Saturday morning, 05:30 a.m.
Early emergency teachers' conference, hours before class time.
With balloon-sized dark rings under his eyes due to sleep time not exceeding sixty minutes, Aizawa spent approximately a quarter-hour summing up the previous evening's dramatic events and their forthcoming consequences. His mood was as terrible as the news were appalling, especially without his cuddly sleeping bag within reach as emotional comfort.
U.A.'s most important teachers and High Staff – which included All Might, Present Mic, Recovery Girl and Principal Nezu – were attending. They heard or read witness statements, in the form of documented testimonies recorded overnight, mainly from Class 1-A & C students having interacted with the missing grape boy for the last couple of days. They learned about everything Aizawa had himself learned about on the previous night: Mineta's gradual changing over time from a pervert to emo, his admissions of guilt and failed attempts to apologize, his severe roasting and subsequent ignoring by the class the following day, his heart-to-heart and heated exchange with Shinso, his classmates eavesdropping it all, their too-delayed decision to reconnect with him, the boy's unpredicted departure and the letters/messages left behind to most of them.
As they were reading, Naomasa Tsukauchi – U.A.'s most valuable and trustworthy Detective ally in the police forces - was already informed and taking action on his own side.
"It didn't take long!" Present Mic showed his surprise.
"Despite me strongly advising against it, the Symbol of Peace devoted himself body and soul to do it." a jaded Aizawa commented. "Especially for the "body" part."
Sat right beside him, All Might - Toshinori Yagi to his friends - had trouble hiding his discomfort. His declining physical condition could no longer sustain "can-do-anything" empowered forms at will. Some tiny, coagulated smears of blood were still visible on the corners of his lips. These were his latest trophies earned on the previous night, as he had changed into his muscular, Western-Hero shape to go warn his ally at the speed of lightning as bright as his smile.
"That's still a good job for a retired hero." Nezu said.
The compliment, albeit a little ironic, restored Yagi's confidence and ability to embarrassingly boast in public. And he metamorphosed again.
"I rushed to tell him whenever I learned the news. Our beloved hero seeds have lots of potential, but they're fragile and need us to guide them. We cannot give up on them. Young Mineta deserves a place among us, so we'll bring him back and everything will be alright! Because I am–"
He unceremoniously transformed back to his "true" self, spitting blood abundantly.
"…in need of rest and should better take care of myself." Aizawa completed with his own creepy smile of his.
Most of their colleagues had a good chuckle, exchanging scores of funny comments and good-hearted snickers until Nezu restored order with his own very serious smile.
"Jokes apart, Aizawa-sensei, what's your plan for Mineta?" he asked softly but firmly.
The teacher in black attire got up, clearing his throat. All noise left was shushed out of existence when he stared at the assembly.
"From what we know already, it seems Mineta doesn't want to rock the boat with unnecessary attention. However big his suffering is, he's still lucid enough not to wish to cause any harm to our school by making a scene or a name for himself. Therefore, we can rule out the suicide theory."
"I admire his ability to keep to a strong sense of responsibility despite the rough hardship he's going through!" All Might spontaneously commented. "Even in the face of adversity, a true hero remains dignified and aware of the consequences his actions have."
Nods of agreements were swapped from one end of the table to the other among the teachers.
"I'm starting to know my students now." Aizawa added. "Mineta's no risk-taker; he can show excessive awe, if not plain fearfulness during combats. He's not going to put himself in danger."
"But isn't what just happened proof that he wants to change?" Midnight asked.
"There's a difference between changing for the "best" and the "worst". Mineta is a mysterious and timid student with big emotional issues. One can't simply understand and read through him. From what I could observe and what is said of him, stressful situations throw him off balance…"
"…which didn't stop him from apologizing to an entire class! Now that's some courage!"
"Correct. This means he's actually willing to change for the best, something that may not have been possible here. Hence his decision to leave. He's probably not the one we think he is, but one won't change completely in a single day. The day the triggering incident happened, he struggled to defend himself and it overwhelmed him. Say what you want, but people like Bakugo don't have such flaws and could inspire others. Alas, he's not like him. And for once, since he's not like Midoriya neither, I dare hope that Mineta will play the wise guy and bet on his natural carefulness to stay out of trouble."
He paused for a second, gulping down a full glass of water.
"Police forces have been briefed. Once found, Mineta shall be escorted back to U.A., under Recovery Girl's supervision. She's already working on a counseling program for him."
Another glass was emptied in one go. Then came the time to ask the school staff their respective opinions, about how the Mineta matter was to be handled.
Midnight came first. The rated-R Hero had mixed feelings and shared them openly.
