Chapter 15: Volume 6, pt 4 Rumors from Hosu
Day 5 of internships
Izuku wished he could go back to yesterday. He wasn't sure if it was because he'd recaptured that feeling of torn but wonderfully well-used muscles he hadn't had since the last month of his training with All Might, or because he could finally perform the drills without mistakes, and while he did have to consciously activate his power and perform each move in the set: he no longer had to obsess over every detail. Either way, yesterday had been much better than that morning.
He'd spent the rest of the day performing drills at Edgeshot's Agency, ending it by being shown to a reinforced punching bag which he'd been told to hit without power. It hadn't been so bad, and his arms hadn't twinged with bone fatigue like they had periodically back at Gran Torino's place. Once it was dinner time, they'd flown back, Izuku vaguely aware he wasn't falling at all this time.
However, once they'd woken back up, he'd felt more sore and stiff than ever before. On their flight over, he'd been so full of muddled thoughts he'd crashed and simply dropped over two dozen times. He'd been able to recover and sprint along in Full Cowl for a bit, before leaping back up, but it was embarrassing his Quirk was acting up when yesterday it had been fine.
At least now he could just get back to his new training. Full Cowl plus martial arts, just him and the timer.
"Excellent. Thirty-one full circuits," Edgeshot informed him, nodding towards the punching bags again, "That's enough for this morning. You're loose, and now we need to make you sharp."
Well, that was fun while it lasted.
Stepping off the mat, Izuku walked over to the bag he'd hit the day before.
"I'm afraid not, Midoriya," Edgeshot said, directing him to a much thicker, solid black bag.
It wasn't merely larger, but anchored to the ground by a concrete base instead of hanging.
"You want me to hit it… with my Quirk?" he asked, not wanting to destroy the poor thing and get the filling all over the nice gym.
"This is my personal bag," he explained, tapping the side, "It's been reinforced to help prevent my piercing it, so I can fight at the fullness of my ability. Your strength will not damage it overly much. If it does, I can purchase a new one without a great deal of stress or strain on my upkeep budget."
Assenting, Izuku powered up to 5% and bounced on his toes before it. He fought not to glance down at his arms, afraid he'd see the purple lightning shoot out of his bones and explode free again, rather than his own green.
He gave it a tentative jab, barely hitting the thing. Nothing happened.
He tried again, with a little force. The bag shook ever so slightly.
Winding back, Izuku slammed his fist into the bag at the full energy of his 5%. He could feel the impact up his whole arm and down his shoulder into his back, but there was almost no pain. A bit of twinging along his forearm, but it didn't hurt.
Izuku let out a short laugh of relief, a few tears coming into his eyes. He took a few seconds to just wail on the thing with a few straight punches, basically just boxing it but with more technique than he'd hit Shinso with. The bag started to rock back just a bit, but it was still heavy enough that he was able to simply unload on it.
After a good thirty seconds of staining the mat with his tears, Izuku swung his leg up and got a kick in, pushing off and going into the forms again, this time with intent to beat Edgeshot's bag into the ground. He felt the world start to drift away as the rhythm overtook him, nothing existing but himself and his target.
There was someone behind him. Not just someone, but someones. Not Edgeshot and Gran Torino. He couldn't hear them, but he could feel their presences nearby. One felt oddly familiar, while another he recognized instantly. Nana, the energy within his Float. He almost turned to look back at them, but the moment his brain shifted conscious focus on his task to that of the people, they vanished and he found himself back in the gym, standing before a concrete pillar with stuffing hanging off it.
"What… oh-" he managed, clutching his head and feeling his balance start to give out.
Edgeshot caught him, easing him to the floor where he could sit against the wall. Gran Torino was there in an instant.
"You alright, kid?" the elder asked, concern in his voice hidden only barely.
"Yeah, I just… feel really tired."
"That's to be expected. You've been killing that bag for over an hour," Edgeshot pointed out, matter-of-factly.
"An Hour?!"
"An hour and seventeen minutes."
Izuku stared at him, dumbfounded.
"I must say, I was impressed," he continued, "You stayed in top form the entire time, and Gran Torino seems to know your output levels quite well, and said you managed to hold at 6% without fail."
Glancing down at his hands, Izuku flexed the gloves, feeling the gap between the fabric and his skin shifting slightly along his knuckles. The lightning was still there, but he willed it to shut down.
"I… I only remember a few seconds of it," he admitted, "Everything kind of… faded away, and then I- I thought about something behind me and was about to turn and look, and then I fell over."
"Understandable," Gran Torino said, giving him a significant look that said he had received his message, "You were so focused on your task your brain zeroed in on your actions, and when it was able to recover and detect us watching: it snapped you out of your tunnel vision. You need some breakfast. You have any Taiyaki, Kamihara?"
"I do not. I believe there is a shop nearby that sells an excellent rice and egg bowl, however."
Nodding, the elder Hero started walking toward the door, gesturing for them to hurry up. Izuku shook his head and tried to get back to his feet, glancing at the remains of the bag.
"S-sorry about breaking your bag, Edgeshot-sensei," Izuku apologized.
"No apologies required," he waved it aside evenly, "I was beginning to puncture it anyway, and now I can update it. It just means I won't have to hold back when we return and spar."
"R-right."
As they strolled onto the street, Izuku was surprised that they'd matched the lighting so evenly it didn't hurt to shift back to the sun. It meant he could see Gran Torino already wandering down the sidewalk, using his senile persona on a few people who said hello. Guy was a menace to common nerves.
"I'm almost worried to see you two go tonight," Edgeshot admitted.
"Why's that, Edgeshot-sensei?"
"Well, Gran Torino said he wished to take you on patrol in Shibuya, to help you develop your style against more varied opponents," he explained, "I agree with the concept, but not the location."
Izuku nodded, humming his approval. Shibuya was in the Tokyo area, right next to Hosu. There'd been lots of stories and crazy theories about what was going on out there, and very few of which he'd been able to verify. From what Ida and Todoroki had told him though, there were an additional three Nomu which had appeared the day before, resulting in a lot of casualties. While they'd been quickly surrounded and taken care of by the actions of Midnight, Indelible, and Endeavor, the Hero Killer Stain had taken the opportunity to eliminate a record number of Heroes.
Between their confirmations and the news, he'd been able to determine four things. 1. The League of Villains were interested in Stain, and possibly working together. 2. Endeavor was suffering from Sleep Deprivation on his hunt through the city for Todoroki. 3. More Heroes than ever were being called in to hunt for Stain. 4. Crime in cities being abandoned by their Heroes was jumping to an all time high.
"Then again, I suppose the city could use a few more Heroes on-hand."
"It might be a better use of your time to be out on patrol, rather than training me then, wouldn't it?" Izuku mumbled, a bit self-deprecating.
"Absolutely," Edgeshot agreed, much to Izuku's dismay, "But unlike many other Heroes, my talents aren't best suited to public outreach. Instead, my abilities require a swift and steady hand. When I can see my target, I move without hesitation or delay, and in that moment they see me act: it is already too late for them to save themselves. I will return to my normal routine soon enough, but for now: it is most important to have another blade prepared to show the enemy, that they see not the second."
For a moment, Izuku just stared at him.
"You're saying I'm bait or a cover, so people think you're busy while you find your target?"
"A human will only think so far as they must," Edgeshot said slyly, "If they believe they have the reason, they need suspect no other motive."
It didn't really answer his question, but Izuku felt oddly better by hearing it.
Gang Orca stood up from his kneeling position, waving to the kids as they ran off, screaming their thanks. Tsuyu thought it was adorable.
"Such innocent souls…" the great Hero whispered, "It pleases me to see them so easily satisfied. A piece of paper with some ink in an easy swirl, and they're day is brighter."
