Aero (a BNHA OC story)

Chapter 5

...

In the stillness of the changing room, Kenzo stood motionless, his thoughts swirling like a tempest within him. The events of the fight had left an indelible mark on his psyche, shaking him to his very core.

He couldn't bring himself to change, nor could he face the prospect of a shower. The echoes of that near-fatal decision reverberated in his mind. He had let his emotions override his judgement, teetering on the precipice of crossing a line he had sworn never to breach again.

The most unsettling part was the crowd's reaction. The deafening cheers, the voracious appetite for violence—it had been a stark reminder of the darker desires that lurked within the spectators of the Thunder Pit.

As he stood there, Kenzo couldn't help but reflect on the vast distance he had travelled from being UA's golden boy. The contrast was stark, and he felt a bitter self-loathing clawing at him. The path he had chosen was one that veered sharply from the ideals he once held dear.

He knew he needed to stop before it was too late. The Thunder Pit was slowly eroding away the last part of his humanity. It was a harsh truth that he couldn't ignore any longer.

Staring at his reflection, Kenzo carefully examined the bruising left by Muscular's vicious attack. It was a grim reminder of how close he had come to disaster. He couldn't help but wonder how he would conceal these injuries in his standard delivery job uniform, if he chose to return to it.

But was that really the path he wanted to continue down?

As he mulled it over, the memory of Nezu's offer to teach at UA resurfaced. It was an intriguing possibility, one that didn't necessarily entail a return to heroism, but hinted at a destiny beyond the Thunder Pit's brutal confines.

Just as he began to weigh the options, the door swung open with a forceful thud, and Mr. G strode in, a broad smile stretching across his face. His gold tooth gleamed under the unforgiving light, adding a glint of extravagance to the otherwise utilitarian room.

Mr. G's entrance was accompanied by the click-clack of his shoes on the cold, unadorned floor. He looked at Kenzo, noting the conflicted expression on the fighter's face, and couldn't help but chuckle.

"Champion," Mr. G said with a hint of amusement, "you can't stay here forever in this state. You've got someone who wants to talk to you, and they won't appreciate meeting you in your current condition. So, wash up."

Kenzo's reluctance was palpable, but he knew better than to argue with his manager. He nodded and began to peel himself out of his bloodied and battered attire, his movements slow and deliberate. Despite the ache in his muscles and the bruises on his body, he understood that this meeting was important, and he needed to present himself in a more respectable manner.

After a thorough shower to wash away the remnants of the brutal battle, Kenzo dried himself off with a towel. He pulled on a simple black tank top and donned a pair of light grey sweatpants. His wavy blonde hair was damp but neatly tousled, and he gave it a final rub with the towel before he was satisfied. He slipped on his coat, readying himself to face the enigmatic guest who had requested to meet him.

As he left the changing room, a mixture of curiosity and reluctance churned within him. He had encountered his fair share of devoted, often eccentric, fans in the past, but there was something about this meeting that felt different. The Thunder Pit had introduced him to a world of unknowns, and he couldn't help but wonder what awaited him in Mr. G's VIP room.

With each step, Kenzo's anticipation and wariness danced a delicate waltz within him. The corridors of the Thunder Pit held their usual atmosphere of tension and subdued excitement, but today, it was tinged with an added layer of mystery.