— — START — —
Sorashi returned to school quieter than before.
Not withdrawn—never that—but softer around the edges, like a breeze that had lost some of its playfulness. He still smiled. Still laughed when his classmates joked. Still shared his snacks and sat beside the kids others avoided.
Iida noticed. Not because he was particularly observant, but because Sorashi had become less noticeable in ways that felt odd.
He no longer hummed while walking down the hallway. No longer around the same number of people as he usually was. And when rules were broken around him, it wasn't Sorashi being the one reprimanded.
After three days, Iida spoke to him because it really was starting to bother the boy.
The light-haired boy was outside during recess, sitting beneath the shadow of a tree that had grown crooked but stubborn, its roots cracking the pavement beneath it. The other children were scattered across the yard—some playing tag, others showing off harmless quirk tricks under a teacher's watchful eye.
Iida spotted him while doing his usual patrol of the grounds. Sorashi traced shapes into the dirt with a stick,
He hesitated. Then approached.
"…Hey, Tenyu," Sorashi said when he noticed him, looking up slightly. His brow furrowed.
Iida stopped short. "It's Tenya," he corrected immediately, back straightening.
"Right."
Sorashi didn't sound apologetic—just distracted.
There was an awkward pause. Sorashi looked back down at the dirt, tapping the stick against a pebble. Iida cleared his throat.
"…You've been quieter lately," he said. It sounded more like an observation than a question.
Sorashi shrugged. "Guess so."
Another pause.
Then, without looking up, Sorashi spoke again.
"When you told your family you wanted to be a Hero," he asked carefully, "what did they say?"
Iida blinked, surprised by the question.
Then he smiled.
"They were happy," he said, simple and certain. "My parents were proud. They said it suits me."
Sorashi nodded. "Oh."
The stick stopped moving.
Iida, sensing the conversation wasn't finished, added, "My older brother especially. He's a Pro Hero. He says it's difficult, but worth it. He trains a lot." His chest puffed just a little, stars filled his eyes. "He's amazing."
The stick snapped.
Sorashi froze, staring at the broken end in his hand.
Iida noticed—but too late to stop himself from asking.
"…Sorashi?"
Sorashi laughed, quick and careless. "That's awesome! Having a Hero in the family must be really cool."
It was cool.
That was the problem.
For just a heartbeat, the smile didn't reach the light-haired boy's eyes.
Iida shifted uncomfortably. He wasn't sure what he'd said wrong—only that something had gone wrong.
"…Are you unwell?" he asked, defaulting to formality.
Sorashi nodded immediately. "Nope! Totally fine."
Then, almost too quickly—
"What's your quirk anyway?"
Iida straightened, grateful for familiar ground. "Engine."
Sorashi's eyes lit up. "Engine?"
"Yes." Iida pulled up the hem of his pant leg just enough to reveal his calves.
Embedded into the muscle were small, metallic vents—sleek and unmistakably mechanical.
Sorashi leaned forward. "Whoa…"
"They function like engines," Iida explained earnestly. "They allow me to run at high speeds. I'm still training them, though. I can't use them much yet." He quickly lowered his pant leg. "And I can't demonstrate without permission."
Sorashi grinned. "Still really cool."
"…Thank you."
There was another pause—shorter this time.
Iida glanced at Sorashi. "And yours?"
Sorashi tilted his head. "Huh?"
"Your quirk," Iida clarified. "You use it sometimes. With the chair. I assumed it was something… airy?"
Sorashi laughed. "Close enough."
He looked around, and—
"Bah, who cares! I'll show you. Just a little."
He held out his hand.
At first, nothing happened.
Then his hair began to change.
The white strands softened, edges blurring like mist caught in sunlight. They lost their sharpness, becoming wispy—cloudlike. A small puff of vapor formed above his palm, trembling gently, as if unsure whether it was allowed to exist.
Iida's breath caught.
"It's… a cloud?"
Sorashi nodded. "Yeah. I can make them..."
The cloud puffed outward, fluffy and light. Iida poked it, and it yielded easily, like cotton candy made of air.
"Soft," Sorashi said. "Like this."
Then his focus sharpened.
The cloud compressed.
The softness vanished, the mist condensing into something solid—smooth, pale, and firm. When Iida tapped it, it made a quiet thunk.
Iida's eyes widened. "You can… harden it?"
Sorashi shrugged. "Or soften it. Depends on what I want."
As the cloud hardened, Sorashi's hair followed suit—its texture shifting, becoming denser, heavier-looking. When he relaxed, it softened again, drifting back into mist.
"…That's amazing," Iida whispered.
The light-haired boy smiled—this time, genuinely.
"I'm not supposed to use it much," he admitted. "My parents don't like it when I do."
Iida nodded slowly. "Mine don't either, especially without my older brother. They say control matters more than power."
They sat there for a moment longer, neither sure how to end the conversation.
Eventually, the bell rang.
They stood.
Not friends.
Not strangers.
Just two boys who had seen a little more than they expected to.