On a first hand, she remembered well how cowardly Mineta had initially acted during the Final Exam, when teamed up with Sero Hanta against her. His face was that of a lascivious freak mirroring Midnight's own aura, without the heroic side. On another hand, that same boy had successfully turned tables in a smart and inventing way, saving his partner and keeping his perverted obsessions at bay to the favor of the undisclosed hero in him. Without mentioning his win, achieved single-handedly against a Pro-Hero; a very rare occurrence even in Class 1-A's records.
Would he be able to pull off this feat again, but for good and until the rest of his life?
Then came Recovery Girl, who openly shared – for the first time – what she had heard the grape boy say on his own the day of the Final Exam. Almost identical to what Mineta had told Shinso: "touching a girl's body" and "being cool" were his motivations. It had initially motivated him to go beyond this objective and become a better person. Since that day however, he had relapsed and turned helpless, as though nothing had been enough of an external force to pull him away from this lewdness-paved path to heroship.
"Recovery Girl just did a great job pinpointing the problem here." Cementos commented. "Mineta's motivations are…well, motivations like any other, but how is that related to hero duty? And, most of all, what about AFTER he gets his Hero License? Even if he actually becomes "cool", "popular" or whatever things casual teenagers want, and surrounds himself with blondies…is that all? What's left of his hero side in all this?"
"Ishiyama is right." Midnight approved. "It's not that we doubt him or anything, but his motivations need…some clarifications. As of today, that boy seems to have lost faith in basically anything that could make him a hero. He doesn't know what to do or which way to turn. If he is to come back here, we'll need to have a serious conversation with him and get his head straight."
Yet another round of mirrored approving nods. Until Recovery Girl spoke up.
"First of all, we need to make sure he is fine." she asserted with authority. "Putting him back on the right track is obvious, but it will be easier after we ensure he's willing to and feels able to. That boy needs protection, guidance…and affection."
To support her arguments, she read a printed handout. On it were reports of Mineta's words about his personal life said to Shinso, complemented by Recovery Girl's own marginal notes. The High School Nurse was a knowledgeable psychologist with a solid background in mental analysis, and she already had clear ideas of the painful traumas hidden in Mineta's subconscious.
"It's sad to say it that way…" she introduced her theories. "But judging from what he inadvertently told us about his past, Aizawa-sensei's student has never been guided in any particular direction but down a path of self-destruction. He had to take care of himself in a ruthless family environment. We all know how hard our world can be; weakness is punishable by sentences worse than death sometimes, and Mineta is a weak element. Not by nature, but because he couldn't grow up in the right conditions. In his state of distress, he's not ready to be a hero."
She voluntarily kept quiet for a while, as murmurs and whispers of interrogation spread through like an electric shock. Her silence put them to rest, reestablishing global attention to her speech. It was vital these words be heard and assimilated, especially what would come next.
"Ironically, coming to this school had the beneficial effect of protecting him. Had he fallen into the hands of the wrong mentor, it could have made him a worse person. For he does have potential; arguing otherwise would be absurd. His Quirk has yet to reveal itself, as so far, it was constantly constrained by his "side activities"." she commented, imitating quotes with her fingers. "Mineta is already known for gawking at girls and freaking out whenever submitted to stress, but what else do we know about him? He is what he is, and it didn't stop him from fighting battles alongside his classmates, whom he supported when they needed it. There is one battle he was yet to win, and he's fighting it against himself with literally no allies. Let us be frank: with an appropriate, welcoming and benevolent environment to rebuilt himself and give him a sense of fulfillment, Mineta shall win this battle and become an amazing hero."
All Might wholeheartedly applauded her.
"I agree!" he reaffirmed with his empowered voice. "As far as I remember, I've come through tons of villains in my long career. Many of them were not truly evil, but pretended to out of spite. These were mostly lost and neglected younglings to whom no one wanted to offer proper guidance, turning to evil because bad people took better care of them. Those who suffer and cannot get help either manage to die heroes, or they grew old enough to be damaged beyond repair and become villains as retaliation for their pain. Sad…but true." he spoke depressingly, sending spooky vibes rambling over his listeners' damp skin. "Vulnerable as he is, Mineta could've turned bad real quick. Entering U.A. was a lucky twist of fate. For his own sake, he must remain there."
As he and other colleagues exchanged opinions, Aizawa's thunderous silence attracted curious attention.
"What do you think about him?" Principal Nezu asked. "Your opinion matters too."
"I owe him one."
Occasions when Aizawa disseminated regrets, about a harsh treatment given to one of his students, were so few and far between that it raised general alarm. A flock of incredulous eyes gaped at the black-dressed man with sleepy eyes, a "what-do-you-mean?" kind of expression painted on their faces. As irritated as he looked, Aizawa would not save himself the task of explaining himself
And so started explanations, as he recalled and recapped the tumultuous "conversation" he had had with Mineta to set records straight. Right before the purple sheep had been read the riot act by the entire class - without their teacher knowing anything as such would happen. Aizawa had scolded him for his own good, out of pure concern, in order to save him from himself before it was too late. By his own admission however, he might have hurt him more than expected.
