Chapter Text
There standing at the doorway was a pink-toned woman, grinning widely from ear to ear. A distant memory just a few days ago popped in your mind, remembering the class picture Eraserhead had shown you. She was the girl holding Red Riot and another kid in their class.
You watched over Red Riot’s head as she waved her hands excitedly, her energy nearly spilling over with news that seemed too explosive to keep to herself. Suddenly, two more women appeared behind her—one with dark purple hair and the other with a neatly bobbed brunette cut. It was Uravity, you realized, the famous pro-hero, and the same girl leaning on your shoulder in the photo.
You watched as they peeked into the room; their faces caught between intrigue and mortification. Thankfully, the only thing visible in their view was your eyes, your whole body being covered by Red Riot’s back. The sparkle in the pink woman doesn’t go unnoticed, her imagination clearly running wild.
The purple-haired woman’s face turned a deep shade of red, and it was only then that you noticed an earphone jack wriggling nervously just above her shoulder.
“Mina, do you ever think before you speak? Seriously, what if they wake up and hear you spreading nonsense like that?” She muttered, shooting a glare at the pink woman, whom you learnt her name as Mina. Uravity, meanwhile, stifled a laugh behind her hand, her round cheeks puffing slightly as she tried to maintain composure.
"Now, now, we're already grown-ups. We should really leave them alone right now—" Uravity started, but before she could finish, everyone’s attention shifted to Red Riot. He let out a groan, his body stirring away from you and rolling in the opposite direction.
Before anyone could react, Red Riot tumbled off the bed, landing on the floor with a loud thud. His startled scream echoed in the room, jolting Chargebolt awake.
Still half asleep, Chargebolt shot up in alarm, his hazy eyes struggling to focus as he extended his middle and pointer fingers in a makeshift handgun. Electricity crackled at the tips of his fingers, the corner of his mouth still painted with dried saliva as he tried to speak.
“Wha—what’s the matter!?"
“Shit.” You hear a low voice mutter; it was only then did you notice Mindjack’s presence, his face growing paler by the second. He was still in his hero costume, his muzzle-like mask on his hand as he watched the scene unfold before him.
Laughter.
Even amidst the chaos erupting inside the bedroom, your attention shifted to the three women near the door. They were doubled over in laughter, eyes squeezed shut as they clutched their stomachs, their giggles echoing louder than the commotion.
“Oh my god!” You watch Mina giggle, wiping the tears that were forming on the corner of her eyes. “You two look like idiots!”
“What—what the hell are you three doing here!?” Red Riot exclaimed, his voice tinged with both surprise and embarrassment as he remained sprawled on the carpeted floor, wide eyes locked on his colleagues.
Amidst the chaos the group was causing, you suddenly felt lightheaded. You couldn’t help but feel your heart pounding loudly in your chest, your eyes frantically darting to the three women, whose attention remained fixed on their friend on the floor. It seems like they haven’t fully noticed your presence yet, but it didn’t help calm your raging nerves.
“So this was the reason why you two immediately left after the mission!” Mina exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger to the two men with you, her grin playful and teasing. “This is such a surprise!”
“Why don’t you introduce your special girl... to us…” Uravity started, her voice light and teasing, but it gradually trailed off, fading into nothing but a whisper. Her gaze locked onto you, and her amusement melted into silent bewilderment.
Laughter soon faded to nothing but silence. All the heroes' eyes followed her line of sight, falling on you lying in bed. The loose strap of your nightwear had slipped off your shoulder, revealing just enough to draw attention to the soft curve of your chest.
Your eyes widened as the sudden weight of their stares fell upon you. In that instant, you caught the flicker of confusion crossing Mina’s face, her once bright smile faltering. The same confusion painted the expressions of the other women, their lighthearted demeanor dimming into a quiet unease.
Noticing the reaction, Red Riot was quick on his feet, immediately standing from his place to cover your form from head to torso behind him. Finally gaining his full consciousness, Chargebolt did the same as he jumped down the bed to cover your lower half. You watched as both their backs turned stiff, muscles tense under their shirts.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, in the same tone you heard Mindjack was just whispering a few seconds ago.
The presence of the three visitors was clearly unexpected, but what struck you even more was their reaction.
Their confusion wasn’t just about the situation—it was directed specifically at you .
You don’t know them, yet you were well aware of who they were and what they were to you. They were once your classmates— friends even, if you stretched it further. Yet you didn’t know them anymore, not entirely.
