As Dawnbreaker's recollection of her past came to an end, Jomei's mind became a storm of thoughts. An uncomfortable feeling had settled in the pit of his stomach halfway through his mentor's tale, and now that queasiness had only intensified. He tried to keep his gaze fixed on the hero before him, but finding focus amid his shock felt like a borderline impossible task for him to accomplish.
How was he supposed to process everything Dawnbreaker told him? He'd only learned of her existence a little over a week ago, just met her in person a few hours ago, and then became privy to her entire background. The very history that Midoriya said people online were never able to glean much information about had been given to him freely by the heroine herself. The detail with which Dawnbreaker divulged her history to him had made his blood run cold many times throughout the tale, but there was one constant that Jomei felt was the most important element – her vigilantism.
Jomei had heard of several instances of vigilantism before. Japan boasted the lowest average crime rate out of any country in the world thanks to its many disciplined and distinguished Pro Heroes, but that didn't mean there weren't those who wished to take the law into their own hands anyway. Whether it be their own quests for revenge, the fact they failed the entrance exam at a hero academy, or any number of other reasons, vigilantes still existed in modern Japan – of that fact, he was abundantly aware. From the famous Naruhata Vigilantes to much more infamous examples, some of Jomei's earliest memories were of his mother explaining to him the stigma that surrounded vigilantism and the dangers that engaging in such activity could pose to oneself and others. He understood almost better than anyone why vigilantism was so strictly outlawed in society, and why the punishments tended to be so harsh. Order needed to be maintained, and vigilantes stood in direct opposition of that order.
That world that Dawnbreaker had been confined to during her formative years though… it sounded more like a dystopia than a place Jomei could've imagined existing in the modern world. It sounded like the kind of place the world once was back at the beginning of the Quirk phenomena – filled with a level of darkness and depravity that would crush lesser people's souls into dust, but spur the best and brightest to combat that darkness.
To him, Dawnbreaker was an instance of such a person. One born in hardship and molded by it into the hero that he saw before him today, despite the missteps she took along the way. Her first outing may have been tainted by vengeance, but it seemed clear to Jomei that his mentor's heart was in the right place when she decided to become a vigilante. He knew that vigilantism was something to be frowned upon, but he couldn't find it in himself to pass that same judgment down onto Dawnbreaker.
Something else in her story stood out though. Her desire for recognition.
If her commitment to vigilantism was the most important constant regarding her history, then her desire for recognition was one of the more important points of her motivations. Dawnbreaker might've wanted to clean up the streets of Detroit through her efforts and make her hometown a better place to live without fear, but the fact that her desire for recognition was always present in her vigilante activities was undeniable and hit a bit close to home. Jomei didn't need to have known Dawnbreaker forever to tell that her origin story was an uncomfortably clear mirror for him to stare into.
As his conscious mind fought against this newfound questioning of his motivations for wanting to become a hero, his stomach twisted, and his room suddenly felt a great deal colder. He didn't want to entertain the line of thought he suspected Dawnbreaker had wanted to set him on when she sat him down, but he couldn't exactly ignore it. His internship was too important to behave that way, no matter how Dawnbreaker's words made him feel.
"Nishimura. You're looking a little pale," Dawnbreaker said impassively, "you alright?"
Hesitantly, he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I am. It's just that… if the reason you told me about where you came from and what you've done in the past was to make me think, you succeeded."
"Then I see that my first impression of you turned out to be true."
"What?" Jomei asked, brow furrowing slightly.
She shrugged. "You have a good head on your shoulders. That was one of the first assumptions I made about you. If that guess I made about you had been wrong, I don't think you'd be reacting the way you are. Either way, I do want to make sure that you know I didn't tell you what I did to make you sick."
"Right…" Jomei took a deep breath, relieved as his eyes finally focused again. "But then… Did you tell me everything you did to make me question myself? Or why I want to become a hero?"
Dawnbreaker said nothing in response. The impassive look on her face didn't budge, but something in her sharp blue eyes told Jomei that she was waiting for him to continue as she crossed her arms.
His hands gripped the bedsheet. "Listen, I… the parallels aren't lost on me. I can tell that you wanted to help your hometown and maybe how your story went is different to how my life has gone so far, but you still wanted fame. Maybe you didn't want to be famous in the same way that I do now, but still, I get the feeling that you wanted me to pick up on that piece of the puzzle in particular." A weight fell on his shoulders, and he suddenly felt sheepish. His next words came out quieter than the ones before. "But I can't really tell how you wanted to make me feel. All I can think is that you wanted to make me question why I want to go pro, but… is it really so wrong that I want to be recognized? I don't want to be famous to overshadow other people or anything like that, it's just… I want to be like my dad. That's all."
Dawnbreaker sighed softly. "Nishimura."
He lifted his gaze from the floor. In her eyes, he saw an odd mix of empathy, gentleness, and exasperation alongside a myriad of other emotions he had no words to accurately describe.
"I wasn't trying to demean your motivations or make you feel terrible," she continued. "Your motivations are your own, and you're free to pursue them however you wish. You haven't made any of the mistakes I made when I was around your age, so I can't pretend to have the moral high ground when we're talking about your desires here. Rather, my intent here was to make a point. To simply make you think twice about how dangerous things could be for you andyour loved ones if you get too caught up in that singular goal of yours." Another soft exhale flowed from her lips, and her arms uncrossed to land on her legs. "You seem like a good kid, and that fact has made me think that I made the right choice in extending my offer to you. It's also for that reason that I don't want you to make mistakes that might mar your future all because of a few selfish desires that overshadowed what it means to be a hero."
Jomei's stomach continued to sink, and it took everything in him not to reflexively move his hand to try and alleviate the discomfort. Through lack of any ability to come up with an adequate response, he remained silent.
Dawnbreaker grabbed her sword and made for the door, though she stopped in the doorway. "Trust me, I know how hard it is when you feel so much pressure placed on you to change or reflect on who you are. I don't expect you to change overnight, or ever, but I did want you to at least think carefully about who you want to be in the future. For now, you can relax and recuperate from our training today. I'll see you tomorrow."
Not too long later, the door clicked shut behind her. Only when Jomei heard her armored steps subside did he finally heave a sigh of relief. He then collapsed back onto his bed and closed his eyes, though he found no comfort in his attempts to shut out the environment around him.
Dawnbreaker definitely had a point. No matter how much he wanted to be famous and achieve a level of stardom that even surpassed his own father's, never would he wish for his pursuit of recognition to hurt those closest to him. Not his parents, not Denki or Kyoka, and without a doubt he didn't want it to hurt someone he loved so dearly as Akiko, and yet…
He couldn't imagine himself giving up on the very goal that had driven him to become a pro for so many years. Not so suddenly, and not when his head felt like it was spinning at nauseating speeds. His mind raced to consider the implications of what it would mean for him to do such a thing. Theirs was a world of heroes and supernatural abilities, yes, but the people within the world remained normal. From civilians to villains to heroes, all people from every walk of life retained their various goals and philosophies as things that were as important to their identities as their names or the powers each of them found themselves born with.
Jomei's dream was one he imagined that he shared with many other people in the hero society, but that fact was of little comfort. No matter how hard he tried, he knew he would never be able to delude himself into thinking that his pursuit of fame would be as harmless as someone else's. Unlike the common man, as a hero, he'd possess the platform that would let him pursue his aim for fame to his heart's content. That same platform would also have him throw his life on the line for his fame, and if Akiko stayed by his side, they'd be doing that very thing together on a daily basis. In the crazy and unpredictable world they lived in, Jomei couldn't say for certain that his aims would never endanger the ones he loved, no matter how much he may have wanted to.
