[ A moment of control lost to dismay — he solidified, flickering into view, before his existence was no longer detected within the office of Kunikazu Okumura. His eyes were round, still, as he stared at the girl and the long sleeves of their shirt that established contact, igniting a novelty of calm within Goro, instantaneous and jarring.
It was a rule established, brought to his attention through trial-and-error during his youth: avoid being touched and no one will realize that he was ever there in the first place. Goro cultivated a learned habit that pandered to his personal need for space, keeping everyone within arm's reach — physically and figuratively, as he adhered to his more polite facade, distant and composed. But arrogance, devaluing the already unknown abilities of his fellow classmate, was the cause of that blunder; Goro allowed her to get close, perceiving her as harmless, someone who will just come and go shortly, leaving him to his cautious investigation. And yet — ]
This is a first, isn't it? I don't believe I've ever seen you around past after school hours, Haru Okumura-san.
[ A wild guess. After all, Goro Akechi is always the first to go upon the chime of their school's bell, the last to seemingly arrive when in reality, he has always been there, studying the scholarly jargon of their textbooks, filling out the blank lines of their assigned homework. One step ahead — he had to be if he wanted to unravel the truth that refused recognition, cautiously veiled and entangled in an assembly of falsehoods. He wonders, briefly, if Haru will be getting in the way of that, now. ]
Then again, I suppose it's rather odd for me to be here as well.
[ In a blatantly empty classroom, just the two of them. ]
[ He's right about one thing: Haru sure doesn't stick around once the last bell rings. Truthfully, she's worked up a tremendous amount of courage to even stay behind and not rush to the roof or her precious flowers. It'll take even more courage to state what she's thinking, let alone find the appropriate moment to voice what she's truly feeling.
She had always known that Akechi-kun hid more than a few secrets up his sleeve, but she couldn't fathom just what he was doing in her father's office, let alone how he had bypassed every security system. She had planned on rifling through her dad's safe to find her immunization paperwork, and as she had walked in, her sleeves had brushed past something solid - something that had materialized into Akechi Goro's arm.
His quirk was still a mystery to his classmates. They had even taken bets on its true form, back in the beginning of the year. Haru had voted for some form of clairvoyance, given how he seemed to know everyone's next move before they did. Yet that hadn't been the case, and she's at a loss as what to think, let alone how to even question her own classmate. She's not a lawyer, nor is she a fledgling detective.
She's also not stupid enough to think he doesn't know why she's confronted him. She doesn't need empathy to understand how he's feeling, given how rarely she sticks around campus. So she nods at his statement, holding onto the desk behind her for support. ]
I guess there's a first time for everything. [ How should she begin... maybe just straight up admitting it? Right out of the gate? ] Though you know, this makes it the second time in a row we've run into each other.
On the contrary, I believe it adds up to more than that, beyond the doubling of that particular integer. It's quite inevitable to begin with, isn't it? We're classmates, after all.
[ Carefully said with a teasing lilt; his smile doesn't falter. There's a motive behind the baited jest, cast out for her to unintentionally accept or knowingly decline. With purpose, Goro twisted her given statement into something more convenient under the guise of cheeky ignorance, to lure her into revealing her hand, see what sort of ammo his current opposition has against him. ]
... Your ranking within our class. Now that I think about it, I've always wanted to make a discussion out of it.
[ Seemingly nonchalant, still, Goro collects his belongings into his schoolbag, slotting them into their appropriate pockets. It's a mild distraction he sought through precise motion, but his focus hardly breaks; he keeps Haru in his sight, measures the distance in between, wonders, always wondering, what on Earth her quirk could be, how it managed to disarm him long enough to keep him frozen, swathed in alarming comfort.
He had nearly forgotten to withdraw completely back then: ire and lorn resurfaced eventually, calling him to attention; her father's documents were fixed atop his lacquered desk, organized and clean, seemingly untouched without a single leaf of paper left unaligned; Goro retreated then, brittle anticipation hanging onto the potential that she may have forgotten what she had witnessed moments after, much like everybody else upon the epilogue of a rare accident.
There's a reason why Haru Okumura scored so high up along with him, always trailing after, like it was effortless on her part. Even then, it wasn't enough to warrant his concern; she was just that quiet girl at the other end of the classroom — expertly poised, otherworldly. It should had always been that way. ]
You've heard of them, haven't you? The more unsavory rumors suggests that it's rigged in our favor. But, how can that be? The educational staff here in the academy prides themselves on their integrity and unrelenting sense of justice. Third years like us, what could possibly be so special to warrant unethical maneuvers? I suppose a hypothesis or two are merely contrived due to mass confusion, though.
[ Of course he'd deflect, and pretend that she had been referring to something else altogether. Haru furrows her brow as she smooths the wrinkles in her shirt, unconsciously handing over part of her cards as she avoids his gaze. She wasn't referring to their classes, let alone gym or lunch period...
Yet doing so would change the entire nature of their conversation, and he's already moving onto a discussion about their class ranking. Haru hadn't given their rankings much thought to begin with, if she's honest. It had netted her a nice, cushy position in the top five, but outside of exam study sessions and the potential of studying business in college, she hadn't given her education full consideration. She would study with Makoto after school (the perils of befriending the student council president who genuinely and wholeheartedly cared for their grades!), lest she fall to the danger of cramming for an exam the night before. Makoto made it worse, with her purposefully amplifying her disappointment and scorn if Haru missed a lesson - and she knew, absolutely knew, that Mako-chan was doing it on purpose.
Every person's emotions swirled around them differently, Haru had noted years ago. Makoto's, for example, rested right on her sleeve; she cared for others far more than her prim demeanor would allow her. Now, as she looks back at Akechi, she's realizing that he's the same way. A pleasant smile, a calm voice, and yet, his blood was boiling over with rage at one mere touch.
She couldn't project her comfort fast enough, let alone long enough to make much of an impact, but it was too vivid of a memory for her to forget. She should've realized a lot, lot faster that someone so charming had more than a few secrets up his sleeve. ]
I can't think of anyone that hasn't heard of them, [ she admits, tilting her head in thought, ] but I can take a wild guess why they might think so. Our quirks still aren't fully defined, when most everyone else knows what their powers are and how to build them up.
[ It's annoying, truthfully, that she still doesn't have a grasp on her powers, even after sharing them with their homeroom teacher and practicing on poor Mako-chan whenever she gets the chance. Haru knows exactly who she is - she's known for years - but she still can't seem to reach her full potential, and it bothers her. It really, really bothers her. ]
Oh! [ as if something's just occurred to her - ] But outside of the practical exams, the rumors don't make much sense. We get the same tests as everyone else.
[ To be underestimated is a safety net, though Goro is sporadically peeved about being seen as less than everybody else, lumped in with those who hadn't a clue about their gifted fortune. But, he's aware that taking umbrage to those offhanded ""observations"" is meaningless; worst has been said before, and those who inhabited the academy, this country, mattered little to him anyway. The results shall speak on his behalf, nothing more. ]
Practical exams easily debunks hearsay if one continues to believe that favoritism is at play, however. Witnesses are abound, be it of our instructors simulating an opposition we may potentially encounter in our daily lives or the general student body participating along with us. Suffice to say, our classmates are the imaginative sort, aren't they? Too much manga and anime, perhaps?