"I know someone who would be just as excited to get an autograph from a Hero," she mentioned, her mind instantly flicking to Midoriya's Hero obsession, "He's pretty innocent too, but I don't think that's related."
He chuckled at her words, shaking his head a little.
"Perhaps not. By chance, do I know of which young man you're referring to?"
"Midoriya. He spun me around and threw me in the Sports Festival."
"Ah yes!" Gang Orca recognized, "He seemed quite dedicated. You say he's something of a Hero Otaku? Intriguing."
"Hopefully he never has to fight any former Heroes," Tsuyu worried, "I know they're rare, but he might snap if he's ordered to bring one in."
Gang Orca looked down at her, an expression of contemplation on his face as they continued to patrol. She wondered what he could be thinking of.
"Asui, does Midoriya strike you as someone who follows the rules presented to him?"
It was kind of an unexpected question.
"I think so. He's usually pretty good at strategy, but when a teacher tells him to do something, or he promises something, he sticks to it. He does pretty good at technicalities though."
"And if he was ordered to hunt down a Hero turned villain, do you believe he would?"
Tsu answered without thinking.
"Probably. He might try to get them to come quietly or redeem themselves first."
"Would that not be a violation of his orders?"
"He'd find a way around them."
Gang Orca raised a finger.
"What if he was ordered to kill one?"
The idea of being ordered to take a life was scary. Tsuyu didn't want to think about it, but knew he was trying to teach her something.
"I- I don't know. Probably not?"
"Then he would break the rules for his own ends?" Gang Orca pressed.
"No!" she protested.
Midoriya wasn't super close, but he was her friend, and she wouldn't let any lies get around about him.
"He'd break the rules to save someone, or for other people. He'd never do it for himself."
"Then the motive makes his actions justified?"
She was about to answer, but caught herself. Why would he be asking her this? Of course motive didn't make an action right or wrong. Hundreds of villains claimed their evil acts were out of a sense of some higher purpose, but they still hurt people. What then… what made Midoriya any different than a villain in such a situation. If his motives weren't a factor, then how could wrong actions be right actions?
"Think on this, young Asui," Gang Orca pressed, "There will come a time when you too much choose between what you are told, what is right, and what you feel you must do. Allow me to give you a singular hint."
He glanced around, before kneeling again and gesturing for her to come close and listen. Tsu obeyed and tilted her head for him to whisper without fear of her mid-hearing him.
"At this very moment, every Hero within a certain range has been called to Hosu to hunt an individual known as Stain. He is an A-Rank Villain, known colloquially as "The Hero Killer." We are within the range of that call. I do not intend to go to Hosu, nor shall I if directly confronted and ordered. Am I a villain, merely doing as I please?"
Tsu's jaw dropped. He'd been called to deal with a threat of that scale, and simply ignored it?! How could he not be considered at least a fool, if not a villain for doing so? He was the #10 Hero!
Gang Orca stood back up and returned to his patrol. Nothing, not the workout routine, the hours of patrol, the sparring practice after a sore day, nor even the depth mines hit as hard as his question. She didn't know what to say, but she promised herself she would. If not for Gang Orca to know she could find one, then for herself.
Momo released her steel bar and clenched her fists, wincing as they twinged from the raw skin, rubbed and squeezed to bruising. Air Jet had been correct: there was a significant crime wave with the sudden drop in Heroes, and she'd been feeling the weight of their new responsibilities.
One of the biggest issues came in the form of the jet boots. They were exceptionally helpful to get her into the air and ahead to her next location, but they were still heavy implements, and while she could create the propellant and inject it directly with the vacuum seals (evidently they'd been built for someone with a rocket fuel sweat Quirk not dissimilar from Bakugo's): empty or full they made walking become more and more difficult as the day dragged on.
"You holding up alright, Creati?" Air Jet checked, showing some of the strain himself with his helmet under his arm.
She managed to give him a thumbs up, wincing a little as her palm twinged. He nodded knowingly.
"The best battle scars are ones that grow back tougher."
"I don't believe calluses form from scars…" she mumbled, falling back into her habit of handing out trivia or corrections as she did during class.
Air Jet laughed, shaking his head and returning his helmet.
"Either way. Now, I believe we're pretty close to the night shift relieving us, but we still have another good hour before they find us. What do you say, three or four more streets?"
Slipping her toe under her weapon, Creati tossed it up and grasped the bar again, fighting not to react to the cold metal on her wounds. She grimaced a smile, letting her determination fuel her limbs where her muscles failed.
"I'm ready to tackle twelve if it means everyone will sleep safely tonight."
His solemn nod of approval was all she needed to pump some more fuel into her gear and take to the sky, quickly overtaken by Air Jet. He shot towards a road two blocks over from where they were, which was further than her own support items could reach in a single leap. That was… they couldn't on one tank.
Smirking at her own stupidity, she began to produce the substance at about the rate it was consumed, based on her best guess. Her boots didn't falter, and she grinned in success. When Air Jet looked towards the rooftops to try and find her, he instead saw her in full flight, a wide smile across her face as she raced to keep up.
["About time you figured that out,"] his voice came over her earpiece.
"It's not exactly a practical application," she called back, speaking over the wind, "I'll run out of lipids if I fly like you all the time."
["But you can do it when you know where you're going,"] he pressed, gloating in his voice but pretty well controlled, ["That means you'll be able to cover those twelve streets now!"]
Groaning, Creati shook her head and made herself a pair of goggles to help her eyes.
As they crossed the edge of the final buildings, Creati swung her legs out ahead of her to fire retrograde, easing herself to the street while Air Jet was already on his scout over the streets and alleys. She touched down, careful to keep her stance strong lest she fall on her face again, noticing the civilians make way for her to land.
Giving them a nod of thanks, Creati ran after Air Jet, her bar gripped in either hand so as not to catch on anyone or anything. He didn't patrol particularly quickly for an air hero, probably because she was with him, but he did require her to jog while below him in order to keep up.
"Hero!" someone shouted, and Creati instinctively stopped, wanting to help whoever had called upon her.
She turned to see a young man waving at her, a little girl hiding behind his leg. The pair had oddly transparent hair, visible only as light refracted through it like glass, yet as delicate and numerous as her own head's compliment. Air Jet set down beside her and gestured to them expectantly. Handing over her weapon, Creati jogged over and presented herself with a polite smile to help ease them into a talkative mood.
"What seems to be the issue, sir?"
"I know you're busy," he said, smiling apologetically, "But my little girl wanted to get your autograph and ask you a question. She's really excited to see a new Hero like her in town. I'm sorry to interrupt your patrol."
Momo blinked in surprise.
"Oh. Oh, that's quite alright!" she said, smiling widely and nodding.
Kneeling down, she looked at the girl and beamed at her.
"Hello there. I'm Creati. What's your name?"
"Ito… Ito Sakura," she managed, leaning out a little.
"It's nice to meet you, Ito-chan," Momo said, feeling her heart twinge at how cute the girl was, but wanting to ease her fear.
Holding out her hand, she cupped the fingers together into a fist and created something inside. Then she opened it and offered the girl the little cherry blossom. Her eyes lit up with wonder, and she came a little further out from her father's legs. Reaching out, she touched the flower, timid as if it would break.
"I heard you wanted to ask me a question?" she prompted, reaching over and gently sliding the flower into the girl's fingers.
Ito nodded, tugging on her father's sleeve a little, at which he lowered a piece of paper to her from his satchel. She held it close to her chest, not showing Momo what was on the other side.
"I… I have a silly Quirk," she mumbled, "It's not really cool and strong like yours. I, um… I can't show you, because sensei said it's against the rules to use Quirks away from home."