His thoughts tumbled, and sound sleep was elusive the remainder of the night.
From the moment Denki laid eyes on his temporary mentor outside his hero agency, he noticed one thing.
Quantum Shinobi looked like a badass.
He was everything Denki thought he'd look like in person and more. Covered in sleek light grey armor that gave his costume an urban ninja feel, the only parts of his body that remained clearly exposed were his feet, shins, and the lower half of his face. The rest of his face was protected by an armored mask that ran from his nose to his forehead, and obscured even his eyes. Anything above the top of his brow was hidden by a large hood and the accompanying long ribbons that hung from the back of it, and the hood itself was attached to a sleeveless jacket that cut itself off around his mid-abdomen to reveal more armor. Baggy black pants that obscured most of his legs down to his armored calves and exposed tabi shoes made it unclear how much armor laid hidden, but Denki suspected that the only reason he wore his red-and-black clothing above his armor was to keep his opponents guessing where his vulnerabilities might lie.
Or perhaps it was for a less practical reason. Maybe Quantum Shinobi just really liked the look his costume gave him, or perhaps he wanted to keep himself as mysterious as possible and worked toward that goal by even obscuring his actual build. Between his appearance and how he looked like he might've been around three centimeters taller than Jomei, though, Denki figured it wasn't unreasonable of him to assume that he'd be downright ripped beneath his costume. Even if the hero always kept his true appearance a well-kept secret from both the media and his fans, Denki knew that much to be true. That commitment to keeping his face unknown added to Shinobi's general mystique too, which was always a bonus in Denki's book.
"So…" Quantum Shinobi trailed off, breaking Denki out of his reverie with a start. His words came out slightly muffled by the black half-mask over the unarmored portion of his face, but the calm tone his voice possessed remained clear. "I understand that my costume might make it seem like I lean a little hard toward the mysteriously intimidating side of the hero spectrum, but you've been staring at me for around a good minute now. Are you okay?"
"Oh, totally! I'm totally alright! Great, even!" Denki exclaimed, though he quickly lowered himself into an apologetic bow as he remembered his manners. "I'm sorry if I weirded you out or anything, Quantum Shinobi, sir! It's an honor to meet you!"
The hero's head tilted a little after a short chuckle. "You're an interesting individual, Kaminari Denki. I figured that much from how you performed at the Sports Festival against that kid with the flashy gases, but you're already making me glad it was you who I chose to open up my agency to today. As I'm sure you know, my name is Sato Ichiro, but most people know me as Quantum Shinobi. Call me Shinobi for short, if you want."
"Yes sir!" Denki responded loud and clear. "Sorry again for staring, though. It's just that I've heard a lot about you even before I ever made it into U.A. The fact that I've finally been able to meet you in person just got the better of me, is all. Your costume looks sick!"
"And you only get more amusing as time goes on," Shinobi returned. "I appreciate the compliment about my costume, and it's always nice to meet a fan. Perhaps you could say that it was fate that we should end up working together for your internship, but then I'd be doing a disservice to you by discrediting all the hard work you've put in so far. Since I'm sure that you had plenty of other offers with a Quirk like yours, consider me honored that you accepted my offer in particular, Kaminari."
"No, no! If anyone should be honored, it should be me!" Denki insisted. "You've been a pro for as long as I can remember! Before I even hit preschool you were probably out on the streets being a badass! I owe you a ton for choosing to send an offer my way."
"The pleasure's all mine. Now, shall we head on inside and get started?" he asked, gesturing inside his agency behind him.
"Yes, sir!
And with that, the pair proceeded into Quantum Shinobi's hero office. From its very foundations, the place radiated a traditional Japanese feel that contrasted against its owner's more modern take on the country's rich history through his costume. Wood-paneled walls and an upturned roof on the exterior gave the agency the almost out-of-place feel of an old dojo while the interior worked alongside that feel perfectly. Hardwood flooring made up the entirety of the agency's floor space and the single-floored, square-shaped building seemed to only be divided up by a series of thin wooden walls and shoji doors. If Shinobi intended to ensure his costume's cultural inspiration wasn't forgotten when it came to the aesthetic of his hero agency, Denki liked to think that he'd succeeded.
Shinobi's hands clasped behind his back as they continued down the hall. "Now, I believe that one of the first things I should make you fully aware of is that I intend for you to avoid a real combat situation for the entirety of your internship at my dojo."
"Huh?" Denki sped up a little to appear by his side. "Wait, but isn't that part of the reason these internships were set up? Aizawa-sensei told us that we'd all be in the field to gain experience about what hero work is really like."
"Your teacher sounds like a smart man, Kaminari," Shinobi complimented. "Any good educator would emphasize the importance these internships can carry with them, but when we pros send in our offers, we aren't bound by U.A.'s expectations. Part of what it means to become a pro is to come as close to achieving self-actualization as possible. That's what I hope to help you hone in on over the course of your internship here. It's the best thing I could do this week to really help you improve as a potential pro, in my eyes."
"Oh. That makes sense, I guess," Denki admitted.
"I'm glad you think so. Besides, I'm not the only hero in the world who has this kind of philosophy either," Shinobi elaborated as they turned a corner. Two shoji doors lay in wait at the end of the hall as opposed to the single doors spaced throughout the rest of the agency, lending a sense of importance to the room. "One of my closest friends and some of the best heroes out there never stops training. It's what makes them strong enough in mind, body, and spirit to sometimes stop villains before they ever have a chance to cause any real damage."
"Kind of like how when All Might shows up to a raid, sometimes the villains will just give up right away because they're so scared of him?" Denki asked.
Shinobi looked at him as they stopped at the doors. "Exactly right. If you intimidate your opponent into submission by your presence alone, then you know you've been doing your job as a hero far more effectively than most. With a costume like mine and the sort of first impression it helps me give off, you could imagine how often I've seen that sort of hero-villain dynamic in action."
The pro then swept open the doors to reveal the sparring room within. The area must've taken up a solid third of the agency in terms of floor space, and all manner of spare tatami mats and other necessities for an area designated for combat could be found around the room. Punching bags, mannequins, supplies, and a few different kinds of weights were stored neatly together in different corners of the room while the most interesting area of the space turned out to be the one furthest away from them. Toward the back of the room, a bamboo table held all manner of important materials on its surface – weapons, books, spare gis, and off to the side of the table laid perhaps the most important thing of all to have at a hero agency…
A mini-fridge.
"If you play your cards right, Kaminari, you might be able to make a philosophy that works for you when you go pro. This room here is where you'll finally take your first steps toward that end goal," Shinobi said, making his way to the tables.
"With all this talk about philosophies and stuff… it makes me realize that I've never really taken the time to read up on modern philosophy," Denki thought aloud. "Other than rumors about what big bads like Destro or Harima Oji thought about the world, I've never heard all that much about modern philosophy. Maybe I should fix that sometime."
Shinobi stopped halfway. "Oh? You read as a hobby, I take it?"
"Yeah, it's a little passion of mine," Denki explained with a slight smile. "Even if no one would really believe I read a bunch because of how low my grades are. But I do like to read old stories and stuff. It's an escape to a whole different world, you know? But reading isn't really as great for me when I have to deal with boring stuff like science or… math."