"Don't be so harsh on yourself!" All Might supported him, a firmly closed fist raised above the table. "As I can tell, you still supported and accepted him as he was since he entered Class 1-A. In a normal school, such a troublesome student would have been expelled on day one."
"In a "normal school", a teacher in a sleeping bag would never become a teacher." Midnight amusingly commented, her voice sounding innocent.
The R-Rated Hero's fit of sarcasm pointed out the rareness of Mineta's situation – an uncommon student for an uncommon school. Regrettably, Aizawa's intense fatigue led to a misapprehension.
"A sadomasochist wouldn't neither." he stoically retorted, adamant on her humor.
As tension rose up, All Might played the hero again.
"Getting back to Mineta…" he diplomatically interrupted them. "Even in a not-so-normal school, students still are "normal" human being with emotions, weaknesses and secret pains. That will never change and we better not forget it. Steps should not be skipped. Sometimes, children need to be treated as such. What Aizawa-sensei did was calling out to the hero and responsible adult in Mineta's conscience, but he's still a child feeling uncomfortable under his own skin."
Time was going by. Principal Nezu reminded the assembly that time for talk was over, hence giving way to concrete action. A rescue plan had to be established, while considering three main factors:
First, what would be said to the students regarding this matter, how and when. Second, what do to for Mineta and how to put him to safety. Third, how to deal with the press if the case leaked out and what to tell them without making matters worse.
"Aizawa-sensei already volunteered to assist the police forces in their searches for the boy, with a team of his own." Nezu calmly reminded, the shadow of a confident smile lifting his lips. "Some Class 1-A student, selected by Aizawa himself, will accompany him in this task."
"Isn't it risky to send them outside for investigations others could be doing?" Present Mic expressed his worries. "Even Pro-Heroes don't feel safe anymore with the League of Villains back in the spotlight and growing more influential out there. Especially since Stain's role model rubbed off third-rate criminals and boosted their morale all the way up to a super-high ground."
"This is future heroes we're talking about. They won't train themselves!" tough-minded Aizawa frankly reaffirmed. "Keeping them locked in simulators is a short-term view. Getting a feel of the real world is what they need. As of today, they've already experienced several reality checks, which are just as many bitter foretastes of what daily life will be once they get their Hero License. The Battlefield, even when there is no battle, is where they'll best improve. In order to save one of them, they'll have to get personally and emotionally involved, all while having to keep their distances and feelings under control in case the worse happens. I couldn't have dreamed of any better training, in a manner of speaking…"
As he paused to mumble over the responsibilities he would have to assume, Aizawa handed a sheet of paper to Nezu. It contained the names of the chosen few for his rescue squad.
"Hitoshi Shinso?" the anthropomorphic Principal murmured, his eyebrows spread in astonishment.
"He asked to participate in the operation." Aizawa explained. "And before you ask me why, try to remember how it all started."
They all did, thinking back to what they knew regarding the Department of General Education Student. Shinso was a particular case. The boy had yet to swallow his failure at the entrance exam into Hero Course, and come to terms with his feelings of injustice and "Quirk Discrimination" views on U.A. Now not only was he – once again – trying to prove his worth and show that he deserved better. But he also felt guilty for worsening Mineta's condition by his own greedy ambitions' fault, and hastening his downfall - thus asking for a chance to make amends with whom it concerned.
"Should anything happen to Mineta – or the whole story end badly – he swore to me that he'd leave the school." Aizawa added in a grave, solemn manner. "And he was serious."
The news rocked his audience like the aftershocks of an already record-breaking earthquake. It became the latest side effect of Mineta's earth-shaking personal drama. Shinso Hitoshi, whom nobody thought would even threaten to give up on his dream, becoming the unlikeliest ally to bring back someone he had unconsciously wished to replace. From jealousy to forgiveness, all in one day. Now, they were talking about a truly life-changing event.
"He and Mineta have developed a passive-aggressive, like-dislike relationship based on their respective hurt feelings and conceptions of justice." Aizawa continued. "Mineta regarded Shinso as a kind of substitute hero, which, somehow, was Shinso's more-or-less secret and unconscious hope. It was kind of reciprocal, without neither of them shouting it from the rooftops. That way, Mineta placed an informal "expectation" in Shinso, whom he hoped would do better than him and restore a faith in heroes Mineta felt responsible for harming. He entrusted him with this duty as his successor, and this is the reason why I need Shinso by my side when we find Mineta. If we can get them to engage in dialogue, Shinso will have better chances to reason with Mineta than a teacher who used to wrap him up like a grape sandwich."
Aizawa wasn't that embarrassed – using his capturing weapons to punish his students had never killed anyone, but he still was lucid. Mineta would open up so easily.
