Edgeshot Hero Agency - Tokyo, Day One
The agency was nothing like what I expected.
I'd imagined something modern and sleek, all glass and steel like most hero offices. Instead, Edgeshot's headquarters occupied an old building tucked between two skyscrapers in downtown Tokyo. Traditional architecture, wooden framework, paper screens. The kind of place that looked like it had been here for a hundred years and would be here for a hundred more.
"Pendragon." Edgeshot stood in the entrance, already in his hero costume. The ninja-themed outfit was iconic, teal and black with that distinctive mask. "You're early."
"Traffic was lighter than expected."
"Good. Punctuality matters." He gestured for me to follow. "Come. We have much to discuss before patrol."
The interior matched the exterior. Minimalist design, hardwood floors, walls decorated with calligraphy and old weapons. A katana mounted above the doorway caught my eye. The blade was ancient and well-maintained.
"You recognize quality," Edgeshot said, noticing my attention. "That sword is four hundred years old."
"It's beautiful."
"It's also sharp enough to cut through steel if wielded properly." He led me to a sitting room. "Sit."
I did. The cushion was surprisingly comfortable.
Edgeshot sat across from me, his posture perfect. For a long moment, he said nothing. Just studied me with those sharp eyes barely visible through his mask.
"Tell me," he said finally. "Why did you choose my agency?"
Straight to business. I appreciated that.
"Your fighting style interests me. You use precision and technique over raw power. That aligns with my own approach."
"Flattering, but incomplete." He leaned forward slightly. "You received three hundred and forty-seven offers. Many from higher-ranked heroes. Best Jeanist. Endeavor himself. Yet you chose me. Why?"
I considered my words carefully. Edgeshot was ranked five for a reason, and it wasn't just his quirk. The man was sharp. Deceptive answers wouldn't work here.
"Because you move like someone who's studied combat for decades," I said honestly. "Not just quirk usage. Actual martial skill. Positioning, timing, reading opponents. That's what I need to improve."
"You already move well for your age."
"Not well enough."
That got a small nod. "Honest. Good. Too many students come to internships expecting glory and easy victories. You understand this is about learning."
"That's the point, isn't it?"
"For some. Others treat it as publicity." He stood smoothly. "Follow me to the training room. I want to see what you can actually do."
The training room was larger than expected, taking up most of the building's second floor. Mats covered the floor. Training dummies lined the walls. Weapons racks held various implements, from wooden practice swords to weighted training gear.
"Show me your quirk," Edgeshot said. "Full power."
I closed my eyes and reached for the energy inside. Golden light erupted across my body,
But no sword. I'd been trying for weeks to manifest it but it never quite solidified. Just energy that wanted to become something more but couldn't cross that final threshold.
Edgeshot circled me slowly, observing the golden aura.
"Impressive output but it's unrefined." He stopped in front of me. "You're trying to create something with it. I can see the strain."
"A weapon," I admitted. "Sword-shaped. But it won't stabilize."
"Interesting. Your quirk wants to evolve but hasn't found the right catalyst." He picked up a practice sword from the rack and tossed it to me. "Show me your form with a physical blade."
I caught it and moved through a basic pattern. Nothing fancy, just fundamental cuts and guards.
"Stop." Edgeshot held up a hand. "Again. Slower this time."
I repeated the sequence at half speed.
"Fascinating." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Your technique is... old. Very old. Where did you learn this style?"
"Self-taught, mostly. I studied historical swordsmanship."
"Self-taught." He didn't sound convinced but didn't press. "Your fundamentals are excellent, but you have habits that will get you killed against modern opponents."
"Such as?"
"You commit too fully to each strike. In your era..." He paused, catching himself. "In historical combat, battles were often one-on-one duels. Decisive blows mattered. But modern villain fights involve multiple opponents, quirks with unpredictable effects, and civilians in danger. You need to be more adaptable."
He wasn't wrong. Most of my experience came from battlefields where committing to a strike meant overwhelming your opponent before they could counter. Here, that approach left too many openings.
"Show me," I said.
Edgeshot smiled, or at least I think he did. Hard to tell through the mask. "Maintain your quirk. I'm going to attack you. Defend yourself."
His quirk activated mid-motion, his body elongating and flattening into a thin thread that whipped toward my face. I raised my arms to block, golden energy surging to reinforce them. The thread split and came at me from two angles.
I dodged left, reinforcing my legs to move faster. The thread reformed into Edgeshot's full body directly in my path. His fist drove toward my solar plexus.