"What is it you can do?" Momo asked gently, smiling and keeping her bubbly energy up to try and ease the little girl's worries.
"I can… make my hair do tricks," she managed, looking at the ground as if ashamed.
"Do tricks?" Momo asked, as if it was the most wonderful concept in the world, "What kinds of tricks?"
"I can make it shinier and pointier," Ito mumbled, "and I can make it wiggle."
It was almost too much for Momo's heart. She noticed the father brush her head protectively.
"Our family's hair is made of some kind of crystal," he explained, "She can control them to a degree."
"Well, I think that's a wonderful Quirk," Momo insisted, gently giving the girl's hand a squeeze, "I have a couple friends in my Hero Class with Quirks like yours."
"Y-you do?" Ito asked, shocked and hopeful.
"I do. Two of my best friends have Quirks like yours," she explained, placing her hands by her own ears and making little fingers to imitate Jiro's jacks, "One has ears she can make longer and poke things with, and the other has vines for hair."
"Then… then does that mean I can be a Hero someday? Not a big scary Hero, but a pretty one who helps people like you?"
"I think you're already halfway there," she promised, feeling her eyes well up with a few tears, "You're already very pretty, Ito-chan, and if you work hard: I bet you'll be a spectacular Hero."
"Sp-spec- what?"
"Spectacular," Momo explained, winking, "It means Wonderful and something people like seeing. I bet one day: a little girl will ask you if she can be as good a Hero as you are."
That seemed to be too much for the girl. She was tearing up too, and bowed her head respectfully.
"Th-thank you Creati!" she nearly shouted.
Ito held out her paper, and Momo accepted it. She gasped and placed a hand over her mouth in surprise and delight. It was a delicate drawing, made with cheap water paints but with careful, delicate movements. For a 7 year old girl, it was a masterpiece.
It depicted Creati herself, flying with little jets of fire from her feet, her hand held by a more rough Air Jet, pulling her up with an heroic pose. Her staff was in her other hand and hanging from the end was a pink, white, and blue Heroine with spiky hair.
"You painted me?" she asked, her voice cracking with joy.
"I-is that okay?"
"It's spectacular," she whispered.
Momo wanted to do something for the girl. She knew exactly what.
Placing a hand over her arm, the thought for a moment. Calling up the right chemicals and arrangement, and running it over in her mind a few times, she produced an object about the size of a matryoshka doll. It was a little doll, or action figure, portraying the Hero version of Ito with its hands on its hips and a little smile. After another brief pause, she produced versions of herself, Air Jet, Vine, and Earphone Jack, so Ito could know who to look to for inspiration.
"Would you mind if I kept this picture?" she asked, balancing the dolls along her arms, "I'm sure these are poor substitutes, but I'll trade you."
Ito's eyes looked like they were about to pop out of her head. She accepted the toys with reverence, the tears starting to slide down her face. Ito hugged them to her chest, careful not to squeeze them too hard, not knowing Momo had made them of sturdier stuff than most model factories had access to.
"Thank you," Momo whispered, standing back up and nodding to the man, who seemed overcome with emotion himself.
"No," he shook his head, "thank you. She's never had a Hero she's looked up to before. She's always wanted to be one, but thought she couldn't. We watched the Sports Festival, and she saw the vine-haired girl… and then you came walking through town, and flying around, and… she's just been so happy."
Bowing her acceptance, Creati straightened up and waved goodbye.
"B-bye, Creati!" Ito called, hugging her new companions.
"Bye, Ito-chan!" she waved back, stepping over to Air Jet and taking her staff back.
As the two got back onto patrol, there was a tense silence. It continued for a few blocks, until Air Jet leapt up onto a building and set down again, clearly waiting for her to follow. Once she too was atop the roof, away from other ears, he removed his helmet, wiping at some of the tears.
"Your first fan…" he mumbled, "Y-ya know… unofficial Air Jet merch i-is illegal."
"My apologies," Creati said, knowing not to take him too seriously, "I just… I need to frame this picture, and I couldn't take away her first Hero Costume without giving her something back."
Air Jet nodded, chuckling a little.
"And if she had one, she'd need a few friends," he surmised, "What were the other two?"
"Oh, no, those are my-" she paused, not sure what to call Jiro, and especially Shiozaki.
"Those are the girls I told Ito-chan about. The one with the ear Quirk, Earphone Jack, and Vine."
Air Jet looked at her, a contemplative expression on his face. When he finally spoke, he seemed to be recalling something distant.
"Creati, you're gonna be a good one, someday," he said unexpectedly, "Just remember: sometimes this job… it's still a job. Make time in your life for the little things. If you can: have a little girl like that one day. A life you can come home to, and when she sees you, in costume or out, know that she thinks you're the greatest superhero in the world. That's what makes the job worth doing."
He reached into his breastplate and tugged out a little, bronze locket. He gazed at it, but didn't open it, before sighing and putting it away.
"Come on. Your little fan outreach took some time, so we only have time for two more streets."
"Yes, sir."
""Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool,"" Shiozaki whispered to herself, holding her stomach and rocking a little bit in the far chair of the lounge.
Shinji sighed and watched her. She'd been quoting every verse of scripture she could on forgiveness ever since her last bout with Takeyama.
In Hero terms, she was progressing spectacularly! She'd learned to produce a gigantic fist with her hair after anchoring herself into the ground with it, and had matched Mt. Lady's strength to a stalemate. Her capture move worked on any and all of his sidekicks, and Shinji wouldn't put it past her to be able to subdue him with it in a sneak attack.
But in terms of her mental health? Each spar left her more and more shaken, constantly worrying over her opponents and begging them forgiveness each time she scratched or bruised them. She'd held back tears of sorrow all but twice, and those times had been so much she'd broken down entirely. Now… she was certain she'd committed an unforgivable error. Her horrid crime? Breaking Takeyama's nose with her super-move.
He wasn't sure how to help with this. She got more and more religious the worse she felt, clearly using her belief in the divine as some kind of comfort against whatever was building up inside her.
Her rages were becoming more controllable, with Shiozaki's relative strength starting to balance out on the higher end of the spectrum, even when perfectly calm, but the longer she tapped into that power, the more fervently she quoted scripture and spoke like she was from an older era. When she was calm, she spoke almost like a normal teenager, which might have been the biggest sign she wasn't doing well with this internship. She hadn't used the word "will" or the suffix "ll" outside of a quote since their first day, instead adding a full "shall" to her sentences.
""But as oft as they repented and sought forgiveness, with real intent, they were forgiven,"" she muttered, closing her eyes.
"Shiozaki," Shinji tried, wondering if he'd pushed her to far or had let her use her religion as a crutch, "Takeyama's fine. She says it won't even be crooked for her photo shoot in a week."
She shook her head, swallowing and tensing her legs under her robe. Shinji blinked in surprise, before realizing what was going on. She was trying to get up and leave, but couldn't bring herself to. Somehow, she'd become unable to physically move herself from her hunched position. It was like she'd-
"Shiozaki," he said, more firmly this time, "Why can't you stand?"
"Not supposed to… running is wrong…" she whispered, shaking her head.
Swallowing harder, she looked at him, her eyes red with despair.
"I can't be a Hero like this," she said, her voice sounding dead, "If I break down like this- unable to run, unable to fight... I've failed my flock, my brethren, and my people. Why am I so weak?"
Stepping closer, Shinji placed a hand on her shoulder, which she flinched at before accepting it. He sighed and shook his head.
"You're right," he admitted, "someone who comes apart like you can't be a Hero. Which is why I think we need to help you overcome this. You're so much stronger than you let yourself be, and not even with your physical power. I've seen people light up around you. On patrol, they looked at you in awe, and I could see they felt safe. So now I need to know: why don't you feel safe with yourself?"
