"Ah… Come on, Aoyama. Can you be a little more gentle?" Ritchie hissed in pain as Aoyama gave another tug to the knot tying the couple white bandages around his head.
"Apologies, Blackmore-chan. Your hair is just so…" One final tug, and the knot held- the bandages now carefully wrapped around his tender skull, his black hair hanging over it and mostly hiding it from sight. Aoyama grinned proudly. "There we are! All done."
As it turned out, Ritchie had not come out of that long trial unscathed. It shouldn't have come as a surprise, most of that match had been him being thrown around by Ojiro. His arms were now wrapped tightly in white wrapping to hide away the thick bruises dotting it, just as his abused knuckles now were. Even more shocking, something he hadn't realized was that the skin on the back of his head had been cut open- slowly trickling down the back of his neck for awhile now. No matter how surprisingly gentle and soft Aoyama's fingers actually were, it was still tender to the touch and left him jumping with pain at every touch.
Nary a minute after the conclusion of their trial, All Might had come bounding up the stairs with incredible speed. With practiced ease, he scooped up all of the fighters and brought them out to the untouched front of the building- the fresh air, free of dust and grime, salvation for their exhausted bodies.
The rest of the students had filed out of the monitoring room not far behind the pro hero. They watched the four as they were tended to, All Might giving them congratulations, condolences, and encouragement. But they kept their distance.
"Are you certain you wouldn't like to go see Recovery girl, you two?" All Might questioned as he stepped up to them.
He realized this would be the first time he had directly spoken to the towering man, "No. I'm fine, it'll heal on its own. I'd… rather not miss the next matches if I don't have to."
"Hah! Just the same as the hero team, then! Very well, I will not force you!"
Just a few paces away, Ojiro stood with the assistance of Tokoyami. Of the the two, Ojiro was the most heavily injured, while the bird teen had absolutely no injuries or visible weakness. The tail teen was bandaged up just as he was, plus a large patch on the bottom of his chin- Ritchie couldn't help the wash of guilt he felt when he saw that. Fair or not, he hadn't held back on that final attack; it had to have hurt like hell.
Over here, Aoyama looked a hell of a lot better than he did. Apart from a small bandage on his finger and cheek, there were no visible signs of injury, which he was thankful for. He was however covered in dust and dirt. Being thrown around that wrecked room constantly and fighting nonstop for ten minutes left him less than pristine.
Though he hid it well, from time to time his face would twist slightly in pain, his smile faltering as he staggered a bit. To keep Tokoyami at bay he was forced to stretch his quirk to its upper limits; putting an intense toll on his stomach. Though it wasn't quite as bad as it could get, from time to time his stomach would twist up with a sharp stabbing sensation.
"I too, shall stay. It would not do to deny my audience a chance to admire my victory, after all." So he said. Ritchie barely even reacted to the statement, instead fiddling to get his vest back on
As he slowly grew more used to Aoyama's strange personality, he felt he better understood what he left unsaid between his flowery words. Though he may claim that he wanted to bask in the fame of his victory, the reality was that he didn't want to leave if his partner was staying. Regardless of the trials they faced, they were both injured, and Aoyama could stick it out if Ritchie could.
Whatever his reasoning, Blackmore was glad to have a friend nearby.
"If you can walk, then let us make for the monitor room. It is time for your evaluation!"
As always, the monitoring room was packed to the brim. Something that he only briefly made note of. He supposed by now he had gotten used to being around so many people in his age group.
"Now then! Congratulations must go to the villain team! It was a hard fought match, but they pulled through! Well done!" Ritchie blushed as All Might rocked him back and forth with a massive hand on his shoulder. All the gathered students were staring at he and Aoyama, and it left him frightfully uncomfortable.
"It was an admirable match." Iida Tenya commented deadly seriously, and it only made him all the more embarrassed. "Both sides put forth their best."
"Hero team!" All Might called out, and Ojiro and Tokoyami immediately snapped to attention. "Well done! Though you did not win in the end, no one here can say that you did any less than your best!"
Ojiro nodded graciously, "Thank you sir." Tokoyami by his side said nothing, but still nodded along in agreement. His shadow quirk beside him crooned at the compliment however.
"My only statement going forward is this; teamwork is the key to this mission! Young Masahiro, although the situation was difficult, you lost sight of the objective. Tokoyami could have used your help, but you were too wrapped up in your match with Blackmore."
Now he blushed, "Ah… Yes sir."
"With that out of the way, who would you all say is the MVP of this particular match?!"
There was some hushed murmuring among the crowd, but within seconds a hand launched up from the middle. All Might flinched when he realized it was connected to Yaoyorozu Momo. He didn't mind the young girl taking command like that, nor effortlessly breaking down the trial, but it did rob him of the opportunity to be a cool teacher for the young generation.
But there were no more hands raising, so with only a small amount of reluctance, All Might pointed a finger at her, "Yes, you there in the front!"
"It was Blackmore-san." She said with certainty, her tone overflowing with a confidence that one could only have from an assured correct answer, "Because of him, Masahiro-san was kept away from the room with the bomb for the entire match. He made good use of his quirk and his opponents weaknesses to defeat him in the end as well. -Furthermore, with his quirk he was able to stop Tokoyami from reaching the bomb twice. He made sure to attack just when he was about to reach the bomb, and because of that he was unable to defend himself. If it weren't for him the match would have gone very differently."
By the end of the explanation, Ritchie Blackmore was left beet-red. It was technically all true, everything that the girl said acted as an almost play-by-play recount of what happened. Even so, hearing that all said out loud was still extremely embarrassing. Though it was said with calculating coldness, it was still praise- and pretty much no one ever praised him. Couldn't this be over already?
Something glinted in All Might's eye, his grin widening, "Well said! Blackmore is indeed the Most Valuable Fighter in this match! But tell me, young lady, how did Blackmore stop Fumikage?"
Yaoyorozu blinked in confusion, "...How? What do you mean?"
"Blackmore was the key to stopping Fumikage from reaching the bomb, but how did he know that he was even close to the bomb? They were separated by many floors after all!"
Kaminari, the blonde haired teen with stripe of black in his hair, stepped up next, a thoughtful frown on his face, "Didn't he just use his quirk?"
"No." Ritchie Blackmore shook his head at that, hoping to clear up the misconceptions before they got out of hand, "With Blackfoot, I can move anywhere I want, but I can't actually see what is happening there. Until I actually arrived physically, I had no clue what was happening in that room."
If he could, he was certain that Mineta would accuse him of using his quirk to peep on girls. He absolutely could not let this be a misunderstanding. Blackfoot was a movement quirk, nothing more, nothing less.
At that, confused murmurs rose from the crowded students. Eyes darted as the meaning of that statement dawned on them. Suddenly, the entire match seemed a whole lot stranger. All Might's grin grew even wider, "So, how did he know exactly when to stop Tokoyami?"
They pondered on that. Iida, who seemed to take it as a personal challenge, especially so. But none of them could quite figure it out. By all means, it should have been impossible for the America to know exactly when to stop the hero team- but the footage didn't lie.
Seeing that they weren't any closer to solving the conundrum, All Might turned to Ritchie, "Well then, Blackmore! Would you be so kind as to explain?"
"Ah… Um, sure." Once again put on the spot, Ritchie floundered, but he ignored the urge to tap his foot frantically. He had just fought one of the most intense battles of his life, he could handle a little bit of public speaking now.
Coughing only once to clear his throat, he found somewhere to start, "At the beginning of the match I knew that I had to do something to swing the match in our favor. Guarding the bomb was the most important thing, and the best way to do that would be if we were both guarding it." Ritchie said, speaking toward the crowd with just a little anxiety in his tone, "But, if we fought in that room, then there would always be the risk that one of them could slip by, or that they could team up to get to it. I guessed that making a last stand wouldn't work."
Aoyama interjected, stepping up beside Ritchie and speaking with a theater-like quality, "We couldn't separate each other either. If only one of us was in that room then the other wouldn't be able to step in should they be knocked down. It seemed as though there would be no solution!"
