universe!!

But y'all shouldn't worry too much about that now. I've still got lots of Koto's story to tell.

If you haven't yet, go check out the trailer for a UA Storytellers crossover that I made!! The link can be actually clicked on from my page, but here it is just in case.

Be sure to check the description of the video to check out all the awesome authors participating!!

And thank you all for your likes and comments!! It means the world to me! ❤