I shuffled down the aisle of the bus, earbuds already halfway to my ears. The lab and the executive buffet had been the only redeeming quality of this field trip, and now all I wanted was ninety minutes of music and silence on the ride back. My head was still thinking about the bio-engineering lab. Cross-species genetic integration. The Quirk Genome. If Oscorp could isolate the markers that allowed humans to manifest powers...
A shadow fell across me just as I settled into my window seat. I looked up.
Saki Ōtsuki stood in the aisle, one hand resting on the back of the empty seat beside me. Her glossy brown hair was tucked behind one ear, and her mouth curved into a small, determined smile.
"Is this seat taken?" she asked.
Before I could even form an answer, she was already sitting down, her school bag tucked neatly between her feet. Across the aisle, her friends huddled together like a Greek chorus, whispering behind their hands. Their eyes darted between us, wide with undisguised fascination.
I slipped the earbuds back into my pocket. So much for peace and quiet.
"Thanks again for agreeing to help me with English," she said, smoothing her skirt over her knees. "I'm serious about improving. Mr. Hayakawa says my grammar is 'criminally negligent.'"
"Sounds like Hayakawa," I said.
"So, about that studying," Saki continued. "My weekends are pretty open. We could meet at that library near Tatooin station? The one with the café on the first floor?"
What is happening right now? I thought, maintaining a neutral expression while my mind raced. This has to be a joke. Or a dare. "Hey Saki, bet you can't get the weird, Quirkless kid to talk!" That would make sense. Nobody willingly seeks me out twice in one day. Not in this school.
"Saturday might work," I said. "Morning is better."
"Perfect!" She beamed. "I was hoping you'd say morning. I have this thing with my parents in the evening, and—"
Her voice suddenly sounded very far away.
A wave of nausea rolled through me, sudden and intense. The afternoon sunlight streaming through the window became painfully bright, each golden ray stabbing directly into my retinas. I felt a cold film of sweat break out across my forehead.
"—don't mind walking from the station, right?" Saki was saying.
I blinked hard. Forced myself to focus on her face.
"Sorry, what?"
"The walk from the station," she repeated. "It's about ten minutes. Is that okay?"
"Yeah. Fine." I swallowed against the nausea. "Ten minutes is nothing."
Saki tilted her head slightly. "You know, I was surprised when you offered to help me. You always seem so..." She searched for the right word.
"Antisocial?" I suggested.
She laughed. "I was going to say independent. You never seem to need anyone."
The bus engine rumbled to life. Another wave of nausea washed over me as we pulled away from the curb. I tried to look casual as I pressed my forehead against the cool glass of the window.
"I'm not exactly a people person," I said, closing my eyes for a moment. The darkness helped, but only a little.
"That's not a bad thing," Saki said. "Most people talk way too much anyway."
I forced my eyes open and managed what I hoped was a casual half-smile. "Including you right now?"
She looked surprised for a second, then grinned. "Exactly! See? You get it."
She pulled a sleek, expensive-looking tablet from her bag and held it up. "Anyway, I'll stop bothering you. I have some reading to catch up on."
"You're not bothering me."
Her smile widened. "Good to know." She put in her earbuds and turned her attention to her tablet.
I leaned back in my seat, grateful for the reprieve. Something was definitely wrong with me. The headache that had been a dull throb behind my eyes was spreading, wrapping tendrils of pain around my entire skull. Every bump in the road sent a jolt of discomfort through my joints.
The spot on the back of my neck where the pin had pricked me felt hot, almost burning. I reached up and rubbed it, trying to be subtle. My fingers came away dry, but the area was tender, the skin tight and warm to the touch.
Definitely coming down with something. No patrol tonight. Just sleep.
I put in one earbud—the one farther from Saki—and pressed play on my music app. The bass that normally soothed me now felt like someone was using my eardrums as a punching bag. I yanked the earbud out with a wince.
The bus rumbled on, and my condition steadily worsened. Someone three rows ahead was wearing perfume that suddenly seemed to fill the entire bus with a cloying, chemical sweetness. I could hear a wrapper crinkling somewhere behind me, the sound impossibly loud and grating.
My mouth went dry. My skin felt too tight, like I'd outgrown it overnight.
Just the flu. A really, really bad flu.
By the time we passed the halfway point back to Aldera, I was struggling to keep my breathing even. The shifting patterns of light and dark made my stomach roll.
Saki seemed absorbed in whatever she was reading, occasionally swiping to the next page with a delicate flick of her finger. I was grateful for her distraction. The last thing I needed was for her to notice how rapidly my condition was deteriorating.
I closed my eyes again, focusing on staying upright. My muscles ached with a deep, flu-like pain. My thoughts scattered and reformed like clouds in a storm.
Maybe food poisoning? That salmon at the buffet...
No, everyone ate the same food. Nobody else seemed sick.
Maybe I'm allergic to something in the bio-engineering lab? Some chemical or pollen from those weird plants?
Possible, but unlikely. The Oscorp labs were sterile environments, designed to prevent exactly that kind of cross-contamination.
Then what? What's happening to me?
Finally, we reached the school. The students around us stirred, gathering their belongings, chattering excitedly about the field trip. Their voices scraped against my eardrums like sandpaper.
I stood up too quickly. A wave of vertigo hit me so hard I had to grab the seat in front of me to keep from falling over.
Saki looked up, her brown eyes widening with concern. "Midoriya-san? Are you okay? You look pale."
"I'm fine," I lied, my voice coming out rougher than I intended. "Just tired."
She didn't look convinced, but I didn't give her time to press further. I nodded curtly and moved past her into the aisle, joining the shuffling line of students making their way toward the exit.
The cool air hit my face as I stepped off the bus. It should have been refreshing. Instead, it felt like ice against my feverish skin.
I needed to get home. Now.
The familiar walk from Aldera to my apartment had never seemed so long. Each step required conscious effort, like wading through invisible molasses.
My vision kept blurring at the edges. The world around me felt too loud, too bright, too everything. A car passed by, and the sound of its engine was so overwhelming I nearly doubled over.
I kept my head down, focusing on the cracks in the sidewalk. One foot in front of the other. Don't stop. Don't look up. Just get home.
By the time I reached my apartment building, my shirt was soaked through with sweat. I stumbled into the elevator, leaned against the wall, and closed my eyes as it carried me up to our floor.
The short walk from the elevator to our apartment door felt endless. I fumbled with my keys, my hands shaking so badly I could barely fit them into the lock. After what seemed like hours, the door finally swung open.
I staggered inside, dropping my bag with a heavy thud.
"I'm... home..." I managed to call out, my voice barely above a whisper.
My mother's voice floated from the kitchen. "Welcome back! How was the field trip? Did you see those fancy labs everyone talks about?"
I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came. The room tilted suddenly, the floor rushing up to meet me.
I caught myself against the wall, barely. My vision swam. Black spots danced across my eyes.
Make it to your room. Don't let her see you like this. She'll panic.
I forced myself upright through sheer will. "It was fine," I called back, each word an effort. "Tired though. Gonna lie down."
"Are you hungry? I can bring you something—"
"No. Thanks. Just need sleep."
I dragged myself down the hallway, one hand trailing along the wall for support. My room seemed miles away. When I finally reached it, I practically fell through the doorway, kicking it shut behind me.
The room spun around me like a carnival ride. I collapsed onto my bed, not bothering to take off my uniform. The sheets felt like sandpaper against my hypersensitive skin.
My last coherent thought before the darkness claimed me was oddly detached, analytical even in my delirium:
This isn't the flu. This isn't food poisoning. This is something else entirely.