"...Right." Ritchie coughed. That was about where he was going, if only a little more flamboyant than he would have put it. "So we needed a way to separate each other while also ensuring that I could get to the top floor in time to assist Aoyama. That's why I came up with a plan." The American raised a finger, his eyes hardening. "An alarm system."
"Alarm system?" Iida repeated, frowning at the idea. "What, like a motion sensor? How could you possibly set up something like that?"
"Hahah!" Aoyama laughed loudly. To anyone who was looking at him, it was obvious that he was having a lot of fun with this back and forth. He spun on his feet with unmatched grace, soaking up the attention. "Nothing so complicated! The alarm system was none other than yours truly!"
"Wait. Aoyama was the alarm? How the heck does that work?" The invisible Tooru Hagakure spoke up next, any confusion she was unable to express clearly through expression came through in her words.
"The alarm system itself was pretty simple." Ritchie continued, no longer stumbling over his words or hesitating. There was a strength to what he said that was comparable to the will he displayed in his fight with Ojiro. "It was glass bottles."
"Glass bottles…?"
A Couple Minutes Ago...
"Ah… Blackmore-chan… Explain to me how this works again?"
Blackmore was patient as he picked up one of the glass bottles he had pulled from the trash can, this particular one tinted a rosy pink. Though muddied by dirt, the once filled container was smooth to the touch and seemed to glimmer with a certain kind of luster in the sunlight. With practiced movements, he took his capture tape and wrapped the length of yellow twine around the neck of the bottle twice before lengthening it out.
"This is a little something that my father taught me when he went hunting. Usually when you're out in the wild or if you want to protect something, you'll have an alarm system set up to alert you whenever anything gets close." Ritchie moved onto the next bottle, his tongue poking out from his lips as he focused intently. "Since you won't always have perimeter cameras or tripwires out in the wild, you'll have to improvise materials. Hence the bottles."
Leaning forward, Ritchie bit off the length of tape. The bottles clattered to the ground, each of them having a separate long stretch of yellow tape wrapped around their necks that extended out limply. To make an example, they looked like strange yo-yo's with their strings pulled all the way out.
Taking the bottles, Ritchie stepped over to the window and, without any hesitation, tossed them out. Aoyama gaped at that, immediately taken aback.
"W-why would you do that?! I thought those were the plan?!"
"I didn't just drop them. Look-" Ritchie held up a hand, the yellow tapes still held firmly in his fist even though the bottles were dangling out the window.
Stepping back, Ritchie carefully laid the lengths of tape onto the floor and used nearby heavy trash to hold them down. The result was four separate stretches of tape leading toward and out the window; from the outside, the bottles were visible hanging gently a couple feet below the windowsill.
"This is the plan."
"Aoyama was tasked with defending the bomb, but I also knew that thanks to the drawback of his quirk that it would be impossible for him to do it alone. That's where the glass bottles came in." Ritchie Blackmore gestured upward to the screen that still showed the top floor of the office building.
"What the shit are you even talking about?" Bakugou, who had finally spoken for the first time since his own loss, barked at him. It was taking far too goddamn long to explain this plan for him. Ritchie couldn't help but flinch back at his ire, panicking and worrying that he was getting too long-winded.
Ojiro however, seemed to realize what he was getting at. None of the other students could quite catch on, but Ojiro had experienced it first hand. His face paled as he grasped the meaning of the plan.
"Wait… That room we fought in… You chose that place on purpose didn't you? You made sure you kept me in that room for this plan."
Ritchie nodded sagely, closing his eyes. "That's right. It was imperative that I fight Ojiro-san in that exact room. It was completely necessary that he stay there the entire match, so to keep him there, I didn't use my quirk until I absolutely had to. If he believed that he couldn't beat my quirk, then he may have ran to get the assistance of Tokoyami and beat both of us. The plan would have fallen apart."
It was a massive risk to take, especially when Ojiro could have easily rendered him unconscious at any moment if he landed a solid blow. But it was a necessary one.
"But why? What's so special about that room?" Yaoyorozu was still at a loss, a rare thing for someone as intelligent as her. Ritchie didn't blame her or any of them for still being confused, they were thinking too highly of him. There was no highly convoluted means by which the plan worked, they were just fooling themselves into believing that it was more complicated than it really was.
"Its special because it has a large window that faces away from the school." He pointed at the screen, "Just like the window I hung the bottles from."
His passionate declaration echoed through the room. It washed over his classmates, and the effect was immediate. Slowly but surely, shock spread through them- the final piece of the puzzle fitting into place.
A simple bottle alarm system, inspired by the bottle perimeter alarms that wilderness campers would use to alert them whenever a bear got to close to the camp. By hanging bottles from the window of the topmost floor, Ritchie Blackmore created a one-way radio system for which Aoyama could use to contact him. It was such a inconspicuous looking thing compared to the bomb that Tokoyami didn't even spare it a second glance.
Whenever Aoyama believed that he would be unable to stop Tokoyami from reaching the bomb, he would cut one of the lines of tape connected to one of the bottles- whether with his quirk or by knocking off the weights keeping it down. Without the tape, the glass bottle would fall- and because of the positions of the windows, the bottle would fall directly past the window for the room where Ritchie was fighting Ojiro.
Ritchie Blackmore was to keep Ojiro busy in that room while also paying attention to the window. Whenever he saw the bottle fall past, he would use Blackfoot to instantly appear at the top floor and stop Tokoyami. Blackmore acted as both a buffer for Ojiro, and a final safety net for the bomb.
"Something so simple… Damn. I never even realized it…" Tokoyami bit out, grimacing in shame. Throughout the entire trial, he was in the dark about Ritchie's quirk, only now did he know about it through Ojiro's description. There was no hope for him actually figuring out the plan in the middle of the trial, but he still felt scandalized either way.
Yaoyorozu gaped as her mind finally caught up, Uraraka just beside her seemed floored. "You- That- My god... I wouldn't have realized it either. It's so complicated yet also so stupidly simple…"
Harsh.
"I thought it was strange that Blackmore-san stopped fighting Ojiro-san every time the bomb was about to be touched. I can't believe I didn't notice why though!" Uraraka put in her own amazement.
"So you were never actually that invested in our match. You were always keeping an eye out for the bottles while fighting me. I… am not sure how I feel about that…" Ojiro mused humorlessly, shaking his head in his own shame at being so thoroughly fooled.
"I'm sorry about that, Ojiro-san." Ritchie chuckled nervously, his hand roughing through his hair only to fly back as he brushed his wound, "Ow. It really was fun to fight you, but the most important thing to me was winning the trial."
Splitting his attention between both Ojiro and the window was harder than it looked, but he somehow managed to pull it off. He doubted he could ever do it again however.
"It was effective, yet it relied on so much. It couldn't have possibly worked if Aoyama-san or Blackmore-san didn't trust each other to handle their tasks." Iida was lost in thought, thinking back to his own trial. No doubt still displeased at the lack of cohesion he had with his teammate. "I… Likely wouldn't have been able to pull off the same trick."
Bakugou scowled, openly seething, and Ritchie hurried to move the conversation away from that living landmine, "I-It was mostly luck. If anything didn't go exactly right, then we would have lost a whole lot quicker. There was probably a better way to set up a trap but-"
"But there was no time to do so, you did what you could with the time and resources you had." Ojiro cut him off, not allowing him to wave away the subject that easily, "Besides, luck or not you won."
All Might roared with laughter, enjoying the easily amazed children's faces- especially the American growing more and more embarrassed with each passing second. There was something inherently 'cute' about seeing the sparkle of life in the kid's eyes.
"Remember this, young Blackmore." All Might clamped a hand on the tall kids shoulder comfortingly, his eyes glinting with that same mischief it had when he was younger, "Luck is just another skill in a heroes repertoire. Just like hope and fighting spirit. There is no reason to be ashamed about good fortune."
"Luck can save innocent lives, just like skill and strength can. A good hero doesn't rely on it, but never dismisses it either."