[ Amiably said, his tone mellow and relaxed. But there's an evanescent, acidic tinge that enveloped the tail end of his reply, masked by an airy chuckle, almost like a sigh.
By design, Goro ought to announce a smooth dismissal; he's no longer toying with his bag, and his gaze is awfully keen despite the cordial front, the useless chatter in between that emulated something of a decent acquaintanceship. Haru offered a cue, and Akechi molded it to his own liking in order to jump-start a developing advantage; she's playing along, in the worst case scenario, waiting for the subtleties of an oversight — something to call him out on, cease their pleasant back-and-forth for good. Goro can always do it himself, but discovery of the truth, taken right under their noses, only makes things all the more interesting. Still, he's on precarious grounds; Haru Okumura isn't someone he paid any mind to — easy enough to ignore, mind his business around, because in a way, she kept to herself just as much around those she wasn't particularly familiar with.
He shouldn't have gotten so complacent. ]
Between you and I, everyone seems to have made up their minds about me, though. You're still a profound conundrum for the majority of us. Would you consider yourself to be in a favorable position because of it?
[ Haru can't help laughing at the thought of anime influencing their peers' thoughts - it's certainly true, to an extent. How many times had she overheard someone insist that so-and-so's quirk was "just like a shounen hero!" or "like that show we watched as kids?". Too many for her to track, even if it seems to bother Akechi. If her powers worked like they did on TV, maybe she would be upset too. As it stands, she can't entirely control what she projects onto others, let alone how their feelings influence her own.
She can, at least, recall just how many of her classmates took anime characters' beliefs and values to heart. So many of them had modeled their attacks, their costumes, their everything after their heroines – it was almost admirable. In terms of how much they loved and in turn, wore that love for all to see.
At his question, she shakes her head, her frown and furrowed brow only growing worse. ]
Not at all. Regardless of what they think about us, they're still preconceived notions, made without either party getting to decide their powers on their own terms. We should get to define our quirks for ourselves, and how we should use them when we graduate and - [ she pauses, her cheeks turning redder at the realization that she had spoken out of turn, with a resolve she hadn't meant to show him, ] Ah. I'm getting ahead of myself.
[ Mostly, she's not sure how he would react to her belief about his powers, how he should be the one to define them for himself. With everyone else, she can at least brush up against them and get a surface-level idea. With Akechi, she thinks back to the blood boiling over from his skin to the pads of her fingers, and she thinks better about touching him again.
So she has to ask, lest she break the charade: ] Is this... is this because you felt my quirk yesterday, Akechi-kun?
[ His expression softens, succumbing to a muted daze -- less plastic, too authentic.
Orders are often relayed, and Goro obeys with trickery up his sleeve. The corrupt dons their polished veneer, valiant in their speech that held promise, and Goro would expose their fraudulence with delightful ease. An inkling of his presence upholds a vague silhouette when caught -- anger flaring from the appointed foe, then ebbing away into staggering confusion as Goro extends the distance, hurried and oddly silent. His quirk held the outline of his private grievances, strictly honed with the counsel of his own adversary, granting a semblance of freedom that he couldn't afford before, back when he was wholly unwanted, born into nothing.
Easily said; those with financial comfort had the luxury to uphold their opportunistic ideals -- to decide of their own accord, without the guarantee of reprimand, what they'd hope to contribute to the world at large with the quirk bestowed upon them since birth. A part of him, still, latches onto Haru's words, the guileless form they've taken before lucidity announces its interruption -- because the Okumura heiress is the absolute contrast to her father. Seems so, based on his developing conjectures, what he was able to gather during that short interim upon infiltrating Kunikazu's office. ]
My quirk doesn't require touch. Far from it, actually. If we're going by our classmates' guesswork, I only ever have to use my mind to understand what will occur in the future.
[ Half-truths: he needs to concentrate to wander about undetected, so technically. Goro can return to their endless loop of avoidance. But this time, he relents in his own way upon realizing, once more, how little Haru flaunts her family's wealth; not even half the school is aware of her background, for one. To elude has its advantages; in this case, time may as well grant him nonsensical worries and strife. That sense of certainty towards his goals, the secrecy he refined in vigilant solitude, will only lend itself to gradual decay. Once he's made aware of her intentions, perhaps he'll find a way — ]
We'd be scolded for holding a conversation from across the room. That is, if class was still in session. This isn't customary for you, is it? [ His gaze drops from her face, notes the number of desks that separates them, the way the chairs are positioned underneath, set in tidy rows — the level of difficulty it may be to swiftly avoid her if anything out of the ordinary were to occur at any given notice. ]
May I occupy the seat in front of you? Assuming that our discussion isn't meant for a sleuthing audience. But if you were hoping to be brief, I suppose our current seating arrangement will do just fine.
[ Was she confident in her quirk, didn't care who's drawn near -- or did she want everybody away. The former will keep him aware, at least -- aware that she isn't someone to be trifled with. ]
[ So her guesses had been half-wrong. Haru blinks back genuine surprise, momentarily pulled from her own thoughts at that confirmation – the future wasn't within his literal grasp. It was all deductions and guesswork, and perhaps a well-timed use of a quirk, to predict everyone's next move. She shouldn't have expected anything less from the next Detective Prince, and yet, this piece of information shifts her worldview.
Just what is his quirk, and why did it let him waltz into her house? Couldn't he have just asked her, if it was something that important? Sure, Haru and Akechi don't talk often, if at all. They're usually partnered with other students for projects, or some other cliques catch their attention during lunch or gym, but they're still classmates. Haru wouldn't have minded. Well, whatever (potentially illegal) truth he's withholding will unravel, and she just hopes it was just too important for him to entrust with a single soul.
At his statement, she glances beside them, giving a slight nod. Right. She's not used to standing so far apart from him, let alone anyone while holding a conversation - for one, they both have to speak up, and for another, it creates a physical and emotional distance. Like they're both trying to hold each other at more than arms' length, and she hates it.
She should be braver than this. She should be able to walk up to him and brush her fingertips against his, or at least put a hand on his shoulder and fear nothing. ]
Yes, of course. [ She takes a seat, crossing her ankles and resting her hands on the desk between them. Her hand may be folded, but she doesn't fear touch. She's not going to, because as far as she's concerned - this will be a friendly conversation. She's going to will it to be, even if she - for the first time - is realizing just how much of a mystery Akechi-kun is. ] I'm sorry for even holding you up this long, but... I had a few things to ask you, if you wouldn't mind hearing me out.
[ No "if you wouldn't mind answering," because she was never meant to see him in the first place. That much is clear from their endless dance, and as tempting as it is to continue, she doesn't want to hold him up forever. Someone has to make the first move, and that has to be her. ]
First... um... [ deep breaths, Haru! Ignore the fidgeting, the way her sweater suddenly feels hotter and heavier! ] I know your quirk doesn't require touch, but mine does. What has everyone told you about it?
