Fly High, Burn Bright

Chapter 38

It had taken me almost two long hours to finish writing everything down, but I made sure to take note of even the smallest details. By the time I was done, I'd filled out around a dozen pages worth of valuable notes that contained everything from the approximate number of villains that the League consisted of to the fact that there were eleven other heroes that were in the situation as me. I even went as far as to write down theories or names of heroes that could potentially be swayed to the other side, trying to focus on the ones that I knew to be particularly cunning or reckless, but it had taken me forever to make even the smallest amount of progress. 

It wasn't that I intentionally wanted to be suspicious of everyone around me, but I racked my brain for information on anyone that I'd worked with in my short span of being a hero, their every single trait burned into my memory as my hands flew over the paper, leaving rushed words on the once-blank pages. I couldn't think of any other hero that got quite as much hate from the public as I did, but then again, maybe I was just overreacting, and getting yelled at by thousands of people that instead of reaching my goal, I'd become the exact opposite wasn't that bad. I ended out with around twenty names of heroes that I'd personally think I had a chance of changing into a villain, and wrote down as much information on them as I could. 

Once every last detail was transferred from my mind and onto the paper, including a few pages specifically on the things I learned about Dabi, I gave myself a short break that lasted for a few minutes before filling out the first few pages of the notebook with grocery lists and bills. That way, if the wrong person accidentally found it, they'd get bored within the first pages and wouldn't think to read further, and my precious information wouldn't have to be exposed. I shuddered slightly as I thought of what would happen if the information got out - Dabi would know that it was my fault, even if I hadn't told anyone, and Keigo would be the one to pay. 

Despite the fact that I was still angry at him, the cramp in my hand and the long, straining hours drew out some of the emotion, and distracted me from the rumors that started to swirl all around me. Once the last bit of intel was written down, I dragged myself to the bookshelf once again, and slid the notebook into it. It wasn't like Keigo would ever actually touch a book unless I asked him to, and I couldn't even remember the last time he willingly picked up a notebook to write something down, so I should be fine. Besides, it would've been more suspicious if I went to extreme lengths to just hide a simple notebook. I stepped back, more than pleased that it blended in with everything else.

Would you look at that, I thought to myself as I tried to shake the cramp out of my hands. I'm writing down names of heroes and all of their flaws. I'm just as bad as the public now, aren't I?  A broken chuckle left my lips, and I walked to the kitchen, grabbing a cup of ramen and heating up some water. I guess Dabi's succeeding in turning me against everyone. If I'm not careful, I really will end up as a traitor soon. The water came to a boil, and I poured it into the paper cup, covering it with the paper lid to keep the heat in. No, I'm not a traitor. I'm doing what's necessary to get more information. I won't turn my back on what I worked so hard for  just because of some threats and hate. I'll just keep an eye on the others, and try to steer them in the right direction if I see them start to cave.

Three minutes passed. I took the lid off and poured in the spices, mixing everything with a pair of chopsticks before quickly eating. It felt strange. It was almost four in the afternoon by now, and yet, here I was, sitting at home on a week day instead of being out on the streets chasing criminals. With nothing better to do now that my only plan was completed, I pulled up a random movie and tried my best to pay attention to it, but my mind kept wandering, so by the time the credits were rolling, all I remembered was the movie had something about detectives with weird abilities, and a boy that could turn into a tiger. Needless to say, it was a very confusing experience, to say the least, and instead of suffering through another movie, I decided to tidy up the apartment instead.

Niko had sent me home so that I could rest and catch up on some much-needed sleep, but I just couldn't stay still. The caffeine rush had already faded, but even without it, my mind was running almost too fast for me to keep up, and I knew there'd be no way I'd be able  to just turn it off or put it on pause. My thoughts kept racing and swirling in my head until they were a jumbled hurricane that no longer made any sense, and I so desperately wanted to tell someone about them, but I knew I couldn't. In the time I had left before Keigo came back, I managed to clean up the mess that the kitchen became,  washing away every stray crumb or stain that came from spilled coffee or Keigo being too messy to eat properly, and by the time I was done, the room was spotless. 

I went on to the office, organizing the endless stacks of paper to keep them from overflowing and crowding the desk. A few stray sticky notes and papers lay in random corners, and I gathered them up, reading over them to make sure they weren't important before throwing them away. One had caught my eye - it wasn't anything special, just a date and time written down, but if my memory served correctly, that day, Keigo had been at another one of his meetings. I couldn't quite place the handwriting even though I knew it looked familiar, and something about the fact that the note didn't have the usual formal tone of the papers that the agency issued to us made me a little uncomfortable.

Still, I tried to ignore it, and I tucked the sheet, along with a few others, into a spare folder. I'll get Keigo to read over them later, I decided, so that I don't accidentally throw out something useful. I froze in my tracks. Oh, right. Keigo. Maybe I shouldn't, actually. I think it'll be better if I give myself some space from him for now. I'm sure he didn't mean anything in that interview, but still... It's probably best if I avoid him for now, until I learn more about those rumors. With a sigh, I crumpled an old report into a ball and tossed it into the recycling bin, now aware of how awkward it'd be to be next to Keigo. He didn't know I knew about the rumors - he'd told me to stay away from the media, after all, so I'd have to act as if nothing was wrong.

My body ached and my mind rang with pounding thoughts, but I grabbed a book and did my best to read it, even though the words seemed to swim on the page, but I didn't know if it was because the sleep deprivation was catching up to me, or because my thoughts were too busy occupying my mind. When I heard the jiggle of a key in the lock, my hand immediately flew to where my belt usually was, and only after a few seconds did I realize that my knives weren't on me, and that it was just Keigo. He pushed into the apartment, grumbling about how much work he had today, and immediately stepped into the living room to give me a kiss on the forehead, without even taking off his shoes first. 

I tried to grumble back, and I tried to stay mad at him, but he was like an overgrown puppy as he flopped onto the couch beside me, putting his head on my lap and folding his wings in an attempt to get more comfortable. Any resolve I had crumbled, and I sighed, putting away my book to play with Keigo's hair instead. He ranted about how tiring the League made it for him, and how he just wanted to be able to relax for once, and I listened calmly, my fingers tracing circles back and forth through his blond locks. He's hiding things from you, my rational side screamed at me. And I'm hiding things from him, I yelled back. Still, with him complaining to me the same way he'd done when we were kids, I could pretend for a brief second that everything was fine.