"Yeah, but he was the villain in this trial. So technically innocent lives were lost here." A girl with earjacks attached to her earlobes, who Ritchie had actually not met yet, twirled one around her finger.
"OH! Ahah… Well, it still applies! It's a good metaphor too! Real villains won't let their plans be dictated by luck, so become stronger and smarter now; so that you can make those openings to victory!"
A plan that was dictated by luck and the trust he had for his teammate. All Might felt that, despite his position in the trial, it was exactly what a heroic plan should be. Of course, when innocent lives are involved you should never rely only on luck, a foolproof plan is much more preferable- but a good hero has the will to at least take the risks involved with chance.
"Now! Enough dallying! We don't have all day, and you must all have your opportunity to show your mettle! The next match must begin!"
The following matches were not nearly as climactic as Ritchie's or Midoriya's. The teams did put forth their best efforts, but none had that quality of a true competition- one where both sides were equal. Usually, the match would be decided by one of the other students having a decisive quirk that completely shut down the other team. Often, the other team could not even get close to the bomb before being brought down- all of the match ups just ruthlessly skewed toward one side.
For example, Yaoyorozu's match ended in that anticlimactic fashion. Being part of the villain team, she used her creation quirk to set up multiple highly conductive constructs to surround the bomb and Kaminari, her partner, followed up by keeping them constantly fed with electricity. The room was lit with the yellow glow of efficiently rerouted and circulated lightning, completely encasing the bomb from every angle. Sero and Tsuyu couldn't even get close.
Compared to the brutal slug-fest Blackmore endured, and the near incineration Midoriya avoided, it was a jarring change of pace.
Even still, Ritchie and the rest of the class watched on with rapt attention. Regardless of how quirks swayed the fights, it was still an interesting show to watch. With little to do for those long minutes, the American pondered on how he could possibly overcome those quirks were he in their position. Not easily surely, not anymore.
But this gradient was only pushed even farther on the latest match.
Ritchie Blackmore's jaw dropped as the screen that displayed the room with the bomb suddenly burst into a bright light. The above ground trembled for a moment, the unmistakable sound of breaking glass ringing out. Another screen, one positioned outside to get a clear view of the entire building caught it all.
For a moment, the office building was still- no signs pointing to what was happening inside. The next, the building violently shook, and out from each window came thick lances of pure ice- shearing straight through the walls and glass to stretch out into the open air. Shards fell the long way to the ground, the entire upper portion of the building beginning to emit a frigid air, almost as though it had simply been flash frozen. The clear blue crystals poking out from each and every direction gave the building an almost ethereal image.
The inner cameras, though covered partially with crawling webs of frost, were privy to an incredible sight. The walls and floors were absolutely coated with ice, the thick sheets of blue and white clinging with ferocity to every open piece of land.
Tooru and Kirishima were caught in the initial blast of hyper-frozen air. Without even a chance to resist, the duo were forcefully frozen to the ground from the waist down. They struggled, but the ice didn't even budge an inch. Even Kirishima, with all the strength given to him by his hardening quirk, could not even crack the ice and only managed to get his arms frozen to his sides for his troubles.
Silence reigned as the class watched Todoroki Shouto stalk through the room without care, Mezo Shoji trailing behind like some goliath. Like everyone, Todoroki wore his costume, but half of his body seemed to be frozen as well. Rigid growths and shelves of ice adhered to skin, plating his body with an armor-like quality that made him look almost monstrous- the gleaming red eye piercing through the blackness of his half-mask making him all the more intimidating.
His footsteps rang against the flash frozen ground, one soft and the other enhanced by the boot of manufactured ice. Kirishima seethed as the multi-colored boy passed by, completely unable to stop him as he swept through and captured the bomb.
As if to add insult injury, the moment his pale fingers made contact with the comically large bomb, ice immediately blew across its surface. It rippled from the point of contact like water did when a stone fell into it, the ice splintering out to coat the thing in a thick veneer of frost.
Ritchie blinked, his mind completely blank at the overwhelming display of power. Dimly he looked up at All Might, who seemed just as taken aback. Though, a small weakness at the corner of his lips changed Ritchie's mind; it was almost as though All Might expected this outcome.
"THE BOMB HAS BEEN TOTALLY DEFUSED! THIS IS A COMPLETE VICTORY FOR THE HERO TEAM!"
The rest of the class gawked as Todoroki moved back to his victims, and began to melt the thick layers of ice he produced. In contrast to the intensity with which it was created, the image of the ice being melted was almost gentle; the thick frost receding away like fresh snow being melted under the sun. Ritchie wasn't exactly sure how he was doing it, but he could catch the barest glimpse of waves of heat rolling from the teens fingertips. Within moments, the two villains were free to grimace and stew in their loss; though they did so graciously, at least.
Heat and ice? Having multiple facets of a quirk wasn't too uncommon, but usually not to such a frighteningly powerful degree. Usually when people carry multiple quirks, they are only meant to complement each other and increase their capability; like Bakugou and his ability to produce nitroglycerin from his sweat pores and ignite it.
But having two vastly different powers at your ready disposal? To this magnitude? It was almost unheard of.
"What the hell… How is he so strong…? Its like he didn't even try!" Mineta choked out from beside him.
Aoyama nodded along, openly gawking at the screen along with everyone else, "The villain team didn't even have a chance to stop him. Such overwhelming power… I shudder to think what would have happened had we fought him."
It certainly wouldn't have been pretty. No matter how he sliced it, that plan of his wouldn't have held up for even a second against Todoroki. Such is the power of overwhelming strength.
"Ritchie." Mineta poked his thigh and he spared him a glance from the screen, "Do you think your quirk could beat his?"
He didn't even need to think on it, "No. I might be able to land a good hit on him, but I'd still have to get close- I'd just end up a Popsicle for my troubles." He was fairly certain he could overcome being frozen in place with his quirk, unlike Kirishima- but actually beating that monstrous quirk was a whole nother beast. He couldn't even begin to guess what lengths he would have to go through just to land a hit on him.
"I agree. Todoroki-san barely did anything, and I can already tell he is leagues above us all. That quirk of his is simply too strong."
Ritchie watched the screen as All Might congratulated an apathetic Shouto. His eyes lingered on the still frozen exterior of the building, a testament to the sheer power of these inborn abilities.
When he saw it, he felt something change inside him. It was a foreign, alien experience that he couldn't even hope to describe. Like suddenly having a fire lit in the pit of your stomach, and feeling the steam pressing in on his heart. His fingers twitched, clashing emotions warring inside of him as he stared at the screen in… excitement. This showing of power was amazing and terrifying, yet, to him, it was also so very exhilarating. It was a feeling that he had never experienced before.
"I want to fight him."
Ritchie Blackmore hadn't even realized he had spoken until he caught the incredulous stare of Mineta boring up at him. Immediately his hand flew over his mouth, cursing his treacherous tongue. He… He didn't mean to say that. His mouth had simply moved on its own, vocalizing his thoughts against his will.
"What the hell? You just saw what that guy did, and you want to fight him!?"
"I-I…!" Ritchie panicked, rubbing at his neck as his stumbled over his words. He didn't really know what he meant when he said that, it was just what he was thinking. "I don't really think I can beat him or anything like that!"
He wasn't that pompous. He wasn't actually strong enough to face any of the stronger members of the class head on, much less Todoroki. The only reason he had even beaten Ojiro was because of his quirk being kept secret. But…
"But, I still kind of want to try… I guess"
Mineta glared at him with a deadpan expression."You want to 'try'? If you have a fetish for punishment, how about you keep it to yourself, huh?"
"Ahah… I'm sorry Mineta-san. I really can't explain it. I was just saying what I was thinking."
"I think I understand." Ritchie looked over, Aoyama was giving him a knowing grin, his natural charm reeking of glitter. He didn't like it. "Your competitive spirit has awoken, Blackmore-chan. Seeing Todoroki-san so effortlessly win has stoked the fire of competition in you! You want to test yourself against him, don't you?"
Mineta perked up, "What? Like those macho anime guys that just go looking for fights all the time?"
"W-woah, hold on! That's not it at all! I'm really not interested in fighting or being the strongest! I just-!"
