Disclaimer: MHA is owned by creator Kōhei Horikoshi, while The Gamer (Manhwa) belongs to Sung Sang-Young.
Let me state for the record now, that for longest time I was adamant in not watching My Hero Academia. I'm just into too many things already you guys. I didn't need another fandom to get lost in. But then I visited my younger sister this past summer and found that she had recently started watching MHA. So, like an inexperienced lifeguard trying to rescue a panicked swimmer, she pulled me down into the depths with her and now we're both drowning. So here I am, posting another Self-Insert/Isekai when I should be focusing on my other stories.
Remember that I'm the victim here guys.
I also adore Gamer fics, even if I can be a bit picky. I will be honest; a lot of effort goes into these types of stories. Not only do you have to keep track of your stats, but you must invent abilities, skills, and what have you. Already my brain has been swimming in numbers and other ideas. Add onto the reality that I also have to factor in Quirks, and this is just a series of headaches for me, dear readers.
Now, for pairings, as I know this is important in almost every fandom. There will be background relationships, most will be Canon, but I'm toying with the a few headcanons. I should state that I actively ship IzuOcha, (apologies TodoDeku fans) KamiJirou (sorry MomoJirou shippers) and OjiTooru (pretty sure everyone agrees on this pairing). Now, I have no complaints with EraserMic, but I absolutely adore EraserJoke, so expect to see that teased in the future. Whether it'll come to fruition or not is another matter altogether. There will also be some unrequited love amongst quite a few characters, so be prepared to have your heartstrings jerked around a little. I do have a pairing planned for my SI, but I don't really want to give it away yet. Personally, I want to see if you guys ship her with any characters in particular before I make the reveal. It's an enjoyable sort of anarchy that I like to soak in when reading your reviews!
One more thing. I don't know how adoption works at all, so as a warning to anyone who might get offended, take what you read here with a pound of salt, m'kay?
Prologue: Continue?
She remembers how she died perfectly. Honestly, it's a point of contrition for her. People don't actually remember traumatic events that plainly. They have flashes, recalling some moments with stunning clarity while the overall incident ends up becoming a blurry mess that's hard to fully recall. But that's not what happens to her. She can remember every bit of physical pain, the sensation of goosebumps breaking out over her skin, the blood in her mouth from biting the inside of her cheek. The helplessness, the adrenaline, the fear. She can recall the very visceral feeling of dying itself.
She will always wonder if that perfect memory is the price of her reincarnation.
It was a Sunday, Memorial Day weekend specifically. Fireworks were set to go off in the local park that night and she'd been dragged along to watch by her college roommate and her friends. She should clarify that the friends were not hers, but rather her roommate's. They were not the kind of people she would've hung out with voluntarily. If they weren't high every weekend, then they drunk, never mind the fact that more than half of them were under twenty-one. These were the kind of kids who went to college to have fun.
She went because it was the ideal choice in escaping her mother.
Ultimately, she abandoned the group once the beers were cracked open. She lingered by the few vendors that had set up shop in an open field, debating whether she should just call an Uber and turn in early. Her roommate would be insufferable come tomorrow morning, but she found she couldn't care less at the moment. After sighing lowly to herself, she arranged her ride home and started trekking towards the parking lot. As she walked, she idly scrolled through her phone, deleting emails, and checking to see in any stories she was following had been updated.
Then she heard a voice.
"I s-said no." It was female, likely her around her own age, and it was shaky. Slurred.
"Don't be like that baby." A man grunted, followed by the sound of something dragging across the ground. "I'll make you feel so good."
"W-We, we b-broke u-up." The woman's breathing was rapid and wheezy, as if she were moments away from having a panic attack. "I d-don't w-want–" Her mumbled protests broke into pained whimpers.
"Shh." The man hushed, sounding far more aware and put together than his companion. "I know you don't mean that. You love me." The sentiment might've sounded romantic at any other timer, but right now it was stymied by the obvious frustration bleeding into his tone.