"There's no shame in that," Shinobi said. As he reached the tables, Denki entered the room. "But on a more personal note of philosophy, I find more merit in honing my skills than running headlong into a combat situation. Some pros might prefer to run into a fight guns blazing and overpower criminals that way, but I've come to understand that technique and skill have always helped me emerge victorious more often than brute force in all but some of the direst of battles I've been in."
Denki stopped beside him and readjusted his backpack. "Makes sense that you'd already have that kind of idea in your head. Almost every story I've ever read about you has you in the middle of some big brawl, or something like that."
"Which is exactly why I've already accumulated enough combat experience to understand that there's a delicate balance between strength and skill," Shinobi elaborated. "You can't have one without the other and be an effective pro. That's why I spend so much of my time training. I can never assume that I'm strong or skilled enough to always prevail, because the day I do that might very well be the day I fail to fulfill my duty as a hero."
"To protect people, you mean."
Shinobi nodded. "Basically, but enough melodrama. You didn't come here to have me talk your ear off, you came here to learn. To grow. So how about we get started along that path here? If you'll indulge me, I'd like to see what you can do in terms of hand-to-hand combat."
"Against you?" Denki gaped. "I feel like this is going to end with me getting my butt kicked ten times over."
"Possibly," Shinobi said casually. "But we'll never know how far you have to go unless we understand where you've started out. In the corner there's another room where you can change into your costume. I'll wait here."
Convinced by the hero's sound argument and with no further reason to delay, Denki dropped his backpack and brought his costume case with him. The room was slightly claustrophobic and dimly lit, but it served its purpose well enough. On account of his mixture of eagerness to see Quantum Shinobi in action and the desire to have his inescapable beatdown over with as soon as possible, Denki changed into his hero costume and was back in the sparring room in short order. Shinobi then nodded in approval of his costume and situated himself closer to the center room away from the tables. Denki mirrored his position on the other end of the invisible arena they'd silently set up around them.
"Not gonna lie, I'm still a little nervous over here…" Denki said, putting up his fists.
"I wouldn't worry too much." Shinobi entered an action-ready stance of his own, his arms raised in practiced positions that would probably let him take Denki down a dozen different ways at once. "You're a student and probably around half my age, but trust me, I know how to hold back when it's necessary.
Denki sighed. "That's a relief."
"Good. Now if you're ready, come at me!" Shinobi commanded. "Hold nothing back and show me what Kaminari Denki is capable of when he's up close and personal!"
"Right!"
He kicked off the ground and entered a run. There wasn't any time to hesitate. There was a huge gap between their skill levels already and giving Shinobi any more time to premeditate how he'd dismantle Denki's offensive before it even happened would be a disaster. Denki's arms tensed and he felt his heart beat a little harder as he closed in, but Shinobi remained unreadable and utterly still in the position he'd sunk into.
'Okay, how the hell am I gonna start this out? Uh… punches! Those are always a good idea! It'll let me test his reflexes.'
Denki's tensed fist flew for the hero's chest as he let out an impassioned shout, only for one of Shinobi's hands to slap it away with minimal effort. Before he could be turned into a heap on the floor, Denki continued and threw his other arm toward the hero's abdomen. Shinobi promptly used his forearm to bat away the blow and, with a jab from his free hand, forced Denki to duck beneath the attack without a moment to spare. Another jab followed the first and kept him on the defensive, but the arm that threw out the attack that came before hadn't fully returned to Shinobi's guard, and there Denki saw another opportunity. As he narrowly avoided the second strike by leaning to the left, he launched another punch at his opponent's chin.
"Three," Shinobi muttered.
Before Denki could even keep up with the movement, the arm that had supposedly not yet committed itself back to Shinobi's guard had intercepted his punch and caught it within his palm. Denki followed his instincts and immediately attempted to yank his arm away as he kept his attention on Shinobi's other fist. This strategy turned out to act as a form of tunnel vision, and he noticed a moment too late that his opponent's leg was headed on a collision course with his gut.
"Two."
When Shinobi's knee plowed into his stomach, it was everything Denki could do to merely let out a grunt of pain and not lose his lunch as he was sent tumbling back. By the time he'd landed on his back and managed to look back up at his adversary, he had no time to consider what it was that his mentor had said underneath his breath. Shinobi was already headed right for him.
'Shit. I don't stand a chance here… but I still have to try!'
In a mild panic as his opponent neared striking distance, Denki scrambled onto all fours and attempted to leap away with all his might when he felt the side of Shinobi's armored leg sweep his own out from under him. He floundered flat onto his face and desperately flipped himself around onto his back to throw up a last-second guard against whatever Shinobi would throw his way next.
"One," Shinobi said.
Denki wasn't fast enough. Shinobi had already pounced before he could even raise his hands to protect himself. One of the hero's legs landed across both of Denki's to instantly prevent his escape while his other pressed one of Denki's arms against the floor. Denki's left hand was incapacitated by his opponent's right when it locked itself around his wrist, which left him only the option to brace for a fistful of knuckle as Shinobi raised his free hand in a fist above Denki's exposed face.
But the attack never came.
"And zero," Shinobi finished with a sigh.
The next thing Denki knew, the hero's grip on his arm went slack. Shinobi's entire body seemed to release an invisible tension as he appeared to switch gears from combat-ready to back at ease, and he quickly removed his legs from his intern's limbs as he practically leaped upright. He then proceeded to extend a hand down in an unspoken offer to help Denki up, and after a moment of indecision, he accepted the gesture.
"I think it's safe to say that I won that round," Shinobi stated.
"Definitely…." Denki admitted, rolling his wrist to get the blood flowing again. "No surprises there. I threw three punches and then you completely destroy me. You've probably got as many years of experience with fights as I've even been around. Sorry I couldn't put up a better fight, Shinobi."
Shinobi dismissed his concerns with a wave. "You did fine. Better than anticipated, given how simplistic the strategy you used in that one-on-one fight during the tournament was, but worse than I'm sure both of us would've liked. Everyone has to start somewhere, though."
"Right," Denki said with a nod. "Mind if I ask you something before we continue though, sir?"
"Sure." Shinobi shrugged. "Go for it."
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I could've sworn I heard you mumbling some numbers to yourself while we were fighting," he said. "What was up with that?"
"Well, you heard me right," Shinobi confirmed. "That countdown you heard was a little tic that helps me focus when I'm in battle. As it turns out, that same tic has also evolved over the years to help me use my power much more effectively as well. You're aware of what my Quirk can do, right?"
Denki sucked in a breath awkwardly. "Kind of…? I've seen your fights on some websites, but your Quirk's always been a big blind spot for me. I mean, yeah, you use it sometimes in your fights but I never figured out how it worked. Or what it's called, for that matter."
The hero hummed. "Then allow me to enlighten you. My Quirk is called Kinetic Charge, and it allows my body to store energy through my movements while I'm fighting. While I have no discernible limit to how much energy my body can store up at any given time, almost constant movement is necessary to maintain and exponentially expand upon my body's reservoir – if I don't, my energy level will slowly dissipate over time. In terms of its practicality in battle, I'll typically release it all at once against stronger villains to make absolutely sure they'll stay down after one go, but I can choose to ration the energy my body accumulates however I wish."
"So what you're saying is you can use it like a trump card," Denki observed. "In all the videos I've seen of you fighting villains, you always start out by taking down all the grunts before you start on bigger targets. That lets you gain energy and fall back on your Quirk as a last resort if you can't take down the biggest bad guys without it."