I deflected with a palm strike, redirecting the blow. He flowed with the momentum, already reshaping into thread form to circle behind me.
"You're reactive," he said, his voice coming from everywhere at once as his body remained in thread form. "Waiting for me to commit before you move. Against me, that's acceptable. Against someone with a quirk you don't understand, it's suicide."
He reformed above me, dropping with a kick aimed at my head. I rolled forward, came up with a counter punch. He was already gone, thread-form again, wrapping around my arm.
"Predictable counter. I saw that coming three moves ago."
The thread tightened. Not enough to hurt, but enough to immobilize my arm. I could have reinforced my strength and broken free, but that wasn't the point of this exercise.
"Yield," I said.
He released me and reformed a few feet away. "Good. You know when you're beaten. Many students your age would have kept struggling pointlessly."
I deactivated my quirk and rubbed my arm. No actual damage, but the message was clear. I had a lot to learn.
"Your combat instincts are excellent," Edgeshot continued. "Your reinforcement is powerful. But you're fighting like a soldier from another era. Here and now, you need to adapt."
"How?"
"By learning to read quirks as quickly as you read combat techniques. By understanding that every fight in this world involves powers you've never seen before. By accepting that committing fully to any action might be exactly what your opponent wants."
He walked to the weapons rack and pulled down two wooden practice swords. Tossed one to me.
"We're going to spar. No quirks. Just technique. And every time you commit too heavily to a strike, I'm going to exploit it. By the end of this week, you'll have learned to fight like a modern hero. Or you'll have a lot of bruises. Probably both."
I caught the wooden sword and tested its weight. Lighter than Excalibur, but well-balanced.
"When do we start?"
"Now."
He came at me again, and this time I couldn't rely on my quirk's enhanced speed. Just technique against technique. Skill against skill.
I lasted about thirty seconds before he disarmed me.
"Again," he said simply.
Four Hours Later
My entire body ached.
We'd sparred for hours, with Edgeshot systematically dismantling every technique I used. Every time I thought I'd adapted, he'd show me a new weakness. A new angle I hadn't considered. A new way my old habits left me vulnerable.
"Enough," he finally said. "You learn quickly. By the end of the week, you'll be much improved."
I sat on the mat, breathing hard. Sweat soaked through my hero costume. My muscles screamed. But I felt... good. Challenged. Pushed in ways U.A.'s training hadn't managed.
"We patrol in one hour," Edgeshot said. "Rest. Hydrate. Then we'll see how you handle real villain encounters."
"What should I expect?"
"Uncertainty. Every patrol is different. Sometimes nothing happens. Sometimes everything happens at once." He headed toward the door. "The key is being ready for both."
After he left, I pulled out my phone. Several messages in the class group chat.
Ashido: "first day of internships!! how's everyone doing??"
Kaminari: "i'm doing office work. this is so boring."
Sero: "same. they won't let me do anything cool yet."
Kirishima: "Fourth Kind is intense! He's already got me doing rescue drills!"
Yaoyorozu: "Uwabami has me... modeling. For a commercial. This is not what I expected."
Uraraka: "gunhead is teaching me martial arts!! it's so cool!!"
I smiled at Uraraka's enthusiasm. At least someone was having fun.
Himura: "Edgeshot kicked my ass for four hours straight. It was great."
Ashido: "ONLY YOU WOULD THINK THAT'S GREAT"
Kirishima: "man you're so manly"
Bakugo: "STOP TEXTING IM TRYING TO WORK"
Kaminari: "you literally just texted"
Bakugo: "SHUT UP"
I put the phone away and focused on recovery. Used my quirk's healing factor to speed up muscle repair. By the time Edgeshot returned, I'd be ready for patrol.
Day one, I thought. Already learning. Already improving.
Now let's see what actual hero work looks like.
Evening Patrol - Tokyo Streets
Tokyo at night was different from the daytime city. Neon signs blazed. Crowds thinned out. The atmosphere shifted from bustling commerce to something quieter, more tense. This was when villains came out.
"Stay close," Edgeshot said as we moved across rooftops. "Watch everything. Most heroism is observation, not action."
We'd been patrolling for an hour. Nothing major yet. A few drunk salarymen who needed directions. One teenager who'd gotten separated from friends. Normal, mundane stuff that didn't require quirks or combat.
"Is it always this quiet?" I asked.
"Sometimes. The presence of heroes prevents most crime. People see us patrolling and think twice about causing trouble." He stopped at a roof edge, scanning the street below. "But quiet nights end quickly when they end."