"Well…" He didn't know what he wanted to say. What excuse he could possibly make up that would fool them and himself. Clicking his teeth, Ritchie turned away with a conflicted frown. This entire accidental conversation was making him extremely uncomfortable. He didn't want to think about this anymore.
Maybe he did have a powerful quirk, something that was proved by this trial. But that didn't at all give him the right to think he could stand at the same level as everyone else.
"Huh…" Mineta grunted as he placed a hand on his hip, "Well… If that's the case I guess I can sorta understand. Though I didn't really peg you for that kinda guy, Ritchie."
He quickly changed the subject, if Minoru was so interested in his inner thoughts then it was only fair that he turned it right back on him."Mineta. I think that's the last of everyone. Isn't your match up next?"
"INDEED IT IS!"
The green eyed teen flinched and looked up as All Might suddenly appeared over them. He hadn't even heard his approach, the hero simply materializing from nowhere. The towering man was grinning gleefully as he stooped down and scooped up the suddenly horrified perverted teen. Spinning on his heel, All Might marched back out the door, a very pale teen slung over his shoulder.
"W-wait! Hold on! My heart isn't ready yet!" Mineta kicked uselessly, his size completely dwarfed by All Might's muscular frame.
"Await our return, and do take notes!"
With that, they disappeared, the door heavily clanging behind them. Ritchie sweat-dropped just as everyone else did. There were various degrees of sympathy going around, but they all pretty much just breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn't them in Minetas position.
Ritchie knew pretty much nothing about All Might or his strength. Everything relating to the mountain of the man mostly came to him through hearsay- short little comments about Japan usually were said in the same breath as the legendary hero no matter what country you heard it from. But nobody stood at the top of anything without being incredibly strong. Mineta didn't stand a chance.
"Well… I guess that's the last we'll see of him."
Aoyama nodded solemnly, "Gone before his time. How unfortunate. Where do you think he'd want to be buried?"
He'd probably want to be cremated and released onto a beach so he could get into girl's bikinis. He didn't say that, of course, but it was a fair enough guess.
As he drifted over those morbid and shameful thoughts, he caught a flash of muted color in the corner of his vision. Glancing over, Ritchie caught sight of Todoroki, who had returned to the room to stand far away from the rest of the class. His apathetic glare was just as stifling, and he didn't seem even the least affected by his trial.
Richie looked away before he could catch his eye. He had a lot to think about now.
Surprisingly enough, Mineta had actually fared quite well on his trial. That wasn't to say he had won, because he hadn't. It was an overwhelming victory in All Might favor to absolutely no ones shock.
All Might had played the villain in this particular scenario, ironically, and had protected the bomb with every inch of his intimidating frame. Even so, Mineta had not given up- and Ritchie wasn't afraid to admit that the short teen had put up a good fight for such demoralizing odds.
By the end of the match, Mineta had made good use of his quirk to catch All Might a few times. The sticky balls of hair gluing All Might down every now and then. But, the incredible strength of the pro hero proved too much for the pop-off quirk, and All Might thwarted his attempt to reach the bomb every time.
Ten minutes went by, and now Ritchie stared at the pitiful heap of sweat and exhaustion that was Minoru Mineta. He did feel bad for his friend, but there was no doubt in his mind that this was some sort of cosmic karmic retribution. Maybe he would take it as a sign to change his ways- though that may just be wishful thinking.
All Might placed his fists on his hips, not even looking remotely winded, "Well fought, Minoru! I could feel your desire to win! But remember, when fighting stronger opponents you must strive to look outside the box! This goes for all of you too, there will always be someone stronger than you- so strive to learn flexibility! Imagination is a muscle that you can train, just like your biceps!"
Mineta gave some sort of grunt from the floor that sounded vaguely akin to agreement.
"Now All trials have been accomplished! Whether you won or you lost, each of you have done incredibly well! Whatever you've taken from this mission, whether its a sense of planning or a new found respect for teamwork; don't forget it! Take your flaws and overcome them! Take your strengths and improve upon them! That is the way to become a hero!"
"That is PLUS ULTRA!"
One way or another, the foundation for becoming heroes has been set. It would take time to build upon it, but it was clear as day that each of those teens had the capability to become something great.
With those final words, All Might instructed them to return to the classroom post haste. Then, with his incredible speed, All Might took off without so much as an extra word. Almost as though he were in a rush. Not that Ritchie was all that surprised, All Might was a hero first and foremost- he no doubt had responsibilities aside from teaching a bunch of children.
If nothing else, the Yuuei schedule was very flexible to accommodate the freedom of the teachers- this entire trial proving that further. Blackmore paused and glanced down to the still prostrate pop-off user. It was obvious he had no desire to move anymore, so Blackmore thoughtfully reached down and picked him up- stuffing him under an arm.
On second thought…
"Aoyama-san. Would you mind taking Mineta back to the class for me?"
Aoyama tilted his head curiously but graciously reached out and took the small leg of their mutual friend, then promptly lowered him to the ground like dead weight. It was frankly obvious that Aoyama intended to drag him along rather than actually carry him.
"Certainly. But why? Is there something concerning you?"
"I just need to check on someone, I should be back in time for class though." Ritchie clarified.
Only taking a moment for the two former partners to share a nod, Ritchie activated Blackfoot and vanished on the spot- whisked away elsewhere.
Ritchie Blackmore tested the knob of the door, pleasantly surprised when it smoothly swung inward. After briefly addressing a map of the school, it was a simple matter for the American to find the Nurse's office in record time. The off-white building comfortingly nuzzled into a recess of the massive school where it couldn't possibly be missed. It was a little ironic to say that it had a welcoming and beckoning feel to it, only because there were very few cases where one would want to have a doctor's visit, but still the feeling persisted.
The inside only bolstered that impression. Though clinical with its walls and rows of beds lining the wall; racks of books, assorted knick-knacks and goods, and modest little touch-ups here and there stood in contrast to that common assumption. It was the kind of tidy warmness that one could find from visiting their grandmothers house over winter break- he supposed.
The boy found himself breathing a small huff of relief. Though the day was fun, exciting, and oh so important to him- the relaxed comfort this place exuded did well to soothe his nerves. Sometimes, a little bit of calm relaxation could do a whole world of good. Though, maybe that was just the lazy bastard inside of him talking.
"Oh? Hello there." Ritchie blinked. On second examination of the room, there appeared to be a stout elderly woman sitting just behind the desk in the room. Her size and her apparent ability to blend in with the room making him completely overlook her.
The woman barely stood at four feet, meaning that she also could barely reach his waist standing straight. She had greying hair pulled back into a tight bun, alongside a face lined with age- to the point that her eyes seemed perpetually closed with wrinkles. Even still, she gave off a rather patient vibe- looking and feeling all the more like a loving elder that Ritchie assumed most people grew up knowing.
"Oh my!" The woman suddenly said, gently placing a few fingers over her mouth, her brow raising in worry, "It seems you're in need of some attention, aren't you? Well, you came to the right place young man. Come, sit. Sit!"
For a moment he blinked in confusion at the address, but quickly realized when he reached up to gently stroke the bandages Aoyama had tied around his head.
"Ah! No, I'm sorry I'm not here for that. I'm perfectly fine right now."
She was instantly skeptical, "Are you sure…? Even tiny injuries are no joke, you know. There's no shame in letting this old woman take a little looksie."
He really didn't want to bother her by making her fuss over and heal him. It would be better for everyone if he just took a nap at home and let everything scab over.
"Honestly, I'm fine, Ma'am. I'm actually just here to see someone."
"Is that so…? Who might that be exactly?"
"Midoriya Izuku. He, uh, arrived a little while ago?" Ritchie elaborated, uncertain of whether or not he needed to prove he knew the timid guy, "Messed up arms, I think."
"Oh? Are you a friend of his?"
Not really? He doubted what they had could exactly be classified as friendship. Really, he was just worried about the guy- he really didn't want to imagine himself in his position. However, universal communication laws dictated there was only one actual answer to that question.
