[Yuuei's Campus – Classroom 1-A – 7:25 AM Tuesday]
He'd been at it for much of the night and even now before class he was flipping the plate in his hand. He had gotten better at it quickly as if he were stretching a muscle he didn't know he had. A closer look had shown it was made of some kind of alloy with its surface flecked by lighter and darker blends of folded metal. He had accepted it now but in truth his mind was still reeling despite the explanation he'd been provided with, to think on it made it worse as it only raised more questions, he had no answers to right now. Rather than try to think of some he instead speculated on Aizawa's training which he knew would not be tame.
The chair in front of him made a screech as Kirishima pulled it up to his desk. "Whatcha got there?" He peeked up from the plate to the eager grin adorning him and his keen interest in the small object.
"A gift," he said as he offered it to him. "I'm meant to use it for practice."
"What kind of practice can you do with a piece of metal?" He fumbled with it in his hands though found nothing special about it.
"Try bending it." He motioned at Kirishima, who obliged by sticking it between both his palms like some kind of compact press. The twists and jerks he made with it proved to attain little success and after the only thing he'd achieved was leaving a series of rough red marks on his hands.
He handed it back and shook his hands. "Damn man, feels like it's made of titanium or something."
He had expected the thing to be strong but watching Kirishima struggle with it had put that into perspective. It made the recent revelation all that much stranger, of how he hadn't realised or even have any inkling for so long. The urge of that thought had prompted him into reminiscing back to any part of his memory that may have held a clue but he'd come up dry. No recollection had been so clear as to act in a way in which he could have clued himself into it, like Aizawa had said, stress and pressure had been the main benefactor.
"Well?" Kirishima looked at him like he was expecting a miracle to spring forth.
"Oh, right," he said, realising he hadn't said anything for a full minute, before spanning the plate between his thumb and index finger. I guess I won't get any practice by just staring at it. As he closed his eyes he tried to recapture the feeling. He had refined it to a point but having just discovered it the day before made it nothing short of difficult.
It was the indication of a pin in his finger that he now knew meant he was doing it correctly. As he concentrated he could feel the rush of the quirk fall like a current into the plate, to define it as a push had been accurate, like energy was leaving his hand. As he finished he held the metal in his hand with care as although the effect wasn't visual on the sheet metal he could tell by how it felt, that something at the centre of it had shifted. He touched one edge of it to the desk and pushed down on the other side with his palm, slowly but surely the previously uncompromising metal curved about half an inch before he dropped it out of exhaustion. It still wasn't much.
"Is there a trick to it or something?" Kirishima said while inspecting the new malformed plating.
"No trick." He spun the plate on its side. "It's just," he tried to think of the word, "less dense?" he said almost in question of it. That was how Aizawa had explained it. He realised now that he owed the man too much and regretted the outbursts he'd had with both him and Cementoss even more. If the quirk was all he was in his own mind then perhaps calling himself and being called pathetic was correct despite his denial. Something still bothered him about that, though. If his sister had heard him talking like that. He frowned, at least now he could be glad he'd held off on that call.
"Here I thought your quirk was all about compression," he said with a nervous look on his face.
"You and me both," he replied with a sour look.
His grin came back. "Well, at the very least I'm glad to see you got your brace removed."
"In your seats. This isn't a playground," Aizawa said with a firm voice and firmer gait as he entered the class. "We have much to get on with."
It was with self-admitted annoyance that he found it hard to concentrate on the material in front of him, three case studies to be exact, that they were going over with Midnight. It was the kind of thing that was right up his alley yet he still found himself in preference of flipping the plate in his hands over answering even the most basic questions the teacher asked. It didn't matter he supposed, a lack of obligation was a welcome change and it wasn't like there was a shortage of other people eager enough to answer; he doubted even cement weights could stop Momo from raising her hand.
"Mrs," Momo said almost as if to prove his point. "If I may?"
"Go ahead sweetie," Midnight said with a large smile on her face. It was similar to the one she'd worn during their session.
Ahem, Momo cleared her throat. "I believe the answer is damage minimisation." He almost rolled his eyes. There was no need for her to pretend there was room for error, if there was something that bothered him it was snobbishness, although maybe he was just a little jealous.
"Correct, in this case Ingenium's primary concern was a swift and precise removal of the villainess Mastera, who was prone to causing wide area damage with her Giant's Mace weapon quirk," Midnight said as she pointed to various photos she'd pinned up in the blackboard. "I'm sure some of you are personally aware of how exceptional Ingenium's awareness of danger is." She gave a sly look to Iida. "And the sheer power of his right hook." It didn't take a genius to see how much the compliment made Iida glow since it was his brother after all. The subject had come up a number of times in class already; courtesy of Hagakure. She had gossip on everyone, both good and bad.
