A Piece of Gum
"Why do you want to become a hero?" The examiner droned for approximately the hundredth time today. Rolling the question around in his mouth like a piece of gum he'd been chewing on for hours: tough, chewy and devoid of all taste.
"Huh?" The boy fidgets, his eyes darting around the plain office. "Why you say?"
"Come now, there's no need to be shy, you surely have a splendid reason." The principal piped up.
And sure enough the kid in front of him who was just nervously fidgeting now goes all bright-eyed and sits up straight.
For a moment the examiner hopes he will hear something different, something that would give that stale piece of gum some taste again.
Alas the boy starts gushing about his favourite heroes and their heroic deeds, their coolness and whatever.
Sighing inwardly the examiner tunes out and turns to the papers lying on the desk.
The kid has the quirk, some kind of pressure manipulation and certainly the academic requirements are met but-,
He tunes in again to hear the kid conclude his speech by saying he wants to be like his idol: dashing, cool-looking, gallant and altruistic. Repeatedly mentioning Steel-Jaq as his favourite: The new up-and-comer, the rising star fresh out of hero school and into the world of heroics, the agencies pushing him into the limelight as the "new generation hero" instilling into the young populace that "you can do it too".
He can't help but think it in the voice of Steel-Jaq from that horrendous TV commercial strategically placed in between the other ads during the Saturday morning anime. Worst thing was his own son had watched it and sure enough a few days later he was running around with the new action figure of the guy. Expensive piece of crap.
In the beginning, Steel-Jaq had been that idol. The humble country boy coming to the big city and realising his dream through his own strength. A story straight out of a shōnen manga, perfectly staged by corporate bigwigs and their greedy ambitions.
But even kind underdogs are not saints in the face of the temptations offered by such a lofty position in the spotlight. Especially for a starry eyed boy drunk on success with his horizons intentionally kept narrow. With fame came money, with money careless spending and so the downward spiral into debauchery.
It started with fast cars, expensive watches, designer clothes then the rumours surfaced. Rumours about lavish parties thrown in soaring penthouses. Rumours about women, alcohol, drugs.
Tabloid magazines and paparazzi preyed like hungry hyenas on the boy, eager to find anything they could make an article about and tear his reputation to shreds.
One of these paparazzi had gone too far in his pursuit of material and in doing so earned himself an all inclusive stay at the General Hospital in Shibuya along with a scar on his pulverized jaw that bore an uncanny resemblance to Steel-Jaq's trademark steel knuckles.
Nobody liked paparazzi and the government preferred the image of their "influencer of the youth" intact to justice being served. Society was just stabilizing again after all.
A couple of commercial stunts were pulled, charity events thrown, Jaq went into rehab and everything was swept under a rug worth millions of yen.
And it had worked. The corporations got the one thing they ever cared about: profits, the government could paint its pretty picture and parade it to the public again and Steel-Jaq was out on the streets and saving people right in the middle of the limelight. At least for as long as it is profitable and until his popularity passes -which it inevitably will- and the focus shifts to the newest corporate puppet emerging from backstage with glorious fanfare.
A sharp elbow to the ribs from his colleague violently ripped him from his musings. Apparently the boy had finished and now sat there even more uncomfortable than before, waiting for a reply.
"Well," the examiner cleared his throat, "as the principal said: a splendid reason." The boy visibly relaxed. "Now, would you please leave the room for a minute? We would like to discuss your application."
"Y-y-yes of course!" he shot up from his seat and stormed out of the door,
"He has potential." The principal turned to his colleagues. "Vigorous and youthfully determined. Exactly what we need. Don't you think?"
"Yes sir."
What you need for the school's reputation at least.
"Quirk applicable in both villain and rescue scenarios, grades are at a 85 percent average." The other examiner pulled on her tie lightly to loosen it. It has been a long day. "I think he'd be a great addition to this year's freshmen."
"Indeed." Principal Kobayashi clapped his hands together. "What do you think?"
Years of experience in the hero industry and thousands upon thousands of interviews had honed the examiner's eyes. And in this boy's future, try as he might, he could not see anything beyond mediocrity. He would graduate, find a job at a reasonably good agency at which save for the odd villain he would only deal with petty offences and after a few years fall into a rut. Numbed by routine and dreams he never achieved. Ugh, what am I thinking? He shook his head.
Exhaustion warped his thoughts. Poor boy hadn't done anything to be labelled like that. His intuition had seldomly been proven wrong, but there was always the odd one out. I hope he'll prove me wrong.
"I concur with my colleague."
"Very well then." The principal pressed a button on the intercom. "Send the boy in again!"
He didn't think it possible to be even more nervous than the boy already had been but there he was: practically shaking on the cushioned chair.
The principal chuckled. "Relax young man. After careful consideration I can safely say that we would be delighted to have you."
The boy beamed at this, smiling and thanking them profusely to which the examiner offered a stiff smile in response.
