Chapter Fifty-One: A New Kyoka

                                    

                                          
Trigger Warning: This chapter contains the sensitive topic of depression and anxiety.
                          
"Do you ever wonder how he does his hair?" 
                          
Two voices were conversing with one another as they strode down the hallway. Two girl voices. Both underclassmen. Both first years.
                          
"He's the one with the hardening quirk, he can just style it by hardening his hair," the second girl spoke, she was average in height and lean in build, with orange-cream hair that just barely tickled her jaw.
                          
"I don't think the 3A girls understand how lucky they are to have so many ikemen guys in their class," the first whined. She had a tall, slender body compared to the other and wore platinum blonde locks held under a navy headband.
                          
"I managed to say hello to Iida, he actually waved back despite not knowing who I was," the orange-haired girl sighed dreamily.
                          
"All of the blonds in that class are no doubtedly eye candy. Haven't you ever wanted to touch that one student's tail, Kaori?" The tall girl looked at her friend with curiosity.
                          
"Ugh! And Chargebolt!" Kaori suddenly cried out. "He's seriously hanging out with the wrong people," she clutched the sides of her face, her straight, orange hair bunched under her hands.
                          
"What do you mean? Wrong people? Bad crowd?" She gasped. "He's a secret bad boy?!"
                          
"No, haven't you seen the article?" Kaori asked.
                          
"What article?" As the tall girl asked, her friend brought out her phone and showed her a screenshot of a blog she'd found during the fall.
                          
The two girls wandered toward a pair of water fountains. It was after school hours now, the bell had recently rung to dismiss the students. Jirou was staring at her hair in the mirror, noticing it appeared notably long now, dipping past her shoulders.
                          
When she got the courage to go out in the city without Momo, she'd get her hair cut.
                          
For now, she reached for a tie and wrapped her hair in a ponytail, grabbing her school bag and exiting the restroom.
                          
"Seriously? Kaminari deserves someone better," Jirou heard a voice mutter as she opened the door. The voices drew unnaturally quiet as she passed them.
                          
Not a surprise that the all the 3rd Year students were all jealously fawned over. Yaoyorozu and Kendo were the two every young girl envied in silence for their beauty and intelligence. The boys however, were openly loved and casually flirted with.
                          
Sometimes, it made her blood boil when she saw Kaminari blush uncomfortably from some overexcited girls who came to randomly hug him. He loved hugs as much as the next person, but hugs from a stranger trying to grope him? Big no.
                          
It wasn't just Kaminari though, it was also many other students people found attractive in the Hero Course.
                          
Kirishima one time told Jirou he'd been receiving random, unsettling letters until they one day stopped. He'd never found out who the admirerer was, he was pretty weirded out by it though.
                          
She didn't know who these girls were or what they were talking about, but she guessed they were underclassmen just gossiping about something stupid.
                          
"Was that her?" One asked.
                          
"Shh shh," another chastized.
                          
Jirou's curiosity peaked, and she took slower strides to keep them in earshot longer before glancing at an inlet for a doorway. She disappeared from their line of sight, acting like she'd entered a room to hide.
                          
She sort of regretted eavesdropping though. Sometimes, she wished she'd been born with another quirk. One where she wouldn't easily overhear unwanted conversations she shouldn't have been listening to.