Arata thought, going to security could help them find some answers about the creep she met in the restroom. However, it backfires and ends up raising a lot of other questions.
"Look at this screen right here." the CCTV operator taps the monitor in front of him, its light illuminating his goggles, as he fast-forwards the running clip. "See? The janitor entered the restroom, and the first person who passed the CCTV again was the one that reported the janitor's collapse earlier."
The screen flickers and displays an empty, silent hallway. Arata gawks at the screen, searching for the unseen blurs of her—Shoto's—maroon hoodie and the demonic creep. Although the operator has played the footage back to them for the second time, she still can't find traces of her encounter with the creep.
It's like... both I and that creep had never been there... Like, it was merely a figment of my imagination... How come?
"Can I check the time of the footage?" Shoto inquires, then nods when the time appears on the screen. "It seems correct."
"Between those two times, no one else was recorded by the CCTV. Makes sense, because most people were still in the stadium for I-Speed's winner announcement."
"Is it possible that the CCTV's... broken or something like that?" Arata frowns.
"If it's broken, it wouldn't show anything, only a blank screen," the operator snorts, then nods to a piece of paper. "You don't have any footage to base your report on, but I've listed the characteristics of the creep you're reporting. Early 40s, yellow eyes, purple hair, ram's horns, and bat's wings, right? I'll see what I can do. Not sure if the report can be processed without any supporting evidence, though."
"Should we, um, check it with the other security room?" Arata insists, her expression smeared with utter confusion. "I mean, the one closer to the restroom. Maybe, they have the right clips."
"You can try, but it won't be any different, though." the man shrugs, shifting the placement of goggles sitting on his nose. "The security system here is centralized. We're all drawing from the same storage and control."
"Oh..."
"You might have walked into another location without remembering. Are you sure you were really at the west restroom?"
It is probably just his tone or the way he says it, but at that time, a shudder crawls up Arata's spine. After a considerable pause, she opens her mouth to answer. Her voice is yet to come out when Shoto suddenly speaks up.
"She's not sure," he cuts off curtly, then reaches for her right elbow. "Thank you for your help. We're taking our leave now."
Pain and chills shoot up her arm even if his grip is nowhere tight enough to hurt. Arata hisses when he pushes her in front of him, practically shoving her to the door, "Shoto-san! But, I was certain that—"
"Later, Ara," Shoto replies under his breath, tone dead serious and voice so low that only she can hear it. His gaze doesn't leave the operator even for a second. "Let's get out of here first."
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Shoto doesn't stop until they set foot on the exit. By the time they get out from I-Speed, Shoto finally releases his clasp on her and his pace slows down.
"What was that?" Arata can't help but glare at him, her hand rubbing along her right arm. "Did you think... I was lying? Because the footage didn't match?"
"No, I believe you. It's precisely why we had to get out."
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"I realized that the security might have been compromised," Shoto elaborates when Arata shoots him a confused look. "If what you were saying is true, it means that someone has tampered with the footage. You know, to make it seem like no one entered the restroom during that period."
"So, you mean, the demon might have replaced that clip?"
"It could be him. It also could be an accomplice. For example, a hacker or a security guy."
"Oh... It can't be that operator, right?"
"It's hard to know for sure, but we should be careful. We'd better come back to it with an adult later."
"Now I understand." Arata lets out a sigh and kicks a pebble on the pavement. "Sorry for not realizing sooner."
"You have nothing to apologize for," Shoto mutters, tone somber, as he looks at his own right hand. "If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have left the race and met that creep. This would have never happened."
"Shoto-san..." Arata winces, aware that he is recalling her frightened response to his white hair and ice. "It's not your fault. My reaction was too... extreme. I'm the one who should apologize."
"I'm sorry," Shoto exhales, combing his mismatched hair with one hand. "I knew you have cryophobia, yet I still did it. I just didn't know what else I could do to prevent you from getting hurt at that time. Ironically, my ice did the most damage. I shouldn't have done it."
"Don't put all the blame on yourself. It was the right decision." Her fingers pull the maroon sleeve up her right arm. Underneath is a spreading purple on her pale skin, with sporadic bluish blotches here and there. "Look. If you hadn't done it, my arm probably could be fractured right now."
When he only stares at her bruise intently with an indescribable look on his face, she only grimaces and casts a self-deprecating grin. "It's ugly, I know. At least the bones inside are intact."
"No, it's not that," he mumbles, sounding uncharacteristically uncertain. "I'm just wondering why whenever I'm involved, people's hands get messed up... Am I really a hand crusher? Is it a curse?"
"Are you… superstitious, Shoto-san?"
"No, but it has happened a few times. The first is Midoriya, then Iida. Now, it's you, Ara."
"Hmm, really? In my opinion, this time you're the opposite of a hand crusher. I'd say you'd saved it."
"Maybe." he scrutinizes her bruised arm once more, frowning at the discolored blemishes. "It looks painful, though. Do you want to get it checked?"
"Um, no. I don't think it's necessary. It's not that bad, Shoto-san. My arm's just strained or sprained at worst."