And it was the same for them.
You were a total stranger, lying in bed with two of their friends. You were just a petty girl, and their friends decided to shower you with little attention. You weren’t the girl they once knew.
You were a total stranger.
“Ei, Denki, what the hell is this?" It was Mina who spoke. You didn’t need to see her expression to know what she was feeling towards you. With her shaky tone and low voice, you knew she was anything but amused by the turn of events.
“We can explain—”
“This is so foul.” Mina breathed, her tone laced with disbelief. “This is so wrong, Ei. I know you guys still miss her, but this is unfair.”
“Not only to her memory, but also to that girl.”
A heavy feeling suddenly weighed on your chest, her words stinging your skin, making your face grow numb. You knew this conversation involved you, but it sounded too personal for anyone but them to listen to. The pain etched in each word, the crack in her voice, the disparity in her tone.
Your name.
Mina proceeds on repeating your name, as if it were a chant that was never spoken until now. It was as if the words were foreign in her tongue the same way they were unfamiliar in your ears. It was as if it had been a long time since she voiced your name; the syllables stuck in her throat.
“Why would you find her in someone else?”
It wasn’t Mina that spoke.
“Denki, I broke up with you the moment you told me you still think of her. I told you that I will support you no matter what. You were a friend before anything else,” the voice continued, and you realized it was the purple-haired girl that was speaking, her tone filled with nothing but disappointment directed at the electric hero who still didn’t move an inch to hide your form, even as his hands were trembling on his side, clenched in a fist.
“But this? I never expected you guys to do this.”
Silence hugged the air once more, heavy breathing the only source of noise inside the small room catering to all seven of you. You wanted to speak, to tell them that the three of you didn’t do anything but sleep. That Red Riot directly turned your offer down when you thought he only wanted to stay the night with you for sex.
You wanted to tell the girls, even without memory, that you were her. That you were the girl they were once with. You were the friend they had when you were all just flimsy teenagers.
Yet you couldn’t.
To them, you were just a whore. A girl that looked like their friend. A woman who was willing to sleep with heroes.
“Why don’t we let Kirishima-kun and Kaminari-kun explain?” A gentle voice suddenly broke the ice, her tone firm enough for everyone to hear. “After all, they wouldn’t do this without any reason.”
“Reason?” Mina laughed with no humor, her tone sharp and accusing as she continued. ”All I see are two horny guys that immediately jumped on the opportunity to bed someone that looked like their ex!”
“Stop it.” Red Riot finally spoke, his gentle tone no longer visible. “Mina, you know us better than anyone. Do you think we would do such a thing—”
“I thought you wouldn’t,” Mina cut him off, “but this situation is completely telling me otherwise.”
Suddenly, a hand took hold of your wrist. Turning in it’s direction, your eyes widen when you realize who it was. You were so busy listening to Mina and the others that you never heard the shuffling of Mindjack’s footsteps until he purposely showed his presence.
“I think it’s better if you come with me for now.” He whispered enough for only you to hear, tugging on your arm gently. Thinking of nothing but his words, you nodded as a response, pushing yourself off the bed as quietly as you could.
As you rose from your place, two heads suddenly turned in your direction, a pair of rubies and gold staring at you with worry. Feeling additional gazes in your form, you lowered your head, immediately clinging to Mindjack’s hand like it was your only lifeline.
No one dared to utter another word as they followed your movement. Mindjack quietly stepped forward, his voice calm yet firm as he excused both of you from the room, leaving the remaining five behind; quiet, frozen in place. As the indigo-haired hero guided you out and away from the small crowd, you attempted to let out a shaky laugh, the sound barely escaping your trembling lips.
“Ah,” You whispered, your body quivering with every step, the tension refusing to leave as the two of you began climbing the stairs to the second floor. “This reminds me of that one time a guy that hired me was caught cheating on his wife.”
You felt the hero beside you stiffen, his feet staggering as he tried to take another step.
“This is different.” Mindjack spoke without thought, a frown etched on his face as he strutted the hallway with you. “They aren’t Kaminari or Kirishima’s wives, not even girlfriends.”
“I know, but I can’t help but feel guilty,” you replied, your heart aching as you remembered the disappointment on their faces and the broken tone in their voices. “They just asked if they could stay for the night. I couldn’t say no.”
“They’re just worried.” Mindjack tries to explain, opening a door with his free hand. “They thought they were taking advantage of a girl who looks like you because they still don’t know it’s actually you.”