It took her a handful of seconds to comprehend what she was overhearing. Her head darted around the area, searching for the couple in question, but saw no one in sight. To her left was the public restrooms building and she hesitantly shuffled towards it. She stopped when she spotted a slightly overweight man coming around the corner, his arms wrapped around a thin woman who looked dead on her feet. She weakly batted against his arms, her heeled shoes trying and failing to find traction on the loose gravel.
"P-please." The woman sobbed faintly, and in the flickering orange lighting from a nearby parking lot streetlight, she could see mascara running down the woman's face. There was also a dark bruise on her cheek and a swollen bleeding lip. "Stop-p."
She should've called the cops.
She should've shouted for her roommate and her friends.
Instead, her body just moved on its own.
The man was already halfway into the bathroom when she reached them, clearly struggling with the door while trying to maintain his hold on his captive. Her phone slipped from her grip as she seized the woman and tried to pull her free. The man instantly fought back, eyes flashing dangerously as he lashed out at her. His fist caught her by surprise, leaving her jaw throbbing and her vision spinning. She'd never taken a single self-defense class in her life. However, she did know how to take a hit. Where most women would've been knocked off their feet by the man's wild blow, she only stumbled back a few steps before regaining her equilibrium.
Her quick recovery was lost on the man, who fumbled with the woman and was clumsily trying to restrain her again. The woman was clearly too far gone to really fight back and instead flopped against him like a dying fish, acting more as deadweight than anything else. Seeing as he was distracted, she reared her leg back and tried to kick him in the balls, hoping it would be enough to temporarily take him down. After that, she planned to drag the woman into the bathroom and lock the door, barricading themselves inside. It was simply back luck on her part that the man shifted, causing her foot to connect with the inside of his thigh instead.
"Fucking bitch!" He snarled furiously as he suddenly dropped the woman and leapt at her instead. His meaty hands caught her shoulders and his momentum sent them both hurtling towards the ground. Through the sporadic flickering of orange light, she could barely make out some of the man's shadowy features. He was Hispanic, with black hair and dark eyes. There was a scar stretching from his upper lip to his nose, and from the way his skin was somewhat warped, she figured he must've been born with a cleft lip.
It was odd, that this was something her brain made note of, especially since his fingers chose that moment to clamp around her throat like a vise. She instinctively tried to knock him off, but his heavy weight on her hips meant she could barely lift her torso from the ground, leaving her legs to kick out uselessly at empty air. Her hands shot up to his, scrambling desperately to break his grip. Her nails dug into his bare skin, leaving behind deep scratches and drawing blood.
He only squeezed tighter.
Black spots began to fill her vision and she croaked out a raspy cry for help. From the corner of her eye, she could see the woman fumbling with something. A rectangular beam of light briefly spilled across her blurry vision, and she realized the woman was using her phone. She could see the woman's mouth move, but her voice was oddly muffled. In fact, everything seemed to have gone unnaturally quiet. Her frantic swipes at the man had stopped without her realizing it. Now, her hands were just loosely wrapped around his wrists.
Her chest ached. It was too full, or maybe too empty.
Her head felt fuzzy, and it was suddenly so hard to think clearly.
The pain in her throat, which had been agonizing moments ago, had grown strangely numb.
Her eyelids began to close just as the sky overhead exploded with the first firework, bathing everything in a red glow. As quickly as the firework had burst into existence, it dispersed, leaving behind a faint imprint of smoke that was already disappearing. And she faded from the world alongside it.
Today was a shitty day, the freezing downpour was more than proof of that statement. November was just beginning to roll in, winter seemed determined to setup shop early, and Sorahiko's best friend has been dead for eight months. He's dreading when they hit the one-year anniversary, and just the knowledge of it hovers ominously outside his peripheral, sneaking up on him in the dead of night.
The Jet Hero glared up at the thundering sky from where he stood upon the roof of a random building. Lightning flashed and with it, and impression of the past surged to the forefront of his mind without his say-so. Sorahiko didn't fight it—he'd learned how futile that was—and instead he sunk into the memory with a grimace.