But for the first time since Career Day, Sorashi felt lighter.
- - - - -
The next few days settled into a strange rhythm.
Sorashi didn't suddenly gravitate toward the class president. He didn't sit beside him at lunch or seek him out during group activities. If anything, the boy now acted the same as he did before—laughing too loudly, and drifting from group to group like a breeze that never quite stayed put.
Which, unfortunately, meant he kept running into Iida.
Literally, once.
"Running in the hallway is prohibited," Iida announced sharply as Sorashi skidded to a stop inches from him, shoes squealing against the floor.
Sorashi blinked. "…I was walking fast."
"That was not walking fast."
The light-haired boy squinted, considering. Then smiled. "Agree to disagree, Tenny—"
"It's Tenya."
"—Tenya."
He walked away at the exact same speed.
Iida stared after him, frowning.
They clashed like that often.
Sorashi balanced on the edge of the sandbox border during recess.
Iida told him he'd fall, so the mischievous boy stayed there longer.
Sorashi traded half his lunch for a classmate's weird-looking pickled vegetable snack.Iida told him it didn't look hygienic.
Yet he declared it "the best thing ever" and ate it dramatically.
Eventually, the rule-bound boy noticed something else, too.
Sorashi never crossed the real lines.
He stopped before teachers intervened. He cut off quirk usage before it became obvious. He never hurt anyone, never mocked anyone, never pushed back when someone actually needed help.
It bothered Iida.
Not because it was wrong.
But because it meant Sorashi understood the rules—and chose which ones to bend.
That realization followed him for days.
...
In the cafeteria...
Iida passed by, tray held carefully with both hands.
"Class President!" one of the kids called.
Iida stopped immediately, turned, and bowed. "Good noon."
Sorashi squinted at his food.
"…Tenyu."
"It's Tenya," Iida corrected automatically.
Sorashi grinned. "Right. Tenya."
Iida frowned. "…You're doing that on purpose."
Sorashi shrugged. "Am I?"
Then, he scooted over, just a bit. "You can sit here if you want."
Iida hesitated.
There were rules about seating order. About table capacity. About—
The playful boy suddenly yanked him down, and so he sat next to him.
"What's that on your plate?" he asked.
The dark-blue-haired boy replied, "It's Chicken Curry," and as he took a bite, he added, "It tastes weird today..."
Sorashi beamed. "I got curry too!" and he retorted, "It tastes fine though..."
"It doesn't, it has a sour flavor to it." Iida replied, deeply offended.
Sorashi replied cheerfully. "Best thing I've eaten all week."
"That's objectively false."
"Still true."
Iida sputtered. Sorashi laughed.
...
Despite always butting heads, they somehow always ended up walking home together, in the same direction.
Their conversations grew longer without either of them meaning to.
Sometimes it was just logistics...
"Your shoelace is undone."
"Oh. Thanks."
Sometimes it was complaints...
"You're blocking the doorway."
"You're standing too straight."
Sometimes—rarely—it was quiet...
As they were walking back from school, a loose cluster of kids was ahead of them. Sorashi lagged behind, dragging his bag against the pavement.
"…Hey. Class President."
Iida stiffened. "Yes?"
Sorashi kicked a pebble. "When you said your brother's a Hero…"
Iida glanced at him.
"…Was it what he always wanted to be?"
The question landed differently than the questions he usually asked.
"Of course! He said ever since he knew what he could do, he wanted to use it to protect people. And our mama and papa always supported that."
"Does he ever get hurt, though?"
"…Yes," Iida answered after a moment. "Often. But he trains for it."
Sorashi nodded slowly, and then continued,
"…What would you do... if you wanted to be a Hero really bad but your parents didn't want you to?"
Iida stiffened.
"That's… a serious question."
Sorashi shrugged. "Yeah."
Iida thought carefully, the way he always did.
"…I would listen to them," he said finally. "Our parents usually have reasons. They want to protect you. Being a good son means trusting that."
Sorashi hummed. "Even if it makes you sad?"
"Yes," Iida said firmly. "Even if it makes you sad."
He smiled. "Figures."
And if Iida looked deeply, he would see that he smiled mischievously. The same smile he gave whenever he'd tell him off for breaking the rules.
That night, Sorashi waited until the house was quiet.
Until his parents' bedroom light went out. Until the hallway settled into silence.
Then he slipped back into his room.
He shut the door softly.
Sat on the floor.
And for the first time in his life, he practiced.
A small cloud formed above his palm—softer than before, barely visible. He hardened it. Softened it. Hardened it again.
His hair misted, then solidified, then misted again.
Careful. Quiet. Controlled.
"I'm sorry, mama and papa," he whispered to himself.
Then smiled.
"…But I'll do it anyway."
"I will be a Hero."
— — END — —
A/N: IIDA'S NOT THE ROMANTIC INTEREST, I SWEAR ON MY LIFE. I just wanted him to have a bro he could lean on. I already have someone on my mind who would be perfect for Sorashi.