"Yes, I came to check up on him."
The older woman nodded as if coming to some sort of conclusion, "I see. Yes, that poor young man is here. I patched him up and he's been recovering just fine."
"Great!"
A few beats passed. Ritchie glanced around awkwardly, the old woman's stare unnerving him. All of the sudden, the comforting silence of the room wasn't quite so enjoyable. The teenager fidgeted on the spot. He tugged at the collar of his vest, now wishing that he had taken a moment to switch out his costume before coming here.
"...So, can I go see him?"
"Well… Normally I would allow it, but I'm afraid it's against my policy to allow freshly injured people to disturb my other patients. It could spread infection, after all." The woman's eyes lifted slightly in mirth, obviously enjoying his squirming. "It's kind of you to check on your friend like that, he does need it after all… but, you will have to let me give you a check-up first."
He was floored by the ultimatum. What the hell kind of old woman was this?
Ritchie gave one last weak attempt to dissuade her, "It-It's really not worth wasting the effort, Ma'am."
She pushed the comfortable looking chair out and gestured to it, "I'll be the judge of that. Now, sit."
Sighing in resignation, the American took his seat. Obeying her orders, he bent over to allow her better access to the wrapping around his skull. From this position, he was able to see the little placard set upon the table. It reading out: Recovery Girl.
Apparently content with the previous job of his head bandages, Recovery Girl moved onto the wrappings of his hands- and these did come off. Ritchie grimaced when he caught the angry purple marks and red lines dotting his hands. Blocking such heavy blows and constantly breaking his falls on that rough ground had left them a little less than pretty for the moment.
The old hero's tiny hand turned his hand over a few times, gently testing his flesh. There were a few flashes of pain, but as usual Ritchie ignored them with his casual tolerance. All the while, recovery Girl spoke softly to him. "It's not very pretty, but there's no bad damage. I assume you got this in combat trials?"
"Yeah. I had to fight someone. My hands got a little messed up along the way, I guess."
She took hold of his thumb, and this time he did flinch in pain. A cold lance shot up his arm, and he immediately had to resist the urge to yank his wrist away. "I can tell. You've been punching lately, apparently."
He really did feel like he was being scolded right now. How embarrassing.
"Take a look at this." The woman gestured to his thumb, her expression suddenly focused and her voice lecturing. "You're hurting yourself more than you are your opponent like this."
Ritchie frowned, "What do you mean?"
"Based on the injuries here, it looks like you're tucking your thumb in when you go for a punch. It's a rookie mistake. You're just lucky you didn't dislocate your thumb doing that. Look-" Gently, she balled his hand into a fist and made sure to place his thumb along the bottom of his knuckles, completely altering how he would normally hold it, "Make a fist like this. That way it stays tight, and you don't risk breaking your own bones."
"Huh…" Ritchie mused as he examined his fist. He had to admit, this did feel far more natural than what he had before. In that trial, he had given up on his punches simply because they hurt him too much- kicks being a far simpler matter to handle. Every time he struck Tokoyami, he would find himself flinching back from the foreign pain. He hadn't realized that this was the reason why. "There really is a lot to fighting, isn't there?"
Just another thing he was atrociously bad at. Good for nothing.
"Recovery Girl smirked as she took the hand back, completely heedless to his thoughts, "It's a common mistake. Just be glad you didn't get hurt too bad like your friend over there… Either way, it's good that you got these wrapped up when you did. You're already on the way to making a full recovery."
"Thanks… A good friend did them for me."
"Hmm, It's always nice to have good friends these days. But let's speed up your recovery, shall we?"
Before Ritchie could even question her, Recovery Girl's lips suddenly puckered and flew downward. It was an immensely strange sight to see, even if it only lasted less than a second. Her lips pressed against his bruised hands before pulling back, leaving the barest feeling of wetness there.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered Izuku briefly telling him about Recovery Girl's mending quirk, and the barest sensation of his flesh healing itself at an accelerated pace proved that. Though it was a very unsettling sensation as well, like ants crawling under his skin. Slowly but surely, the blue and purple bruises receded beneath his skin. The usual pale flesh came back, looking just a little healthier than it usually did.
"Wow…" Ritchie Blackmore flexed his hand, marveling at the good as new job. His head too felt far better, like lifting a weight from him. He had not been completely healed yet, but the speed of his recovery was incredible. However…
Recovery Girl gave a willowy giggle as Ritchie stubbornly bit back a yawn, his pale hand fruitlessly rubbing at the corner of his eye, "It's a useful quirk, but it's only accelerating your healing speed. It takes a good bit of your energy, so you're probably tired."
"Hmm." He grunted. He was a little drowsy now, but he was far from passing out on the spot. "Its fine. Thank you for healing me, Recovery Girl. I feel a lot better."
"I'm glad. Here, have a sucker." Not waiting for him to stutter an answer, the old maiden foisted it into his hand, "Midoriya is in the bed at the end there. If he's asleep do let him rest, alright?"
"No problem." Sticking the sugary sweet between his teeth, Ritchie stood up and vanished. In an instant he was beside the thick curtain that kept the beds isolated from each other. Recovery Girl gave a small peep of surprise at his movement, and he inwardly kicked himself for not warning the poor woman.
Now that his quirk was out in the open again, he wasn't as reserved with its use. Back home, it wasn't that surprising to never actually see him walk anywhere unless he was talking to someone, whenever he wanted to go somewhere he would deign to just use his quirk. Even short distances, like crossing over to the kitchen from the living room, were all breached with Blackfoot. Maybe it was lazy, but it was a habit he couldn't really cut unless he was actively focusing on it. Distance had no bearing on him, it was really only a formality to walk places- something he would do because it was expected of him, rather than because he needed to.
Throwing off that thought, Ritchie stepped forward and parted the divider- slipping into the small room. Like the rest of the office, this section was suited to comforting wounded patients. Pushed up against the wall was a hospital bed, its clean linen sheets slightly ruffled from its inhabitant.
Midoriya blinked and looked up, truly shocked when he saw the vaguely worried face of his fellow classmate step into the space. Of all the people he expected to step through that curtain, All Might was pretty much the only one. Maybe Uraraka if he were willing to be a little presumptuous, but certainly not the enigmatic American that he had barely spoken to.
"Blackmore-san?" Midoriya's scratchy voice was a little out of place, just as his tired eyes and weak body language were. In his current state his normal timid personality was less stark.
"Sorry about barging in like this, Midoriya-san." Ritchie began, stepping close to the bed so the guy could see him better, "The trials ended a little bit ago, All Might let everyone go back but I wanted to make sure you were alright first. I, uh, didn't get a chance to earlier."
Midoriya blinked in confusion. Was he… worried about him? Even now, after all this time, that notion still surprised him. Ochako was a shock enough with how much care she seemed to place in him, but he didn't really expect to get that same treatment from anybody else.
"...Huh?" Midoriya immediately cringed. It was not exactly the smooth answer he was hoping to give.
Completely unperturbed by the bland answer, Ritchie Blackmore pulled up a nearby chair and took a seat- backwards, the back of the chair pressing up against his chest as he crossed his arms atop it. The sucker between his teeth swapped sides, sliding over his the teeth in his closed mouth. "You got really messed up out there you know, i'm pretty sure everyone was a little worried about you."
"O-oh… Well, I'm sorry about that. I… I get hurt a lot, so I guess I'm just used to it."
"Don't worry about it. Getting hurt isn't exactly something you can help."
"W-well…" Midoriya didn't really know how to respond to that, and coughed in embarrassment as he averted his eyes. "T-thank you for checking up on me, then. It's really kind of you."
Ritchie smiled passively, "I'm just doing what I'd want other people to do for me. After what you've been through… It's the least I can do. That Bakugou guy really didn't hold anything back in that trial."
His face grew pensive, a perturbed brow pulling at his mouth, "It was kinda scary, honestly. I've never seen anyone fight like that before. I… I guess it looked like he was trying to kill you- crazy as that sounds."