"A very astute observation," Shinobi praised. "But you can probably conclude how my little countdown tic helps out when I use it. When I count down from three to one, it's sort of like I'm lighting a fuse in the back of my head. Once I reach a low enough number and see my chance to strike… boom. Everything I've managed to learn in terms of martial skill gets unleashed on my opponent all at once. Doesn't matter if it's one attack or a bunch of smaller ones – there haven't been many villains I've faced that can withstand my Quirk when I use it in conjunction with that little tic of mine."
Denki's brow quirked up. "But does it really help you focus in a fight to say it out loud, or did you just come up with it because it just sounds cool and intimidating?"
"Oh, it helps me focus alright," Shinobi assured. "But it wasn't something that I came up with on a whim. Back when I was your age and just started training to get into a hero program, I quickly discovered that I had immense talent when it came to martial arts. As it so happened, I also lacked any form of self-restraint. Many of my sparring partners wound up injured because I couldn't tell when to stop, but my sensei didn't give up on me. Instead, he fought me one-on-one for a while and forced me to learn that three-to-zero mantra you heard me use just now. Whenever I reach zero, that's the moment that no more punches should be thrown – or at least, when I should be sure that the fight ends." He held up one finger. "And in all the years that have passed since that I was with my sensei and was later admitted into U.A., I have never deviated from this mantra. Did that make sense?"
"Whoa…" Denki breathed, his mouth agape at how much Shinobi had shared with him. "I mean, uh, y-yeah! That made complete sense!"
"Then yours was a fair reaction." He started in the direction of the mini-fridge, leaving Denki to watch as he departed. "I hide my face to protect my identity as best I can, but at the same time, I try my best to not come across as cold-hearted or distant to those who wish to speak with me. At any rate, I believe that we should get back on track and talk about you some more."
Denki resisted the urge to frown. "And talk about how bad I flopped, right?"
"Nah." Shinobi crouched down and retrieved a pair of water bottles, though he didn't start back toward his intern after he kicked the fridge door shut. "I don't find it all that productive to harp on about negatives too harshly when the person I'm training is still only starting out. Rather, I'll start out with a compliment – your reflexes aren't half-bad. They're good, and could even become great if you hone them."
"Oh. Thanks!"
"As for the criticisms we both know I'll have to give you at some point…" He made a sort of flippant gesture with the water bottles. "You hesitate. You telegraph your attacks because of this hesitation and often have a habit of losing awareness of your opponent's entire body when you fight. We'll need to cut down on these negatives. It'll be tough to do since we have so little time, but you're from U.A. My alma mater. I'm optimistic that you'll be able to grow considerably as long as you're committed to your training."
Denki caught the bottle Shinobi tossed his way. "Trust me, I am! Part of the reason I chose your agency in the first place was to try and become a better fighter, so this all sort of lines up even better for me than I expected!"
"I'm glad to hear it, Kaminari."
And with that, Denki unscrewed the cap of his water bottle and focused his attention on downing the drink his mentor provided him. His mind wandered as he went about doing so, though most of his thoughts lingered around the topic of Quantum Shinobi himself.
Only maybe an hour into knowing the guy and he was already tempted to say that he couldn't have made a better choice of mentor. He was kind enough to offer constructive criticism instead of expressing any form of annoyance and disappointment in his intern's present lack of skill, which only spurred Denki to want to try even harder. Even if it was only a superficial aspect of his character in the grand scheme of things, Shinobi also seemed like just an all-around cool dude. He seemed to be the kind of person Denki could admire and respect on a deeper level.
Part of him wondered if Quantum Shinobi was even human underneath that identity-obscuring costume of his; after all, Principal Nezu's species was a hotly debated subject among first-years back at U.A. Some would say he's a bear, mouse, or even a dog that achieved sentience when he had become one of the handful of animals that gained a Quirk. With how much of a complete badass Shinobi seemed to be, Denki wondered if he wasn't actually some kind of cyclopean machine underneath his costume instead of a real person. It wouldn't be the craziest news he'd ever heard of in Japan these days.
The mechanical click of armor being detached brought Denki's attention back to his mentor in an instant. Shinobi's back was turned to him and his hood was still up to keep his face hidden, but on the bamboo table in front of him lay the armored portion of his mask that kept the top half of his face a mystery. As his mentor reached a hand up toward his face and a soft ruffling of cloth could be heard, Denki realized he'd also lowered the half-mask that had covered the bottom portion of his face as well.
There was no way that this could be happening right now. Right?
Shinobi flipped back his hood and lifted the bottle to his lips. He started to nurse his drink and turned around, entirely unconcerned by the fact his face was entirely uncovered and his identity had effectively been revealed. Denki nearly choked on his drink.
The mysterious ninja looked normal. Beneath the armor and costume of his hero persona, it appeared that Sato Ichiro was about as far removed from crazy-looking as one could get in the world. His skin was pale, probably due to his costume hiding him from the sun, his hair was dark brown and styled back in a series of slick spikes, and the most unique part about his face were his blue-grey eyes. Given Shinobi's reputation and the fact Denki had extremely visually unique classmates in the form of Ashido and Shoji back in class 1-A, 'normal' was the last thing he'd expected.
"What?" Shinobi asked as he finished his water.
"What do you mean, what!?" Denki squealed. "Your face! You keep your face hidden from literally everyone on the planet and now you've given me a good look at you! Couldn't you have just lowered the bottom part of your mask to drink water!?"
"Not really," he said easily. "The lower half of my mask is kept from falling down when I lock the armored upper half into place, and my hood's so big that it would've fallen back while I was drinking."
Denki deflated. "That doesn't explain why you chose to show me your face, though…"
"Because I was thirsty."
"What!?"
"I'm kidding! I wanted to gauge your reaction, that's all," Shinobi explained with a friendly smile. "And besides, you've made a good first impression, which has led me to think that you're someone I can trust to keep my true appearance under wraps. Am I right?"
"Y-yes, sir! Of course!" Denki bowed.
"So it's no big deal then." Shinobi planted his bottle on the table and crossed his arms. "But I also showed you what I look like to segue into this next point. Even the best of pros have many facets to who we are on the inside compared to how we convey ourselves on the outside. It's what makes us human, at the end of the day. Today we're here to figure out what new facet we can help you discover in yourself."
Denki straightened again, and smiled. "Now that's a kind of goal I can get behind! Thank you so much, Quantum Shinobi, sir!"
"Hm. Quantum Shinobi, huh? That won't do," he said. "When it's just the two of us and my helmet's off, Sato is fine from now on. From now on, I'm not a random hero. I'm your teacher."
'Wait, so he's basically telling me he's my sensei now? That's…'
"That's badass as hell!" Denki exclaimed, punching a fist in the air. "Or, uh, that sounds like an awesome idea, Sato-sensei!"
In return, the hero only chuckled. "Then we should probably continue your training for as long as we can today. I've gotten a read on where you stand in terms of hand-to-hand combat, but before we commit to training you on any particular path, I want to have you try out different kinds of melee weapons first."
Denki leaned to the side to peek at the table full of weapons behind him. "Hey, I'm all for testing out some really cool weapons, but are you sure about this? I don't have any training with any of those things back there."
"I'll be here to instruct you every step of the way. You'll be fine," Shinobi reassured. "Besides, you'll never know if you have a knack for one weapon or another if you never even try, right?"
After a moment, he returned a firm nod. "Right. Let's do this!"