It was nearing the end of Toshinori's second year at UA. The boy had earned his hero license some months beforehand and had chosen to do his work studies under Nana. They were focusing on improving the kid's situational awareness, which was severely lacking in Sorahiko's opinion. One For All gave Toshinori an absurd boost in strength and speed, granting him far more power than Nana had ever possessed. Now, collateral damage was accounted for when it came to heroes, but the kid had taken to knocking down walls or leaving craters in the streets after just about every fight he got involved in.
They'd taken him to Hashima, an abandoned sixteen-acre island of Nagasaki, lying about nine miles from the center of the city itself. It was just one of the many uninhabited isles in the Nagasaki Prefecture. The island's most notable feature was its deserted concrete buildings, which were left undisturbed except by nature. The perfect place to train an overpowered, gangly teenager who had only grown clumsier thanks to his latest growth spurt.
After a round of janken, which he sadly lost, Sorahiko was forced to play the part of the injured civilian while Nana got be the villain. The Jet Hero went easy on Toshinori the first few rounds, standing mostly out of the way and occasional speaking up when the kid seemed to forget he was there. Then after the third run through, he began to make a nuisance of himself. In one scenario, he demanded that the kid save him, berating him for being more invested in fighting the villain. It was as close to a panicked civilian that Sorahiko was willing to fake, and it never failed to make Nana laugh behind her hands. Toshinori always fell apart at this approach, his lighthearted confidence turning into nervous sputtering as he flapped about like a headless chicken.
In all fairness, the Jet Hero understood that he was mostly to blame for the kid's spastic reactions. He was tough on Nana's successor, but only because Toshinori needed it. The boy was too soft, too naïve—a true idealist. Nana thought this was his greatest strength, steadfastly believing that his optimism could help save the world. Sorahiko, however, knew that it was a slack rope tied around the kid's neck, one just waiting for the opportunity to become taut.
After another few more trial runs, the boy finally seemed to get his shit together and instead of letting himself get caught up in his mock fight with Nana, he turned away and actually had the gall to scoop Sorahiko up into his arms before fleeing. He still had to remind Toshinori not to put so much power into his legs as he left behind a rather large crack in the pavement upon leaping into the air. The boy stuttered apologies as he darted from roof to roof, blue eyes constantly scanning his surroundings for Nana's lithe form.
Once ten minutes passed, the Jet Hero frowned when their third companion failed to make her appearance and he wondered if this another one of her attempts to make him spend time with her successor. The woman was adamant that they "improve their bond", but Sorahiko was perfectly content with scaring the ever-living hell out of the kid. Frankly, he found it hilarious.
"Looks like I lost oshishō, eh Gran?" Toshinori snickered and the older hero promptly smacked the boy upside his head. It was a stupid remark and one that deserved a good cuffing. "Ah!"
"Idiot. She can fly, can't she?" He grumbled pointedly and the boy's cheeks turned pink as he rubbed the back of his head.
"But then… where is she?"
The answer came in the form of an explosion that rocked the island.
He and Toshinori had raced to the source of the disturbance. Sorahiko felt his heart drop into his stomach when he spotted Nana pulling herself out of a mountain of rubble that had clearly been a building moments ago. Blood caked the right side of her face, and her left arm was braced against her ribs. Her smile was nowhere in sight.
Toshinori, that damnable, foolish boy that he was, started running towards her without a second thought, shouting her name so loud that heaven itself no doubt heard him. Sorahiko had the good sense and experience to stay on his guard. Suddenly, there was an unfamiliar pressure that made the air seem heavier and the Jet Hero abruptly felt as if he were fighting just to take his next breath. He was half-aware of Toshinori falling to his knee and hurling the contents of his stomach onto the ruined sidewalk.