On that same document Nezu was reviewing, Class 1-C's supervising teacher had already signed and dated – with all due approval. Shinso had been released from class until further notice, unless the Principal himself – whose prerogative was to have the final word – opposed the decision.
Which he didn't.
Nevertheless, a pending issue remained and it started with an "F", like "Family".
While talking his heart out to Shinso, Mineta had made it clear that his domestic privacy was not exactly great. One family member nonetheless had to be warned of the son's whereabouts; the only one left alive. Mineta's mother, a perfect example of human kindness. The mere thought of her threatening aura caused Aizawa to pull a disgusted face and wear his coldest expression.
"I'll pay a visit and deal with her personally." he sternly declared like an executioner going to work. "It won't be pretty if she refuses to cooperate."
His eyes were red, ready to steam up; not a good sign. All Might intervened right away.
"I will do it, Aizawa-sensei."
Present Mic dully stared at him, eyes full of jaded disappointment, like a retirement house nurse facepalming while a senior resident tried to remember his own name for the nth time.
"Have you already forgotten, "Alzheimer-sama"? You are too weakened to wear a cape now, no matter how good are your intentions, and…"
"…I won't be saving any life by taking a nap." All Might insisted. "The life of one of our students is potentially at risk and there's no time to lose! Isn't that right, "Headphone-sama"?"
"You two, calm down!" Midnight tempered, drawing All Might's attention. "Yagi…I can see by your face that you miss work very much, and you're dying to go out on another mission. But please, don't rush or it'll really kill you! Besides…what does Mineta's mother has to do with what her son is doing now? How is that putting him in danger?"
As she questioned him and challenged his nostalgia-filled fits of enthusiasm, All Might's body surprisingly reshaped into its empowered form and his eyes burned with a new-found determination. Most teachers cautiously pulled handkerchiefs out of their pockets, fearing a rain of imminent blood sprays – their way of raising a white flag against such attacks. However, the former N°1 Hero stood proud and adamant, to everyone's amazement.
"Both of you are wrong. It has everything to do with her!" he argued more firmly. "Now that Young Mineta is gone, anything can happen. He left U.A., his only true "home" up to this day, if what he said about his family situation is correct. But he may – and it's just a possibility – try to reconnect with his biological mother. Finding her means we could find him as well. Or–"
"It doesn't mean you have to do it yourself!" Present Mic cut him off again. "Mineta is one person and a whole team of professionals is out looking for him, but there can be only one Symbol of Peace. In these troubled times, your students need you to stay by their side. U.A. needs you to remain solid and united."
In other words, he still was important to many without actually being important as a hero individual. A boring rhetoric that his grumpy face wrinkle in irritation, killing the smile on it.
"And what about this particular student, Izuku Midoriya, whom you seem to pay special attention to?" Ishiyama added. "He's kind of your protégé, Yagi-sensei, and I know you truly value him. Quite rightly so, I mean! Aizawa himself admitted that Midoriya, in addition to being one of our best elements this year, was raising standards for both his class and school. He's going to become a great hero, but think twice about how sensitive that boy is. The fate of his lost classmate could deal him a terrible blow and he'll need your help to go through this ordeal."
The statement cast a chill in the conversation, almost frozen dead at this point. Loneliness and despair were serious hazards and threats to life; they could drive a man mad, even to the point of breaking a promise. Despite his written statements, the possibility of Mineta being found dead loomed on the horizon more than ever.
The chilly atmosphere didn't prevail though.
"Well, speaking of Midoriya…" Aizawa commented with a cleared throat. "He's part of my team."
Principal Nezu, silent and unmoving so far, nodded positively to remind everyone that he had read the list. Midoriya's involvement was already agreed on and no longer open to debate. For all that, it didn't put a damper on All Might's honorable efforts to justify himself. His late, almost unwelcomed outburst of heroicness would not drive a wedge between him and his colleagues.
"I understand your point of view, Yamada-sensei, Ishiyama-sensei." he emphasized, looking at Present Mic and Cementoss in the eyes. "But I feel partly responsible for what happened to Mineta…because I could have helped it, but didn't."
"How so?" Present Mic raised an eyebrow.
"I have met his mother already." All Might revealed. "When we visited our students' homes during our transition into a boarding school, she was among the firsts. I still remember, along with Aizawa, the moment we came inside…"
He was terrified, a sign that could be read on his face. It also cast a gloom on Aizawa's facial expression as well.
"She was drunk." the latter commented. "She didn't even recognize All Might, despite his fame as a hero and the fact that he had stared on worldwide televisions the day before."
"I had to come back later that day, as she wouldn't even open the door. Naïve as I was, I thought she'd be sober again. God was I wrong!" All Might frightfully recalled. "What I found that afternoon was even worse. Mineta's mother was a cold, horrendous woman, in addition to a completely neurotic, alcoholic genitor that had turned her nose up to her own son and blamed all the troubles in the world on him since the death of her husband."