"Now, can anyone give me the quirks used in the second case study?"
Midoriya threw up his hand. "Kesigiriman's quirk enhances his speed and makes him more durable, Technoarachnid's quirk allows her to possess technology as long as she touches it, that makes the metal limbs attached to her costume even more fearsome," he answered before Midnight even got the chance to pick him.
"…Correct again, my aren't you all just bright," she said with slight applause.
He had to say he did admire Midoriya's approach, compared to Momo's because it didn't sound like he was trying to show off. He'd guessed that those numbered textbooks he was always writing in were related to his ability to recall all this information because he'd spotted the pictures that lined the pages once or twice, which were of heroes. It was pedantic to be sure but despite that he couldn't help but be impressed, it wasn't the kind of thing he'd have the patience to do. There had been an urge, that stemmed from his panic over the weekend, to ask about what he'd written and tips about other students but he hadn't gone through with it. He was glad he hadn't as it would have been rude and not to mention unfair in more ways than one. Now all that still remained of that urge was to ask about what Midoriya had written on himself, and maybe that much wouldn't be an awkward question at some point, he'd have to keep that in mind.
The dedication, as admirable as it was, also raised other questions. How did someone with so much interest in quirks also have almost no control over his own? It was an odd detail. Then again he hadn't known nearly as much as he thought he did about his own quirk until yesterday. That could have been why All Might had taken such an interest in him, their quirks were very similar, as Tsuyu had pointed out. He didn't care that much about the answer, whatever it was, all that mattered was that it made him want to try harder.
[Yuuei's Campus – Training Room 5 – 6:47 PM]
He scraped the back of his hand across the fresh scratch on his cheek and it stung. It was one of many he'd gained in a short time, that he felt should have taken longer, and the herald of more to come. He knew he shouldn't have been surprised, he was nothing compared to this man, even if he was learning faster than he'd expected. Blocking Aizawa once or twice every now and then didn't save him from being knocked on his ass every ten seconds but it helped everything click, he'd widen his stance a little or adjust his posture each time, with each hour he divided himself from something absolutely abysmal toward becoming that which he knew he needed to be. A fighter.
Aizawa raised his hand at him. "Again," he said, his voice grating with impatience. This man did not mince words, and the patchwork of bandages on his face only added to the craze of his style.
He pushed his foot down firmly as the man flew at him again. It was almost a flurry in which the man moved, where his forward arm led but the other came around in a blow. A hard block met it and made his bone jar bluntly with pain but at least he didn't need both his arms to stop it that time. The man's foot swept and he stepped backward allowing it to go wide and barely giving him time to look up, just enough to see a fist tearing toward him. Shit, he thought as he swayed to the left to evade the move. The fist caught him on the shoulder at full speed with a hard smack, sending him falling roughly to the floor once again.
He pulled himself up and the man flung himself at him again. It was a flurry of movement, his arm would lead but it would be something else like a leg or shoulder that would deliver the blow. He saw the tell this time, raising his arm to stop the high kick, which jarred his bone with blunt pain. A flicker made him aware of the next motion, and he only avoided the jab intended to knock him down him by an inch as he jumped back. It did not occur to him to back off further, so at the height of the jab Aizawa leaned forward to grab him while stepping forward, placing his foot behind his ankle and smashing him into the floor at full speed.
"Shit," he cursed under his breath as pain flooded through his back. They had soft mats set up but they were intended to stop their sliding, not so much the effect.
"Don't allow your enemy to lead you into traps with every move. It'll let them exploit weaknesses in your stance, of which you have plenty."
"Yes, Sir," he answered. A series of short monotonous pants escaped him as he caught his breath. His teacher hadn't even broken as much as a sweat.
"Again," he repeated, to which he nodded and picked himself up once more. He gritted, no complaints, no whining, no excuses.
The red stone of the sidewalk skidded against his shoes as he walked, there was a slight chill in the air that wrapped itself around the now dark campus. There were no facilities to change near to the house that Aizawa had taught him in, hence he was tackling the night in nothing but the gym clothes that he'd gone there with. He rounded the corner of the dormitory building from the right, despite the left side being the closest to where he'd come from. It was a deliberate step just to prevent the irritating smell of a giant bushel of lavender nested just outside the entrance. He couldn't stand the stuff, it reminded him too much of his hometown.
