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Toru was under no delusions that she was the smartest in the 1-A, that crown could stay with its rightful queen–and Bakugo could suck it–but she also knew everyone had their strengths, and everyone had their weaknesses. She thought she understood her own pretty well, and in the first few days of school, she liked to think she’d gathered at least some idea of how she measured up against her expectations; in the wake of the USJ attack, there were several things she was rapidly realizing.
The first: she was an awesome victim of a villain attack! And so were many of her classmates! (Were any of them friends yet? Toru thought maybe some of them were, of course Ojiro was, but she’d been wrong before.). Granted, she admitted, she hadn’t been stranded alone like Ojiro, or been in with the teachers and the big bads and suffered grievous injuries, but still! She’d had a villain encounter and that was undeniable. Plus, whether anyone said it or not, she knew Todoroki had been almost as dangerous to her as the villains.
(It wasn’t eavesdropping. If she overheard most of her classmates’ statements, it’s only because she has good ears and they spoke too loud. Shoji probably heard too.)
Her point, though! Toru probably deserved extra credit or something; sure, she’d been a bit on edge, a disturbing dream–or nightmare–but she was good at this! In the handful of days following the USJ, she’d talked to people and practiced self-care and, once she’d heard and seen everyone was recovering, felt a lot better about the sort-of-terrifying, definitely near-death experience. So, Toru figured she was handling the situation well, admirably even, a real plus ultra mindset if the school’s decision on proceeding with the Sports Festival was any indication.
Unfortunately, due to her not-eavesdropping on all the statements, Toru had a well-informed perspective of what happened at the USJ. Unnervingly comprehensive in some cases–thank you Todoroki and Midoriya. And far be it for her to jump to conclusions. She read enough miscommunication plots to not fall into that particular snake pit; however, lying in bed unable to sleep left an awful lot of time to think. Specifically, to wake up with her heart skipping in her chest, feet burning from the phantom burn of ice, and her imagination replacing her in the villains’ place, instead of avoiding the ice through recent rude experience, blind instinct, and capricious luck.
(Her second realization was that some of her classmates were insane and one of them was probably going to accidentally kill her if she–and they–didn’t wise up. In the meantime, she’d just admire 1-A’s ice prince from afar. With several people in between, and keep some breathing room from Bakugo too. Maybe Kaminari as well?)
Wrangling herself away from the edge of hyperventilation, lying cocooned in her fluffy blankets and plushest stuffed animals, she focused on the familiar sliver of streetlight scything through the gloom-shrouded walls of her bedroom. The student and teacher testimonies began to assemble themselves in her head. She wasn’t a conspiracy theorist, but in the uneasy jumble of her mind, she saw the strands of an implication woven throughout, gradually rising to the surface.
Her third realization, then, was that someone had given information from inside UA to the villains. (Toru was a little less certain of this, but. Well. She loved espionage and spy stories–came with the invisible territory–and she knew there was more than an astronomically lucky villain attack.). She heard what the villains told Todoroki (did it count if they were under duress?) and certainly, the others had reported hearing similar; a conspiracy made the most sense.
A week ago, the thought of possibly discovering–let alone being a part of–a conspiracy plot would’ve been straight from Toru’s dreams. A week ago, someone triggering UA’s alarm system would have confused her, but she wouldn't have suspected it as part of a suspected conspiracy. Now, on the far side of a villain attack, and all the injuries, the reality of the situation had extinguished the aura of exuberant excitement that’d pervaded Toru’s childhood fantasies. In its place, though, was steely determination.
Trying to kill All Might was horrifying, but he’d been in larger-than-life battles before and had always come through all right. (Toru wondered at her remembrance of how secure she’d felt in All Might’s ability to win; would people look on so unconcernedly of her when she went pro?). But those villains had made it personal, made it real–in a way it hadn’t wholly been–when they attacked her and the rest of 1-A.
For herself, for the naivety they’d all had so mercilessly stripped away, for the blood and tears that’d stained the ground of the USJ, and for the what-could’ve-beens, Toru knew she couldn’t let this go.
She didn’t have a combative quirk or aggressive personality, but she didn’t need one. Stealth and observation would serve her best, and for that, Toru would bet money she was the best in 1-A for this role. (Toru wondered if this was how Iida felt. Knowing he was most useful running for help? She knew this was how she could be most useful, but it twisted her stomach to acknowledge that she might be a better hero by remaining outside of the thick of things.)
Still, Toru wasn’t one for backing down, and she wouldn’t be here, either; besides, she comforted herself, just because information got out somehow didn’t mean it would involve her again. UA was investigating; the whole country knew that, and All Might taught more than just their class. If he was the target, their class was just, she grimaced, collateral.
(She promised herself, in that moment, that even if ‘collateral’ might be the correct terminology, she wouldn’t forget that collateral meant people. Real people who could get hurt, could die suffer, and could live with the consequences for the rest of their lives.)
Resolute, Toru decided. She’d be the super secret, just-in-case, UA spy. With that decision and an–admittedly ambiguous–course of action, Toru felt like some of the haunting powerlessness lifted. The shadows draped across her bedroom looked more insubstantial, less like they could topple and vanish her away without a trace.
Squirming a bit farther down her bed, stuffed animals pressing reassuringly against her, Toru closed her eyes, willing this less ominous version of her bedroom to remain, and for the sense of direction she’d found to keep the nightmares at bay. It was just a precautionary measure, Toru promised herself, just in case something were to be happening that the pros didn’t seem to know, maybe she would know, and could then let them know. A small, pessimistic side of her whispered this so-called ‘just-in-case’ was futile, a mere child’s pitiable attempt to seize a modicum of control in a world too big and frightening. (Toru told that voice to go to hell.)