[ He minds. He minds, but insists on humoring their dialogue of muted caution. Implications of her awareness are dismissed, and Goro develops his own set of allusions in attempt to have her just come right out and say it: what she knows, and the offered ultimatum in exchange for her silence. But Haru's a tenacious thorn in his side, staunch in her subtle stance of interrogator -- just wanting the truth in order to, somehow, protect her father from what may come to be, or she's just stringing him along on a merciless ride to his upcoming downfall as long as he doesn't do as she says.
That's how people have always been -- in the past, presently so. But he shouldn't be dwelling right now, getting lost in his head when there is something to be done. ]
Suspicion will only paint its target on my back. As far as everybody else is concerned, we've never held any personal intrigue for one another. It's not what I was told, but what I've witnessed firsthand.
[ Chair legs disturb the quiet, scraping along the tiled floors in a slight, screeching halt; she's unnervingly resilient, and his quirk doesn't seem to have much of an effect on her memory upon his readied ""disappearance"": she remembers when everybody else so willingly forgets. ]
Allow me to set the stage, Okumura-san. [ Here, Goro lifts his appointed seat from the ground before smoothly situating it right next to her. Their arms nearly brushed, but he's quick to withdraw, offering her desk a few light taps, like a childlike attempt to redirect her focus back to him again as he takes those backward steps away. ]
I apologize. This may be quite imposing. But all I require from you is to move as if you're reaching out to someone right next to you. An easy enough task, right?
[ Audible tones grow faint partway through with every word, his immediate presence becoming nebulous, something meant to impart uncertainty and a lapse of cognizance. If Haru decides to follow through, Goro will be seated on the aforementioned chair -- legs crossed with his hands resting on his lap. His head is turned towards her though -- wary and curiously observant.
An awful little thought blossoms: did it even matter if she knew? Would anyone believe her anyway? ]
[ Once again, Haru learns nothing on the surface. She doesn't know what Father's work entails behind closed doors, though she can guess from media interviews and his increasingly cagey behavior, just as she doesn't know why one of her classmates would be rifling through his things. (Father's things, not hers because Haru, for all of her quiet and secluded mannerisms, has always been an open book.)
She can't help the soft, quiet sigh escaping her lips as she clutches onto her sweater. That line of questioning hadn't worked - and she should've known. Idle gossip and classroom chatter was beneath him, or at least something he pretended was beneath him. Worse, all of her interrogation methods come from TV, and from listening to Mako-chan rant whenever they watch increasingly inane - and apparently inaccurate - procedural dramas. She lacks the knowledge to interrogate someone, let alone drag out that one nugget of information she so desperately wants.
Whatever line she would've chosen next is forgotten at the sound of that tapping, and she flinches, redirecting her focus exactly where he wants them. He's standing in front of her, yet she has to simply touch the space next to her? Not in front? ]
Oh, you're fine. If that's all you require of me for the time being... [ he's not fine, but he's set the tempo, and she's going to lean into that tempo and power through. A real lady would oblige his request, right? She lets go of her sweater, steeling herself for any potential impact or recoil as she extends her arm towards the seat beside her. ] Here goes -
[ She expects to feel nothing. At most, empty air she can bat away, yet, in the blink of an eye, Akechi-kun's moved to that very same seat.
If he only needs his mind to predict the future, then he shouldn't be able to hide his presence like this in plain sight. It's a clever trick; one she wishes she had, when she wants to escape her mandated social outings and grand balls. Intangibility? Invisibility? Some weird combination of the two? Haru twists her lips in confusion, pulling back only so that she doesn't touch his hair, or worse, his face, by accident.
She's never been this close to him, let alone any of their male classmates, before. It's a weird realization, one that makes her breath hitch with uncertainty. ]
Strange. [ she furrows her brow, ] But you did that vanishing trick again. Like it was all one big illusion...
Edited (rip your inbox, i'm v sorrymannerisms, has always been an open book.) She can't help the soft, quiet sigh escaping her lips as she clutches onto her sweater. That line of questioning hadn't worked - and she should've known. Idle gossip and classroom cha) 2019-01-11 08:35 (UTC)
[ A forward approach so unlike his usual clandestine tactics -- but it answers more than enough: that bit of solidity, encountered by her fingertips, begins to flare outward, collapsing into a glitch of a recalled composition of his physical structure.
Goro settles into view of his own accord, again, doesn't flinch out of his seat at that instant discovery; he stays put without much of a slouch in his posture, though his knuckles blanch as his grip tightens around his own hand. Not the reaction he was expecting; the utter absence of mind games, gradually exposed pretense of a guileless conduct, and that final offering of a deal grudgingly struck never did sit right. It's odd being on the opposite end of something awfully ingenuous, without the tell-tale signs of orchestrated blackmail. Suspicious, even then. ]
Aren't we all to a certain degree?
[ "Illusions", multi-faceted like they are all born to be, with a medley of aspects to showcase and adjust to their personal liking. There isn't a need for an elaboration either way; they're one of the few school mysteries, up there with the supposed ghost sightings around the city block. Neither of them made much of an effort to deny or affirm progressing gossip. But, small talk isn't the purpose behind his abrupt reveal, all that resistance coming to naught -- because Goro Akechi will always create his own end in little increments, if not in full. ]
I didn't like the way you made me feel back then. [ The projected sedation of heightened nerves, always remembering in his festering anger what has become of his mother, his life that went downhill since her passing. ]
But I don't suppose you're inclined to share the extent of your quirk with me. Perhaps this is satisfactory enough for the both of us. So let's cut to the chase, Okumura-san. What is it that you want?
[ Haru falls silent. She feels that growing temptation to apologize, to smooth over her indiscretion with a heartfelt apology. She hadn't meant to unsettle him, let alone sense his presence. Their paths hadn't meant to cross outside of their classroom walls, and she - well, she had meant to force this conversation out of him. That might've been the only purposeful action she had performed in the past 48 hours.
Yet he might just be the first person in a long, long time who's asked her what she wants - even if it's the context of the information she seeks. (No one ever asks. Not even for mundane things. Her wants and needs have always been answered for her, rather than something she has had any agency whatsoever over.)
So she stares back at him, blinking back surprise and trying to regain what remains of her composure. Haru's never been able to hide, not even for a moment, but right now - she kind of wishes she could turn invisible. She can't even manipulate her empathy right. ]
I'm sorry. About the way I made you feel, I mean. [ Because she's not sorry about forcing the truth out of him. ] I just... I want to know what you were doing in Father's office yesterday.
[ No point in dancing around the subject anymore. Haru lays out her last card, shrugging her shoulders in defeat. ]
[ Her apology prompts clarification of an earlier statement. But, it's noted right away, that absent balm that forced nettled resentment to retreat before, tucked away like a forgotten thing. So Goro holds his tongue, doesn't bother to correct the fault or revise the curious theory around the mystery of her quirk. Instead -- a moment's pause before a question's delivery: ]
... I've a feeling that you've an inkling as to why anyone would brave through innumerable security measures to reach the heart of your father's office. Unless you're not particularly privy of your father's activities from behind the scenes?
[ During that brief interim of quiet, the chair is returned to its appropriate desk. This time, Goro doesn't take another seat upon an unmoved, nearby one; his back is against the wall now, arms loosely crossed, distance renewed; watchful eyes are steel and vigilant on the classroom doors every now and then, though at this point, even far beyond the dialogue they'll share today, she has his undivided attention. ]
Your family name has quite the social standing in this country... but it hasn't always been that way, has it?