Shiozaki didn't answer for a while, brushing her hair through her hands. She seemed to be thinking about what to say.
"My father… is a good man," she started, which was always a reassuring line to open up an explanation of why someone is terrified of themself.
"He's better than his father was, and he: his grandfather. But he does expect… much from me. He knew I was intelligent from long before I was enrolled in schooling. He pushes me to be the best I can be, and thanks to his stern hand growing up, I… I am well adjusted to the reality of the world."
"I can listen to others, or speak clearly and with the ability to make my thoughts known. I have patience and a control of my words and actions which many do not. I know my vices for what they are, and if I cannot break them: I can at least see them and fight them."
"My father insisted I attend church each Sunday, and for that I am most grateful. It is because of him that I know who and what I am, and how to progress not only in this life, but in the next."
"But he is not perfect. My family… we have a tendency to be competitive. Even the slightest provocation or perceived slight can send my father, his brothers, and the rest of that line into a dark state of fury. I once saw myself as better than those around me, for I knew eternal truths they did not want to hear, and I could see more clearly than they: our lessons, thanks to my intelligence. This is but the passive state of my family's curse."
"But in the end, the nature of him has made me better. To avoid provoking him, I have become empathetic. To discuss issues with him and avoid being threatened with expulsion from our home, I have become cautious, patient, and subtle in my debating. To ensure I can avoid him when another has enraged him, I know how to be silent and go unobserved in plain sight."
She held out her hands, looking at them as if wondering if they'd be covered in blood.
"These tools… I earned through my trials. I would not surrender them for something as finite as strength of limbs. But most of all… I would that no one ever suffer from me: the pain I took from him. I've felt the same hatred at times, and suppressed it. Now you ask me to command it to do my bidding, and… I don't want to. I don't want to use this power, if it means I must risk…"
Shiozaki broke off and clenched her fists, resting her forehead on the knuckles.
"I don't want those I love to see… him through me."
Shinji remained silent, thinking about her words. She'd clearly had a mixed childhood, but was willing to overlook her own suffering for others, even those who caused her similar pain, even intentionally.
"Has he ever admitted he was wrong?" he asked, finally.
Shiozaki blinked at him, before slowly shaking her head.
"In that case: I don't think you have anything to worry about."
"But-"
"Shiozaki, I've seen you work for these last five days, and I can tell you: you're an astounding learner," he praised, holding up a finger, "And the number one thing that defines a learner is: they can admit their failings and grow from them. You do that in spades."
He shrugged.
"Will you ever overcome what your father was? I don't know. What I do know is: you can never be like him. If he isn't able to admit his mistakes, even to himself, then he can't change and grow like you can. Even if you have the potential to be as unpredictable and violent as you think, I don't think you will be. You've got a powerful harness on your anger, and I've seen you pull it back in an instant from the depths of hatred to sorrow. Now it's time to give it some slack and use the power."
Standing up, he gestured towards the door.
"Come on. One last spar before bed. This time: we'll go all out."
"But I-"
"Could kill me," Kamui Woods admitted, matter-of-factly, "But you won't. I trust you. Now it's all up to you."
Ochako took a bite of her burger, savoring the flavor as she and Gunhead enjoyed the open-air restaurant for lunch. It was her last official day, since he was far enough away that tomorrow would be mostly travel home, and they'd decided to have a treat. Her "boot camp" had gone wonderfully.
She'd mastered captures, grapples, throw-offs, hand to knife work, capture fabric, and even a few basic strikes to subdue more stubborn foes. The actual Hero Work had been pretty lackluster all things considered. No crimes, no one bugged them on patrol, and only a couple cat-calls she'd quickly ignored. There were a few things that had caught her mind though.
"Gunhead?" she asked, setting down her food and furrowing her brow in thought.
The battle Hero lowered his own burger, a new bite having appeared despite his mask still being on.
"Yeah, Uravity?"
"Am I… do you think I can be a good Hero?"
"I think you will be an excellent Hero!" he assured her, appearing very bright.
He seemed to notice her unsure expression, and laid his hand on her head.
"Uravity, I think I can see what's on your mind. You're worried about the critics."
She nodded.
Dozens of people had frowned at her after getting close enough to see her face through her mask, with many of them whispering snyde things. How she'd won the festival by being a villain. That she'd cheated to take the top spot. That Deku deserved to win and she stole his spotlight. There weren't too many, maybe one in every dozen, but they were the loudest and their words hurt more than others' praise helped.
"Uraraka," Gunhead soothed, his posture indicating he was smiling kindly, "I think you're on your way to being a wonderful Hero, and I don't want you to believe anything those people say about you."
"But I-"
"When you tricked your friend Midoriya into catching you, could you think of any other way to gain victory?" he cut her off, his tone indicating he was going to be asking a few questions and wanted quick answers.
"No."
"Did you plan on crashing to your demise if he failed to act?"
"No way! That's why I was up so high, so I could recover if he figured me out."
"Were you sure to indicate to your allies and anyone else who needed to know: that you were fully in control of the situation and hadn't actually been defeated, to prevent their worrying or interfering with your plan?"
"Y-yeah?"
"Last question then," he said, holding up a finger, "At the expense of yourself, did you achieve a victory against a superior opponent? An opponent who, if that had been a real fight, would have been able to cause others harm had you not?"
Deku would never hurt anyone if he could help it, but in that hypothetical situation…
"I did."
"Then what you did was not only correct, but impressed those of us who can see the minutiae of this job," Gunhead assured her, "Capitalizing on enemy weak-points or vulnerabilities, be they physical or mental, is a key component of villain fighting that no good Hero is above using. It might seem mean, but when the alternative is letting a dangerous villain run around for longer than we could have prevented..."
He picked up his burger again, shrugging.
"That's what this job is, in the end. We give up our own lives for the lives of other people, even if that means losing it piece at a time. The key is to make sure you don't let yourself break down, and you find something or someone to help you put yourself back together at the end of the day."
Gunhead took another bite through his mask, before pulling free his wallet and showing her a picture in it. The image displayed him alongside a pair of other Heroes and a civilian in a polo shirt. They were holding a silver trophy of some kind, and seemed to be at a bowling alley.
"My bowling team," he confirmed, pointing to himself unnecessarily, "Every weekend, the four of us head into the city and reserve a private lane, and just help each other out. Sometimes we just roll, and other times we never touch the balls. It just depends on what we need that week."
Ochako thought it was adorable, and smiled as relief began to fill her chest. It had been so easy to get swept up in the negativity… she hadn't held fast to her own conviction that she was the winner that day, and she'd earned her place there. She'd said she would, after all.
"Thank you, Gunhead," she bowed her head.
He chuckled and nodded back.
"Anytime, Uravity. Now, you better finish your food. I have a feeling you'll want to call your boyfriend after an emotional moment like this, and we have to get back on patrol in about twenty minutes."
A pink tinge dusted her cheeks, and Ochako sputtered for a moment, turning away and quickly grabbing another bite to cut off the need to (sadly) explain that Deku was not her boyfriend.
But, then again… maybe she should apologize to him for tricking him. If she was hearing rumors, he probably would too. He wouldn't believe them, he was too good for that and would hear her out fairly first, but… she couldn't let his mind be plagued by doubts when he should be able to enjoy his internship.
Taking another few bites, Ochako finished savoring her food and then inhaled the rest as she had learned to do when she had more food than time. It was a rare occurrence, but when even being awake cost money: time had to be held precious.
She pulled out her phone, flipping it open and clicking through her contacts to find Deku's number. Sadly, she didn't have a fancy phone which could mark contact information with little pictures or emojis, or his would have been accompanied by an emoji of parsley or a heart. Probably both.
