Wilted Bloom

Shota stalked toward Maya, his footsteps deliberate and heavy with intent. Maya kept her gaze downcast, her eyes fixed on the scuffed floor beneath her feet. Her wings drooped behind her, the glow dimmed to a soft shimmer. She didn't need to see his face to know he was upset—she could feel it in the air around him, tense and crackling like a storm about to break.

She bit her lip, her hands trembling slightly as she clasped them in front of her. She knew she was in trouble. Using a quirk without a license, taking matters into her own hands—there was no getting around it. But as much as she wanted to explain herself, the words wouldn't come. The weight of Shota's approach bore down on her, silencing her completely.

When he reached her, she braced herself for the reprimand she knew was coming. But instead of yelling, he stopped in front of her and tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. Slowly, he reached out, his rough yet steady hand slipping beneath her chin. His touch was gentle, but firm enough to guide her face upward, forcing her to meet his eyes.

Her heart skipped a beat as she looked up into his dark, piercing gaze. There was no anger there—at least, not the kind she expected. Instead, there was something else. Concern. Worry. Something that made her chest tighten in ways she didn't quite understand.

Shota's eyes scanned her face, his thumb brushing lightly against her jaw as he checked for injuries. "Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice low and steady, the tone leaving no room for dishonesty.

Maya blinked, surprised by the question. She had expected anger, a lecture, maybe even disappointment. But this... this was different. She shook her head slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. "No... I'm fine."

His eyes flicked briefly to her wings, then back to her face. "You sure? You just fought off five villains and helped a room full of hostages. I'd say that's not exactly 'fine.'"

"I mean... I'm not hurt," she clarified, her voice trembling slightly. "I'm just... tired."

Shota studied her for a moment longer, his gaze softening slightly. He let his hand fall from her chin but didn't step back. Instead, he crossed his arms, his expression shifting into something more serious.

"Maya," he began, his tone quieter now but still firm, "do you have any idea what you just did?"

Her shoulders sagged, and she nodded. "I used a quirk without a license. I know that's illegal. I just... I couldn't stand by and do nothing. Not when they were hurting people. Hurting a child."

She paused, her voice trembling slightly as she continued. "Shota... my quirk... it just awakened. I didn't even know it was there. I—" She swallowed hard, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "I snapped. When he grabbed me, when I heard that child screaming... something inside me broke, and suddenly... all of this happened."

Shota's brow furrowed, his dark eyes narrowing as he studied her. He crossed his arms, the movement deliberate, as he waited in silence. His steady gaze felt like a weight pressing down on her, urging her to explain.

Maya took a shaky breath, her hands trembling slightly as she smoothed the front of her shirt. "It's... it's not the first time," she admitted, her voice low. "I had this quirk when I was a kid. But it's been dormant for years. My wings disappeared when I started hiding them."

"Hiding them?" Shota's tone wasn't accusatory, but it held a note of confusion.

She nodded, her wings drooping further as she continued. "When I was little, my hair was fully pink, and my quirk was... active. I didn't understand it, but I loved it. The wings, the connection to nature—it all felt so... me. But things changed."