The cafe was quiet. The arrival of Masaru and his protege didn't attract any attention. The pro- hero's fame had died down immensely since leaving the public stage.
"Two coffees." Masaru stated.
The barrista smiled akwardly. Her head bobbed up and down like a duck on the water. The tall and burly customer in front of her screamed don't mess with me from head to toe.
Masaru and Takeru took a seat at a table by the window. The public passed by on the other side of the glass. The normalness of the coffee shop and the busy street were a stark contrast to the special reccomendation exam that had just ended.
"You lost."
The comment wasn't malicious. The fact was simple.
Takeru stirred the leaf pattern on his coffee. The foam broke apart messily, "I did."
Masaru swallowed a mouthful of coffee. The singular sip emptied half of the cup. His enormous hand looked out of place holding the small cup.
"How do you feel?" Masaru asked. With another sip he finished the rest of his coffee.
The calmness in Takeru's eyes flared. The fierce and warlike aura he'd shown on stage rushed back. Then, in an instant, it receded. The barrista who'd been nervously watching the enormous man and the ordinary-looking student the entire time felt a shiver go down her spine.
"I feel good." Takeru answered. The warmth of the coffee dispelled a little more of the chill from his limbs.
Takeru continued to speak, "Thank you for taking me."
The gratitude and respect in his voice was enormous. The effort Masaru had dedicated to training him went far beyond the expectations of a normal junior high coach.
Takeru considered Masaru as much more than that. The tall giant wasn't talkative, and his compliments were once in a blue moon. But the belief Masaru had in him didn't need words to be expressed.
Masaru hadn't expected to encounter his first, and maybe only, protege. And Takeru hadn't expected to encounter his first mentor. This was the unpredictability of fate.
"You're strong, Takeru. Your punches are heavier than mine now, I can feel it. You don't even blink when I hit you. Your defense is in a differrent league to me. At first your strength lagged behind your toughness, but it's catching up.
The only edge I have over you is experience. In a fight to the death, I have complete certainty that you would win."
The usual length Masaru talked for was only a dozen or so words. What he'd just said was enormously long by comparison.
Takeru sat with what Masaru had said for a few seconds. He met his mentor's gaze with a respectful and filial hardness, "I'm only what I am today because of you."
The conversation didn't carry on any further. The look in Masaru's eyes said that he was contemplating something far away.
The coffee in Takeru's cup gave way to the empty white bottom. No words were exchanged, but Takeru immediately got up to follow his mentor. Takeru bowed slightly to the barrista as they left.
The seats in Masaru's luxury car were soft and pillowy. The ride was impeccable. The other drivers on the road subconciously gave the luxury vehicle extra room.
The drive was peaceful. Takeru replayed the matches in his mind. After he had been defeated, the willowy girl dominated for more than a dozen matches. Her position on the stage was taken from her by a tall boy with an emitter type quirk. The black flames on the boy's body were a direct counter to the girl's ice. And after more than a dozen fights, her stamina had begun to bottom out.
The battles were eye-opening for Takeru. The variety of quirks displayed on stage, and the diverse applications their users had for them, went far beyond any of the other students at his junior high. This was the difference between the ordinary and the elite. Many of the candidates for the special reccomendation exam were accompanied by adults with undeniably similar features.
There were numerous examples of professional heroes who had rose from humble beginnings. But there were also large and prominent families who's scions grew stronger with every generation. The children of powerful quirk users nearly always inherited the traits of their parents' quirks.
The luxury car pulled up at the entrance to the school. Takeru and Masaru got in near-perfect sync. Their shadows overlapped on the sidewalk.
"There's an hour left of the school day. You're already excused from last period. That girl's quirk was strong, if you need to rest..." The meaning of Masaru's unfinished sentence was clear. He was offering Takeru a chance to miss the usual after-school training.
'If it'd been me in that ice, I'd be half dead. This kid is walking around like nothing happened.' Masaru thought to himself.
The offer might've been enticing to an ordinary student. But Takeru was different. The improvements to his body derived from the intense icy stimulus were still ongoing. The frantic activity of his quirk made him feel like he was overflowing with energy.
"I'd like to train." Takeru replied. There was a quiet hunger in his voice.
Masaru nodded. The attitude of his protege continued to command his respect, "Good. Start with weights. I need to speak with the principal. I will join you when I'm done."
The mentor and his student split into two directions. Takeru headed towards the preparatory course gym, and Masaru entered the main building, heading towards the principal's office.
Knock-knock!
The door shook from the impact. The construction was more fragile than Masaru had expected.
"Masaru? Is that you? Come in, come in!" The principal's enthusiastic voice sounded from the other side of the door.
The principal hurriedly stood up. He smiled flatteringly and gestured to the seat across from his desk, "Please, please, take a seat."
Masaru looked at the chair. The legs looked barely thick enough to bear his weight. He sat down. The chair creaked violently in protest, but it held.
