Chapter 6: A Flash in the Night
The months flew by in a grueling but rewarding rhythm of school, training, and sleep. Minato's body and mind were honed to a razor's edge. Now, only one month remained before the notoriously difficult entrance exam for U.A. High, the most prestigious hero academy in the world.
"You have come far," Edgeshot said one evening as they concluded a training session. Minato was now able to chain together a dozen translocations without dizziness. "Your technique is solid. The question is, what will you do with it?"
Minato looked out from their rooftop training ground at the glittering city below. His perspective had changed so much. The boy who had wanted to be a teacher still existed, but he had been forged into something new.
"I used to think that helping people meant being in a classroom," Minato replied, his voice steady. "But you've shown me that it can be done on a much grander scale. Being a Pro Hero… it's a difficult and dangerous job. But if this power gives me a greater capacity to protect people, then it seems like the most fitting path. As long as I can help, I won't refuse it."
A rare, almost imperceptible nod of approval came from his mentor. Just then, Edgeshot's earpiece crackled. He listened for a moment, his posture shifting into one of professional alertness. "Understood," he said. He looked at Minato. "There is a robbery in progress. Three perpetrators, armed, escaping in a van heading for the Etsuya Expressway. It is a standard B-rank incident, something my sidekicks would normally handle."
He paused, a meaningful glint in his eyes. "However, it presents an opportunity. Come, Minato. It's time for a field exercise."
Minato's heart hammered in his chest. This was real.
Minutes later, they were perched on the edge of a skyscraper overlooking the expressway. Below, red and blue lights flashed in the distance as police cars struggled to catch up to a speeding black van weaving recklessly through the sparse nighttime traffic.
"The objective is to stop the vehicle and apprehend the suspects with minimal property damage and no civilian casualties," Edgeshot said calmly, as if discussing a training drill. "I will handle the driver and the vehicle. You will handle the cargo. Understood?"
"Understood, Sensei," Minato said, pulling one of his sealed kunai from his hip pouch.
"Go."
Minato didn't hesitate. He hurled the kunai with all his might. It sailed through the air, a silver glint under the city lights, and embedded itself in the asphalt a hundred meters ahead of the speeding van.
Flash.
He appeared on the road, a sudden, stationary figure in the path of the oncoming vehicle. The van's horn blared. The driver, a man with a crude mask, cursed and swerved violently. As the van screeched past him, its side just inches away, Minato reached out and slapped his palm against the metal panel, leaving behind a glowing blue seal.
Flash.
He vanished from the road and reappeared on the roof of the van, the wind roaring in his ears. He crawled to the back and wrenched the doors open. Two more masked figures inside shouted in shock, raising crude weapons. Before they could react, Minato tossed another sealed kunai into the cramped space between them.
Flash.
He was inside with them. The first thief swung a metal pipe. Minato, relying on months of grueling combat training, ducked under it, disabled the man's arm with a precise strike to his elbow, and swept his legs out from under him. The second lunged, and Minato used his momentum against him, redirecting him into the wall of the van. It was over in seconds.
At that exact moment, the van screeched to a violent halt. Edgeshot, having moved faster than a camera could track, had flattened his body into a paper-thin spear, zipping ahead and surgically piercing all four of the van's tires simultaneously.
Silence, broken only by the approaching sirens. Minato stood over the two groaning thieves in the back of the van as police cars surrounded them. Edgeshot was already giving a calm, concise report to the lead officer. It was a flawless takedown.
As the police secured the scene, a new sound joined the sirens: the whump-whump-whump of a helicopter. A news crew. A brilliant white spotlight swept across the scene, landing squarely on Minato as he stepped out of the back of the van. He was still maskless, his blond hair unmistakable in the harsh light.
The camera on the helicopter zoomed in, the lens focusing with a sharp, mechanical whine. Minato froze, caught in the beam like a stag in headlights, realizing his mistake far too late.
The world had seen his face. Again.
.
.