Some small part of him had really worried that the other teen had been irreversibly injured, despite the reassurance of a quirk to patch him back up swiftly- that worry had partly driven him here to make sure of his health with his own eyes.
Despite the gravity of his words, Midoriya smiled- even if it was strained. "Yeah, Kacchan is like that. He's kind of vicious when he gets mad but-! Well, he's a good person!"
"Hmm. I'll believe it when I see it. Not even my match got that dangerous, and I got thrown around pretty much the entire time- so take that for what you will."
Immediately he caught Midoriya's attention, the frizzy-haired boy's eyes lighting up as he pushed himself up slightly. "Oh right! The other matches! What happened while I was gone? Did you win your match?"
"Yeah. It was pretty tough, but me and Aoyama managed to scrape a win by."
"What happened? Who were you up against?"
"Ahh… How about I tell you later? I kinda don't want to explain it all again, not when I'm this worn out." There was enough boasting his 'accomplishments' for one day. He worried the sucker in his mouth at the very prospect. "But I can tell you a bit about the other ones, you missed a lot of cool things and my memory is my strongest point."
"P-please do!"
All Might sighed as he pushed open theoffice door, the cool air washing over his exhausted skin as he strode in. Unlike what he wore today, All Might now fitted himself into a smart navy blue suit- tailored to his form by an expert hand.
Tailored to his current form, that is. Unlike how he usually presented himself to the world, this All Might was but a shell of that towering Number One Hero. With gaunt limbs, skin stretched over thin bones, and a sunken face that made him look horrifically sickly- it was near impossible to draw any parallels between the two personas. The only real sign that it was the hero behind that visage was the thick juts of blonde hair that fairly imitated how his heroic form's hair would proudly stand upright.
His time was beginning to grow shorter with every day. Even just the task of overlooking a trial for the students had nearly sapped him of the last of his allotted time. It was well worth it, of course, but it was sobering nonetheless.
"Ahh… Toshinori. I was wondering when you would show." All Might glanced over, his hollow eyes settling on Recovery Girl who sat comfortably behind her desk.
"Yes, I'm sorry I took so long. The class went on longer than I anticipated." All Might, or Toshinori as his alter ego was lesser known, glanced around the room. It was as he remembered it in his many, many visits from the past. Inviting, in a way that an infirmary really shouldn't be.
"How is he? Has he recovered well?"
Recovery Girls face was tense as she answered. "Yes. He will make it through fine. The damage was… Extensive, but nothing that will scar." Her words were exhausted. Just remembering those wounds made her tired all over again. "He's resting in the bed at the end over there now."
"Thank you, Recovery Girl." All Might nodded and moved to go check on his pupil, only to have a cane gouge his stomach- just abreast of his old wound, and stop him still. "Guh!"
"You can't. Midoriya has a visitor right now. Don't go interrupting them."
All Might clutched at his stomach, and sent Recovery Girl an exasperated frown. Then he blinked in confusion. "A visitor? What do you… Who is visiting him?" All Might glanced back down to the curtain, valiantly maintaining the privacy of the hospital bed within.
"That American transfer student we were all told about. The one with the strange quirk." Recovery girl answered, "He came just a minute ago, said he wanted to check on Midoriya."
He blinked again. That wasn't exactly what he expected.
She could only be talking about Ritchie Blackmore, only the third transfer student from America among Yuuei's entire long history. He had been an interest of All Might's ever since he saved that Aoyama boy during the entrance exam. Only a very select few entrants in that exam had actually scored points like that. He felt that the boy had the makings of a true hero, and with a quirk like that he couldn't help but want to pay attention to his progress.
His interest in him had only grown after today's trial. Though only mediocrely skilled in direct combat, the American had stunned All Might with how clever he could be. Thinking up a plan like he had wasn't something that a normal kid could do- especially with so little time. There was definitely more to that boy- just like there was more to Bakugou, just like there was more to Todoroki. Potential, and that was all that really mattered to All Might now.
But to hear that he was visiting his pupil? It was a little unexpected. As far as he knew, the two weren't nearly close enough for that. Uraraka or Iida he could expect, those three were obviously close. The American seemed like the last person he expected Midoriya to associate with.
It was heartwarming for the older hero. Whatever the case, it was comforting to know that his pupil had fellow students that were looking out for him. Blackmore had his gratitude, anyone who was willing to take the time to check on his precious pupil was A-Okay in his book. There was no real reason to come here, not when recovery was assured, but he had anyway. A true friend. Midoriya was someone who needed more friends, if only to help him break out of that timid shell he always seemed to be stuck in.
"I see. Then I will wait, I have time."
"Oh, is that so?" Recovery Girl smiled, and the temperature of the room steadily began to drop. "Well, if you have time, how about we step outside? There are some things that I am simply dying to discuss with you."
"Ahh…" He didn't at all like where this was going. Already he could tell he was in for the lecture of a lifetime. "O-oh, actually I just remembered I have some paperwork from Aizawa that I must fill out! So let me… Just…"
Recovery Girl's smile never left. All Might could not hold her gaze.
"...Okay."
Ritchie recounted the trials as he recalled them- with near photographic clarity. Midoriya hung onto his every word, soaking up the information like a sponge. No doubt he was analyzing all those quirks and how they were used in the trial, pre-planning what he intended to write in those hero notebooks of his.
"Amazing… To think that Jirou-san's quirk could work across that many floors."
"Right?" Ritchie laughed, recalling the match and that ear-jack girls victory. It was one of the more interesting matches, almost as high-strung as his own. "Pretty much everyone was on the edge of their seat for that one."
"But from how it sounds- it seems that Koda could have won that fight." Midoriya muttered, tilting his head in thought. "For a building like that, Koda had control over an almost unlimited amount of insects. Since Jirou-san hates insects so much, apparently, he might have been able to overwhelm her or at least really throw off her focus. Something like that could really be dangerous in such small quarter- especially to phobes."
Ritchie had slowly grown used to the bouts of muttering the green-haired teen slipped into, even if it was still a little unnerving to see happen. "He would have had the advantage, but remember- Jirou-san's quirk was really loud when she used it like that- his commands to the insects were all drowned out, so they couldn't follow them."
"Right, right… Wow, everyone has such amazing quirks. Especially you, Blackmore-san. It's really incredible that you're so young, but you have such a useful quirk." Midoriya smiled as Blackmore blushed and fumbled a denial out. "But me… I can't even use mine without hospitalizing myself. I thought that at least by now I could have gotten a hang of it, but… I guess I still need to be saved, huh?"
"Having a quirk that hurts you that much must be a real pain in the ass, huh?" Ritchie said, looking at his acquaintance with a little sympathy. Quirks were so powerful, being unable to control them- even hurting yourself because of that, was a very scary notion.
Midoriya had lived with that his whole life. Ritchie could only guess at how awful it must be to never be able to use your quirk for your entire life simply because of how wickedly it could injure you. He never would have made it this far if he didn't have his quirk as a crutch to lean on. Midoriya had it backwards, it was he who was incredible.
"Yes… It is frustrating, but I have no one but myself to blame. Sometimes I wonder if such a powerful quirk is wasted on someone like me…"
Maybe it was the exhaustion making him say things he likely never would, but Midoriya had just bared a small fraction of his heart to the other teen. This was something that he wouldn't even tell his idol if he could help it, but it just ended up slipping out amidst an otherwise casual conversation. It was strange. Ritchie Blackmore seemed to possess a stirring charisma that made him want to keep talking to him. It wasn't as though he spoke strongly or inspired confidence, because his uncertain words could not be further from accomplishing that. It was like talking frankly with someone only because you knew that they could understand you on a deeper level than other people could.
Ritchie himself was stunned at Midoriya's pessimistic declaration. Not only because it was such a startling contrast from how the shorter teen usually acted, but because of how much it resonated with him. Ritchie couldn't count the many times that he had thought that exact thought.
The two were extremely different, there was no denying that- but they had common ground in the worst of ways.
Ritchie's eyes turned up to the ceiling, the sucker long gone, giving him nothing to distract himself. It was obvious that Midoriya had broken his own mood with that comment, and he had no clue how to cheer him up. Everything he tried to think of just came off as placating and insulting in his mind. Hypocritical even, coming from him.