The line rang for only a few seconds, before a breathless voice answered her.
["Senchan? What's wrong? Are you okay?"] came Deku's voice, filled with concern.
Her heart fluttered, hearing he was worried about her. But it wasn't the time for that.
"I'm alright, De-kun," she teased, knowing he would pick up on the subtleties of her name of choice and realize she was indeed safe.
A sigh of relief came across the speaker, which made her giggle a bit.
["That's good. I was worried for a second."]
"You worry lots," she pointed out, shaking her head to herself, "We need to get you a hobby. A real hobby, one that calms you down, not your Hero obsession. What'dya think about knitting?"
["Very funny, Senchan,"] he grumbled back, though his tone sounded at least a little playful, ["So, what do you need?"]
"Well," Ochako sighed, thinking about the reason she'd called in the first place and feeling a bit of a weight sink onto her, "I was calling to, um… to say I'm sorry. I didn't really get a chance to during the festival or after."
["Say sorry?"] he asked, sounding incredulous, ["But you didn't do anything wrong!"]
"Deku… I might not have done anything wrong, but… I still want to apologize. Not just because I yelled at you before our fight, but… when I won, I had to make sure Midnight knew I was tricking you. So I winked at her while I fell. I think the cameras thought I was making fun of you, and I just… I don't want you to think I was being mean."
She inhaled, feeling the swirling emotions building up in her chest again.
"I'm sorry I tricked you. It wasn't a nice way to win, but- but you're so amazing, and your Quirk makes mine useless in a fight against you, and- and I just wanted to win so much, so I could show my mom and dad I was gonna be able to help them soon, I just… I knew that was the only way to win."
For a moment, the line was silent, and she worried she'd hurt him. Then, he whispered her name. Not her nickname. Not her family name. Her name.
["Ochako… You're one of the coolest Heroes ever,"] he praised, and she could almost see his blush as he mumbled over the phone, ["I'm so amazed you want to be friends with a lame guy like me. I don't blame you for tricking me, and anyone who says you were cheating clearly doesn't know what it means to be a Hero, or why our teachers act how they do toward us. There's nothing to forgive, and I mean that."]
Oh no, here came the tears.
"Deku… why are you so perfect?" she muttered, wiping at her eyes, "It's not fair. Now I'm getting all emotional, and right before patrol!"
["S-sorry!"]
"Don't you go apologizing now!" she chuckled, "We'll be here all day!"
["Right, s- um… h-how goes your internship?"] he asked, changing the subject.
"Pretty okay," she admitted, "But… a little better now, I think. Yours?"
["I've spent the last four days being beaten to a pulp. Learned some cool stuff though. I'm actually training in martial arts too!"]
"Really? I thought your Internship was run by an old guy?" she asked, recalling what he'd said about the special offer.
["He is, but after I started fighting like him, he told me I needed to find a better combat style, so he took me to Edgeshot's agency so they could beat me up together!"] he confirmed, sounding far too happy about getting thrown around by a Pro Hero than anyone but Deku had any right to be.
"Good for you?"
["It is! I actually have to get back to sparring soon. It was good to hear your voice though, Senchan!"]
"It was good to talk to you too," she agreed, feeling lighter than when she'd called but a little sad it was ending, "See you in class in a few days?"
["Absolutely! We can study for the next test together, like we did for the Festival!"]
"I'd really like that."
They lapsed into a short silence, before someone on the other end said something, and Deku offered a quick goodbye.
"See ya, Izuku…"
Ochako glanced around, having become lost to her surroundings while she talked. Gunhead was still at the table, watching her with a blush through his mask. He raised his hand over his mouth like a maiden with a secret.
"How's your boyfriend doing?"
Shaking her head, Ochako sighed and stood up.
"I think he's doing pretty well."
Extending his arms ahead of him, Fumikage tried to control his flight once again, pushing Dark Shadow to fly faster and more precisely. She fought to follow his wishes, actually pushing him a little to be more brave and try it. It was probably the setting sun, the growing darkness fueling her strength to eclipse his.
"What a fitting curse, that darkness should overcast the shadows."
"Are you bein' mopey again?" Tsunotori asked, gliding alongside him in a manner which looked not unlike she was ice-skating on the air.
"My black strength cannot be restrained from my speakings, this you know well."
"That means yes," Dark Shadow clarified.
"Cool, cool. And… it means what?"
Sighing, Fumikage tried to conjure up his minimal knowledge of English.
"It gets darker. Dark Shadow is stronger when it is now. I find it right," he managed, knowing his grammar was awful.
Tsunotori snapped her fingers into a finger gun, showing she'd understood.
As he resettled his mind to flying, he was surprised to find he'd remained relatively stable. In that moment, when he'd simply given Dark Shadow control of her own actions, rather than trying to influence them or direct her… she'd just taken to her action and flown.
The thought worried him. He wanted to talk about it, but… he didn't want to come across as weak or conflicted about the dark power he loved so dearly.
Glancing over at Tsunotori, he realized had the perfect opportunity. She wouldn't understand more than a handful of the words anyway.
"I'm scared of Dark Shadow," he admitted, almost entirely to the wind, "Especially now. When the darkness grows, and my control over her exists but is ready to fade. In this moment, when all things are tentative, and my arrogance may overcome my sense. Dark Shadow could go out of control, becoming a Quirk of unparalleled strength, and I would be but the puppet to her acts. Even now, she can fly me where she wills, and only follows my commands because I as yet could recall her, and because in the end we do have a bond of trust."
"Everyone knows Quirks can grow and evolve," he sighed, looking up at the approaching starlight, "I've intentionally repressed Dark Shadow's progression. If she were to truly reach her full power… I would be merely a weak point held within her ever-growing might. A witness to whatever whims struck her. Yet, as a Hero, I can learn to control her, even when she's become enraged."
Looking down at his hands, Fumikage took a moment to pet his Quirk's head lovingly.
"I don't want to hurt her. I don't want her to be locked away by my fears. We're partners, first and foremost, in darkness and in light. How can I save her from herself, without destroying what she has the right to achieve?"
They flew on in silence for a while, gaining height so they could enter through Hawks' roof entrance.
"She cares about you too," Tsunotori said, catching his attention instantly, "And while you fly… you seem better at ease. She seems to listen much."
"She does."
"Then, we should be flying together sometimes," she decided, "So you can be strong together, and I can help you be strong together."
He considered her offer, hoping he understood what she meant through her misuse of tenses and multiples.
"I would not oppose such a dark alliance."
"Then we can kick Hawks' but in a race some day!"
"What a glorious eclipse of pride…"
"I heard someone say my name, what's up, party kids?"
Turning around, Fumikage tried not to groan at the winged Hero, coming up from behind. He seemed slightly wary of Fumikage, but that might just have been his acting, as his surrendering hands and smile seemed a bit forced.
"If you punch me again and say something spooky like last time, Imma take it personally this time," he warned jokingly.
"Revelry in the Dark?" Tsunotori asked, easing over to Hawks' other side and smiling innocently.
He flapped his wing at her, rolling his eyes.
"Anyway!" he said, drifting towards Fumikage and Dark Shadow, "I see you've got your Quirk's arms out like wings? Pretty cool, gives you more control, but takes your speed a bit, right?"
Fumikage nodded. He'd noticed the issue, but couldn't see a way around it. Without her claws extended: he began to lose control and buoyancy.
"You ever see an F-14 Tomcat? Ancient American jets, really funny-lookin'."
It was an odd question, but Fumikage vaguely recalled something about that model number.
"I believe I know it."
"You should try flying like that then," Hawks encouraged, holding out a few feathers and making them into a vaguely airplane shape, "when you need control, you keep 'em out like this, but when you have to get somewhere:"
He shifted the feathers which represented the wings back along the sides, mimicking the variable geometry the F-14 was known for.
