Chapter Fifteen

[Y/N] stared at the glowing scoreboard, a slight line between her brows. She and her team secured the position of Third Place, the rest were filled by none other than Class A. And even though Midoriya's points were stolen his teammates came in with a clutch, snatching enough points from Todoroki to add and place themselves in Fourth, hence advancing to the final round. As for Bakugo, [Y/N] had witnessed his tantrum. It was valid—for her at least, he was aiming for the ten million points and to be the First, but unfortunately his goals were achieved by Todoroki.

[Y/N] turned her sight away and onto the four, slumped people. Gloom radiated off of them, and she could barely hear the whispers of defeat and puzzlement from Ibarra and Honenuki, while Awase and Tetsutetsu looked like their spirits were withdrawn from their bodies. It was easy to bait Tetsutetsu at Shinso's Brainwash, leading to its domino effect on the poor guy's team.

[Y/N] can't do anything but stand in fault after Shinso released the tailed student and Shoda from their tramce, she was lost as her classmate—the only difference was, she wished she could've prevented him from falling into Shinso. Without a word she placed a hand on Shoda's shoulder with a painfully obvious smile that the boy understood. [Y/N] stood by his side as Midnight continues her commentaries until the break.

"Thanks for the help," [Y/N] ushered Shoda away rather than responding to Shinso, she may not know what the aftereffects are of being in control by someone in your own mind but seeing how Shoda was more anxious than before spoke volumes. Both went back to their class, despite the results of the calvary battle they were nothing but supportive that [Y/N] and Shoda would be in the finals.

"You're okay," [Y/N] mustered enough assurance she can give in her tone before Shoda went with his circle of friends. She trailed behind along with others as the stadium decrease in volume, heading out to the booths in order to satisfy their hunger. Unlike them and the rest of the student, they went to the cafeteria.

She felt a soft bump against her shoulder; Monoma was at her side. His blue-violet eyes that she adored was focused on her after all his avoidance. It was silly of [Y/N] to think that she missed those colors, it somehow reminded her of those butterflies that had vibrant blue wings on top, so bright it looked like the sun was reflecting its lights. Monoma remained close enough for their arms to brush, he inched further to whisper in her ear.

"Can we talk? In private?" Low and gentle—complete opposite of the Monoma that [Y/N] knew. He didn't wait for an answer as he took hold of her hand, dragging her to the side of the stadium. Far enough for the people to not eavesdrop or see them.

"You were reckless back there," Monoma said at last. He didn't turn to face her, but he let go of his grasp, voice almost thoughtful rather than mocking.

[Y/N] huffed softly. Even in a change of tone and finally coming up to speak, he still had the nerve to remark dryly. She retorted instantly with crossed arms "I don't remember asking for your critique."

Silence stretched, not the awkward kind—there was no forced laughter, but something heavier settled between them. The distant roar of the people who were still in the stadium were dulled by the walls and becoming a white noise, leaving only a faint hum from the speakers overhead and the rustle of fabric as Monoma shifted his weight.

He clicked his tongue, [Y/N] watched, sensing the tension growing. She knew Monoma didn't dragged her away for a quip, but still she waited. Not for the apology but for him to be ready. Monoma could see it behind her stern look when he risked a glance, giving away how he had his jaw clenched and conflict written all over his face. [Y/N] stood still, didn't walk away and instead loosened her arms to fall at her sides—a silent gesture of patience and openness.

Monoma let out a deep sigh to ground himself before facing [Y/N] fully. He didn't look at her once he started to speak. "Look, I didn't pull you here for nothing—" A pause, voice quieter than before. No theatrics or sharpness. "—I'm...I'm sorry. I...didn't mean to avoid you for weeks."

"It's just—" A stifled grunt escaped, making him falter on his words, now looking down on the concrete pavement. [Y/N] can't make what kind of expression he was displaying in his eyes, hidden beneath his hair. But his mouth was pressed in a thin line

"You don't have to say anything." [Y/N] started. She chose not to mention about the message. "I don't know what happened, and I understand if you prefer not to talk about it."