[ If Haru wasn't squirming before, she sure is now. Years of scrutiny under Father's gaze - under his judgmental eye, harsh temper, wild mood swings - hasn't bothered her before, but for some reason, Akechi-kun's attention digs under her skin in a way that little else has.
Maybe it's because he questions the illegality of her father's funds, let alone the oddity of his rise through the ranks - or maybe it's because she can't discern his feelings. Whatever it is, she can at least tell that their paths will intersect for a while to come (and not just because they were classmates). ]
No, it hasn't. It's only been in the last few years that Okumura Foods has gained its status and reputation...
[ She tip-toes around her father's activities - for one thing, she doesn't know the specifics. Father's been too careful to give her plausible deniability (and even she can't ignore how his secrecy must've been to protect her). For another, even if Akechi-kun's confirmed her suspicions, she isn't in a position to hand over Father's secrets. Those, one would have to pry over her father's cold body. ]
That said, it has been a family business for generations. Grandfather's vision was, ah, different from what Father created, and in turn... [ she hesitates, before going ahead and saying so - ] I suppose mine will be something else entirely.
[ His own father held a callous regard towards the prospective heiress, could hardly deign to consider her with a modicum of interest, not enough to recall the shape of her name when spoken aloud, the fact that Kunikazu Okumura has a child to return home to, check up on with some measure of concern, always in some relation to his ongoing ambitions. So it wasn't something worth a careful analysis: Okumura Foods, its history exhumed for the selectively inquisitive -- up until a certain detective prince underwent an accidental run-in with the latest generation's daughter herself. ]
Something else entirely that will exceed those who have come before you, I assume? It's been said once before [ ... by a philosopher, no less; paraphrased by yours truly, Goro Akechi. ] that the past can be perceived as a voluminous outline, summarizing the errors of mankind that will instruct those in the future to avoid what has already been done before, along with the personalized downfall it might bring. Results may as well vary, still. People, as a whole, are not so linear, after all.
[ Another archived thought will argue that the past's circumstances are peculiar, uniquely its own, to the point where humanity may only learn if certain cues and conditions are directly involved with them and nothing more. But, Akechi silences the thought, cynical and scoffing, leaving the cheeky delivery as is: somewhat hopeful, even in its glum reality.
Haru's unease is clear; because the topic orbited her father or she's the expected confidant to Kunikazu's business affairs -- he wasn't sure. If it was the former -- well. Time will certainly tell how Goro will react to their shared likeness. Until then, it's not reassurance he provides regardless of how he does it well, overlooking the self-contained disquiet held within the girl; it's -- ]
Well, I'm sure this scenario wasn't staged just to finalize it with a paraphrased lecture. What I've shown you has answered a number of your questions... I can only hope that may be the case, at least. The knowledge I've unveiled to you debunks the circulating rumors of my supposed omnipresence and autonomy in how I go about my investigations. There's one mystery left unsolved between you and I, however...
[ -- the prelude of a bargain, a bluff, most likely. ]
[ Exceed might be a little strong for her dream, though she can understand the sentiment. In business, in any financial undertaking in a capitalistic society, profits are all that matter. The safety of employees, or the quality of life for those under the CEO, are a second thought at best, and considered disposable at worst. Father had never spoken strongly of those working on the ground floor at his burger shops, let alone those designing his marketing campaigns - Instead, he would board himself up in his office and make phone call after phone call, all while insisting it was for her own good.
Haru never understood how the two - her safety and the business's unethical profit - were hand-in-hand, but she couldn't fight her father. Her dream was more humble: a local cafe, with employees who want to be there and who want to support her, and with a menu that everyone loves. A welcoming, comforting atmosphere, and as many flowers as the eye could see.
True, she could open it right now, as one of her Father's vanity projects, but then the world wouldn't take her seriously. She needed to study, to understand how successful cafes operated and maintained both profits and loyalty - and, she supposes, to take advice like Akechi-kun's to heart. The past informs the present, and in turn, the present informs the future.
Yet when he brings up the last lingering mystery, she intertwines her fingers, forcing herself to sit straight. She can't show weakness, even as she's both curious and hesitant. ]
Really? [ she's stumped, but also willing to hear him out - ] And what mystery would that be, Akechi-kun?
[ Outside point of views have always been easier to discern than showcasing his own. Goro starts there: ]
It's rare to encounter anyone who considers it odd. Perhaps you're one of those few exceptions. [ At long last, Goro moves: he fetches his bag, tugging at the laptop sheltered within. Booted up, accompanied by a few taps across the keyboard, an opened browser window afterward -- he sets the item down carefully atop her desk, presenting a news article near the start of his lawful career. ]
You're free to look around beyond what's shown to you, Okumura-san.
[ And if Haru chooses to do so, she'll find that the comment sections in particular are littered with stupefied bafflement; each editorial piece held an audience that referenced deja vu or difficulty recalling that someone like Goro Akechi has ever existed. It begins to wane if she edges closer towards the more recent column, an implication that he began to establish better control over his Quirk or he's just toying with the populace to better recognize the extent of his own capabilities. Even then, there's always that one wayward reply that held residual reminders of being so easily forgotten. ]
Physical contact isn't the end-all for Quirks like mine. It's an obstacle, but hardly a detrimental one. Sensei, on the other hand... [ He won't elaborate regardless of the harmless, amused lilt. Haru will piece it together eventually or she's already well aware of it; their teacher and his poor, newly found severely dry eyes -- the moment he steps out of that classroom door, it's like Akechi readily decides that he's not in the mood to receive the attention of their fellow peers, blathering on about being classmates with a celebrity; he ceases to "exist" in their memory, up until their teacher walks back in, languidly relaxed, tired gaze, somewhat irritated, pointed right at him in regular intervals. ]
I appreciate your approach to an uncanny situation like this, Okumura-san. It's earnest and refreshingly upfront. That's why I'd like to return the favor and honor your efforts. The alternative wouldn't be very pleasant, and I'm sure you wouldn't be appreciative of secretive tactics being used against you, so...
[ Snooping around behind her back, discovering more than what he ought to. Moving on, though: ]
Shall I make an educated guess? The reason why you remember that I was ever there at all.
[ Is she really an exception if she's one of the few, poor Aizawa-sensei aside, who's witnessed his quirk enough to call it strange? Haru can't think of any guesses in their class betting pool that were remotely close to right - they had all been off. They all missed the bullseye.
She can't say she's hitting the target either, but she peers at his laptop, skimming the article with curiosity. Even though Akechi's given her permission, Haru still glances back at him before she moves on - ] Is this okay?
[ she waits for an yes, or something in the affirmative, before diving further, keeping two fingers close to the trackpad and trying her best to stay exactly on the news site. Some of these editors, like a certain Agnes Joubert from Heroes TV, sure have Opinions, and others are simply baffled. She can't blame them. Their own class is baffled, and class 3-A has had the pleasure of working and studying alongside him for the past two years!
At the mention of poor Sensei, Haru laughs, her concentration broken as she shoots a small smile at him. Time after time, she's seen it - complete with Aizawa-sensei's grumbling - and she still has no idea how Akechi manages it. Yet Sensei hasn't threatened to expel him, so he's probably in the clear?