As if summoning disaster with his words, an explosion echoed from three blocks east.
"There," Edgeshot pointed. Smoke rose above the buildings. "Pendragon. Can you keep up?"
"Yes."
"Then move."
He launched himself forward, body elongating into thread-form to zip between buildings. I reinforced my legs and followed, jumping from rooftop to rooftop.
We reached the source of the explosion in under a minute. A convenience store, its front window blown out. Inside, I could see three figures in masks grabbing merchandise. The clerk was huddled behind the counter.
"Small-time robbery," Edgeshot assessed. "But they used explosives. That escalates things."
"What's the play?"
"I secure the villains. You get the civilian out safely. On my mark." He positioned himself above the broken window. "Now."
I dropped through a side entrance while Edgeshot went through the front. The villains barely had time to react before he was on them, his thread-form wrapping around two of them simultaneously.
The third one saw me and panicked. His hands started glowing, gathering energy for another explosion.
I closed the distance in one reinforced step and drove my palm into his solar plexus. The energy dispersed from his hands as he crumpled.
"Clerk," I called out. "You're safe. Exit through the back."
The young woman behind the counter stared at me with wide eyes. "You're... you're that first year. From the Sports Festival."
"Yes. Please leave the building."
She scrambled out while Edgeshot finished securing the three villains. The entire encounter lasted maybe ninety seconds.
"Efficient," Edgeshot said, checking the restraints. "You assessed the threat, neutralized it, and prioritized the civilian. Well done."
"It was straightforward."
"Most villain encounters are. The dangerous ones are the exceptions, not the rule." He pulled out his phone to call the police. "Remember this. Heroism is often just competent people doing necessary work. It's not always glory and dramatic battles."
Police sirens wailed in the distance. Within minutes, officers arrived to take the villains into custody. We gave our statements, confirmed the civilian was unharmed, and returned to patrol.
"How do you feel?" Edgeshot asked as we moved across another rooftop.
"Alert. Ready."
"Good. That was a warmup. By the end of the week, we'll encounter worse."
Worse. I wondered what that meant to someone who'd been doing this as long as Edgeshot had.
My phone buzzed. A news notification.
Hero Killer Stain Strikes Again - Third Victim in Hosu
I stopped moving. Read the article quickly. Another hero attacked, this time in broad daylight. Stain was getting bolder.
"Something wrong?" Edgeshot had noticed my pause.
"Just news. The Hero Killer."
"Stain." Edgeshot's voice hardened. "He's targeting heroes in Hosu specifically. Three attacks in two weeks. The man has a ideology and he's willing to kill for it."
"You sound like you respect him."
"I respect his skill, not his methods. Stain is a trained combatant who's killed pro heroes. That makes him dangerous regardless of his motives." Edgeshot looked toward the horizon, in the direction of Hosu. "Heroes in that city are on high alert. It's only a matter of time before someone corners him."
"Come," Edgeshot said. "Patrol continues."
We moved on, but I couldn't shake the feeling. My Instinct was screaming now. Not about immediate danger here in Tokyo, but about something building. Something coming.
Hosu. Soon. Iida's going to make his move soon.
I sent a quick message to the class chat.
Himura: "Everyone stay safe this week. Call for backup if anything seems wrong."
Kirishima: "you okay man? that's kinda serious"
Himura: "Just a feeling. Trust it."
I put the phone away and focused on patrol. But in the back of my mind, I was already planning. Already considering what I'd need to do when Hosu exploded.
Because it would explode. My Instinct was never wrong about things like this.
Edgeshot Agency - Late Night
We returned to the agency after midnight. The patrol had continued for six more hours, with two more minor villain encounters and one rescue operation involving a cat stuck in a very tall tree.
"First day complete," Edgeshot said as we entered the agency. "You performed adequately."
Coming from him, that was high praise.
"Tomorrow we focus on stealth techniques. Your quirk makes you powerful, but power without subtlety is just destruction." He headed toward his office. "Be here at six AM. We'll work on observation and infiltration before morning patrol."
"Understood."
"Pendragon." He stopped at his office door. "You fight well for someone your age. Too well, honestly. That suggests either natural talent or extensive training. I suspect both."
I didn't respond. What could I say?
"I won't press for details. Everyone has secrets." He pulled his mask off, revealing a weathered face that looked much older than I'd expected. "But know this. Whatever your background, whatever experience you're drawing from... it's an asset. Use it wisely."
"I will."
"Good. Now go rest. Tomorrow will be harder."
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