Akira sat on a hospital bed, slumped up against the wall. He had managed to walk here from the arena floor, and a few quick injections from Nurse Neko took care of his minor injuries. Apparently, he had cracked a few ribs when he was hit by that last attack, but he didn't get any serious damage. According to the nurse, he was in better shape after his fight than just about any of the others had been. But he lost anyway.
Reaching over, he grabbed his shirt, a simple white v-neck, and pulled it over his head, covering what remained of the bruise on his chest. He doubted anyone would be interested in visiting him, but the thought of the possibility made his stomach churn. Rising to his feet, he slipped out of the small room. He glanced at his phone, noticing the battle underway between students from the two different classes. For two people so obnoxiously motivated, they both seemed to be holding back. Or maybe they were each just weaker than they seemed. Shrugging, he dropped his phone back into his pocket, making his way through the corridors to reach the stadium gift shop. He kept his eyes focused on the ground to avoid any unneeded attention, but even so, he heard whispers the entire way.
“How could someone so strong lose like that?”
“Did he throw the match because he was afraid of the finals?”
“You'd think with that kind of quirk he would know how to block.”
“No amount of power could stop those two from losing to stupid mistakes.”
“If I had a quirk like that, I'd do so much more.”
“What a waste.”
The words echoed around him, but he did everything he could to stop them from piercing past the surface. None of them understood the burden of power. He felt his jaw clench in anger, as his hands repeatedly balled into fists, knuckles cracking as he forced them to stretch back open. Just before he thought he would whip around explain to them all how wrong they were, he had arrived at the gift shop. Probably for the better.
He made a beeline to the sunglasses racks, only to find that they were inexplicably out of the generic style he preferred. Glancing through the windows of the gift shop, he saw various people wearing the sunglasses and black hoodies, apparently trying to emulate his appearance. They are fans of the wrong guy.
After short deliberation, he grabbed a somewhat goofy pair, with thick white oval-shaped frames, tilted inward. On his way to the counter, he picked up a simple hoodie, with UA’s logo on the back. These items were far from his personal sense of fashion, but they would have to make due.
The cashier rung him up, and just as he was about to pay, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Akira ignored it. A few seconds later, the attempt to gain his attention was repeated. Concluding that this person wouldn't leaving him alone no matter how much he ignored them, Akira looked back over his shoulder, refusing to move his feet toward the bother. In front of him, or, more accurately, behind him, stood what seemed to be a man in his thirties. He was a bit overweight, and wore the all-too-popular “Akira ensemble”.“Procyon! That fight was amazing! And the fact that you let the other guy win so that he could move forward was so noble!”
The man's delusion was almost enough to make Akira sick on the spot. “And that wing! What an awesome special attack! How did you even do that?”
This question was one Akira himself didn't know the answer to, but luckily the man didn't seem to expect and answer, instead continuing on, “oh, and I came up with a new title for you! You should be the Shining Star Hero!”
Akira waited for a few moments to make sure the man was finished speaking. He quietly paid for his purchase, and slipped the hoodie on before responding. “If you wanted to dress up like one of the students, you'd be better off wrapping your arms in bandages. It seems to be a popular trend. As for the name suggestion…”
Akira lifted the sunglasses up to his face, covering his glowing eyes for the first time since his fight. He walked out of the gift shop, addressing the man as he walked past him, “That's just not my style.”