"That's what I like to hear!"
The hours that followed stealthily slid into something of a pattern. First, Shinobi would introduce some kind of weapon that'd change the way Denki fought if he dedicated himself to training with it. Second, Shinobi would begin a brief explanation of the weapon's purpose, how it was used, and the level of potential lethality it posed to both the user and their opponents if one wasn't careful. The whole process would be finished off by Shinobi providing a brief demonstration of some motions he wanted Denki to try and mimic before he handed the weapon in question over. Despite his best efforts, though, Denki couldn't quite find himself able to latch on to any of the weapons with any amount of competency.
Mere collapsible batons turned out to be too light and lacking in true 'oomph' for his liking.
Knuckle dusters potentially amplified the strength of his unarmed attacks but seemed like a difficult option given that his main problem at the moment was his lack of unarmed skill.
Chain-based weapons showed promise given their potential utility and synergy with his electric type Quirk, but a few attempts at mimicking Shinobi's forms made it clear Denki wasn't ready to adopt such an elegant weapon.
Arm blades were perhaps the coolest option available, but both Shinobi and Denki later agreed to scrap the idea of implementing them because they clashed horribly with his costume's aesthetic and didn't offer much in terms of practicality and defense.
The effort it took to have him try out any given weapon required time and patience on both sides, but at no point did Denki ever feel discouraged or frustrated with his failures. Shinobi's calm and constructive instruction always kept him grounded before he could beat himself up about his seeming lack of talent, and he remained committed to honoring his mentor's desire to see him succeed soon.
Until his thoughts began to drift in the opposite direction of the very focus-intensive weapon he wielded, and one of his nunchaku smacked him right in the side of the head as the universe's method of karmic punishment.
"Ow…" Denki groaned, folding his weapon with one hand while the other rubbed at what would definitely turn into a bruise.
Shinobi gave him a confused look. "Even with the chain you tried out before, you weren't careless enough to let it get out of control. I believe my instructions should've prevented you from hitting yourself in the head with those nunchaku, so forgive me when I ask – what's going on? You're a beginner, but you're better than this."
"Sorry, Sato-sensei," Denki apologized with a short bow. "I wasn't thinking about where the nunchaku were going for a second there."
"Then what were you thinking about?" he asked curiously.
Denki's expression softened. "My friends from Class 1-A. Jiro Kyoka, specifically. We met just before the practical part of the entrance exam and we've sorta ended up sticking together since then. She promised to keep in touch a few days ago, but I haven't heard anything from her."
Shinobi hummed. "Okay. I won't blame you for thinking about your girlfriend when you know you'll be separated from her for a while."
Denki sputtered. "She's not my girlfriend! We're just good friends!"
Shinobi smiled. "Well, if you want to avoid getting yourself hurt by yourself or villains out in the field, what you need to do is focus."
"Yes, sir," Denki respectfully responded, his cheeks red.
"Okay then, so I think it's safe to say that we can count out nunchaku as an option for you as well," Shinobi stated. He retrieved the weapon and his hand hovered over a dozen different others before he picked another out, though he kept his choice hidden behind his back as he spoke. "Now, I'm very hopeful about this next choice. Looking back to when you tried out that baton, even though you said it didn't have the power you wanted and felt too light for your liking, I can see now that you were probably more capable with that weapon than any of the others we've tried."
"So are we trying out another kind of baton sort of thing, then?"
"Not quite. Here. Take these," Shinobi said, and his arms extended to reveal a pair of black tonfa in his hands. "I think they should have the kind of weight and 'oomph' that you said you wanted."
Denki gripped them by their side handles and tested the weapons' weight in his hands before he finally noticed their lack of edges. "They don't look like tonfa. They look more like nightsticks you'd see the police use. Tonfa are supposed to have four edges, right?"
"Most of the time, they do," Shinobi explained. "But those tonfa are an exception. They're made of metal but have also been altered by modern technology to serve as two weapons in one. Place the tips of both tonfa against each other, press the buttons on the end of each handle, and see what happens."
After a moment of hesitation, Denki followed his mentor's instructions. Only after he placed the tonfa one on top of the other did he finally notice the buttons, and he pressed them both at once. Instantly, the tips of each tonfa snapped forward to interlock perfectly, their respective opposite ends extending and adding a solid amount of length to the joint weapons. Both side-grips merged into their once-separate halves, forcing Denki to abruptly change his grip before his weapon clattered to the ground, and a new button appeared where the two tonfa interlocked that would presumably reverse the entire process. His mentor hadn't lied; as it turned out, the pair of tonfa could also transform into a bo staff.
Denki couldn't help but stare in amazement at the weapon.
"Whoa. This is awesome…" he breathed.
Shinobi smirked. "Thought you'd say that. I trust you remember what I told you about bo staff and tonfa-based techniques while I was harping on about batons earlier. Think you want to give that neat weapon there a try?"
Denki nodded. "Of course!"
"Be my guest."
Denki gripped the weapon a little tighter before entering the wide-legged stance that Shinobi had displayed before. He stepped forward once to give the staff an experimental thrust and then twisted on his foot to flip the weapon around in an overhead slash as he turned. Satisfied with the weight, Denki smiled and started a series of showy spins to get a better feel for its balance when it was in its bo form. To his surprise but utter joy, never once did he lose focus or mess up too badly when he was in the middle of the display, and his confidence swelled.
Right as he completed what would be the final slash of the pattern Shinobi had shown him, he pressed the button at the center of the staff and caught the two tonfa by their handles as soon as they separated. Twirling the pair of weapons around in his hands, he eagerly began testing out his abilities when they were separated into their two original parts. He didn't know how much time he'd have to train with such a cool weapon, but he knew for sure that it was one he'd commit himself to in an instant if he had the option.
Unlike any other weapon he'd tried, this one felt practical and natural.
Unlike any other, it felt right in his hands.
Eventually, his initial set of motions with the two tonfa came to an end. Denki kept his arms in front of him and marveled at the unknown nature of the contraptions hidden within the metal handles, and an idea popped into his head. They were metal weapons, and his Quirk was Electrification. After making doubly sure he was holding the tonfa correctly, Denki discharged a small continuous current. He suppressed an excited laugh as he witnessed them crackle with electricity, and he was just about to start another repetition of the set he'd just finished when his mentor's voice brought him back to attention.
"I take it you like those tonfa, then?" Shinobi asked.
"Like them?" Denki echoed. "I love these things! I really think these tonfa work for me! They feel like they come naturally to me, and the bo they turn into feels good too! Sorry if I got a little eager and electrified them without your go-ahead, Sato-sensei."
Shinobi huffed in amusement. "What're you apologizing for? You're fine. Those tonfa were built for battle. A little electric current won't destroy the internal mechanisms; and besides, you were just exploring different avenues of how you might want to use them in the future. No harm there."
"Oh. Cool! But… where do you think I should go to have this kind of gear made for me when this week's up?" Denki wondered. "Maybe the support course students could make a copy of these things, but then I'd need to remember what material they are and wait a while for them to even get made. Hmm…"
"Kaminari."
"Yeah?"
"Do you really want to focus on training with those tonfa so you can use them in a real fight someday?" Shinobi said, giving him an earnest look.
Denki bobbed his head. "Yes, Sato-sensei."
"Then they're yours to keep," Shinobi stated.