Gah! He wasn't a damn counselor! He couldn't cheer people up with some rousing speech like All Might. Hell, he barely even had any experience talking with people in his age group in the first place. Everything so far has just been him stumbling through what he assumed kids these days talked about. Now because of his own inexperience, he had ended up kicking the spirits of an already injured guy.
Perhaps mercifully, he figured out a way to salvage this. "Midoriya…" The teen perked up, looking at the black-haired boy with curiosity, "I never got a chance to ask earlier, but what is the name of your quirk?"
He blinked. Once, twice, and then a third time just to make sure he heard right. "H-huh? The name of it?!" Inside he began to panic frantically. Why would he ask something like that?! Did he know?! All Might should have been the only person who knew the name of this quirk!
Ritchie wasn't even close to following his line of thought, "Yeah. You know- like how my quirk is named Blackfoot. Your quirk is really incredible, so I was wondering what I should call it."
"W-why would it have a name?"
"What? Why wouldn't it? Doesn't everyone name their quirks?" Ritchie blinked, now just as confused as Midoriya.
"N-No?" Midoriya shook his head, "Some people do, but, most just call it by what it does. You're the only person I know who actually has a name for it." Aside from All Might, but that was a special case.
"Seriously!?" Ritchie groused, slouching into his chair, "Is this another cultural difference I haven't caught onto yet? Man… back home pretty much everyone does it."
"Some Pro-heroes do give their quirks names, but it's really rare."
Popularity came from action and flashiness. Heroism and image went hand in hand. The public was far more interested in the man behind the quirk, and how that quirk is used, rather than something as pointless as its name. Even if a hero had a named quirk, people wouldn't really care to remember it for long.
Ritchie thought on this. He knew that America and Japan were different in so many ways, but this was a shocking revelation. He couldn't imagine not naming his quirk- or naming it something stupid like 'space eraser'. Now it suddenly made sense why the other students didn't make the names of their quirks known- they didn't have names.
But that did plant a little idea in his head. "Maybe that's why your quirk doesn't work right."
Midoriya stared at him, not understanding what he was getting at. "Why it doesn't work…? What do you mean?"
Damn, he was in it for the long haul now. "Well… Look at it this way." Ritchie rubbed at his chin as he mulled over how to best describe his thoughts, something he would apparently have to get used to, "Quirks are with us from birth, they're basically the single most important thing to a person. We rely on them for pretty much everything- from simple housework to saving our lives."
Izuku flinched heavily at his words but didn't interrupt.
"We rely on them, we put our trust in them. Trust. Using a quirk requires a degree of trust- kind of like trusting a partner on a school project. Or trusting a gun." He elaborated, "Any man can hold a gun, and he can use a gun to cause a lot of damage. But he has to at least have faith in it. He has to trust that it will fire, he has to completely trust that it wont jam or explode in his hand- if he can't trust it, then that doubt can make his hand shake, and he would end up missing anyway."
"Having trust in your quirk? I-I'm sorry Blackmore-san, I really don't understand." Midoriya said exasperatedly, the metaphors flying right over his head.
"Well… I guess a better way to put it is to say that a quirk is your best friend. Whatever we do in life, a quirk is like a partner that we need to rely on. That's why having trust is so important. That's why naming it is so important."
"I wouldn't be able to trust my quirk, and my quirk wouldn't be able to trust me if it didn't even have a name. By naming it, it started to become something real to me- not just a tool, not just a gun. It became mine. Having a name is kind of like the first step to building a relationship with your quirk. 'Course, you can still grow strong without naming it. But I think you'll get stronger a whole lot faster if it has a name."
Any man can own a dog, but would he really love it if he didn't even take the time to name it? Would that dog ever learn to love its owner if he never gave it a name of its own? That was the basic psychology behind his stance.
Ritchie gestured down to his feet, "When I was a kid I was completely terrified by my quirk. It kept activating without my sayso, and I would end up in foreign and terrifying places all the time." He winced as he remembered those days, and the near endless bouts of crying he went through. He really didn't feel like traveling down that particular memory. "Then, one night I was fed up, and I ended up naming it in spite."
It was a very dark night, with nothing but the silence of the Alaskan wilderness and the black tint of his feet to mock him, he went and named it. It was a childish name calling, he just so annoyed with his mean quirk that he called it the first thing that came to mind like one would a particularly annoying kid on the playground. Blackfoot. Not at all creative, but fitting.
"After that, it wasn't really that scary anymore. Giving it a name changed how I looked at it, and I finally took control. It proved that it was mine, not just a power that I had no control of. Now… Here I am, I guess."
Midoriya stared at him. Hard. The tale was told amidst a little fumbling as Ritchie tried to best formulate his words, but the meaning behind it was clear. Whatever he was expecting from this conversation, this was not it. He had never considered that there was so much behind naming a quirk- before this, that idea seemed pointless. It was the strength of the person who used the quirk, not the power of the quirk itself that was important.
The idea of there being trust between a hero and his quirk was simply too alien to consider. Yet, Blackmore's words did make sense. He couldn't deny that the idea seemed almost appealing now.
"So you're saying that if I name this quirk… I might be able to use it safely?"
"Well… It definitely couldn't hurt. I think that naming it would at least make you more comfortable with it. But, yeah, I think you just don't trust your quirk enough- not that I blame you. If Blackfoot broke my ankles every time I used it, I probably would have just settled down as a house-husband."
Midoriya chuckled at that, briefly imagining that. Somehow or another, Blackmore had managed to pick the mood up- and gave him a lot to think about at the same time.
"Do you really think I can learn to trust my quirk like that?"
Ritchie Blackmore didn't know about the truth of his quirk. The words really spoke to him, but could it really apply to someone who had never even had a quirk for the majority of his life? Someone who had been given a quirk simply on chance?
He smirked, giving off a small closed eye smile. "Of course I do. You passed that trial, and you made it this far- I have no doubt in my mind that you can overcome that weakness. If I can figure it out, it'll be no sweat for you." It was really just a gut feeling, but his gut was rarely ever wrong; the green haired teen would be just fine.
Midoriya beamed. "A-alright. I'll think about it. Thank you… Blackmore-san."
"Tch… Someday I'll get you all to just call me by my name." Ritchie scowled, leaning further into the chair. But the mirth in his eyes made it obvious he wasn't really that bothered.
By now, he should really be returning to the classroom. Aoyama was probably wondering where he had gotten to. But… Technically he was still a little injured after that match, the nurse's quirk not healing him fully just yet. No one could blame him if he stayed for a little longer.
Ritchie made himself more comfortable, and began to talk with Midoriya a little more. The subject was much more genial, more about the culture of Japan and heroes. Ritchie soaked up the infinite amount of information that Izuku readily and cheerfully gave with a grin on his face. For the moment, they simply talked. It was a good talk, one without the interruptions of any awkward silences or lack of subject to talk about.
At some point, Midoriya passed out from his building exhaustion in the middle of one of his long spiels. One moment he was animatedly fawning over a certain heroes quirk, the next he was bonelessly falling back into the plump pillow. Ritchie wasn't afraid to admit it spooked the hell out of him.
Only taking a moment to make sure the freckled guy hadn't actually died on him, Ritchie brushed past the curtain and stretched himself. Slipping a hand into his pocket, the black-haired American yawned widely as he popped the screen of his cutting edge phone on. Wincing at the time, Blackmore realized that a good half hour had passed since he came to the office. For someone who rarely talks to people his own age, he had found himself losing himself in conversation with his classmates quite often.
Oh well. Luckily, the rest of the days classes after Foundations of Heroic were optional electives. No one would find it strange that he had chosen to spend his time here.
It was an enlightening experience, talking to Midoriya. His classmates had a broad understanding of many things that Ritchie had yet to grasp, mostly things involved with heroism. Just speaking to him for a few moments gave him a better idea of what a hero really is; what he should be striving to achieve. Further proof that he would need to try even harder to truly change himself.