Fatigue almost tripped him as he trudged up the small steps, perhaps wagering one or two hours of sleep would help that, he could work on his quirk and his missed schoolwork after that. He slid his ID card through the slot in the door and it clicked, allowing him into a dark communal area. The place was completely empty, not that he had expected more, he knew it would be a rarity to see one of the three or four others students that lived here. He headed directly toward the stairs, past the collection of armchairs and a kitchen that held a misshapen dining table with a lush set of paper flowers adorning it. The stove nearby let fall a dim blue light that no one ever seemed to turn off, it was enough to guide him through the odd assortment.
The elevator rumbled as he waited for it. He had to admit the dormitory was bigger than he had made it out to be, in reality its size was something close to a mansion. It really wasn't that bad at all, he'd just been in a bad place. One grievance he still held with it was the shitty wifi, but that was of minor annoyance, it was still enough to study with. Ding, the doors went as they parted. There was a staircase beside it but he was far too tired to put himself through that hell, at his old boarding facility at Leineif he'd had the displeasure of only using those exclusively; you needed a designated pass to use the elevators there. In his drowse he only just managed to avoid walking into the man coming out of the elevator. As his eyes slid up the white pant leg he realised whom the dirty outfit belonged to, Alo's face was partitioned by a similar look of recognition, although he seemed far less dishevelled than he remembered.
"There you are," Alo said, stepping out and reaching the light switch next to him. The room grew to a more visible spectrum.
"Uncle, I wasn't expecting yo-ah." His uncle dragged him to the couch behind him in one great embrace, then pushed him down into it.
His uncle bid himself to one of the curved armchairs opposite so that the only thing between them was a coffee table. "I came to see you," he said as he settled in opposite him. "But looks like I almost missed ya. Staying out late?"
"Yeah, I was, uh." He tried to think of an excuse. "Doing extra-curricular stuff." In a way it was true. If his uncle knew he was already doing something so rigorous as fighting he might get stressed out.
"Already?" His uncle raised a brow. "I guess you never were one to sit still."
"Sorry." He scratched his head.
"Hah! No need to say that, who am I to stand in your way?"Tthe man burst in laughter which devolved into a hacked cough, the handkerchief that had sat clean and new in his lapel was already a stitch work of stains. "Do what you needa do, don't let anyone tell you otherwise. That's all I want out of you."
There was no way to hide his smile at the man's words. If no one else really understood then he knew his uncle did, it had kind of always been that way. That was probably why he had been the first and only of his mom's relatives to fund his endeavour, it was more than he thought he deserved.
"Just…" His uncle squinted. "Riley, be careful, alright?"
"I will," he answered, not letting his expression deviate. He wanted to look confident, to not worry him. His uncle was a man of few serious moments, there'd only been a couple times around him where it had come through. He knew better than to mock it.
He nodded. "Well, lad, I better be off then, I left you a little something at your room. It was the reason I came up here after all," he said with another chuckle as he stood.
"Where are you headed?" he asked out of polite curiosity, his thinly veiled concern from their previous encounters was more apt and real now. Experience was a harsh mistress.
"Kanagawa Prefecture, gotta head around to Yokosuka, Kamakura, Yokohama and the like," the man sounded hoarse. "I'll keep in touch so keep your head straight. Anything happens, anything at all, call will ya?" He nodded as the man took his leave and the front door automatically locked behind him. To say his reunion with his uncle was short-lived was an understatement but he hadn't expected that aspect to suddenly change, he was kind of glad it didn't.
A short trip through the dull thumping of the elevator and he was back in front of his door. There was no sign of anything his uncle had left him, which concerned him only until he opened his room. Inside on the floor laid a phone that was almost an identical one to the one he'd had, Alo must have slid it under the door. It was wrapped in only a sparse piece of plastic Cellophane wrap to keep scratches from its surface. As he peeled away the material he could see it had come with a dark green case, something he didn't doubt his uncle had asked for specifically. A smile crossed his face again, smaller this time but content. In lieu of activating it now he placed on the crude table, he'd worry about transferring all his stuff later when he was less tired. He turned to his closet but stopped by the window and, on a whim, he turned to it.
A thin spear of yellow was hitting the windowsill, through the frost struck glass and from beyond the thick black girdle that made up Yuuei's walls. Hinges shuddered as he abandoned his task and instead undid the latch to pry the glass encumbered frame open, a single cold gust impeded from behind it like a vacuum seal had been released. The sight wasn't unique in the slightest and neither was the silence but that was exactly what he was looking for as he'd grown used to in his life time, a constant. It helped, in the same way a familiar smell or object might, it did not quell that ache he now felt of revenge and of the idea of those men, but, it was enough to stall. It was enough to realign him to a type of desire that he had experienced when he had first entered this school. A fluttering, a ushering of a step into a life he was carving out for himself, that of a hero.