"Wait, really!?" Denki exclaimed, nearly dropping the tonfa entirely. "But they're so cool! I mean I'm honored and all, but wouldn't it be kind of rude of me to take home one of your weapons as a souvenir?"
Shinobi made a noise that sounded to Denki like the audible version of a shrug. "Don't think anything of it. I bought them at a support company expo a few years back and never committed to using them in the field. For the longest time they've just been something I trained with whenever I was bored, but my hero duties have been busier than ever after that USJ attack. I'd prefer they find a home and some use in your hands rather than letting them gather dust here."
Denki's arms fell limply to his sides as he watched his mentor silently turn to face the bamboo table again. With practiced ease and almost without looking, Shinobi gathered a few books that would provide some additional instruction on the use of tonfa and staves and set them beside his intern's backpack on the ground. He then returned his attention to Denki, a neutral smile on his face.
"Now I know this might feel sudden and unexpected," Shinobi continued. "But it's better for a weapon to do some good out in the field in the hands of a potential pro rather than it being used as merely another method for me to pass the time. If I ever need another, I can order one. So long as you keep at it and figure out how to incorporate your Quirk into your fighting style with those, I think you'll turn into a pretty good hero someday. You might even surprise yourself."
For a few moments, Denki had no idea how to respond.
"Thank you, sir," he finally said. "I'll do my best."
"I'm sure you will." Shinobi's hands dipped into his deep pockets and retrieved a pair of escrima sticks. Near their tips were two rings of red light, and at the press of a button, red electricity sparked around the fixtures. "Now as you might recall, these escrima stun sticks are the weapon that I'm most well-known for using. Even if you've accepted those tonfa and have pledged to continue your training after your internship is done, I can tell you still want to prove that you're worthy of those weapons. With how much hard work you've put in already, I'd normally be inclined to say that we call it quits for the evening, but if you want… we can spar one-on-one."
"So I can prove myself," Denki guessed.
"Exactly. You want to prove yourself? Then test your mettle against me when I'm really in my element!" Shinobi encouraged with a fancy flourish of his escrima sticks. "That is… unless you're scared."
Denki prepared himself. "Not at all! I'll go through whatever beatdown you send my way every single day if that means I'll be a better fighter! All this training isn't just for me, it's for my friends, too! I'll get stronger! For them!"
"Then let's do this!"
"Yes, Sato-sensei!"
It was then that Denki ran forward as quickly as he could. His expression was as determined as that of a hardened hero, his heart pounded in his chest, and adrenaline pumped through his veins as he brought everything he had to his first true match against his mentor. From this point forward, Chargebolt wouldn't be a name anyone could associate with dead weight when he was thrown into a fight. Chargebolt would become the name of a fighter.
Of a fighter, and a hero.
Even for a hero with a reputation for a strong work ethic and an even stronger physique, Kyoka's first day interning under Death Arms started more quickly than she'd imagined. One of the first things that her host told her was that they would hit the ground running once they'd finished walking her through the fundamentals of how hero agencies were run, and boy did he tell the truth. Almost the same second Kyoka finished her brief tour and introduced herself to Death Arms' subordinates, the hero instructed her to get changed. When asked why, Death Arms gave an offhand explanation that made it obvious he wasn't the kind of hero who liked to dawdle around doing office work.
Soon, Kyoka changed into her costume, and Death Arms promptly led her out on what would be her first-ever patrol. Even if she was merely meant to shadow her host and not do too much else, Kyoka found herself excited. Despite her host's seemingly abrasive and blunt personality, Kyoka could see that beneath his gruff exterior Death Arms was just a pretty chill dude who took his job seriously. His status as a man who weighed well over a hundred kilograms in raw muscle probably didn't help him convey who he was on the inside all that much, though.
Kyoka wasn't someone who got bored easily. Her ability to hear mice scurrying around inside the walls of a decrepit building without even meaning to made sure of that, but as the patrol proceeded without much incident, she was able to let her mind wander.
It was within the muddled span of time that she spent thinking that she eventually realized something about her Quirk – people underestimated it. They underestimated just how far away she could hear something as quiet as a heartbeat, or the potentially busted levels of concussive force she could project when she chose to have her earphone jacks amplify her own heart's life-giving rhythm. Sure, Earphone Jack gave her the option to pick up on some juicy gossip sometimes, but Kyoka found its as yet untapped and unmastered capability to save lives far more useful.
Aizawa himself had pointed out many times during his lectures how useful information gathering could be in a crisis. In the lectures he created to substitute for the time they missed out training at the USJ, that same ability was emphasized even further, as one wrong move could bring an already unstable building down on top of the people you could be trying to save. Perhaps the most important aspect was the skill's ability to speed up the process of searching for helpless people who needed saving. In crises such as the ones at the USJ, every second spent not actively making a path to someone in need could be another life that was being put at unnecessary risk in an already dire scenario.
She wondered what Death Arms thought of her ability. Back when their patrol started out around noon, she'd almost expected them to encounter some kind of unforeseen disaster. She imagined herself rescuing civilians from a collapsed building while Death Arms held up some part of the structure. As time wore on though, that imagined situation fell by the wayside. She now assumed that they wouldn't run into any kind of hero-worthy task at all.
The gunshots down the street immediately snapped her to attention. Death Arms immediately started sprinting toward the source of the sound to intercept, and Kyoka wasn't far behind. Her heart matched the intensity of her steps, but the scene witnessed when they arrived went beyond anything she could've seen coming.
Only a short distance across the street from the alleyway they'd emerged from was an office building that now looked like something out of an action flick. Many of the large glass panes that made up the walls of the first and second floor were broken, a police barricade was already being created around the area, and firefighters were on scene combating a fire billowing black smoke into the air on the other side of the structure. The sight of it all made Kyoka hesitate for an instant, but the reminder that she'd survived the USJ incident provided her the confidence to follow Death Arms as he approached the police.
"Hey, you!" Death Arms shouted to a random officer. "We heard gunfire while we were on patrol. What's going on here?"
"A hostage situation is what's going on," the cop explained. "From what we can gather, they're being kept on the second floor, but we don't know how many people are at risk. So far as we know, there's only one suspect inside, although we have reason to believe he might not be acting alone in this operation. He's demanding a large ransom for each hostage and told us we have one hour to comply. That was fifteen minutes ago."
"Do we know anything about the guy? His Quirk? If he's armed?" Death Arms asked, his gaze fixed firmly on the building's second floor.
The cop shook his head. "Unfortunately, we don't know anything about his Quirk, but we do know he's armed."
"So we need more information before anyone gets hurt," Death Arms observed. "Hey, kid-"
"Death Arms, sir!"
Everyone's attention shifted over to the left of the barricade. From down the road, a tan-skinned man dressed in a black tank top and boots caught their eye. His distinct green shorts and boxer's gloves immediately distinguished him as another hero, but who exactly he was and how he knew Death Arms remained a mystery.
"Killer Fists!" Death Arms called back. "Good to see you. I might need your help."
"I heard gunfire. What's going on?" Killer Fists asked.
"Hostage situation. We don't know how many guys we might be dealing with on the inside yet, and we're on a time limit because the main crook wants a ransom."
He hissed. "Darn. This is gonna be a really risky situation to charge on into, huh?"
"Yeah, it's pretty risky, but between the three of us, we'll have this situation under control for sure," Death Arms reassured.
"The three of us?"
Death Arms stepped out of the way and gestured to his intern. "Killer Fists, meet my intern for this week. Earphone Jack, meet my number one sidekick."
