I didn't sleep.
I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, watching the shadows shift as the streetlights outside did their thing.
My phone was off as I didn't want to see it. Didn't want to know how many people had seen that photo. How many people knew my face now.
Mom knocked twice during the night.
The first time asking if I was okay.
Which I of course replied as mom I am fine.
But the second time she was a little blunt.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
I said no.
She didn't push. That's how we've always been. She gives me space which I really appreciate it. But sometimes I wonder if she knows something's wrong with me.
Something deeper than today.
Something that's been wrong since I was four years old and woke up in a body that wasn't mine.
Morning came anyway.
Light cut through the window as the birds outside chipped to no end. The smell of rice cooking from the kitchen entered my nostrils.
Normal stuff.
Like the thing of yesterday never happen.
School.
I thought about skipping. Hell if I pretended to be sick, mom would've let me. Probably would've preferred it, honestly.
But I went anyway.
Because hiding in my room felt like admitting defeat. And because I needed to know.
What changes? What stays the same? What did I break?
The walk to school was weird.
People looked at me.
Not in a mean way. They just looked, much longer than usual. Like they were trying to match my face to something they'd seen.
A group of middle school girls whispered as I passed. One of them pointed at me while another covered her mouth.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
I walked faster.
First period. Homeroom.
The moment I walked in, the classroom went quiet.
Not completely. Someone coughed as chairs squeaked. But the energy shifted. Everyone's eyes found me at the same time.
I sat down and didn't look at anyone.
Yamada from two rows over leaned toward his friend.
"Dude, that's him."
"I know."
"How do you know?"
"Of course, I saw the news, idiot."
The teacher came in and told us to open our textbooks.
She didn't mention anything. She was professional. I appreciated that.
Time passed as the lunch time came.
I ate alone.
Not because people were mean. Because I didn't know how to talk to them anymore. What was I supposed to say?
Yeah, that was me in the whole internet yesterday. I did that. No big deal.
It was a big deal. That was the problem.
My phone buzzed.
I'd turned it back on during break. It was stupid of me. I should've left it off.
@MHANews: Sludge Villain Incident—Student Kenji Hayashi (14) is credited with the rescue. Hero Public Safety Commission is reviewing footage for possible commendation.
Commendation. Great. Just what I needed right now.
More attention.
Third period started as maths.
I stared at the board but didn't see numbers.
My mind kept going back to the underpass. The feeling of the sludge villain's panic when my void hit his eye. The way he screamed.
"MY EYE! WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY EYE?"
I'd never heard someone sound so scared.
A villain. A monster. And I made him scream like that.
Was that what heroes did?
Was that what I was now?
After school.
I took the long way home. Through the park. Past the convenience store where I sometimes buy juice. Any route that didn't go near that underpass.
But it didn't work as expected.
Every street looked like it. Every shadow could've been sludge. Every loud noise made me flinch.
I stopped at a vending machine and bought a soda. After that I went on the park and sat on a bench and watched the cans spin.
A shadow fell over me.
"Kenji Hayashi?"
I looked up.
It was a boy around my age. Maybe a little older.
Dark hair. Sharp eyes. School uniform I didn't recognize him.
He wasn't smiling.
"Who's asking?"
He sat down next to me. Uninvited. Close enough that I could smell his cologne.
'It must be something expensive.'
"My name's not important," he said. "I just wanted to see you."
"See me?"
"See the kid who did what the pros couldn't."
He tilted his head. Studied my face the way Bakugo did. Like I was a puzzle.
"You don't look like much."
I stood up.
"Thanks for the chat."
"Wait."
His hand caught my wrist. Fast. Stronger than he looked.
I turned. Looked at his hand. Then at his face.
He let go. Smiled. It didn't reach his eyes.
"Sorry. Rude of me." He stood too and brushed off his pants.
"I work for someone who's interested in you. That's all I can say right now."
My stomach dropped.
"Interested how?"
He shrugged.
"Depends on you, honestly. On what you become. On the choices you make."
The air felt colder.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He didn't answer. Just looked at me for a long moment. Then reached into his pocket and pulled out a card.
Plain white. No logo. Just a phone number printed in black.
"If you ever need help. Or answers. Call that number."
I didn't take it.
He set it on the bench. Stepped back.
"One more thing." His eyes locked onto mine. Serious now. No smile at all.
"Be careful who you trust. Not everyone who smiles at you wants what's best for you."
Then he turned and walked away.
Just like that.
I stood there for a long time.
Staring at the card on the bench.
The wind picked up. The card fluttered. Almost blew away.
I grabbed it before I could think.
Put it in my pocket.
And told myself I'd throw it away later.
Later at home, at dinner with Mom.
She made my favorite—curry. Asked about school. I said it was fine. She didn't push.
It was normal. Except nothing felt like it.
After dinner, I went to my room. Locked the door and sat on the floor with my back against the bed.
Pulling out the card, I stared at it.
Who was that guy? Who did he work for? What did interested in you even mean?
A villain group? The Commission? Some underground network I didn't know about because it wasn't in the manga?
I didn't know.
That was the worst part.
In the story, I knew everything. Who to trust. Who to fear. What would happen next.
Now?
Now I had no idea.
My phone buzzed again.
I almost ignored it. But something made me look.
A text from an unknown number.
"Nice job yesterday. You saved a life. But you also changed things. Things bigger than you know. Watch your back."
I stared at the screen and typed back.
"Who is this?"
Three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then appeared again.
"Someone who reads between the lines."
I waited for more.
But... nothing.
The unknown man never replied.
That night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling again.
The card sat on my nightstand. The unknown text sat in my phone.
Two mysteries. No answers.
And somewhere out there, a green-haired boy was probably lying in his own bed, staring at his own ceiling, wondering why his life felt wrong now.
I closed my eyes.
What did I do?
The question still didn't have an answer.
But something told me I'd find out soon.
Whether I wanted to or not.