Neither he nor Nana had known what All For One looked like, but Sorahiko recognized the villain the moment he'd locked eyes onto the white-haired man floating above them. There was an aura of malice surrounding him—a miasma so full of evil that it left the Jet Hero trembling in the face of something that was surely inhuman. It inspired a certain type of fear, a primal and long-forgotten instinct that humanity had outgrown due to evolution. He felt like prey staring down a much larger predator. The mouse struggling to break free of the serpent's coils, the hare racing from the ravenous wolf.
He immediately loathed feeling that powerless.
Sorahiko flew to Nana, his 6'6" frame easily supporting her wounded side while simultaneously hiding her from All For One's leering gaze. Her breathing was noticeably off, and he swallowed harshly when she coughed up a mouthful of blood. She'd only been on her own for a handful of minutes. How could that bastard have done so much damage so quickly?
"S-Sora." Nana gasped, and he stilled at the use of his old nickname. She hasn't called him that in years, not since high school. Not since she met Kino. "Toshi-kun, you h-have to get him away f-from here." Her blood-stained glove grasped at the front of his costume, tugging insistently while leaving behind red marks. "H-He can't face All For One. Not yet. He's n-not strong enough." Her obsidian eyes found his before switching to her successor, who was now struggling to his feet. "Please, he's just a b-boy."
"Then you take him, Nana. Grab him and flee." Her grip tightened and he met her determined gaze with his own unwavering glare. "I'll distract All For One as long as I can."
"We both know it's me he's a-after, and besides, I'm not as f-fast as you." She whispered with a pained smile, and he shut his eyes, shuddering into the folds of his cape. It was a running joke between them, forever arguing who was faster. They'd had races since they'd first met, neither ever admitting defeat even when faced with the results. For Nana to say that now…
"Nana, I won't leave–" He saw her smile shift to shock, her gaze jumping to something behind him.
"Toshinori, no!" Sorahiko's head twisted so fast, his neck twinged in protest. Sure enough, Nana's boy was charging at All For One and if felt as if a chasm had torn itself right through his chest. 'Fuck, not the kid! Not the kid!' Swiftly, the Jet Hero moved, his wide eyes darting between the boy and the villain. From the rapidly closing distance, he could see the bloodthirsty smirk growing on the bastard's face.
"Is this your chosen successor, Skyrunner?" All For One asked, his head tilting as if in consideration. "Not a very bright boy, is he?" With that the villain swung his arm in a lazy motion, causing a torrent of violet fire to bloom in its wake. The flames stretched wide, howling loudly as they ate the atmosphere, hurtling directly towards Toshinori. Sorahiko could feel the blistering heat as he pushed himself to go faster, ignoring the way his limbs ached from the sudden increase of speed. He managed to get ahold of the kid and quickly adjusted his trajectory, moving up and away from the wall of fire. They avoided most of the flames, but the shockwave of force knocked the hero of course, flinging the two of them into a nearby building.
"Toshinori! Sorahiko!"
The Jet Hero grimaced as he tried to reclaim his bearings, his back aching something awful while his ribs twinged in protest. Toshinori stirred in his arms, grunting in obvious pain. An ominous rumbling had Sorahiko quickly climbing to his feet, where he gaped upon seeing the ivy vines that had long since taken over the abandon city, grow exponentially. Buildings caved under their expanding girth, their texture and shape shifting rapidly until they resembled the serpentine dragons from old folklore. All For One made a simple gesture with his hands and the massive abominations rose into the air, twisting this way and that in a show of complete control. The villain landed on the head of one of the mutated vines, a chuckle echoing over the decimated area.
"You'll have to forgive my good mood. I know it's in poor taste to boast." The bastard uttered; his focus once again directed on Nana. "It's just that I've waited such a long time to finally put an end to my brother's insufferable inheritors." His smile widened, looking not unlike a demon with how his crimson eyes reflected the gleam of violet hellfire. "Today, One For All ends with you, Shimura Nana!"