Kyoka blinked in surprise at being referred to by her hero name for the first time, but quickly reigned in her reaction. "Right. It's good to meet you, Killer Fists."
"Likewise, Earphone Jack." His eyes drifted back to their mutual leader. "So what makes you think two brawlers and a student can handle this thing? We don't have the intel we need to make sure we can rescue the hostages safely."
"I've got a plan," Death Arms explained. "Earphone Jack. I read up on your profile before you got to my agency and saw that your Quirk boosts your hearing."
"Right," Kyoka confirmed.
Killer Fists pumped one of his arms in the air. "Then that's just what the doctor ordered! We might be able to gather all the intel we need."
"Since the hostages are being kept on the second floor," Death Arms observed, "there isn't anyone keeping a lookout for if any heroes are moving in. Even if it isn't my style, we could make it into the first floor undetected. Earphone Jack – can your hearing give us some good intel if we make it that far?"
"Yes, sir. It shouldn't be an issue."
"Then let's move!"
After a quick explanation to the assembled police as to their initial plan, Death Arms led his sidekick and intern toward the building. No indication was given by the perpetrator that he was aware of their entrance, which suited them just fine. The scent of gas burning wafted into the main lobby from the other side of the building, but Kyoka blocked the smell out as they reached a concrete support column close to the center of the first floor. Death Arms then turned to her after giving the column a tap to make sure it was still strong.
"Earphone Jack. You're up," he instructed.
Kyoka nodded before jabbing one of her earphone jacks into the column. She shut her eyes after taking another step closer to the structure, trying to hear past the crackling of burning desks and office supplies to locate more valuable information. Another few seconds passed before she successfully adjusted her jack to hone in solely on the sounds of human activity, and her brow furrowed determinedly as her efforts bore fruit.
"You got something?" Death Arms asked.
"Yeah, I think so."
"Alright, now we might be getting somewhere," the hero said. "Tell me as much about what might be on the second floor as you can. If the crook's alone, how many entrances there are, number of hostages, all that."
With a distant affirmative, she redoubled her efforts. "Okay… I can hear the hostages' heartbeats. They're freaked out and seem to be clustered in the back right corner of the room just above where we are now. As for the villains… there's more than one of them. There's a bunch of lighter footsteps up there, and only one heavier set that might belong to their bruiser or some jazz. I can't tell how many entrances into the room there might be, though."
"That's fine, Earphone Jack," Killer Fists claimed. "You already did your job perfectly. Since this is an office building, I highly doubt there'd be more than one door into any given space large enough for them to target. With the intel you managed to give us, we should be able to take over from here."
"But we aren't gonna send you away yet," Death Arms added. "Killer Fists. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"Definitely, sir."
"Then I'll head on upstairs and bust some heads. The rest is up to you guys!" Death Arms ordered, and with a casual two-fingered salute, he started off toward a nearby stairwell.
Kyoka retrieved her earphone jack from the concrete column and stared in confusion as he began his ascent to the second floor.
"Killer Fists? What's Death Arms doing?"
"His job." Killer Fists stared at the ceiling and walked forward a few meters before he stopped again and continued. "Stealth isn't part of Death Arms' typical strategy when it comes to situations like these. The information you provided is more than enough for us to make sure that us good guys beat up the baddies and save the hostages."
"Right…?" Kyoka intoned.
He smiled confidently. "Would you say that I'm right beneath where they're all being held?"
Kyoka's eyes widened. "You're planning to bust the floor out from under them?"
"The fall between the second floor and here isn't too far. Paramedics are on standby to help out anyone who lands the wrong way and since we don't know how heavily-armed the crooks are, we need to end this hostage situation as decisively as possible," Killer Fists explained. "Strategy is important, but so is acting quickly when lives are at stake. Do you understand?"
'So this is what it's like to be a pro, huh…? This is way more metal than I was expecting.'
"I do," she said firmly.
"Good. Now be prepared to help the hostages outside," Killer Fists instructed. His arm hooked beneath him, and his chiseled biceps visibly trembled with tension as he prepared an attack. "The sound of me breaking the floor will be Death Arms' signal to head inside and take down all the criminals up there, but anything can happen when you're on the clock. Now, let's show these bad guys how the Death Arms hero agency gets things done!"
Kyoka heeded the sidekick's words of advice. Her legs tensed in anticipation of the moment he unleashed whatever move he had in store for the floor above them, ready to move in and help the poor people stuck above them out of the building as soon as they fell. Her earphone jacks stretched down to her hips, ready to extend into her stereo boots at a moment's notice if she needed to defend herself.
"Alright…" Killer Fists whispered to himself, and his boxing gloves started to glow. "Let's save some lives! Five Star Fist!"
His right arm thrust into an uppercut aimed at the floor above him, and a concussive wave of green energy appeared from his glove. It hovered silently in the air above his fist for a moment, before the circular wave collapsed in on itself, transforming into the shape of a star, and only then did the attack ram into the second floor. The star-shaped series of cracks that formed caused the impact area to cave in on itself, and five business folks came crashing down from above while a roar clarified that Death Arms had just made his entrance.
Most of the people who fell climbed back onto their feet in short order, but Kyoka ran to one bewildered woman who appeared to have suffered a harsher fall than her colleagues and helped her upright. "Are there any more hostages up there?" Kyoka asked.
"No," the woman rasped, absently smearing dirt across her scraped forehead. "Just us."
"Okay everyone, I know that you guys are scared and might be hurting, but we need to get you out of the building right away!" Kyoka shouted, grabbing everyone's attention as she quickly pointed to the exit. "Killer Fists will cover us on our way out, so let's go!"
"R-right!"
"Alright!"
"I don't get paid enough for this!"
After each civilian had started in the direction of the door, Kyoka instinctively ran up beside the group to better protect them. She constantly glanced around to check for any signs of an ambush or anything that would endanger the people's safety, but each of the hostages made it out of the building and into the safety of the police barricade before long. The sound of fists being thrown and additional feet landing onto the first floor then brought Kyoka's focus right back to where she left Killer Fists behind, and she whirled around to take stock of the situation.
More criminals had jumped down from the second floor. They were all clad in the most stereotypical all-black criminal outfits imaginable, and all of them were armed with iron crowbars. Kyoka couldn't count how many there were exactly, but it appeared that Killer Fists had already punched out three and was in the middle of knocking the lights out of a fourth with only a slight amount of effort.
The rest hadn't engaged quite yet. From the semicircle they were slowly forming, Kyoka quickly guessed that they wanted to surround Killer Fists before they all attacked at once. But their plan possessed a fundamental flaw that doomed it from the start.
None of it accounted for her presence.
"Killer Fists!" Kyoka shouted.
In the middle of the room, the melee paused as she called out to the hero. Killer Fists glanced her way, though his guard remained up in case any of the crooks around him tried to hit him in the sudden lull.
"Get out of the way, now!"
"Got it!"
Without any hesitation, Killer Fists tackled one of the lackeys at the side of the semicircle to take down another opponent and provide himself an escape all in one fell swoop. Some of the crooks glared at the hero as he bounced back to his feet, but one among their number shouted to bring all their attention toward their new adversary.
"What're you all standing around for? It's just one chick! Rush her, damnit!"
"Yeah!"
Dozens of feet pounded against the floor as they made a break for her, crowbars raised and ready to beat down the hero-in-training the second they reached her. Kyoka's heartbeat surged with excitement at the prospect of what she was about to do. The villains outnumbered and outmatched her in terms of brute force, but there was one trick she had up her sleeve that none of them could have hoped to take into account when they chose to attack.