He should make the effort to speak more to him, he was an earnest and reliable fellow; traits that he could respect.
With that nebulous promise in the back of his mind, Ritchie stepped out of the infirmary; contemplating how to spend the last few dregs of his day. Things were… they were looking up. He finally felt as though this plan of his was beginning to bear fruit; or at least, he felt as though he could handle the challenges that would come now. He could do this.
…
…
…
Some Years Ago…
Dust erupted into the air as the thick wheel of the truck bounced through a particularly rough patch of the dusty road. The coppery particles flew into the air in a cloying cloud, faintly drifting through the arid and humid air. The air, much too hot to comfortably breathe, was filled with the harsh humming of a too old engine, chugging through its gasoline as it powered down the completely barren road.
The truck was compact, with a bed that was packed to the brim with barrels of trash and other useless commodities. It was painted a bland matte green, the constant wear and tear of traveling down this dusty road making it appear cracked and faded with dirt that seemed bonded to the hot metal- the truck appearing more bronze than the forest green the owners were promised.
Even still, it powered through the harsh climate; the unbearable heat of the uninhibited sun bearing down on it without any sign of reprieve. Stretched out for miles around it was absolutely nothing; a wide wasteland of arid soil, like a desert. Not a single soul could be seen. The only real sign of life was the many spiky ferns and sprouts that had adapted to the awful weather.
All in all, it was one of the most miserable places on this planet. The two people in the cabin of that truck would rather be just about anywhere else.
The man in the passenger seat stretched out like a cat, wincing as his stiff muscles popped under his boiler suit. All those hours of just sitting in this seat had given him an annoying ache all across his body. The truck was too cramped for a man his size, and although coated with dust, the windows did absolutely nothing to stop the burning heat of the sun that speared through the windows and tanned his already dark skin further.
The only real salvation was the A/C system, which even now blew a steady stream of cold air directly into his face. No matter how much the world improved, no one could top the inventor of electric air conditioning systems. If he saw that man now he could probably kiss him, open mouth.
He would have enjoyed the cool air for a little longer if the unmistakable sound of a button being pressed didn't grab his attention, and push a vein to the top of his forehead.
["Look. Can we listen to somethin' else already?"] The large man rounded on the driver, now pissed off.
The driver, a stick-like white man with a goatee and a literal rat tail, turned and gave him his own feral glare. Just like the passenger, his skin was slick with cooling sweat, and he seemed just as uncomfortable as he was in those rough leather seats.
["The hell is your problem man? You got something against Queen?"] He bit out, not even bothering to look at the dust caked road that never saw more than one car at a time.
["No. I fuckin love Queen. But I don't love listening to the same three discs on repeat for three fuckin hours. Just put the goddamn radio on if you aint got no more discs!"]
["The antenna is gone, moron. Knocked off when your fat ass went to take that piss on our last trip. No more KYMT for us."]
["Shut the hell up. I told you it was bird that hit it! You seriously ain't got no more discs in this piece a shit?"]
The driver groaned in annoyance, settling back into his seat as counted to ten. No man deserved to be trapped in a car with another man for more than an hour. It just wasn't meant to happen. It was a miracle that the two hadn't ripped each others throats out yet.
["Yeah yeah… Jesus."] Grumbling incoherently, he reached down beneath his seat and fumbled for a moment. After a second he came back with a case that he promptly popped open, pulled the disc from, and jammed into the slot above the radio. ["...Gotta do everything my own goddamn self."]
The passenger waited a moment before relaxing when the music came through over the speakers clearly. ["Dire Straits, huh? Feh… You really have a thing for the classics, huh?"] Even still, he found his feet tapping along to the agreeable rhythm. Even janky country music would be preferable to listening to the same six songs on repeat.
The driver snorted, ["If you're so pleased, how about you do your job? Check on the cargo."]
["What?"] The tanned man turned back to him with an incredulous expression, ["What the hell would I need to check on it for?"]
["I dunno? Just to make sure its still there, or somethin'."]
["Still there?! Where the hell would it go?"]
["Maybe it reanimated while we were distracted, and it's just about to strike and feast on our brains."] The rat man chortled, enjoying the way his partners face immediately paled.
["Shut the hell up with that already! It was one time!"]
["You only need to shit your pants once, Phil."]
That didn't go over well.
["Hehe… OW!"] The driver winced back as Phil struck him hard in the shoulder, the truck swerving precariously on the road for a moment before righting, ["Jesus! Alright how about this- check on it cause its your fuckin' job!"]
["Yeah, Yeah. Whatever…"] The passenger huffed, but still did as he was told. Leaning back over the middle of the truck, he peered back into the back seats.
The back was even worse than the outside. Trash absolutely littered it, various spills, tracked mud, and grime caked almost every inch. It was shadowy too, being shielded by the front seats while also being relatively small and cramped back there.
Stretched out along the back seats was a thick tarp; a coarse burgundy blanket that was laid out lengthwise. Small bumps and indentations could be seen warping the surface of the blanket; giving it the faintest appearance of there being something vaguely human shaped underneath it. Obviously, someone was underneath it; but because of the stifling size of the blanket, it was impossible to make out gender or anything else.
["Well, what do ya know? It's still there."] Phil called back, annoyance filling his words.
["Give it a kick. Can never be too sure these days."]
Phil huffed, but capitulated again. His fist met the blanketed form, and shook it from the force. There was no response, it merely slid back further into the seat while something slipped out from underneath the blanket.
Slipping out and hanging limply over the edge of the seat, a pale hand was visible. The skin was bruised and cold, contrasting the pleather of the seats. There was absolutely no life in it as it jostled with every bump of the car's suspension.
["Yep."] Phil popped his tongue, slipping back into his chair. ["Dead as dead can be."]
["Was that so hard?"] The driver sneered, slipping a cigarette into his mouth. Phil merely sighed, trying to find that comfortable spot in his seat again.
["Man… I just don't get it anymore. Why the hell do we have to take this long ass drive out to the badlands just to toss one stinkin body?"]
["It's the principle of the matter."] The rat man explained, having already heard this complaint enough times, ["The boss didn't get where he was by being careless. Dead bodies attract a lot of heat, so this is necessary."]
["Yeah, I can understand that for a mob boss or some big shot. But that-"] He jabbed a thumb back into the cab, ["-is just a kid. Barely even looks 18. Who the hell is gonna go around sniffing for some brat like that?"]
"Look, moron. We don't get paid to ask questions. If you like money then shut the fuck up and get the shovel."
["Yeah but- huh?"] Phil paused and glanced around, not having realized that the car had come to a standstill far off the road. Already, his partner was popping open the door to step out into the hot desert. ["You bastard! Why the hell didn't you tell me we were so close!?"]
["Hurry the hell up!"]
Grumbling, Phil got his shovel and tossed it over to his partner who quickly began digging at the dry soil. The ground gave way easily, dirt clearing away as the man got to work. Phil himself popped open one of the back doors and went for the body. It was limp in his arms, the blanket bunching up as he fitted his hands underneath its shoulders and dragged it out. Dimly, he was made aware of how light the corpse was.
Phil set the body down next to the shallow grave. His partner approached him, extra shovel in hand which he readily took. They had barely been out here for more than a few minutes, and he could hardly stand it. The sooner they got this done, the better.
Taking the shovel in a firm grip, he lifted it up and brought it crashing down; the spaded tip piercing through the soil with a scraping shriek.
A/N:
And that's that. Honestly, this entire chapter came as a surprise to me. I was hitting roadblock after roadblock trying to make the dialogue and progression sound right. I'm still a little iffy on it, but I'm at least comfortable enough to post it now. Usually I loathe to post a chapter thats nothing but dialogue between characters, but I really didnt have a choice this time.
Our hero's personality has begun to change ever so slowly, questions are answered and more questions appear, and bonds deepen even further. I hope I managed to explain everything correctly so that no details were missed, and more importantly- I hope I kept everyone in character. Fitting so many different personalities into a single chapter is hell on my mind.
Hate it or love it, its done now. Up next, normal school- but evil begins to make its move in the background.