"Oshishō!" Toshinori shouted as he leapt past Sorahiko, his legs buckling upon landing. The Jet Hero sped down to help the boy, but the young hero managed to regain his own footing and started stumbling his way towards Nana. Her back was towards them, her posture having taken up a defensive stance as she kept her attention on All For One. She didn't even turn when Toshinori reached out for her. Her hand smacked solidly into his chest, One For All activating as she launched Toshinori into the sky. "Oshishō!"
Sorahiko could only stare. Toshinori would not be able to land safely from that speed and height, at best the kid would come out of it with a few broken bones. Nana was forcing him to flee—to leave her behind. He shot off into the air, leaving jet streams in his wake as he wrapped his arms around the screaming boy's waist. He could feel tears building behind his black domino mask, and a part of him wondered if he would ever forgive her for this.
"I'm leaving the rest to you." Nana's voice was calm and unafraid, even with death looming overhead. "Sora, make sure his dream comes true." How could he hear her so clearly over the blazing flames, over the kid's desperate screams, over his own heart shattering into a million pieces?
"Oshishō! Oshishō!"
"All Might." Sorahiko couldn't see Nana anymore. He was flying in the opposite direction, and if he gave into temptation to turn his head, he knew he would go back for her. And he couldn't do that, not with this sobbing child in his arms. Not when she'd just asked him to protect the boy as a last request. "I'm counting on you."
"Oshishō!"
"Thank you," All For One mocked, causing the Jet Hero to bite his tongue so hard that it bled. "for such an amusing comedy." The blast that followed was devastating. Red light seared Sorahiko's eyes, and he put every ounce of strength he had into his jets to outpace the attack. He could feel his lung and body straining from the effort of pushing past his limits. As the explosion of heat and light grew ever closer, he was certain that they weren't going to make it, that Nana had died alone when they could've died together.
So, it was with no small relief when he felt himself pull ahead of the blast after a few more heart racing seconds. The Jet Hero didn't let up in his speed, knowing he also had out-speed the concussive shockwave that would follow the powerful explosion. He sensed the air shift before the shockwave hit them, and he skillfully adjusted his flight pattern, riding the newest wind current with little turbulence. They were safe, for now.
He'd be able to fulfill Nana's last request after all.
It was only when the danger passed that he became aware of Toshinori's fists pounding into his bruised and aching back.
"Let me go! Let me go! She needs us! We can't leave her there!" Sorahiko blocked out the boy's hysterics and counted his blessing that Toshinori was too distraught to utilize One For All to break free. There was nine miles of ocean between Hashima and the mainland and he wasn't sure how much distanced he'd covered so far. He'd been too distracted with surviving to keep track. He briefly thought about Nakano Island and Takashima, which were mush closer to Hashima, but neither isle were ideal places to hide from All For One. Nor did he know if he'd already passed them in his desperate bid to escape the blast.
The problem was that his Quirk was not meant for long distant flights. It was powered by his own breathing, which meant he could only get so much air with each inhalation. His Quirk was infinitely more effective when used in quick bursts. Add on a frantic teenager that easily weighed 90 kilograms and the distance seemed almost insurmountable. Sorahiko stared out at the ocean grimly, judging his condition and the expansive blue waters before him. It would be close. At the very least, the Jet Hero knew he would be spending at least a week in the hospital to get his O2 stats back to an acceptable level.
Toshinori went quiet about halfway from the mainland, but his tears never stopped falling. The older hero didn't have the luxury to yell and cry his heart out. He couldn't even offer a word of comfort for the boy. Every breath was carefully measured, every surge of speed timed right to gain the furthest distance with each set of propulsions. Still, even with his calculated efforts, Sorahiko could feel himself losing the battle to stay conscious. It was through sheer willpower, and a fair bit of luck, that they even reached the beach. Hell, he blacked out a few hundred feet before they collied with the coast—his momentum was the only reason why they made it.
"Gran Torino!" Hands scrambled at his uniform, and he could hear Toshinori's voice crack with grief and a new wave of concern. "What's wrong?!" Sorahiko's vision was too blurry to see much of anything and he couldn't get enough air into his abused lungs. Yet the grit of sand in his mouth and the sound of waves crashing onto the beach told him that he'd hadn't failed. 'We made it Nana. Your boy is safe.'