The principal didn't take his seat again until after Masaru did. The friendship between the two men had once been close. In elementary school and junior high they'd been inseperable. Over time, and with the invisible divide of Masaru's professional hero status, they drifted apart.
The principal had contacted his old friend on a whim. The offer of coaching some first year junior high students was just a pretense to lead into meeting face-to-face again. The power and influence held by professional heroes, even one like Masaru who had retired, were simply unimaginable to normal people.
When the principal had recieved Masaru's positive response to the offer, he was stunned. Over the coming year, his astonishment turned into awe as he recieved reports on Masaru's focused coaching of a young student.
"Would you like some tea? Or water? Can I get you anything, if you'd like more funding I can-"
Masaru interrupted before the principal could continue speaking. The principal immediately shut up.
"Takeru. He's special. He's got potential, much more than I ever did. His strength had already caught up to mine, in a week I'll have nothing left to teach him."
The principal's eyes widened. Masaru's words were like a bombshell going off in the office.
The principal had followed Masaru's career closely. The tall and rugged hero had never climbed high in the hero rankings, but his position had always been stable. With that kind of strength he could've opened his own agency.
There were many things that determined how professional heroes ranked. The most important, without question, was talent. With a powerful quirk, an individual hero could crush crime rates within an entire prefecture.
The importance of hard-work wasn't small. With brutal training, even the most average hero could suprass their limits. But quirks had limits, hard work could only go so far.
The most numerous heroes were those in the lower to middle tiers of the rankings. Masaru had never been able to cross the divide into the higher rankings.
The principal smiled obseqiuously, "That-that's wonderful! What a blessing for our school! Would you like to present him with an award or-or perhaps a prize?"
Masaru didn't anwser. He looked off to the side and his focus drifted to distant memories. After nearly a minute, he spoke, "This school is too small for him. He needs to be challenged. If he spends another year here, with me, he'll do nothing but waste his potential."
The principal's brain went blank. His lips moved before his brain could catch up. His voice lacked the cloying taste of flattery, "So what do you want to do?"
The thought that had been playing in Masaru's head all day finally made its way into the world, "I know someone, a friend, who could train him. Instead of training here, after school, Takeru should train with them instead."
The principal didn't display his usual flattering attitude. The duty of an educator to protect their students injected strength into his voice.
"What you're suggesting Masaru, isn't an extracurricular activity. Takeru's safety is my responsibility.
If his parents agree, I have no problems."
The principal paused. He leaned forwards. The resolve in his eyes was firm, "I trust you Masaru. I trust that you want what is best for Takeru. But is he ready for what you're proposing?"
The wrinkles in the principal's forehead seemed to fade for a moment. For an instant, Masaru saw the stubborn and strong-willed teenage face of the friend he'd once had.
Masaru smiled. The harshness in his eyes softened, "I promise Hiroshi, he's ready."
The principal blinked. He hadn't heard Masaru say his name, not with that tone, for a long time.
The principal leaned back in his chair. His face broke into a smile. His laugh was loud and bold, "Good, very good! You've found a diamond Masaru!"
The servileness in the principal's posture vanished. The stubborn youthful spirit that had been buried in the dust of time began to shine again, "I remember when we had our first sips of beer together. That bitter taste has always stayed with me."
Masaru nodded. The memory rushed back into his mind like a wave crashing to shore. The bridge, the heat of the summer day. The pop of the bottle's cap flying off as they used a stone to prise it open.
They'd only been fifteen at the time. The intoxicating rush of alcohol and the excitement of it all had given away what they'd done to their parents.
Masaru remembered how they'd laughed, reciting back the furious reprimands of his father.
"We-" Masaru hesitated suddenly. The things he'd done, the things all underground heroes did, flashed through his mind.
The act of killing, regardless of how righteous the cause, permanently deprived an individual of the chance to make amends.
Masaru had killed monsters. His knuckle-dusters had been stained with the blood of criminals who didn't deserve to be called human.
'Do I really deserve to interact with normal life?' The question rose uncontrollably in Masaru's mind.
Hiroshi, the principal, recognised the struggle in his old friend's eyes. He smiled, "You should come for dinner, Masaru. My wife hasn't seen you since our wedding."
The words broke down the walls in Masaru's heart. The softness of normal life wrapped him up like a warm hug.
Masaru smiled. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to live without the weight of the things he'd done on his shoulders.
"Yes. Yuna should know that her husband once fell through the seat of an outhouse."
Hiroshi's friendly smile froze in place. The shiver that travelled down his spine pulled him back through time to that dreadful day.
The urge to gag rose up in Hiroshi's throat. It was as if he could smell that horrible aroma.
The horror in his friend's eyes was immense. Masaru did what any friend would do. He began to laugh.
Masaru's laughter shook the office. The principal, amidst retches, laughed alongside him.