"Dark Shadow doesn't produce much drag, I don't see how-"
"Sometimes it's just the feel of it," Hawks insisted, "I don't move my feathers any faster when they're ahead or behind me, but putting my wings like that makes me feel fast. Go into a dive, pull her wings back, and then try flying back up like that. The feeling will give you the speed."
Shaking his head, Fumikage flew over a road to give himself the space he needed. Without giving himself time to think, he dove, having Dark Shadow suck her wings in towards his sides. They were still out a good degree, giving her the control she needed, but in close enough the little drag they created was almost entirely gone. On sudden inspiration, he had her close her wings in around his feet, forming a pair of cone-like protrusions to ensure the air flowed off him more easily.
Hawks was right. He felt fast. Racing towards the street, he had her wait until he was only four stories off the ground to pull up. They rocketed back into the sky, and to his surprise: they didn't slow down nearly as much as he expected. His own head was already an excellent shape for flight, and with Dark Shadow as his wings: he was able to truly master the winds.
Before long, Hawks caught up with him, fluttering on his back. His wings were more out than back, but they had a distinct tilt to them. Perhaps they could race the Pro one day?
Tsunotori was alongside as well, but no longer standing on her horns. As she had no ankle joints, she was forced to stand up more or less straight while flying, unless she wanted to move her horns laterally and much more slowly. Instead, she seemed to have assembled her horns into a basic sled of sorts, supporting her shoulders and hips and laying flat on them, not unlike a Skeleton rider in the Olympics.
"It's not hard," Hawks sighed, flipping back around and heading home, "You just have to look for obvious mistakes and tricks you can steal from other stuff."
Ibara leapt back, using some of her vines to propel her away from the ground for extra speed. Kamui Woods was going all out, and she was quickly becoming overwhelmed. Her anger had petered out, her fear exhausted itself, and her drive to prove herself expended, replaced by a simple tiredness. And yet he was pressing her harder than ever.
Her big moves didn't work, too easily projected and slow-moving, always ending with him dodging and her receiving another punch to her gut. Her vines were easily held aside by his arbor. She'd tried shifting the field and fighting hand-to-hand, but he was better at it than she was (namely by having any training in it). Now she was on the defensive, using what she had left to sacrifice to keep out of his grip.
She'd take any weakness to exploit at this point, or any strength to herself. Her hatred had driven her to move quickly and decisively, and now gone: left her slow and more hesitant. Her range was only slightly greater than his, which meant that her attacks would always be intercepted, even if she wouldn't be instantly attacked in turn.
What can I do? she asked herself, practically begging for some form of inspiration, I don't have his experience, his power, or his skill. I'm too weak…
Weakness… she had weakness.
"And if men come unto me I will show them their weaknesses," she mentally recalled, clenching her fists and launching herself back as far as she could manage, "for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then I will make weak things become become strong unto them."
Ibara was weak. She did lack some of the things Kamui Woods had. But she had an advantage he did not. She wasn't alone.
She had no children, and no wives, but Kamui Woods had unlocked her Peace, helping her to conquer and then expend her Wrath.
Heroes before them both had secured her Freedom, won in battle of weapon and word she could call upon as her birthright.
Her Religion had been carried on the backs of martyrs and peacemakers, granting her the stories and tactics of a thousand generations.
And her God was always with her.
Gripping the nearest faux building, Ibara squeezed the nearest corner into powder, sending it crumbling down on Kamui Woods. He couldn't possibly be hit by it, but the rising dust and his dodge would grant her a handful of seconds out of his line of sight, which were exactly what she needed right now.
As predicted, he leapt back and started swinging up and around it. Without hesitating, she launched two swaths of her hair into other buildings on either side of the road, shattering the glass and detaching them. Without the vines moured to her scalp, they were harder to control, but she could manage one move easily.
While they got into position, she readied a final attack, summoning every last bit of her Quirk into a fist. Not as large as Mt. Lady's, but close. She willed each vine to fly as fast as she could move them, forgoing a foundation and launching it like a javelin. It became a blur of green, and as Kamui arced over the debris: it impacted his body for her first and only hit this match.
The blow didn't defeat him though. Her vines were already coming apart, and while it had knocked him into an unexpected backflip, he was able to recover and land on his feet. She noticed his mask was cracked, and his eyes seemed colder than before.
""Therefore, he divided his army and brought a part over into the valley, and concealed them in the east; and the remainder he concealed in the west valley. And thus, having placed his army according to his desire, he was prepared to meet them."" she quoted (rather, paraphrased, but she didn't have time to add the proper names), hoping to catch his attention with the (supposed) holy illumination her quotations sometimes brought.
"One distraction doesn't make a match!" he called back, racing across the ground towards her, under her fist which she couldn't unravel in time to defend herself.
As he got within two arms' length of her, he pulled back for a punch, only for her trap to spring. Exploding from the shattered windows, with one end of each moured to the concrete foundations of the building's interior, her vines snapped to grip each of his limbs, pulling taught and anchoring him in the air, unable to use his Quirk with how tightly she squeezed. Droves of them rushed out, wrapping him into a cocoon of green which would render even the smallest movement difficult.
""And it came to pass that Ether did prophesy great and marvelous things unto the people, which they did not believe, because they saw them not.""
Stepping forward, keeping her expression neutral, Ibara stood in front of Kamui Woods' immobilized form, blood starting to drip from her scalp and onto her cheeks like tears as the overuse of her Quirk began to take effect. Her vines pulled at him a little bit, producing a slight creak of wood as his body was pulled in uncomfortable ways. The coldness vanished, and a flicker of fear came into his expression. The same fear she would kill him that he'd said he didn't have.
""Now Moroni, when he saw their terror, commanded his men that they should stop shedding their blood.""
Her vines disengaged, and she fell back, feeling her fatigue hit her harder than any attack. She landed on the ground hard, but she didn't feel the concrete.
"How did you… you've never controlled more than one cluster away from your body before," Kamui Woods gasped, flexing his hands and checking his face, "That was, what, three?"
""And in that selfsame hour that they cried unto their Lord for their freedom, the Lamanites began to flee before them,"" she whispered, more to herself.
Shaking his head, the Pro Hero turned away and began to walk back to the agency. Ibara decided to stay where she was, her white robe torn and soaked in the blood and sweat of her victory, even staining a few parts of her leather and bronze-colored armor beneath.
She'd won against Kamui Woods.
She'd won against her own nature.
She'd won.
It felt good.
For the first time: winning felt good. A test of all she could do, brought to its peak by the prayer in her heart she'd carried for so long but failed to tap into for fear it would be abused.
She felt tears on her face again, but unlike the prior pair of times she'd cried after a match, she was not sobbing. Ibara laughed, the relief and exhilaration of a victory she could be truly proud of winning, with no reservations.
Ibara bawled like a child, laughing quietly and with ragged breaths through the tears. Letting herself fall to her knees, she continued to laugh and cry until her emotions were spent.
It felt good.
"Ya know… hunting the Hero Killer is a lot more boring than I expected," Itsuka admitted.
Jiro let out a small "pff" sound, amused but a little sarcastic about it. She slugged the other intern in the shoulder, earning a playful "hey!" from her and a complicated smile from Uwabami. She looked like a proud mother seeing her daughters squabble a little, but in a way that made her both happy and nostalgic for younger days. It made Itsuka feel a little fuzzy, seeing that smile.
"Well, I'm afraid I have to admit," the Pro said, shrugging innocently, "I guessed wrong, girls. He's not here."