"If her son died, the only reason she'd visit his grave would be to spit on it." Aizawa went further with the denigrations, himself filled with remorse for not realizing it sooner.
From as early as their first visit, Aizawa and All Might had grown suspicious about Mineta's unstable family background, and concerned about its potential outcomes, but going to the bottom of their investigation would have been too much work for them to handle. Back at the time, the entire world of media slandering them mercilessly and their very future as teachers of a hero school was at stake. How could they have further taken care of this case with all due time and resources, whereas they had about nineteen other student parents to visit, and convince that U.A. was worthy of a second chance?
Mineta's ordeals outside of school life couldn't be a priority; a harsh facet of reality both Pro-Heroes were now bitterly regretting. It caused the impossible to happen, upon hearing Aizawa's rash assumptions about the heartless mother. A humid depiction of penetrating sadness dripped out of the eyes of the forever-smiling man. Even the Symbol of Peace could cry – and witnessing such a poignant moment was so unbearable that it caused the assembly to sigh in disarray.
Embarrassed beyond repair, Aizawa got up awkwardly with the firm intention of apologizing to All Might for being way too-brutally honest. He was stopped in his tracks – as his lips were separating – by a tough-looking, stiffened palm raised against him to shut him up.
"Don't, Aizawa-sensei." All Might almost ordered, in a firm but understanding tone. "You said things the way they should be said. Mineta's mother IS a monster and her son is a victim. No more denial, no more excuses, no more lies. Truth has been spoken."
He turned to Present Mic.
"I have my share of responsibilities in all this. Back at the time, more urgent matters waited to be dealt with. Like you said, Mic…I took care of Midoriya a lot, maybe too much. The same can't be said about the others, especially not Young Mineta. I could have alerted the appropriate authorities and report the cases of child abuse in his family, but I didn't. Aizawa is not the only indebted one here. I owe this kid apologies…and acts."
His eyes became nastily upset. The dreaded unfit mother now served as a final boss to All Might's crusade to absolve the retiring hero of his regrets. In comparison, All for One was just a kindergarten bully.
"No one. I said NO ONE's gonna stop me from visiting this woman and exhort as much information as possible from her. Every little bit could help, anything is good to take. Whatever she says will be useful as intel regarding Mineta's background. If she can tell me where he is or how to find him, I'll make her talk. If she can be used as bait to lure her son into coming back home, I will do it. And if insults are the only things she gives me back…"
You will handle things the way I do with Bakugo? Aizawa anticipated.
"…I'll remind her that places like jails exist, and child abusers belong there." he dauntingly announced. "But first, Mineta needs to be saved. I'm counting on you, Aizawa-kun!"
Anticipating, being proactive, always being a step ahead.
That was what true heroes did. Confronting Mineta's mother not only gave them a chance at finding him, but it would provide vital information about his psychological state – how he had been treated, how bad he'd be abused, how awful his childhood had been. Just as many pieces of evidence psychologists would use to support Mineta, once he'd be brought back to safety and entrusted to the care of the best medical team.
Never would he feel alone again.
And All Might still knew how to think, handle and do things like a professional. It brought back so many warm, endearing memories that Present Mic himself had to sniff intensely and suck his tears into his nostrils, hiding them in his handkerchief.
All Might stood all the more proud and dignified. So, THIS is why you pulled them out all of a sudden? Because I'm still being heroic and useful, to the point of moving you to tears? I love you guys…
The plan of action was now fully ratified. Class 1-A students would attend their scheduled Saturday courses as usual. Only on the day after - Sunday - would the team be assembled and move out of the Heights Alliance restricted area to start their researches.
Time for class neared.
All Might's colleagues hastily sat up, putting away their handkerchiefs in a hurry. The Symbol of Piece chose this very moment to revert back to his primal and skinny form. He spouted blood around again, spraying Principal Nezu first and most.
"I'm…so sorry!"
Nezu stared into his eyes with an eternal smile, showing that all was already forgiven. I guess my bad sense of timing is to blame, but I could easily have avoided it with enough patience to keep this damn paper in my hand! he thought with a defeated expression. That's my punishment for not loving humans.
But the grand prize for the most awkward silence went to All Might. The Pro-Hero now realized all these handkerchiefs – masquerading as tears-absorbers – served solely as hemoglobin umbrellas.
Poor and pitiful he felt at the moment. Is that what I've become, an old fart bleeding out to death? I don't have much time left, but if I can use it properly, I could save another person for the last time. Rest assured, Young Mineta. I'm coming for you…
His thoughts drifted to Midoriya "All Might Junior" Izuku, Aizawa and basically the entire Class 1-A. WE are coming! he corrected.
Saturday morning.
Three hours. It was the average sleeping time most Class 1-A students had enjoyed that night. The shortest of their lives.