"You will be hearing from us in the near future."
After he had left the room the two examiners sighed. "Thank god the next one's the last." They had been interviewing for 5 hours now, with only a short break for a can of coffee and a quick smoke. Winter days were short and night was already creeping across the sky, save for the dash of orange across the horizon as the sun vanished. He longed for a glass of an afterwork beer and the warm embrace of his bed.
"Alright, send in the last one." The examiner droned through the intercom whilst pulling out the file for the next kid.
Lets see: Aizawa Shōta, fifteen, went to Mos Espa municipal middle-school, Tatooine ward, outstanding grades, quirk- he paused. "Hey," he nudged his colleague, "look at this-"
The door opened slowly, a young man stepping through and closing it again. Tall and lean with black unkempt hair that reached his shoulders. Bloodshot eyes surrounded by dark circles. Dressed in simple jeans and a grey shirt, looking bored half to death and pale enough to already be.
"Hmph." the headmaster voiced his distaste towards the boy and snatched the file out of the examiner's hand. His expression darkening as he read about the boy's origin.
The young man strode silently over to the chair.
"Sit-"
"Sit down please." The headmaster interrupted, apparently wanting to interview the boy himself. The two examiners shared a glance and shrugging.
"State your name please."
"Aizawa Shōta."
"Why do you want to attend at UA high?"
"Because it's the closest one to home."
"How did you hear about our school?"
"Flyers."
"What is your exam score average?"
"92%"
"What is your quirk?"
"Emitter type, disables Quirks for as long as I have the target in visual range."
A long pause followed the barrage of questions, as the others in the room processed the information. A powerful quirk, if not as showy as others. Extremely powerful if used correctly. The principal continued grilling the boy but he seemed unfazed, replying tersely and respectfully. All the other kids that had attended today had been rosy-cheeked bundles of nerves, all stutters and cold sweat. The Aizawa boy sat there like a statue, expressionless and calm.
The others were energetic, ambitious young men and women full of potential. Bright eyes looking towards an even brighter future. This generation's new heroes. Model students, model "hero-eggs" and even better poster girls and boys. Posters on which you could never fit Aizawa on. He was as lethargic as a cat on a summer afternoon and of unremarkable character. At first glance at least.
Under that image of the silent boy, behind the black pools of his eyes blazed ambition, red hot like iron fresh out of the forge ready to be struck and molded into...
Into something that would remain to be seen. His eyes could see potential but not the future. The gears of his mind had started turning as soon as he had caught the slightest vestige of that burning heat and they only increased in speed as more and more of it had surfaced, many scenarios playing out in front his mind's eye. Among them, turning down this boy's application always played out as a big mistake.
Clearly the principal didn't care for him one bit, from his appearance to his origins and mostly because this kid could never become a the "new generation hero" every school seemed to want to desperately have in their roster nowadays. He only cared about the schools reputation and that meant producing charismatic, inspiring and successful heroes.
By now the principal had run out of questions and patience. The boy still sat there.
"Well I think we are ready to conclude this interview." He cleared his throat. " We are sorry-"
"We are sorry, but could you please leave the room for a minute to let us discuss?"
Aizawa nodded and silently left the room.
"What are you doing examiner?"
"What are you doing Mr. Kobayashi? You were about to just turn down that boy without conferring with us."
"Is there a discussion necessary? Look at him," He pointed towards the door Aizawa had left out of, "he's a street urchin. I won't admit him to my school."
His school? What a puffed up son of a... "Respectfully Mr. Kobayashi you hold a big portion of the shares, but this, like every hero-school is a joint project. The other part of which is the government. You get to decide where the trees get planted on the campus. I, who represents the Department of Heroics in this affair get to decide who gets accepted and who does not. And I have deemed this boy more than adequate to enroll in UA's hero-course.
"But-"
"Mr. Kobayashi, I do not care for his appearance, nor his place of residence. His grades are well above average, his quirk is powerful. The decision is final."
Principal Kobayashi's opened his mouth to reply, thought better of it and remained silent. A vein had popped up on his right temple and he was beginning to turn red. After a moment of eye-contact he set his jaw and turned away, huffing. "Fine, do what you want."
"I will." he pressed the button on the intercom. "Send him in again."
Again Aizawa entered the room and sat down on the chair without so much as a word.
"Well Mr. Aizawa, after careful consideration we have decided to let you attend UA's entrance exam and are hopeful towards a bright future."
"Thank you very much." He stood up and bowed before the committee. You could barely see it but there was the slightest hint of excitement in his eyes.
"Wait just a moment Mr. Aizawa." The examiner stopped him. And rolled around the piece of gum in his mouth, which now seemed to have acquired taste again. Aizawa turned around to face him. "There's one last question."
"Why do you want to become a hero?"
A/N: This is the first ever fanfiction I have written. Constructive criticism is very much appreaciated, as English isn't my first language. Thanks for reading!