She turns her entire body towards him once she's finished, choosing to face him head-on, and folds her hands in her lap. Once again, Haru's an open book: she wears her heart on her sleeve and uses her powers to ease people. Her father, on the other hand, has more than a few padlocks rattling around, and she'd rather not have prying hands force them open. So she acquiesces. ]
Fair enough. I appreciate your discretion, Akechi-kun. [ she doesn't, but she doesn't seem to have a choice. ] As to that educated guess... I don't see why not. I wouldn't make heads or tails of it on my own.
[ There's always a lie to fall back onto -- tailor every word and sound to his own personal liking, make it convincing. But how long has it been since Goro has last been approached like this? With an open invitation of a mental challenge than something surreptitious, haphazardly done. Haru's framed with prudent honesty, methods opting towards a forward address than dragging loose ends into the forefront by way of absent-minded duplicity. He didn't like it, being exposed, held under a microscopic lens for study, but someone so removed from underhanded machinations is already remarkable in itself. So Goro decides on a gamble, an offering of the truth: ]
I've conjectures and nothing more, unfortunately. Aside from the obvious case, [ of Aizawa,those of similar or more lethal Quirks. ] it's a first that someone was able to retain memories of my being around after a disagreeable encounter. Even at the flip side of that outcome, it isn't much of a feat to evade their attention and cognition if they've thought to seek me out, much like you have.
[ No malice. Goro recites every line like he's reading off of an academic page. Hardly monotonous, still; there's an occasional lilt marking his undisclosed puzzlement. ]
There's a particular schema that I can go off of... After all, they do say that emotions strongly influences how we all remember certain events throughout our lives.
[ And if this is a cue for Haru to out her own Quirk -- well, he isn't holding his breath. But if she'd like to carry on with a tidbit of her own... ]
Haru exhales, allowing herself some momentary relief. She had planned to tell him earlier, back when she had said that her quirk required touch, literal skin-to-skin contact, for anything to unfold. Despite that, however, she refused to wear gloves. She told herself she would power through; long sweaters and tights would be enough. Clearly it hadn't, given that she's with Akechi discussing her quirk, but the thought had been nice.
Most people didn't pay her much attention, and she liked the feel of metal keys, of their wooden desks, of even pencils held between her fingers to think about additional fabric to separate her from the world.
But he had suggested a curious theory, and like a naive kitten, Haru would tug on those strings until something unravels.
She nods, her expression softening: ] Right. My quirk is all about empathy - about feeling what a person does every time I touch them. Like a living lie detector, I guess? I can demonstrate it again, but if what you experienced yesterday is a first...
[ a dangerous first, given his line of work. No wonder he had been spooked...
Of course, she holds back on some aspects: namely, manipulation, and the few times she had managed to lessen someone's pain through sheer willpower. Haru can't control those. It wouldn't make sense to bring them up, unless again, he had already suspected such a thing. ]
Then I suspect that it may be for the best to hold back for the time being.
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It was a rule established, brought to his attention through trial-and-error during his youth: avoid being touched and no one will realize that he was ever there in the first place. Goro cultivated a learned habit that pandered to his personal need for space, keeping everyone within arm's reach — physically and figuratively, as he adhered to his more polite facade, distant and composed. But arrogance, devaluing the already unknown abilities of his fellow classmate, was the cause of that blunder; Goro allowed her to get close, perceiving her as harmless, someone who will just come and go shortly, leaving him to his cautious investigation. And yet — ]
This is a first, isn't it? I don't believe I've ever seen you around past after school hours, Haru Okumura-san.
[ A wild guess. After all, Goro Akechi is always the first to go upon the chime of their school's bell, the last to seemingly arrive when in reality, he has always been there, studying the scholarly jargon of their textbooks, filling out the blank lines of their assigned homework. One step ahead — he had to be if he wanted to unravel the truth that refused recognition, cautiously veiled and entangled in an assembly of falsehoods. He wonders, briefly, if Haru will be getting in the way of that, now. ]
Then again, I suppose it's rather odd for me to be here as well.
[ In a blatantly empty classroom, just the two of them. ]
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She had always known that Akechi-kun hid more than a few secrets up his sleeve, but she couldn't fathom just what he was doing in her father's office, let alone how he had bypassed every security system. She had planned on rifling through her dad's safe to find her immunization paperwork, and as she had walked in, her sleeves had brushed past something solid - something that had materialized into Akechi Goro's arm.
His quirk was still a mystery to his classmates. They had even taken bets on its true form, back in the beginning of the year. Haru had voted for some form of clairvoyance, given how he seemed to know everyone's next move before they did. Yet that hadn't been the case, and she's at a loss as what to think, let alone how to even question her own classmate. She's not a lawyer, nor is she a fledgling detective.
She's also not stupid enough to think he doesn't know why she's confronted him. She doesn't need empathy to understand how he's feeling, given how rarely she sticks around campus. So she nods at his statement, holding onto the desk behind her for support. ]
I guess there's a first time for everything. [ How should she begin... maybe just straight up admitting it? Right out of the gate? ] Though you know, this makes it the second time in a row we've run into each other.
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[ Carefully said with a teasing lilt; his smile doesn't falter. There's a motive behind the baited jest, cast out for her to unintentionally accept or knowingly decline. With purpose, Goro twisted her given statement into something more convenient under the guise of cheeky ignorance, to lure her into revealing her hand, see what sort of ammo his current opposition has against him. ]
... Your ranking within our class. Now that I think about it, I've always wanted to make a discussion out of it.
[ Seemingly nonchalant, still, Goro collects his belongings into his schoolbag, slotting them into their appropriate pockets. It's a mild distraction he sought through precise motion, but his focus hardly breaks; he keeps Haru in his sight, measures the distance in between, wonders, always wondering, what on Earth her quirk could be, how it managed to disarm him long enough to keep him frozen, swathed in alarming comfort.
He had nearly forgotten to withdraw completely back then: ire and lorn resurfaced eventually, calling him to attention; her father's documents were fixed atop his lacquered desk, organized and clean, seemingly untouched without a single leaf of paper left unaligned; Goro retreated then, brittle anticipation hanging onto the potential that she may have forgotten what she had witnessed moments after, much like everybody else upon the epilogue of a rare accident.
There's a reason why Haru Okumura scored so high up along with him, always trailing after, like it was effortless on her part. Even then, it wasn't enough to warrant his concern; she was just that quiet girl at the other end of the classroom — expertly poised, otherworldly. It should had always been that way. ]
You've heard of them, haven't you? The more unsavory rumors suggests that it's rigged in our favor. But, how can that be? The educational staff here in the academy prides themselves on their integrity and unrelenting sense of justice. Third years like us, what could possibly be so special to warrant unethical maneuvers? I suppose a hypothesis or two are merely contrived due to mass confusion, though.
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Yet doing so would change the entire nature of their conversation, and he's already moving onto a discussion about their class ranking. Haru hadn't given their rankings much thought to begin with, if she's honest. It had netted her a nice, cushy position in the top five, but outside of exam study sessions and the potential of studying business in college, she hadn't given her education full consideration. She would study with Makoto after school (the perils of befriending the student council president who genuinely and wholeheartedly cared for their grades!), lest she fall to the danger of cramming for an exam the night before. Makoto made it worse, with her purposefully amplifying her disappointment and scorn if Haru missed a lesson - and she knew, absolutely knew, that Mako-chan was doing it on purpose.