All you could do was bite your lip and nod, silently agreeing to whatever the hero was saying. A soft sigh slipped past your lips as your feet met the gray carpet of the new room, your gaze wandering aimlessly around the unfamiliar space. Despite the storm of emotions churning within you, you tried to focus on the details of the room, hoping for a momentary distraction.
Mindjack’s voice reached your ears, softly offering you a seat. Your eyes shifted to his room setup with a sleek black leather sofa positioned directly in front of a large television, just across his bed. Connected to the screen were several gaming consoles, their neat arrangement suggesting frequent use. The space was quiet and serene, a complete contrast to the heaviness in your chest. Suddenly you found yourself moving toward the sofa, the soft leather cool against your trembling hands as you lowered yourself onto it.
“Sorry if it’s dark.” Mindjack’s voice called out, slightly muffled behind what you assumed was the bathroom door. “I can’t really sleep in the morning with all the sunlight knocking on my window.”
Even with his digital wall clock blinking eleven thirty-three am , it felt like nighttime inside his room. It was only then that you noticed the blacked-out curtains, the fabric thick enough to block the rays of the morning sun. “I don’t mind; it actually feels nice.”
“So…”
A few minutes of silence passed before Mindjack’s voice broke through the quiet. You watched the man as he rubbed his hair with a fluffy towel, a few droplets from his strand falling on his black shirt. “How are you feeling?”
You blinked, surprised by his question. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, and yet its simplicity was what made it perplexing. Tilting your head slightly, your gaze locked onto his lavender eyes, searching for deeper meaning in his words.
“I figured it was the most basic thing to ask,” he explained, his tone casual yet thoughtful. He moved toward the gray beanbag nestled in the corner beside the leather sofa, dropping into it with a faint sigh. “Especially after everything that’s gone down this week.”
It was only then that you realized it had been just a week since you left the slums you’d called home for eight long years. The sudden shift had turned everything into a blur, your mind struggling to keep up with the whirlwind of change. In the span of seven days, everything had changed, from the food you ate, the people around you, and the clothes on your body.
“Different.” You admitted without thinking, your gaze no longer on the hero’s lavender eyes; instead, it was on your fingers, your digits playing with themselves. “Just…different.”
Mindjack only hummed in understanding, his form slowly being eaten by the beanbag he was leisurely sitting on. The both of you were once again filled with silence, the whirring of his fan the only sound around the space. Feeling as if you needed to say something, you were about to say the first thing that crossed your mind when the hero beat you to it, making you whip your head in his direction.
“What’s your favorite food?”
“Huh?”
“Food. Do you have any favorites?" Mindjack repeated, an amused smirk snaking it’s way across his face as he repeated his words. ”Mine’s anything sweet as long as it's edible. How about you?”
You couldn’t help but bite your bottom lip, your eyes wondering everywhere in the room but the hero. Just like his earlier question, the simplicity of his curiosity was rather difficult for you to answer. You weren’t sure if this was a test. A test to know whether you’re slowly recovering your memory or not.
What was safe to say? What was your favorite? Did you like sour, sweet, savory, or spicy?
“I-I don’t know.” You blurted out, your eyes landing on his curious gaze. “I can’t remember—I still can’t remember.”
“But I wasn’t talking about what was your favorite eight years ago.” Mindjack spoke gently, tilting his head as he tries to get his point across.
“I’m talking about your favorite right now.”
Oh.
Suddenly, your insides felt warm. It felt like a thick blanket was wrapped around your heart, a soothing balm caressing your numbing skin from the encounter a few minutes ago. If this was the hero’s way of keeping your mind distracted, then you couldn’t help but applaud him in your mind for how effective it is.
“I think I like Dynamight’s cooking.” You admitted in a heartbeat, your cheeks growing warm as the hero raised a single brow, amusement dancing across his eyes at your answer.
“Bakugou is indeed a good cook.” He agreed, his relaxed form on his beanbag affecting you. Without noticing, your tense shoulder loosened along and your fingers that were tugging each other came to a halt. You nodded your head at his words, a small smile forming on your lips as you carried on with the conversation.
"I haven’t eaten anything that didn’t come from a can or wasn’t a cracker in eight years. Tasting something homemade was a refreshing change." Mindjack’s smirk faltered briefly at your words, but the moment went unnoticed by you as your thoughts wandered, questions swirling in your mind.