"H-Hos…p'tal." The Jet Hero managed to wheeze brokenly before passing out again. His next memory was waking up in the Nagasaki Memorial Hospital four days later with Toshinori's desolated eyes confirming that Nana dying hadn't just been a horrible nightmare.
March 7th, the day Nana died, will forever haunt in a way that no date has before.
Had the bastard done that on purpose? Had he killed Nana, whose name meant seven, whose was the seventh wielder of One For All, like it was an inside joke? If Sorahiko were a lesser man, this realization alone would've sent him into a fit of rage. As it was, he swallowed his fury and returned his glowering stare to the streets below.
A lot had changed since Nana's death. Where before, Sorahiko had done things on his on terms, he found himself quickly contorting this way and that just to keep the status quo. Not only was he now working as a teacher a UA to train Toshinori, but crime rates had risen exponentially since his friend's death. No doubt the latter was caused by All For One, who flaunted his power as if he were thumbing his nose at Nana's grave.
'Not that there'd been a body to bury.' This callous thought caught him off guard, so much so that it gave him entirely new feeling of self-loathing. Sorahiko had long since accepted that he could be an asshole, but since Nana's death his attitude had gotten significantly worse. Hell, Toshinori couldn't even look him in the eyes anymore without breaking out into a nervous sweat. Just yesterday the boy had flinched away from him when they'd brushed arms in the hallway.
The Jet Hero had always found it amusing to get the kid worked up, but this genuine fear wasn't something he'd ever wanted to see in Toshinori. This was Nana's son in everything but name and blood. He had trained the boy alongside her. He used to buy taiyaki for the kid after their more tiring sessions. He'd probably bandaged the boy's knuckles more than Recovery Girl ever had and he'd even tried to dry a few tears in those early days.
Now he felt like an abuser. It couldn't be helped though, could it? Toshinori needed to become stronger, faster, able to withstand bone-crushing blows and still find the perseverance to keep fighting. He needed to learn how to control his pain, his hatred, because there was no mistaking the desire for vengeance that had found its way into the boy's gentle eyes. In those moments, when Toshinori fell back into the memory of March 7th, Sorahiko wanted nothing more than to shake the boy. Where was that beaming smile Nana had so adored? The same one that had made the Jet Hero hide a returning smirk? The one that inspired his classmates, who used to flock to him droves?
What would Nana say if she could see them now?
Seizon Etsuno was a well-known name, but not a well-liked one. She was not a villain, though many would likely argue otherwise. No, in world full of capes and cowls, she was just a lawyer. The reason her name was so infamous, however, was because she defended villains and was very, very good at her job. Yet, it should be noted that Etsuno had started her career with nothing but good intentions.
She'd wanted to defend the underdogs of society, the people who had to resort to breaking the law for moral reasons. Like those with Mutant Quirks who were still discriminated against and could barely hold down a job. Or the kid robbed a store because his single mother was sick, and they had no money to pay for medicine. Or the young, beaten down woman who had to resort to illegal prostitution just to keep a roof over her head. Society was so quick to give the label villain these days, but these poor people were just victims of circumstance in her eyes.
Unfortunately, the noble life she imagined for herself was far from what she ended up with. She grew entangled with criminal world as her reputation grew, and it made her enemies amongst the Hero Public Safety Commission. She was vilified by the media and the public saw her as a villain sympathizer. How did that old aphorism go again?
The road to hell is paved with good intentions.
If Etsuno hadn't been so determined to help others, maybe she wouldn't be where she was now, stumbling through back alleyways in an unknown town during a heavy rainstorm. She paused to lean against a nearby building, a trembling hand carefully pressing against the front of her dress, grimacing at the warm blood that painted her fingers. The surgical staples had must have given out. A small whine came from the bundle in her other arm, and Etsuno glanced down at the child that carried half of her DNA. It was an ugly thing—a pink, squirming lump of flesh, one that was still covered in various bodily fluids despite how drenched the rain left them.