Yet Class 1-A attended school normally, as it was required for the last day of their 6-day week. Everyone attended obediently – all except one. They were too tired to make a fuss, and sooner or later, someone would inevitably let them know about what they had to know.
It had to happen, and it would…right?
No major incident had perturbed the morning sessions, thought occasionally peppered with sporadic pauses from the teacher to check on everyone's well-being, and isolated occurrence of tears shed in tissues or shaky hands.
The twenty-one people inside the room had benefited from roughly the same amount of sleep – not enough. Aizawa's half-closed eyes were tinted in blood-red by a sprawling web of veins, like his Quirk was on constant activation mod. He dearly missed the banana yellow color of his sleeping bag, and a day lasted 24h. So much for a purple runaway…
Nevertheless, the afternoon part would not benefit from such "calm-before-the-storm" tranquility. Lack of communication regarding a serious issue never was a long-term solution.
"Why…"
It was only a whisper in the flames of an angered mouth. But it was noisy enough to interrupt Aizawa's speech to the class, while writing on the board, and spark off a reaction from him. He turned to Midoriya, confronting his irritated glance to the green-haired hero's infuriated eyes. The boy instantly gained the upper hand in terms of annoyance level, prompting the taken-aback teacher to speak up in a moderately terse voice.
"Did you say something?" he rhetorically asked without expecting to be answered back.
Which suggested a surprising lack of knowledge of the said student. His lips burned with ire.
"Why the mockery?" Midoriya spoke up curtly, one tone of voice above the recommended level. "We've been here for hours, acting like nothing happened and we didn't care! But we have no right to remain passive. It makes no sense!"
The class' air chopping expert did his job as a Representative and called on Midoriya for interrupting a superior. Against his own skepticism and obvious agreement to Midoriya's anger.
"Calm down, Iida." Aizawa tempered. "Let us hear what your classmate has to say. "
Midoriya was not long in coming, with all due ardor.
He reminded everyone of their past mistakes: how long they had waited before setting out to rescue Mineta, only to find out they were too late. Where was it leading them? Nowhere but in a classroom to grin and bear it. What had become of the Aizawa-sensei from yesterday, the one who had encouraged them to hurry up and get a move on in the way Bakugo did?
"We've discussed this yesterday evening, Midoriya." Aizawa said fixedly.
"You asked us not to leave the school facilities and keep that incident for ourselves." the obdurate sixteen-year-old student recalled. "I don't call that "discussion", even less "action"."
He, of all Quirk enthusiasts, didn't even mention the word "hero", and it spoke volumes about how madly depressed the All Might's number one fan was. Aizawa remained uncompromising.
"Because it is best for us to keep it a secret." he affirmed. "An announcement has been made this morning to let the other students know that one of them was missing. Last night, the services concerned were first informed. As we're talking, Pro-Heros are on the field to look for him. An emergency meeting was summoned this morning, while you were sleeping, to decide on the best course of action. We're done what we had to do, so there's no reason to panic."
"I don't feel like a hero, waiting here for my friend to die or get hurt. If that's what you expect of us – not doing anything, and not risking our lives saving someone WE hurt and scared off – I don't see what's the point of you teaching us how to be heroes we are not meant to be!"
Aizawa didn't initially react, puzzled by Midoriya's unlikely over-zealousness. Unlike the rest of the class, where shocked looks, disapproving airs and dangerous rumors rose in intensity - wreaking havoc in overall concentration and order.
Before they permanently lost focus, Aizawa regained global attention by performing his favorite show of intimidation: activating his Quirk to temper their spirits. While doing this, he trotted to Midoriya's desk and crouched down, looking tough as always. Just like that time when he had warned the One for All heir that he would only let him be a hero by the rules.
The worst outcome was feared; even Bakugo himself stood on the defensive.
"You are right. Indeed, we should all set off in pursuit of your classmate." he admitted to Midoriya, to his relieving surprise and seconds before his heart stopped. "However, you are not unaware of how big a threat villains have become. Even Pro-Heroes have targets in their back nowadays. Helping others is one thing; the very essence of being a hero. But a golden rule is to be respected: do not further harm, either yourself or others. Going out on patrol in such large numbers is dangerous for embryonic heroes like you. If Mineta truly is who I think he is deep inside – someone who respect others enough to avoid doing them wrong – he would not support the idea of you endangering yourselves in such a reckless way."
Midoriya's head slowly collapsed under the weight of truth, while his fists strengthened.
"Besides…" Aizawa added to the whole class' attention, getting back up. "You may want to know that Mineta explicitly asked us not to release you into the wild in his pursuit."
That came as a huge surprise and Nineteen eyes full of questions took aim at him.
To answer them all, he read the part of Shinso's letter where Mineta warned them against making his case public and earning U.A. another undesired inquiry in the spotlight. Aizawa knew it inside out by that time, as Mineta's unequaled and paradoxical maturity regarding the consequences of his actions had unbelievably impressed his teacher. More than it should have.