Every person's emotions swirled around them differently, Haru had noted years ago. Makoto's, for example, rested right on her sleeve; she cared for others far more than her prim demeanor would allow her. Now, as she looks back at Akechi, she's realizing that he's the same way. A pleasant smile, a calm voice, and yet, his blood was boiling over with rage at one mere touch.
She couldn't project her comfort fast enough, let alone long enough to make much of an impact, but it was too vivid of a memory for her to forget. She should've realized a lot, lot faster that someone so charming had more than a few secrets up his sleeve. ]
I can't think of anyone that hasn't heard of them, [ she admits, tilting her head in thought, ] but I can take a wild guess why they might think so. Our quirks still aren't fully defined, when most everyone else knows what their powers are and how to build them up.
[ It's annoying, truthfully, that she still doesn't have a grasp on her powers, even after sharing them with their homeroom teacher and practicing on poor Mako-chan whenever she gets the chance. Haru knows exactly who she is - she's known for years - but she still can't seem to reach her full potential, and it bothers her. It really, really bothers her. ]
Oh! [ as if something's just occurred to her - ] But outside of the practical exams, the rumors don't make much sense. We get the same tests as everyone else.
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Practical exams easily debunks hearsay if one continues to believe that favoritism is at play, however. Witnesses are abound, be it of our instructors simulating an opposition we may potentially encounter in our daily lives or the general student body participating along with us. Suffice to say, our classmates are the imaginative sort, aren't they? Too much manga and anime, perhaps?
[ Amiably said, his tone mellow and relaxed. But there's an evanescent, acidic tinge that enveloped the tail end of his reply, masked by an airy chuckle, almost like a sigh.
By design, Goro ought to announce a smooth dismissal; he's no longer toying with his bag, and his gaze is awfully keen despite the cordial front, the useless chatter in between that emulated something of a decent acquaintanceship. Haru offered a cue, and Akechi molded it to his own liking in order to jump-start a developing advantage; she's playing along, in the worst case scenario, waiting for the subtleties of an oversight — something to call him out on, cease their pleasant back-and-forth for good. Goro can always do it himself, but discovery of the truth, taken right under their noses, only makes things all the more interesting. Still, he's on precarious grounds; Haru Okumura isn't someone he paid any mind to — easy enough to ignore, mind his business around, because in a way, she kept to herself just as much around those she wasn't particularly familiar with.
He shouldn't have gotten so complacent. ]
Between you and I, everyone seems to have made up their minds about me, though. You're still a profound conundrum for the majority of us. Would you consider yourself to be in a favorable position because of it?
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She can, at least, recall just how many of her classmates took anime characters' beliefs and values to heart. So many of them had modeled their attacks, their costumes, their everything after their heroines – it was almost admirable. In terms of how much they loved and in turn, wore that love for all to see.
At his question, she shakes her head, her frown and furrowed brow only growing worse. ]
Not at all. Regardless of what they think about us, they're still preconceived notions, made without either party getting to decide their powers on their own terms. We should get to define our quirks for ourselves, and how we should use them when we graduate and - [ she pauses, her cheeks turning redder at the realization that she had spoken out of turn, with a resolve she hadn't meant to show him, ] Ah. I'm getting ahead of myself.
[ Mostly, she's not sure how he would react to her belief about his powers, how he should be the one to define them for himself. With everyone else, she can at least brush up against them and get a surface-level idea. With Akechi, she thinks back to the blood boiling over from his skin to the pads of her fingers, and she thinks better about touching him again.
So she has to ask, lest she break the charade: ] Is this... is this because you felt my quirk yesterday, Akechi-kun?
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Orders are often relayed, and Goro obeys with trickery up his sleeve. The corrupt dons their polished veneer, valiant in their speech that held promise, and Goro would expose their fraudulence with delightful ease. An inkling of his presence upholds a vague silhouette when caught -- anger flaring from the appointed foe, then ebbing away into staggering confusion as Goro extends the distance, hurried and oddly silent. His quirk held the outline of his private grievances, strictly honed with the counsel of his own adversary, granting a semblance of freedom that he couldn't afford before, back when he was wholly unwanted, born into nothing.
Easily said; those with financial comfort had the luxury to uphold their opportunistic ideals -- to decide of their own accord, without the guarantee of reprimand, what they'd hope to contribute to the world at large with the quirk bestowed upon them since birth. A part of him, still, latches onto Haru's words, the guileless form they've taken before lucidity announces its interruption -- because the Okumura heiress is the absolute contrast to her father. Seems so, based on his developing conjectures, what he was able to gather during that short interim upon infiltrating Kunikazu's office. ]
My quirk doesn't require touch. Far from it, actually. If we're going by our classmates' guesswork, I only ever have to use my mind to understand what will occur in the future.
[ Half-truths: he needs to concentrate to wander about undetected, so technically. Goro can return to their endless loop of avoidance. But this time, he relents in his own way upon realizing, once more, how little Haru flaunts her family's wealth; not even half the school is aware of her background, for one. To elude has its advantages; in this case, time may as well grant him nonsensical worries and strife. That sense of certainty towards his goals, the secrecy he refined in vigilant solitude, will only lend itself to gradual decay. Once he's made aware of her intentions, perhaps he'll find a way — ]
We'd be scolded for holding a conversation from across the room. That is, if class was still in session. This isn't customary for you, is it? [ His gaze drops from her face, notes the number of desks that separates them, the way the chairs are positioned underneath, set in tidy rows — the level of difficulty it may be to swiftly avoid her if anything out of the ordinary were to occur at any given notice. ]
May I occupy the seat in front of you? Assuming that our discussion isn't meant for a sleuthing audience. But if you were hoping to be brief, I suppose our current seating arrangement will do just fine.
[ Was she confident in her quirk, didn't care who's drawn near -- or did she want everybody away. The former will keep him aware, at least -- aware that she isn't someone to be trifled with. ]
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Just what is his quirk, and why did it let him waltz into her house? Couldn't he have just asked her, if it was something that important? Sure, Haru and Akechi don't talk often, if at all. They're usually partnered with other students for projects, or some other cliques catch their attention during lunch or gym, but they're still classmates. Haru wouldn't have minded. Well, whatever (potentially illegal) truth he's withholding will unravel, and she just hopes it was just too important for him to entrust with a single soul.
At his statement, she glances beside them, giving a slight nod. Right. She's not used to standing so far apart from him, let alone anyone while holding a conversation - for one, they both have to speak up, and for another, it creates a physical and emotional distance. Like they're both trying to hold each other at more than arms' length, and she hates it.
She should be braver than this. She should be able to walk up to him and brush her fingertips against his, or at least put a hand on his shoulder and fear nothing. ]
Yes, of course. [ She takes a seat, crossing her ankles and resting her hands on the desk between them. Her hand may be folded, but she doesn't fear touch. She's not going to, because as far as she's concerned - this will be a friendly conversation. She's going to will it to be, even if she - for the first time - is realizing just how much of a mystery Akechi-kun is. ] I'm sorry for even holding you up this long, but... I had a few things to ask you, if you wouldn't mind hearing me out.