"Gotta say, he's braver than I thought he'd be," Jiro commented, sticking her hands in her jacket pockets and shifting her gait so her boots would swing out ahead of her way too much, "I mean, if Endeavor was after me and brought in the entire southern seaboard's complement of Heroes to help him, I'd be visiting Sapporo."
"Maybe he is too?" Itsuka wagered, smirking at Jiro's walk, "He's just not here."
"Which is more the pity for you three," a voice hissed from the alley beside them.
Glancing over, unconcerned, the trio saw a handful of figures step into the light. One had spikes emerging from his elbows, which seemed to buzz and rotate like drill bits every so often. There were a pair of women who seemed to be dressed identically, except one was in green and purple, while the other was in red and black. The last was a pigeon-headed person Itsuka couldn't really get a read on.
"I'm sorry, and you are…?" Uwabami checked.
"We're your biggest fans," one of the women said, grinning sadistically.
"And we want to ask you for an autographed snake," the other agreed, her voice just as identical as their appearance.
"Particularly: the yellow cobra right there…" the man agreed, pointing to Uwabami's head.
Itsuka could tell from their voices that the pigeon had to be the one who'd spoken first, which made sense. While the others moved in and spread out, they were staying back. Probably a general leader, but… maybe not. There was something to their stance that didn't scream charisma, but more… timidity.
"I'm afraid I can't give you this one," Uwabami apologized, very kindly but obviously letting a tinge of fear into her voice, "If you'd like, I can sign something else for you?"
"I'm afraid: our hearts are rather set on it."
"I see… in that case: Girls?" Uwabami responded, taking a step back.
Jiro and Itsuka stepped forward, making a triangular formation. The thugs stepped aside, and the pigeon stepped forward, cracking their knuckles. It made its way towards Uwabami without hesitation, almost as if it couldn't see the two in its way.
"You want me to, or…?"
"I got him," Itsuka assured her, stepping up beside the figure as they passed.
Thanks to her practice with Monoma, she was able to make it work even on an unfamiliar and slightly taller person. One chop, a moment of no reaction, a single confused "coo?" and then they were limp, hanging from her hand by their shirt collar.
The purple woman clucked her tongue.
"Now now, girl, using your Quirk illegally? Against someone who hasn't done anything to you? Seems like you should stand back before we involve the authorities."
Itsuka paused, blinking at the stupidity of the comment. She dropped the pigeon, who crumpled to the ground in a heap, and turned to face the woman.
"This is a hand," she explained, holding the one that had hit their companion.
"This is my Quirk," she countered, expanding her left palm to the size of a door.
"And I'm afraid she has permission to use both," Uwabami called, a definite note of pride in her voice.
Reducing size, Itsuke clenched both her fists and got into her battle stance.
"Who's first?"
The group moved oddly. So strangely, Itsuka didn't understand it at first. The woman in red was running to the side, her arm ready like she was about to punch the air. Then she leapt and swung, and the next thing Itsuka knew: there was a fist hitting her arms with far too much power.
She slid back, noticing the pair had suddenly swapped colors. No… swapped places!
"And like that: you've lost," Jiro said to the villains, stepping in front of Itsuka and grinning, "My turn."
Shrugging and holding up her hands, she stepped back, allowing Jiro to get punched if she wanted to.
"Lost? Then what's this!?" the red one screamed, crouching and lunging at Jiro.
Jiro didn't do anything to dodge, her eyes not even on the attacker. Itsuka followed her gaze to see the purple one again, standing still and readying a straight punch. Just as the red reached Jiro, she swung and they swapped again, the purple stumbling on the terrain for a bit.
The red woman screamed in pain, Jiro having somehow vanished from her attack zone to her side and jammed her jack into the woman's neck; buzzing her nerves until she passed out.
"See, I spend time with this guy who cannot shut up when talking about Heroes," Jiro said conversationally, addressing the remaining woman, "Thing is: he's kind of a genius when it comes to that kind of stuff. Goes on these mutter storms almost no one can hear or understand. 'Ccccccccept for me."
She waved her jacks around, before kicking the unconscious woman and glancing back at Itsuka.
"Can you toss this one in the air for me, real quick?"
"Um, sure?"
Itsuka expanded her hand and picked up the purple woman, getting ready to toss her like a softball and then catch her again.
"See, your opening attack used your trump card. You showed me you take your momentum with you. It also showed me your swap has to do with both of you, not just one of you, since otherwise you two would be using the other's power to try and confuse your enemies into attacking just one of you."
Itsuka tossed the unconscious body upwards, aiming for just above the buildings.
"And now you have a choice," Jiro continued, grinning, "Do you save your sister, or run?"
It was a tough gamble, and a bluff at that. Itsuka would catch the woman either way. But in the moment of adrenaline and split-second decisions: she chose the former. The purple body was just at its apex, when suddenly it was on the ground, barely shifting as its weight returned. The red one was now in the air, and began to fall.
But she didn't fall right. The body had carried a slight drift from the throw, and would have curved back down a bit to where Itsuka was now. She no longer had that energy, and instead plummeted straight down.
"Good choice," Jiro praised, plugging into her speakers and holding her foot at an odd angle.
She squinted one eye, trying to line it up, then send out a pulse from her Quirk. The red woman held her ears and was slammed back into the wall, bouncing off and landing in Itsuka's hand: down and out for the count.
"Uwabami, you want the last one?" she checked, before seeing the man was already on the ground.
Uwabami was a full five steps away, while the man had steam coming from his crimson face, clearly smitten beyond his wits. Evidently, he'd been weak enough she could afford to show off.
"Again," Kamihara commanded, thinning out and starting to strike at Midoriya with great speed.
The Hero Student dodged exceptionally, able to land a few sideways blows to Edgeshot's body as he passed, but without any real power. Which, of course, meant it was time for Sorahiko to start coming through and hitting him.
The kid was quick, and was taking to the martial arts nicely. He was also adapting them and improvising quite well, not getting rigid and stuck in the details. He was also still holding back, which was another surefire way to earn Sorahiko's lack of mercy.
Rocketing through the air, he moved in to take advantage of Midoriya's blindspot, aiming to kick him in the back. At the last second, he moved. He pushed off the ground with only the slightest bend of his knees, and leapt up and over Sorahiko with an elegant backflip. Instead of impacting his back, the kick smacked into Kamihara's extended arm, bruising the wrist.
"Not bad, but you can't rely on us to fight each other for you!" he shouted, slipping around and over Kamihara to get another launch in.
He pushed himself to fly even faster, coming in from above to prevent his escape. Sorahiko had used this trick multiple times, and he knew Midoriya could predict it, but the boy had been so intent on not fighting back how he could that he got at least grazed each time. The frustration was building, so that meant all he had to do now was get it to break.
Midoriya spun at the last moment, a look of fierce determination on his face as he swung around and met Gran Torino's boot with his fist. The impact blasted compressed air outward as his jet and the sheer force of a real 5% punch collided. The gym fell silent and still as they held their positions, Midoriya slowly coming to recognize what he'd done. Sorahiko grinned at him. Oh, there went the waterworks, the poor kid.
"I think he's ready to get some real fighting in, don't you, Kamihara?"
"He can learn no more from me at this stage in his growth," the other agreed, "When you master your power, and have grown beyond the simple forms I have taught you today: you may wish to return."
Removing his hand from its outstretched position, Midoriya looked toward the #5 Hero and bowed.
"Thank you for teaching me, Edgeshot-sensei."
"Alright, enough with the sappy stuff," Sorahiko nudged him along, kicking his calves a little, "It's time we got back to my place for a long rest. If we fly now, we'll be able to get there before sunrise and hit the streets in time for the nighttime crime rush."
He gave a nod to Kamihara anyway, assuring him it was just for Midoriya's benefit, not actually intended to insult his help.