"If so, let me do it. I can check it for you."
"There's no need." Arata steps back as his right hand reaches for hers. He wonders if it is coincidental or intentional. "I can move it just fine, see? It only hurts a bit when I move it, nothing big."
Arata slides the sleeve down and smiles at him, but Shoto notices that her gaze direction is a little off. I see, his heart clenches involuntarily as her green eyes stray away from his white hair. I should have known that there's no way it can be brushed off just like that.
I should have realized in the first place. She was also shivering during the whole trip from the security room to the exit. I thought it was the pain from her injury, but... was it actually because I was holding her arm with my right hand?
"You don't want me near you." As much as Shoto intends to keep his hurt down, it slips through the cracks in his voice. Even more so because he knows he hits the nail on the head. "You're scared of me."
Arata's smile falters immediately. "N— No, you're wrong!"
Who is she trying to deceive? Words mean nothing in front of actions. Reassurance is pointless when reality doesn't match. He can see the way fear colors her gestures when she looks at him. He can hear it in the slight rasp in her voice. There is a dissimilar pattern in her behavior, and he can sense it.
Shoto is not a fool. Her trying to cover it up with a lie only rubs salt into the wound. It merely shows him that his guess isn't off. Arata is indeed scared of his white hair and ice—of *him—*and it stings. Even more so because he can't do anything to fix it. Even more so because she tried to falsely spare his feelings. With an obvious lie she can't back up.
"Then, look at me. Look at my right side," Shoto challenges her and takes a step closer. From this distance, he can see even the tiniest shift in her expression. Including the tremble she has been trying to keep hidden the minute her gaze lands on his white hair and averts once more.
What are you seeing, Ara? Are you seeing snow burst and collapsed in on you every time you see white? Or is it the freezing coldness you feel on your skin?
"You can't, can you?"
"Shoto-san, I—"
"Don't even try to deny it, Ara. We both know it's true."
"I... I..." Arata droops and kneads the seams of her maroon hoodie, as though she could squeeze out an answer from it. One that can erase the sadness from Shoto's expression. Or one that can strip her from her fear. But, what can she do except apologize? "I'm sorry, Shoto-san... I'm very sorry..."
"I don't want you to be sorry. I just wish... you aren't afraid of me." Turning away, he pauses a little before he forces himself to resume his words, "I know these things require process. I... understand. So, take all the time you need."
It doesn't make it less painful, though. To have her see him like she expects him to freeze her. To know that he has hurt her even though he didn't mean to. But, what can he do except wait? This is a matter only time can heal. But, perhaps, even time can't.
"..."
Glancing at the guilt-ridden girl over his shoulder, Shoto ruffles his own hair and takes a deep breath. "Let's just go back and get ready. Iida and the other 1-A students agreed to attend the welcome party together, so we can't be late. And while we're at it, maybe we can ask All Might to accompany us to the security one more time afterwards."
"... Okay..."
They haven't taken more than three steps when he senses a weak tug on his clothes from behind, stopping him on his track. Then, something small and soft envelopes around his right hand, hanging gingerly along his fingers. The touch is not rid of shivers and far from firm, but it stays there like the warm, orange sunlight on his skin.
"Are you aware that this is my right hand?"
"Um, yeah..."
"Ice can come out from it."
"Well, it's your Half-Cold side, Shoto-san."
"Then, why?" Shoto raises his eyebrows at their joint hands. "Aren't you afraid of me, Ara?"
"I am," Arata admits in a low murmur. Her cheeks glow delicate pink as she averts her gaze away. "But, I'm more afraid of, um, not having you in my life... I mean— I still wanna be your friend... So, please don't leave..."
"I'm not going away just because you're afraid of me."
"I know, but I'm— I'm not letting you carry all the burden." Trying to suppress her shudder even if it's futile, Arata closes her eyes, re-opens them, and breathes out gently. "It's true that I'm afraid of you, Shoto-san, but I'll reach out. I'll try... For you."
It's weird, Shoto thinks as he stares at her bashful expression under the maroon hood. Nothing actually changes from before. Arata is still scared of him, and he can't do anything about it. Yet, with her small hand gently wrapped around his, he feels as if the throbbing in his chest has been lifted and replaced with a blooming warmth.
Arata mumbles something again. This time, his ears don't manage to catch it because she speaks so faintly. "What did you say, Ara?"
Under the veil of the soft evening light, the rosiness in her face deepens as she repeats her words in a low, shy voice, "Um, besides, your hand is warm... and— and it's for comfort, remember?"
Shoto allows an invisible force to tug the corners of his lips upward, then finally weaves his fingers between hers. Intertwining their hands in a firm hold as they serenely walk back.
"Not cold, right?" he asks and gives her a little squeeze.
"... I've just told you that it's warm, Shoto-san..."
"Just making sure." A chuckle slips out from his mouth when Arata rolls her eyes and squeezes back. "Your hand is warm too, Ara."
Maybe, Arata steals a glance at his content expression, grey-cyan eyes basked in the glory of sundown, it's for glimpses of warmth like this, that sometimes I have to endure the cold.