[ No "if you wouldn't mind answering," because she was never meant to see him in the first place. That much is clear from their endless dance, and as tempting as it is to continue, she doesn't want to hold him up forever. Someone has to make the first move, and that has to be her. ]
First... um... [ deep breaths, Haru! Ignore the fidgeting, the way her sweater suddenly feels hotter and heavier! ] I know your quirk doesn't require touch, but mine does. What has everyone told you about it?
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That's how people have always been -- in the past, presently so. But he shouldn't be dwelling right now, getting lost in his head when there is something to be done. ]
Suspicion will only paint its target on my back. As far as everybody else is concerned, we've never held any personal intrigue for one another. It's not what I was told, but what I've witnessed firsthand.
[ Chair legs disturb the quiet, scraping along the tiled floors in a slight, screeching halt; she's unnervingly resilient, and his quirk doesn't seem to have much of an effect on her memory upon his readied ""disappearance"": she remembers when everybody else so willingly forgets. ]
Allow me to set the stage, Okumura-san. [ Here, Goro lifts his appointed seat from the ground before smoothly situating it right next to her. Their arms nearly brushed, but he's quick to withdraw, offering her desk a few light taps, like a childlike attempt to redirect her focus back to him again as he takes those backward steps away. ]
I apologize. This may be quite imposing. But all I require from you is to move as if you're reaching out to someone right next to you. An easy enough task, right?
[ Audible tones grow faint partway through with every word, his immediate presence becoming nebulous, something meant to impart uncertainty and a lapse of cognizance. If Haru decides to follow through, Goro will be seated on the aforementioned chair -- legs crossed with his hands resting on his lap. His head is turned towards her though -- wary and curiously observant.
An awful little thought blossoms: did it even matter if she knew? Would anyone believe her anyway? ]
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She can't help the soft, quiet sigh escaping her lips as she clutches onto her sweater. That line of questioning hadn't worked - and she should've known. Idle gossip and classroom chatter was beneath him, or at least something he pretended was beneath him. Worse, all of her interrogation methods come from TV, and from listening to Mako-chan rant whenever they watch increasingly inane - and apparently inaccurate - procedural dramas. She lacks the knowledge to interrogate someone, let alone drag out that one nugget of information she so desperately wants.
Whatever line she would've chosen next is forgotten at the sound of that tapping, and she flinches, redirecting her focus exactly where he wants them. He's standing in front of her, yet she has to simply touch the space next to her? Not in front? ]
Oh, you're fine. If that's all you require of me for the time being... [ he's not fine, but he's set the tempo, and she's going to lean into that tempo and power through. A real lady would oblige his request, right? She lets go of her sweater, steeling herself for any potential impact or recoil as she extends her arm towards the seat beside her. ] Here goes -
[ She expects to feel nothing. At most, empty air she can bat away, yet, in the blink of an eye, Akechi-kun's moved to that very same seat.
If he only needs his mind to predict the future, then he shouldn't be able to hide his presence like this in plain sight. It's a clever trick; one she wishes she had, when she wants to escape her mandated social outings and grand balls. Intangibility? Invisibility? Some weird combination of the two? Haru twists her lips in confusion, pulling back only so that she doesn't touch his hair, or worse, his face, by accident.
She's never been this close to him, let alone any of their male classmates, before. It's a weird realization, one that makes her breath hitch with uncertainty. ]
Strange. [ she furrows her brow, ] But you did that vanishing trick again. Like it was all one big illusion...
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Goro settles into view of his own accord, again, doesn't flinch out of his seat at that instant discovery; he stays put without much of a slouch in his posture, though his knuckles blanch as his grip tightens around his own hand. Not the reaction he was expecting; the utter absence of mind games, gradually exposed pretense of a guileless conduct, and that final offering of a deal grudgingly struck never did sit right. It's odd being on the opposite end of something awfully ingenuous, without the tell-tale signs of orchestrated blackmail. Suspicious, even then. ]
Aren't we all to a certain degree?
[ "Illusions", multi-faceted like they are all born to be, with a medley of aspects to showcase and adjust to their personal liking. There isn't a need for an elaboration either way; they're one of the few school mysteries, up there with the supposed ghost sightings around the city block. Neither of them made much of an effort to deny or affirm progressing gossip. But, small talk isn't the purpose behind his abrupt reveal, all that resistance coming to naught -- because Goro Akechi will always create his own end in little increments, if not in full. ]
I didn't like the way you made me feel back then. [ The projected sedation of heightened nerves, always remembering in his festering anger what has become of his mother, his life that went downhill since her passing. ]
But I don't suppose you're inclined to share the extent of your quirk with me. Perhaps this is satisfactory enough for the both of us. So let's cut to the chase, Okumura-san. What is it that you want?
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Yet he might just be the first person in a long, long time who's asked her what she wants - even if it's the context of the information she seeks. (No one ever asks. Not even for mundane things. Her wants and needs have always been answered for her, rather than something she has had any agency whatsoever over.)
So she stares back at him, blinking back surprise and trying to regain what remains of her composure. Haru's never been able to hide, not even for a moment, but right now - she kind of wishes she could turn invisible. She can't even manipulate her empathy right. ]
I'm sorry. About the way I made you feel, I mean. [ Because she's not sorry about forcing the truth out of him. ] I just... I want to know what you were doing in Father's office yesterday.
[ No point in dancing around the subject anymore. Haru lays out her last card, shrugging her shoulders in defeat. ]
That's all. Nothing more, nothing less.
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... I've a feeling that you've an inkling as to why anyone would brave through innumerable security measures to reach the heart of your father's office. Unless you're not particularly privy of your father's activities from behind the scenes?
[ During that brief interim of quiet, the chair is returned to its appropriate desk. This time, Goro doesn't take another seat upon an unmoved, nearby one; his back is against the wall now, arms loosely crossed, distance renewed; watchful eyes are steel and vigilant on the classroom doors every now and then, though at this point, even far beyond the dialogue they'll share today, she has his undivided attention. ]
Your family name has quite the social standing in this country... but it hasn't always been that way, has it?
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Maybe it's because he questions the illegality of her father's funds, let alone the oddity of his rise through the ranks - or maybe it's because she can't discern his feelings. Whatever it is, she can at least tell that their paths will intersect for a while to come (and not just because they were classmates). ]
No, it hasn't. It's only been in the last few years that Okumura Foods has gained its status and reputation...
[ She tip-toes around her father's activities - for one thing, she doesn't know the specifics. Father's been too careful to give her plausible deniability (and even she can't ignore how his secrecy must've been to protect her). For another, even if Akechi-kun's confirmed her suspicions, she isn't in a position to hand over Father's secrets. Those, one would have to pry over her father's cold body. ]
That said, it has been a family business for generations. Grandfather's vision was, ah, different from what Father created, and in turn... [ she hesitates, before going ahead and saying so - ] I suppose mine will be something else entirely.