As expected, the entire classroom boomed with displays of strong, tearful emotions that resonated in a melody of sorrow. Deeply affected, Midoriya held back the tears the best he could.
"I…didn't know that. I'm sorry." he moaned.
"Don't bother." Aizawa cheered him up. "Being sorry is a loss of time. We all need to move forward. You'll have plenty of time to be sorry when Mineta returns. For I look forward to it."
"Aizawa-sensei!" the class erupted in appreciation.
"But woe betide you if you don't follow the proper procedure and act carelessly. You are future professionals, so I expect you to obey and wait for our instructions. Soon enough, your time will come to show your lost classmate that he deserves the best of you."
Aizawa alternated his gaze from Midoriya to Todoroki, and from Todoroki to Iida. The three of them had a history of taking on foes too powerful for them, despite ultimately winning on most occasions. At the same time, Eraserhead's eyes sparkled with determined pugnacity and glimmers of hope. Never would he let any of his students down. Should he resort to action, he knew who to call. It was up to them – not only the three interested parties – to stand ready for the call of duty.
"Patience" was the definition of the day, to learn and experiment in their flesh until they knew it like the back of their hands.
Even Bakugo was treated to the same challenging look. "The best of you", huh? he could sense in it. Am I worth it? Worth changing for Ball Head, while I couldn't do the same for that stupid nerd?
Never stop inspiring others with your passion! Aizawa read his thoughts. If you can push yourself up and change for the best, it's worth it. YOU are worth it. And HE will see it.
The tiny apartment looked messy and awful, like it had been rattled upside down by an earthquake.
Empty bottles of various low-cost liquors and cheap wine made up more than half of the furniture. Rotten rubbish had been scattered around on the sticky floor, with cigarette litter and needles amounting for the most of it. Flocks of flies feasted on food remains and unwashed lavatories. The air stunk up, worse than in an abandoned winery.
Slumped on a ripped couch like a beached whale, an old-looking woman was motionlessly watching TV. They broadcast the same old shit over and over. Heroes…always heroes!
She was skinny and scrawny. Her five senses connected her to the outside world through pierced ears, a scarred mouth, flat brown eyes, a stubby nose and dried skin covered in furrows which made her look twenty years older. Her sphere-shaped, shoulder-length and ungroomed hair hid most of her world-weary facial expression. A fatigued pair of blue circles deteriorated her dead-tired expression. Her slouchy back and floppy limbs, twisted in chaotic ways, hurt a lot.
She didn't care at all. Her body, mind and soul were already damaged beyond repair. Soon enough, she would be lost.
"Shut the fuck up!" she yelled at her television set.
The remote control gave up the ghost, refusing to turn the pixelated interface off. She threw it against the TV screen, breaking the both of them. At last, silence was back.
The scruffy lady had the hardest time getting up. Her aching legs took her to the kitchen. She opened the fridge, looking inside for food. Nothing left. She angrily closed it, slamming the door like she would slap a face. She sluggishly leaned her elbows on a table, grabbed her phone and checked her messages. Still nothing.
"Why won't you talk to me?" she groaned. "Answer! Please, answer!"
The mother dialed the same number, again and again.
Contact called. Dial tone heard. One ring, second ring, third ring, fourth ring, fifth ring, sixth ring. Call transferred to the answering machine. Message left on her son's voice mail. Operation repeated. Once, twice. No answers. Impatience and frustration had her squeeze the phone in her dirty hands, breaking it too. Her last mean of communication fell into pieces. Regrets and sorrows knocked on her heart's door, and she tumbled down on her knees in tears.
I lost him…I fucking lost him!
As the alcohol concentration in her blood slowly drained away – one gram at a time – so did her memories, but the other way round. Violent, barbarian words she had pronounced on the phone at Mineta's attention. When was it again? One, two days ago or more? No clear memory of that. However, she remembered them. All of them. What she had said.
It was too much. I'm going to rehab tomorrow! she decided.
This was her umpteenth decision to become sober; long battles against her addiction with a higher rate of failure than a patient with a returning advanced cancer following ten remission therapies.
Had it reached terminal form yet? Might or might not have. Wanting it was better than nothing.
Luckily this time, by chance or bizarre turn of events – she couldn't tell – her supplies were depleted. No more bottles and no more buying new ones. A decision she had to celebrate, but not by drinking to that.
She returned to the living room, where she picked up a piece of cereal packet laying around the carpet, roughly tearing into a rectangular piece. She then went to her bedroom, sat on the bed and seized a pen that also inhabited on the ground. Using her forelegs as a support, the wrongly-cut end of the pen touched the jury-rigged cardboard letter.
"Dear Son…" she started. "I…," she hesitated "…am sorry. For…everything…"
Inspiration was running out quicker than it came. Even the ink cartridge was better supplied. It dried up so rapidly that she went directly to the end, knowing already what kind of standard, polite form of greeting she would use.