Her earphone jacks plugged into her stereo boots, and she grinned.
"Heartbeat Fuzz!"
Sonic waves boomed from her boots, and none of the crooks could avoid the attack in time. As they were hit by the full force of Kyoka's amplified heartbeats, all of them dropped their weapons and pressed their hands against their ears in a desperate bid to defend themselves against the onslaught. By the time Kyoka's heart began to strain under the burden of the continuous attack and she had yanked her earphone jacks out of their ports, half of her assailants were unconscious and all the others were completely stunned.
"Killer Fists!" Kyoka called out. "They're all yours now!"
"You got it, Earphone Jack! Thanks for the assist!" Killer Fists' gloves started to glow once again as he sprang back into action. "Five Star Rush!"
His arms flew forward repeatedly with such speed and intensity that his fists blurred into a green flurry of pain and punishment destined to strike down every criminal that remained. With the efficiency of a one-man-army, Killer Fists knocked all the remaining combatants down to the floor in short order. By the time he was done tearing through their ranks and struck a victory pose at the end of his offensive, his boxing gloves seemed to smolder from whatever power their owner pumped into them with the assault.
"Now that is how we get things done around here." Killer Fists gave Kyoka an appreciative look and a slight bow of his head. "Thanks again for the help, and color me surprised! I thought that your power only let you hear stuff, not do whatever that was!"
"Then you wouldn't be the first to figure that," Kyoka said. "People never expect a kid like me to belt out that kind of sound. Their loss."
"Exactly."
Both of them jolted back to attention as a familiarly buff and cardigan-wearing figure came crashing down through the hole in the ceiling with a shout. Draped over the hero's shoulder and secured with one hand was a figure covered in bruises and completely unconscious. Death Arms held his other arm at the ready for a fight, only to lower it as he looked around the room and took in the sight of the incapacitated crowd that lay around his subordinates.
He blinked twice in confusion. "Wait, did I miss out on all the action already?"
Even though the next few minutes were considerably more relaxed than the ones that preceded them, Kyoka's heart refused to match the atmosphere that now surrounded her. Paramedics were making sure that none of the rescued hostages were hurt, police were in the midst of hauling those criminals incapable of walking on their own into the vans that would take them away, and the firefighters were still hard at work making sure the recently tamed gas fire wouldn't flare up again. Some independent journalists had gathered at the scene of the crime but hadn't been able to get close enough to fight for a statement from any of the heroes in the middle of it all on account of the police barricade.
Excited as she was to ride out the adrenaline high of her first-ever real-life hero rescue operation, Kyoka had to admit that she was thankful that no random strangers had the chance to shove any microphones in her face as of yet. Right now, she had bigger concerns than figuring out how to handle herself where any news outlet's prospective interviewers were concerned.
When Death Arms finally finished speaking with the same officer who had given them the run-down of the situation to begin with, Kyoka's attention homed exclusively on him instead of Killer Fists when he came up beside his boss.
"Hey, Death Arms?" she started. "I have a question for you."
"What is it?"
"We knew that the leader of the criminals was armed, but it looks like you didn't even come out with a scratch on you," Kyoka said, gesturing to him with her earlobes. "If it's okay for me to ask, how'd you manage that? You charged into a room filled with over a dozen guys alone."
"Pff, I wouldn't worry too much about that," Death Arms easily dismissed. "But I'll give you a hint – a lot of people assume that my Quirk's a strength-augmenting type, but my power's a closely-kept agency secret for a reason."
"Right. Thank you, sir."
"No problem, kid," Death Arms said. "But hey, congrats on doing so well with your first real encounter with bad guys out in the field. None of them qualify to be classified as bonafide villains, but you did damn good work helping out my sidekick."
"My thoughts exactly," Killer Fists concurred. "The ability to gather intel and act quickly in situations like the one we all walked into is super important when you're a pro. You're the kind of up-and-coming hero that I'll definitely look out for when you hit the streets someday."
Death Arms nodded. "If you graduate and think that you're really gonna need a place that'll take you in as a sidekick, give my agency a call. I'd be glad to have you on our team."
"Whoa…" Kyoka shook her head. "Uh, thank you!"
"Not a problem, kid," Death Arms said, giving a thumbs up. "The cops have it handled from here. I'd say that we should head back to the office to prepare some reports, but we've still got daylight to kill, so let's keep going! With the way my agency runs things, we're always on the front lines! You guys game for some more action?"
"Yeah!" Killer Fists shouted.
"Yes, sir!" Kyoka affirmed.
"Then let's move!" Death Arms ordered, and his subordinates followed him as he started running down the street. "There ain't any rest for high-octane heroes like us! Not yet!"
Kyoka smiled. This kind of constant activity wasn't at all what she expected out of her first day with Death Arms, but she was growing happier with her choice of internship with every minute that passed. Her host wasn't one of the highest-ranking heroes in the world, not even close, but he'd brought her the exact kind of adrenaline high that she so desperately wanted out of her career. If she was about to spend her entire week always on the move, encountering chaotic crisis after crisis to gain experience with the hero scene, she honestly couldn't imagine a better time.
She didn't even care if she got all that much recognition for what she did this week. The rush was enough for her. The excitement reminded her that she didn't have to be some fated protagonist from an action manga to be a real hero. So long as she could embrace her duties as a badass protector of the people and manage to make her way in the world, almost everything else could come second. Almost.
Denki was probably still waiting to hear how her internship was going, after all. They'd fought for their lives together back during the USJ incident, so she could hardly find herself surprised when she sometimes thought about him at random. Denki, Jomei, and Akiko were the most interesting friends she'd ever made, and she didn't regret that she'd grown so close to them in the short time she'd known them. Not in the least.
The pursuit of endless excitement was her dream, but her friends were like her family.
Authors Note: I almost titled this chapter something like 'Baby Steps' but… eh, I figured I'd take another note out of canon's playbook for this title. So much was going on in this thing that finding a unifying theme to make a title out of with my tiny brain would be a pretty dang herculean task to undertake. But hey! I did really look forward to this chapter ever since I had the outline for this arc all set up. Even if I originally intended for the flashback's aftermath scene to be in the last chapter, I feel like it works just fine here, too.
On that note… it sure looks like Jomei has a little bit of thinking to do, eh? Such a harmless dream of his suddenly given some redefinition through the experiences of a hero so similar yet oh so different to himself. Quite the dilemma. Will it bear fruit? I 'unno, we'll have to wait and see how things proceed from here on out with the rest of his internship.
As for the other internships (har har), I wanna start by saying I am so happy that I came up with Quantum Shinobi on a whim. He may have been another OC I came up with by necessity, but I fell in love with the guy enough to have him commissioned. Shinobi and Denki's relationship won't be the most prominent and in-your-face thing as other things for a while, but it most certainly will have its impact on everyone's favorite electrified, friendly doofus. Kyoka's internship snippet took a little longer to plan out, but I am glad I made it what it became. Sometimes characters as cool and well-rounded as her just need a little spotlight to make their truly awesome nature show. It'd certainly explain why so many people latched onto her when the school festival came along.
At long last, the next chapter will be where Jomei and Akiko make their triumphant return to being the main focus of the fic! Dawnbreaker's plans for the rest of their internship with her will be revealed, nefarious evil stuff will happen because story exists… it'll be a great time. I think.