"Indeed," he said, the little quirk of his mask showing he was grinning, "Just remember to train continually, Midoriya. I look forward to seeing your name in the news in the future."
Midoriya bowed again, before getting kicked by Sorahiko's boot again.
"Come on! I wanna get some of the good fights before Heroes start coming home from Hosu and clean 'em up."
Tensei yawned, trying to roll out of the bunk Manual had loaned him for the day. He felt something catch around his midriff, and glanced down to find a pair of slender, pale arms there. They tugged at him, willing him to lay back down. Turning, he groaned and slumped against the sheets. Of course, it was Nemuri.
"What's with that?" she whined, "No "good morning"? No "wow, I slept with Midnight last night!"? No "Oh sweet Kami, what happened?!"? Just the sound of disgust you make when something sticky gets on your shoe?"
"I was specifically trying to avoid this happening," he sighed, not facing her, "for multiple reasons, one of which being: we're on duty today."
"Oh calm down, we just cuddled. I know better than to make you burn out your arms before a day off. As much as I might seem like it: I do actually enjoy being able to walk."
"That still doesn't solve the problem of: you were sleeping with me."
"Why does it have to be a problem?" she yawned, nuzzling into his back again.
He wanted very much to say it wasn't a nice sensation, and that he wasn't forcing himself not to spin around and hold her close.
He could not say those things. Because those things were lies.
Nemuri was very nice to cuddle with, and… she was special to him. His old rival, his friend to a degree, and… well, there'd always been a touch of something between them. They just never took the time to figure it out until… well, now.
"...Why are you holding me?" Tensei asked, closing his eyes and wondering how she'd respond.
"Because you're warm and nice to-"
"Nemuri," he cut her off, realizing she didn't understand what he meant, "I mean: why are you holding me? Am I just another notch, or-"
"No!"
Her response was so sudden, so sharp, and so desperate, he knew it had to be genuine. She was curling closer to him, shaking her head and rubbing against his back.
"I know I come across as… as a playgirl. I like sex, I really do, and I'm not ashamed to admit that the idea of being with you that way is… really damn appealing just about always. But I've never asked you for it. And I probably won't ever get to."
Shifting around, Tensei turned and looked at Nemuri. She was in a simple sports bra and what felt like fuzzy pants, though the covers made it hard to judge, but his eyes were drawn to something else. Her face was framed by unkempt hair, even more wild than he'd ever seen it, and while she usually kept her makeup light, it was still odd to see her without any of it. But, despite himself, her earnest expression and honest appearance; in that moment she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.
"'Sei…" she sighed, not able to look at him, "I don't want you to sleep with me because I'm sexy, I want you to sleep with me because you think I'm pretty. I don't want to kiss you because it's foreplay, I want to kiss you as my way of saying hello after a long day."
"I- I've been a teacher for more of my life than I've been a normal Hero, and… dammit, Tensei I want to keep being a teacher. I love helping the kids, and seeing them all growing and finding their way in this crazy, messed up world. So many of them die… and so many of them know they can die at any time, but find a way to keep living. They find love."
Nemuri looked up at Tensei, her eyes starting to tear up.
"I've never had that. Blast it all, Tensei, I've never had someone special like some of my students. I make a big fuss of it, but I know I'm gonna leave my prime sooner or later. I want to find that someone."
Then she pushed him, pressing her weight on him so he couldn't move. She was sprawled over him, staring into his eyes with a seriousness she rarely showed.
"I barely know what Love is, Tensei. What I do know is: you respect me like no one else does. You and me, we can fight without worrying. I can tease you, have fun around you, and just be myself. You don't judge me for my eccentricities, but you don't take my shit either. If I never find Love, at least in you I have Trust, and a friend I can't lose."
Tensei saw her meaning in her eyes. She was scared. The Heroine who loved to control others, wanted for once in her life to have someone who wouldn't be so easily swayed, but she could be happy with anyway. Someone who she could be safe with, even if love wasn't part of their life. They weren't things she'd ever wanted before, and now that she did: she wasn't sure how to react.
Bringing his arms around her, Tensei did the only thing he knew how to, as a Hero and a person. He tried to reassure her. He hugged her to his chest, trapping her as firmly as she had secured him.
"After the internships, after all this business with Stain… There's a restaurant out by my agency. It's quiet, and hard for the paparazzi to find," he whispered, rubbing her back to try and allay her fears, "There's an entertainment mall right next to it, where we'd be able to go unnoticed."
"Dinner and a movie? Tensei, you old romantic," she managed, squeezing back.
"For right now though: I think we can spare another half-hour in bed," he said, closing his eyes, "This… is nice."
Nemuri hummed in response, settling in to cuddle for just a little longer. Tensei wondered if they'd end up like this again, or if this would be the last time he would hold the girl who'd caught in his heart for nearly fourteen years?
"So, Froppy, what is your answer?" Gang Orca asked, drifting past her in the aquarium water.
It took her less than a moment to figure out what he meant. Tsuyu had been thinking the entire day about what he'd asked, and now she indeed had an answer.
"Why someone does something doesn't make it right, kero. Being the correct choice doesn't make it right either," she said, laying back so she could float her body while her head rested on the side, "Even the outcome can't make a choice right, or someone in power saying to do it. Kero, it has to be part of all of those things. Just because someone else says something is right, doesn't make it so."
"If the HPSC says we need to go to Hosu, that just makes it what someone else thinks is right. But if we went there, we'd just add to the confusion, and the people around here would be in more danger. Not to mention, I would be a liability for you. The results would make it wrong, kero kero. And if we went now, it would be under orders, not because we could actually help, which makes the motives wrong."
"And if your friend, Midoriya, refused to kill a villain?" Gang Orca prompted.
"If he did, it would be right because he would be making a decision based on what he knew," she insisted, "He wouldn't kill someone, kero, and he would try to redeem someone; making the motives and the results right. He wouldn't be backing a powerful enemy into a corner they might panic in and cause more damage than otherwise, making it correct too."
She swallowed and sighed, sitting up a little.
"But after thinking about it… Midoriya isn't stupid. If it came to the point where the villain couldn't be saved, and if the results of continuing to wait would end with more destruction than death…" Tsu closed her eyes, hating herself as she whispered the last of it, "Kero, I think Midoriya would be able to kill that villain. At the end of it, kero. When every other option was gone."
Tsuyu didn't know when she'd started crying, but didn't bother wiping her tears.
"And that's the hardest part," Gang Orca said, his voice grave.
She could tell from his tone that she'd pleased him with her response, but that it wasn't one he himself liked the answer much.
"When no other option remains, we must take it upon ourselves to take a life in order to save many. At other times, we must restrain our power when using it would harm others. When these times are: no one can tell you. You must choose for yourself when the time comes, and pray others understand why you pick the option you do."
Tsuyu nodded, accepting this final, dark lesson.
"Now, enough of this talk!" Gang Orca insisted, "It's time for your reward. You've been an excellent intern, and I believe your potential as a future Hero cannot be overstated. So, I wish to provide you something special."
Sitting up a little and kicking her legs to keep her body up, Tsu tilted her head and croaked softly in query.
"How would you like to perform in my aquatics show tomorrow?" he asked, gesturing to the tank around them, filled to the brim with a menagerie of aquatic life.
The aquatics show she'd been watching since she was six? She could be… part of it?
"I think I'd like that very much."
"Good. We have much practice to do in the remainder of the afternoon. Of course, you should send your family the tickets now, so they can be ready to come."
"Kero, I get tickets?!"
"All my performers get to bring their families to the front row!" he assured her, almost laughing.
Pulling herself out of the water to sit on the edge, Froppy bowed in reverence and thanks.
"It would be my honor, kero."