"Love, your mom."
Maybe not so standard for a bad mother with fifteen years of neglect, uncaring and self-loathing on her counter as a human being.
It honestly wasn't a lot, but it was real. These ten words were like the fingers of her two hands. A higher number than all the times she had uttered sentences like "I love you" combined together. But, and it had its importance, writing them down felt equally as fascinating, empowering and relieving as slipping under the skin of a god drawing up the Ten Commandments with permanent ink. It was a first step. The tiniest and hardest one; with consequences unknown but huge.
Ten words.
They were to serve as a reminder that love still lived – somehow, somewhere - inside her heart. It was alive. Should she relapse into heavy drinking and start blurting out insults as if it was nothing, these inked testimonies of her abstemious self would be here to help break the circle. She had to change, turn her life around and reconnect to her own flesh. Never mind how many times she'd use a bottle-opener in the future, Mineta mattered more from hereon in.
"I'm thirsty!" she said all of a sudden.
Her dehydrated palate was asking for it. She rose like a born-again baby and stood up on her feet, heading back for the kitchen. An empty glass was taken out of a cupboard. She filled it with a liquid that had no smell, tasted neutral, and flew from a plastic bottle that bore a label without percent proof.
It was water.
She placed the glass on the table. There was nothing on it, except two things: the makeshift cardboard letter with her confessed affection to her son, and a weird-looking phial with no label she had no idea how it had got here. In her state of half-amnesia half-reborn, she couldn't recall what it was or what was it used for. Maybe a perfume, maybe ink, maybe just a stupid mirage. She didn't even have the slightest idea of why it was her, what it tasted like and why she had obviously forgotten to put the cap back on it.
Whatever.
Before gulping down her first life-filled glass in ages, she felt this symbolic ritual – coming back to healthy habits and lifestyle – needed to be duly prepared and thought-through like New Year resolutions. She grabbed a chair, sat down right, closed her eyes to cut herself off from the world, slowed her breathing rate, and cleared her head to let whatever was on her mind vanish for good. Calmness, serenity and tranquility settled in. She was at peace of mind.
With her eyelids shut, the darkness layer on her pupils permanently blinded her. But never had her vision been clearer. As her conscience awoke to what she had missed for so long, it all became as crystal-clear as the limpid liquid inside the glass. She had messed up, badly and soundly. To make up for it, she had hard work to do. More than she would for the rest of her life.
But she was to do it anyway. Better now and late, than never.
"Cheers, my son. To our incoming reunion."
Feeling a noble liquid like water flowing down her esophagus was a more enjoyable experience than watching it closing in on her lips. Therefore, why not keep her eyes closed to better appreciate the moment to the fullest? Her sense of touch would guide her.
She extended a hang forward, transported by the air to grab hold of the glass of water. Once stuck in-between her five trembling fingers, it felt smaller than her eyes had foretold, but it didn't matter. She lifted it within a centimeter of her mouth and started drinking. She probably had forgotten it, but water seemingly had a taste. A bizarre one though, but who was she to judge? Her drunken state most likely had altered her perception of flavors.
She drank it up completely. Once the last drop had landed on her tongue, she put the phial back down on the table.
Late at night the same day, Tartarus (Special Prison For Villain Criminals).
A dark, empty corridor where a silence of death prevailed. Steel-plated walls with black dye everywhere. Splashes of hemoglobin, bullet holes and bladed weapons notches. War-like scenes of desolation. An ear-piercing alarm ringing out on a loop, severed cables dangling in a rain of sputtering sparks, thick and acrid smoke steaming away, fires starting out.
The highest security standards in the world had failed. No giant walls, high-tech cameras, blast doors, full-body straitjackets or ceiling-mounted machineguns would ever stop him.
The unconscious, badly-hurt bodies of heavily-armed staff in uniform lay on the floor in red, coagulated pools. They were not corpses though, as the fleeing escapee had observed a strict abidance to his personal creeds and convictions. No unnecessary death, no needless bloodshed. Only in small quantity, enough to both disable and ensure the survival of those serving the system but not for all that deserving to die. Fear would do the rest of the job.
"I'm here, I'm here. Help is on the way. Hang in there!"
One security guard – among the rare still standing in their legs with no sustained injuries – held his agonizing, shivering college tight against him. Being late for the changing of the guard, all that because his constipated digestive system had kept him stuck to the toilet bowl during an emergency, had ultimately saved him a painful trip to a military hospital. On the casualty's terrified face, the fugitive's murderous aura and willful bloodlust still reflected in his wobbly eyes, to the point it paralyzed the crouching survivor for a moment.
His assisting college quickly realized, and he already hated to ask.
"Don't tell me that…"
"Y-yes!" the injured guard moaned in pain, his jerky breath cut one every two seconds. "We…have a big…problem."