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Something else entirely that will exceed those who have come before you, I assume? It's been said once before [ ... by a philosopher, no less; paraphrased by yours truly, Goro Akechi. ] that the past can be perceived as a voluminous outline, summarizing the errors of mankind that will instruct those in the future to avoid what has already been done before, along with the personalized downfall it might bring. Results may as well vary, still. People, as a whole, are not so linear, after all.
[ Another archived thought will argue that the past's circumstances are peculiar, uniquely its own, to the point where humanity may only learn if certain cues and conditions are directly involved with them and nothing more. But, Akechi silences the thought, cynical and scoffing, leaving the cheeky delivery as is: somewhat hopeful, even in its glum reality.
Haru's unease is clear; because the topic orbited her father or she's the expected confidant to Kunikazu's business affairs -- he wasn't sure. If it was the former -- well. Time will certainly tell how Goro will react to their shared likeness. Until then, it's not reassurance he provides regardless of how he does it well, overlooking the self-contained disquiet held within the girl; it's -- ]
Well, I'm sure this scenario wasn't staged just to finalize it with a paraphrased lecture. What I've shown you has answered a number of your questions... I can only hope that may be the case, at least. The knowledge I've unveiled to you debunks the circulating rumors of my supposed omnipresence and autonomy in how I go about my investigations. There's one mystery left unsolved between you and I, however...
[ -- the prelude of a bargain, a bluff, most likely. ]
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Haru never understood how the two - her safety and the business's unethical profit - were hand-in-hand, but she couldn't fight her father. Her dream was more humble: a local cafe, with employees who want to be there and who want to support her, and with a menu that everyone loves. A welcoming, comforting atmosphere, and as many flowers as the eye could see.
True, she could open it right now, as one of her Father's vanity projects, but then the world wouldn't take her seriously. She needed to study, to understand how successful cafes operated and maintained both profits and loyalty - and, she supposes, to take advice like Akechi-kun's to heart. The past informs the present, and in turn, the present informs the future.
Yet when he brings up the last lingering mystery, she intertwines her fingers, forcing herself to sit straight. She can't show weakness, even as she's both curious and hesitant. ]
Really? [ she's stumped, but also willing to hear him out - ] And what mystery would that be, Akechi-kun?
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It's rare to encounter anyone who considers it odd. Perhaps you're one of those few exceptions. [ At long last, Goro moves: he fetches his bag, tugging at the laptop sheltered within. Booted up, accompanied by a few taps across the keyboard, an opened browser window afterward -- he sets the item down carefully atop her desk, presenting a news article near the start of his lawful career. ]
You're free to look around beyond what's shown to you, Okumura-san.
[ And if Haru chooses to do so, she'll find that the comment sections in particular are littered with stupefied bafflement; each editorial piece held an audience that referenced deja vu or difficulty recalling that someone like Goro Akechi has ever existed. It begins to wane if she edges closer towards the more recent column, an implication that he began to establish better control over his Quirk or he's just toying with the populace to better recognize the extent of his own capabilities. Even then, there's always that one wayward reply that held residual reminders of being so easily forgotten. ]
Physical contact isn't the end-all for Quirks like mine. It's an obstacle, but hardly a detrimental one. Sensei, on the other hand... [ He won't elaborate regardless of the harmless, amused lilt. Haru will piece it together eventually or she's already well aware of it; their teacher and his poor, newly found severely dry eyes -- the moment he steps out of that classroom door, it's like Akechi readily decides that he's not in the mood to receive the attention of their fellow peers, blathering on about being classmates with a celebrity; he ceases to "exist" in their memory, up until their teacher walks back in, languidly relaxed, tired gaze, somewhat irritated, pointed right at him in regular intervals. ]
I appreciate your approach to an uncanny situation like this, Okumura-san. It's earnest and refreshingly upfront. That's why I'd like to return the favor and honor your efforts. The alternative wouldn't be very pleasant, and I'm sure you wouldn't be appreciative of secretive tactics being used against you, so...
[ Snooping around behind her back, discovering more than what he ought to. Moving on, though: ]
Shall I make an educated guess? The reason why you remember that I was ever there at all.
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She can't say she's hitting the target either, but she peers at his laptop, skimming the article with curiosity. Even though Akechi's given her permission, Haru still glances back at him before she moves on - ] Is this okay?
[ she waits for an yes, or something in the affirmative, before diving further, keeping two fingers close to the trackpad and trying her best to stay exactly on the news site. Some of these editors, like a certain Agnes Joubert from Heroes TV, sure have Opinions, and others are simply baffled. She can't blame them. Their own class is baffled, and class 3-A has had the pleasure of working and studying alongside him for the past two years!
At the mention of poor Sensei, Haru laughs, her concentration broken as she shoots a small smile at him. Time after time, she's seen it - complete with Aizawa-sensei's grumbling - and she still has no idea how Akechi manages it. Yet Sensei hasn't threatened to expel him, so he's probably in the clear?
She turns her entire body towards him once she's finished, choosing to face him head-on, and folds her hands in her lap. Once again, Haru's an open book: she wears her heart on her sleeve and uses her powers to ease people. Her father, on the other hand, has more than a few padlocks rattling around, and she'd rather not have prying hands force them open. So she acquiesces. ]
Fair enough. I appreciate your discretion, Akechi-kun. [ she doesn't, but she doesn't seem to have a choice. ] As to that educated guess... I don't see why not. I wouldn't make heads or tails of it on my own.
no subject
I've conjectures and nothing more, unfortunately. Aside from the obvious case, [ of Aizawa,those of similar or more lethal Quirks. ] it's a first that someone was able to retain memories of my being around after a disagreeable encounter. Even at the flip side of that outcome, it isn't much of a feat to evade their attention and cognition if they've thought to seek me out, much like you have.
[ No malice. Goro recites every line like he's reading off of an academic page. Hardly monotonous, still; there's an occasional lilt marking his undisclosed puzzlement. ]
There's a particular schema that I can go off of... After all, they do say that emotions strongly influences how we all remember certain events throughout our lives.
[ And if this is a cue for Haru to out her own Quirk -- well, he isn't holding his breath. But if she'd like to carry on with a tidbit of her own... ]
no subject
Haru exhales, allowing herself some momentary relief. She had planned to tell him earlier, back when she had said that her quirk required touch, literal skin-to-skin contact, for anything to unfold. Despite that, however, she refused to wear gloves. She told herself she would power through; long sweaters and tights would be enough. Clearly it hadn't, given that she's with Akechi discussing her quirk, but the thought had been nice.
Most people didn't pay her much attention, and she liked the feel of metal keys, of their wooden desks, of even pencils held between her fingers to think about additional fabric to separate her from the world.
But he had suggested a curious theory, and like a naive kitten, Haru would tug on those strings until something unravels.
She nods, her expression softening: ] Right. My quirk is all about empathy - about feeling what a person does every time I touch them. Like a living lie detector, I guess? I can demonstrate it again, but if what you experienced yesterday is a first...
[ a dangerous first, given his line of work. No wonder he had been spooked...
Of course, she holds back on some aspects: namely, manipulation, and the few times she had managed to lessen someone's pain through sheer willpower. Haru can't control those. It wouldn't make sense to bring them up, unless again, he had already suspected such a thing. ]
Then I suspect that it may be for the best to hold back for the time being.