It had been years since you last became curious about your past. After accepting that you’d be working for Ms. V, you stopped hoping to remember. You didn’t want to look back and yet, with just Mindjack’s friendly questions, you became intrigued. Before you knew it, you were suddenly calling out his hero name.
“Did I, uh, did I eat home-made food before? I heard students often eat bento’s that were made by peers or family members.”
It was funny how you can’t remember yet you had an awful gut feeling that you grew up without a family. The way your body immediately adjusted to taking care of yourself, how fast you learnt how to survive with minimal materials, how easy it was for you to accept loss.
Yet in the end, you were just human. And humans are curious beings.
"No,” Mindjack answered immediately, making both of you flinch with his rather harsh word. "I mean, I don’t know either.”
You watched as he let out a breath, closing his eyes as if he were the one who was now struggling with your simple question. Mindjack tried opening his mouth to let out an explanation yet all he was able to let out was a sigh, his gaze snapping towards you.
"I’ve never spoken to you so casually before. This... this is actually the first time."
A frown slowly etched across your face as you took in his words. Suddenly, your mind wandered back to the photo Eraserhead has shown you. Amidst the chaos of colorful hair, cheerful faces, and bright grins, you realized that there was one tuft of hair that you never saw.
Mindjack was never in the photo.
“You weren’t my classmate?”
You were well aware of that look. The way Mindjack’s frown deepened, his lips forming a thin line, and his lavender eyes turning hazy after hearing your words immediately made you realize what he was trying to express. Guilt, guilt, guilt.
Nothing but sheer guilt.
“I never,” he breathed out, shoulders growing tense. “I never became your classmate.”
You couldn’t help but frown. If the hero never became your classmate, then why did it look like he was part of it? You expected him to answer you in a joking manner, to tell you that he was just late in the photo because he had to go to the bathroom.
You never expected this.
Suddenly, the atmosphere became heavy. The once relaxed feeling inside the room grew tense; his room suddenly felt too tight, too stuffy. Mindjack’s relaxed posture suddenly turned stiff, as if his simple answer was the biggest secret he had ever told.
“I stole your spot in 1A when you went missing. I… I’m so sorry.”
A breath.
“I’m sorry that I took advantage of your situation. I rose up to the top by stealing the spot of the first ever person who told me that my quirk was useful for a hero.”
You couldn’t understand his words. Even with how much he had spoken, it didn’t trigger any memory inside you. It was as if he was narrating an experience of his that you never knew—an experience you aren’t sure if you’ll actually ever know.
“I know you don’t remember, but it was during the sports festival when you approached me,” Mindjack continued, his voice cracking as he closed his eyes. “You were so curious about my quirk. You told me it was a shame I was stuck in general studies. You said if I wasn’t allowed to transfer to the hero course in my second year, you’d make sure I had the chance to be a hero anyway.”
His gaze faltered, and for a moment, it seemed like he was debating whether to continue. Taking a deep breath, he pressed on, his tone tinged with guilt.
“And it makes me sick every time I’m reminded of the fact that the chance you gave me was your spot in class,” he admitted, his lavender eyes clouded with remorse. “It’s the main reason why I was so eager to search for you. It’s why I’ve been looking for you for eight years.”
He exhaled sharply, as if releasing a weight he’d carried for far too long. “It’s because I want to apologize to you and to tell you that you were actually right. I did become a hero.”
His confession hung heavy in the air, the sincerity in his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.
“Wha–what was your quirk?” you asked suddenly, your voice soft but curious. “If I believed it was beneficial for a hero, then it must be great, right?” You tried to smile, even though your heart was leaping against your chest.
You wanted to make him feel lighter, to ease the guilt weighing on his shoulders.
Because how could you accept an apology for something you couldn’t even remember?
“My quirk is brainwashing,” he replied, his tone quiet but steady. “During the sports festival, we used our quirks on each other at the same time. It was such a mess that we both ended up with massive headaches for a few minutes.”
As his words registered in your mind, a sudden flicker of something unfamiliar flashed across your vision. For a fleeting moment, Mindjack wasn’t wearing his black shirt anymore. Instead, there sat a younger, lankier version of him, his indigo hair wilder and untamed, his outfit replaced by a uniform of some kind.
The image was vivid yet intangible, like the ghost of a memory slipping through your fingers.
And then, as quickly as it appeared, it was gone—leaving you staring at him as if nothing had happened.
What was that?