"I was worried, actually." [Y/N] confessed, earning Monoma to properly look at her. A look of surprise was etched on his face as if no one had ever expressed that kind of feeling before to him. Maybe it did, but [Y/N] thought better.

Monoma didn't answer right away. His lips were parted, then pressed together again with a visible gulp in his throat. The surprise didn't fade, a subtle shift into something quieter.

"...you were?" He asked at last. Monoma looked away for a second when [Y/N] nodded, he clenched his fingers for a moment when he felt his shoulders stiffened, that strange, confusing feeling started to stir inside him. He hadn't felt that ever since he distanced himself, and despite how [Y/N] was open with her emotions, it still caught him off guard how she can direct at him so plainly.

"Idiot." Monoma muttered under his breath—not at her but at himself. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a short breath that almost sounded like a laugh, no humor in it. "...you shouldn't have been."

A pause stretched between them. [Y/N] didn't answer right away, instead she watched. Observed how the boy in front of her was unraveling little by little. How his shoulders remain stiff and fingers kept flexing as if they're searching for something to ground himself. [Y/N] took a breath, she stepped forward then another. She was near now, not enough to crowd him but still can feel her presence. Her initial gesture was to grasp his hands, use herself as an anchor for the moment, but it seemed her body has its own mind.

Carefully she leaned in, some strands of her hair brushing against Monoma's cheek. She heard his breath hitched and body jolting when she wrapped her arms around him. There was a space in the hug, a silent reassurance from [Y/N] if Monoma wanted to pull away. Monoma was stiff at first, unsure what to do at the moment. His hands hovered in uncertainty on where to settle. It took a second longer before he exhaled, the tension on his shoulders easing a bit.

"You're something," Monoma muttered, voice low and strained with emotion rather than irritation. His heartbeat rang in his ears. It was quick, unfamiliar and leaving him many questions. He lifted his hands after a moment, then rested them against her back—hesitant, careful, as if he was afraid [Y/N] might vanish if he touches her. He didn't pull her closer or push her away. He simply stayed.

This time [Y/N] was the one who answered Kendo when asked where they were. She deflected by answering she had to push Monoma out when they came across some rival students. The boy was relieved for the quick excuse, he then thanked [Y/N] by buying a box of Takoyaki from one of the booths around the stadium after they've eaten lunch.

[Y/N] was taken aback by the gesture while Monoma handed her the food without a word. Freshly baked and still steaming through paper box and into her palm. She stared at him. "Is this an extra compensation for your apology?"

"Maybe," [Y/N] raised a brow, not missing his posture. The corners of Monoma's mouth twitched lightly, like he was holding back a smirk. He probably was. He continued. "Or perhaps preparing you for the Finals. You are representing our class afterall."

She had almost forgotten about the last round, too occupied that everything is going back the way it was. Shoda came into her mind, a dread of worry rising now there is a chance to fight against Shinso. Her parents would still be proud even if she didn't win, still...bearing a Quirk like that was hard to escape once he's in control. [Y/N] steered from Shinso once, and the odds of keeping it that way was thinning.

"Now why the long face?" joshed Monoma, letting his mouth curl freely to enjoy the sight. He can't resist the chuckle that came out of him while he leaned close enough for [Y/N]. He folded his arms. "Quite a nervous one aren't you, [Y/N]? Only a few minutes left and we'll be back in the stadium...watching you."

"I'm glad you're helping calm down." [Y/N] said, voice dripping with sarcasm as she shot him a side glare.

Monoma, clearly pleased, pressed on. "Glad I could help."

[Y/N] chuckled and shook her head. The batter was easily stabbed by the little stick that was provided for the food, strings of sauces falling from the box along with flakes of vegetables. Even if she blew a few times the heat still left a sting in her tongue, mixing with the savory and slight sweety taste.

"Careful," Monoma cooed on purpose. He watched [Y/N] wafted a hand near her mouth with quiet, spiteful groans. He clicked his tongue playfully. "Wouldn't want you fighting with a fresh injury."

A sigh from the vendor made the two look at the same time. He had a teasing expression plastered rather than annoyance and commented without thinking. "Never thought this year's Sports Festival comes with puppy love. You first years are something."