It looked exactly like the parasite she'd dubbed it as throughout her unwanted pregnancy.
Etsuno sighed, able to see her breath fog up against the awful climate. The only reason she was still on her feet was because of her Quirk, but she could feel how her body was slowly shutting down. The rain left her soaking wet, and the cold she'd first shivered at has grown numb without her noticing. Too much blood loss was likely the culprit, and she just as likely might have internal bleeding as well.
All it would take was a single shout for help and she would be rushed to the hospital, but Etsuno knew death was her only option now. He would hunt her to the ends of the earth for this, and she'd burnt too many bridges over the years defending criminals to find amnesty amongst the heroes. Hell, the HPSC sent an assassin after her a few years back. No, the best she could hope for was dying on her own terms. She refused to be his prisoner any longer.
Just as she found the strength to get moving again, Etsuno startled as a whiffling noise came from above the alleyway. For a moment, she was terrified that she had been found, but the yellow cape she caught a glimpse of assured her otherwise. The hero, a man by the looks of it, landed on the roof of the building to her right and Etsuno suddenly knew what she had to do. It wasn't what she'd planned for the parasite, but there was no denying that it was a better option.
She quietly shuffled into the middle of the alleyway and set the parasite down. If the hero peeked over the ledge, he would clearly spot the wiggling bundle. Etsuno made her back to the corner of the alley, where she could easily slip away and lose the hero amongst the maze of crooked passages if he chose to pursue her. She hesitated for a moment, peered up to verify that the hero was still present, and let out a sharp whistle.
Etsuno stayed long enough to see the hero drop into the alleyway before taking off once again.
Sorahiko could only fervently pray that he was hallucinating. Maybe the awful weather had given him a fever, even though his costume was basically waterproof and decently insulated. The Jet Hero stared disbelievingly at the soggy, bloodstained towel disbelievingly before until the infant began to whimper, her tiny face exposed to the pelting rain.
"This is not happening." He muttered lowly. "Not to me. My luck is not this bad." With a frown he reached down, gently picking the bundle up, and tucked her under his cape to shelter her better. "Hey! Whoever owns this brat had better get their ass out here!" There was no response of course and Sorahiko desperately wished he had something to drink. It's not even seven. Why is this how his day starts? What God did he piss off in a past life to deserve this? Then he paused and silently decided that it was probably Nana who was fucking with him.
Mindful of the cargo in his arms, he moved to investigate the end of the alley, only to be met with three different paths. One continued onwards straight ahead, the right path had a large dumpster, and the left branched off at rather a sharp angle. The path forward looked clear of any people, so he debated for a moment before jogging over to the dumpster. Unfortunately, he found no one hiding behind or in it. Growling under his breath, he put a little boost into his jets, gliding across the ground at a much quicker speed as he carefully braced the infant against his chest with both arms. He scowled at the mouth of the left path, which was rather narrow and a bit warped. There were cardboard boxes, heaps of trash, and broken wooden crates, but no sign of another person. Whoever left the kid behind, they clearly didn't want to be found. He sighed, letting his eyes drop to the squirming baby in his arms.
"Let's get you to a hospital." Instead of taking to the sky, Sorahiko looked up nearby bus schedules on his phone and retreated to the closest bus stop. With how awful the climate already was, traveling by flight would endanger the infant's health. He had no idea how long the brat was exposed to this icy rain and the last thing he wanted was to give the newborn hypothermia. And she was a newborn. He discovered as much when he checked her over for injuries, revealing the umbilical cord still dangling from her bellybutton.
The once white towel was dirty, and the rain was absorbed into its fabric. It wasn't dripping wet, but it was a step above damp and certainly not effective towards preventing any sickness. He used the less stained spots of the towel to wipe the girl clean before removing his cape and wrapping it around her. She still felt much too cold, and her lack of wailing was beginning to worry the hero. Weren't infants known for screaming their heads off? He pulled off his gloves with his teeth and, with a disgruntled expression, did his best to rub some warmth back into her little body. After a few minutes of this, and with the baby making a few noises, Sorahiko pulled out his phone and breezed through his short list of contacts and landed on a familiar name.
As the call rang, the Hero wondered what this all meant for the mother. There was a lot of blood staining the towel after all, and it was fresh. He hadn't seen any blood while looking for whoever abandoned the kid, but then again, he hadn't been looking for some in the first place. He would've noticed a large puddle, but a trail made up of droplets would've easily been washed away thanks to the thunderstorm. Of course, he'd been assuming that the mother was the one to leave the kid—it could've just as easily been someone else.
"Well, this is a surprise, Torino." Detective Tanuma Eizō answered in a lazy drawl. "Don't get many calls from you these days, not unless you need something from me." Hmph, so the prick wasn't even trying to be subtle in his nettling this time. Sorahiko rolled his eyes, and with practiced ease, ignored Tanuma's petty attempt at guilt tripping.
"Found a newborn while I was patrolling through Naruhata this morning."
"An abandoned kid? Cripes, what a way to start the day. Hey, wait a sec, what are you doing in Naruhata? Last I checked you still live in the Yamanashi Prefecture." There was a paused and the slight creak that likely came from Tanuma's well-used swivel chair. "Course with your Quirk, I guess the distance isn't much of a hassle, huh? Makes one wonder why you don't visit more often."
"I couldn't find whoever left the kid. Someone let out a whistle, but I wasted a few seconds checking over the baby before searching for them." The Jet Hero continued his report, though it was with a more irritated tone. Not for the first time, Sorahiko rued the day he and Nana met Tanuma. "There's fresh blood on the towel, a lot of it, and it didn't come from the kid."
"Shit." The detective swore, finally dropping the bullshit and growing serious. "Where'd you find the baby?" Sorahiko rattled off the street name, as well as gave simple directions and a description of the alley. Tanuma sighed. "That part of Naruhata is like an ant colony. The alleyways there are practically stacked upon one another. I'll put the word out and go scope the area, ask some questions, but there's good chance whoever ditched the kid is long gone."
"Let's hope this isn't one of those "babies having babies" scenarios." The Hero replied tiredly, and the conversation fell into a foreboding lull.
"…How's that kid of yours doing? Yoshinori, right?" Sorahiko gritted his teeth. This was why he didn't stay in contact with Tanuma. The detective always wanted to talk about Nana.
"Yagi Toshinori." He bit out. "And he ain't my kid."
"Bullshit, you and Nana practically adopted that boy together." Well, his patience had officially runout.
"Hiroo in Shibuya is closer to my location than Naruhata General, so I'm taking the kid there."
"Torino–" He hung up with more movement than was necessary, causing the infant in his arms to whine and Sorahiko sighed as he began to rock her back and forth, thankful that she seemed to be displaying some normal behavior. He glanced around the streets, but with the storm and the early hour meant that there weren't that many people present. Which was probably a good thing. The last thing he needed was for some nosy shits to post this online. The Jet Hero liked his anonymity, thank you very much. He glanced down at the girl again, who blinked up at him with the bright blue eyes that all newborns possessed, and he offered her a strained smile.
"You've really put a wrench in my morning patrol, you know that brat?" He griped at her, making sure to keep his voice soft so as not to send her into a wailing fit. "All I wanted was a couple of punks to beat up. Was that too much to ask for?" Whether it was the rocking, his voice, or the baby was simply tired, he saw that the girl was beginning to doze off. "That's right, take a nap and let me do all the work." He huffed, his strained smile turning into something a little more natural as the baby gave a small yawn.
The bus arrived within the next handful of minutes, its rumbling engine and hissing breaks nearly waking the infant. Her face scrunched up and he increased his rocking, hoping it would calm her down. The Jet Hero frowned at the bus driver, who stared at him stupidly upon opening the door. He ducked his head against the rain, shielding the girl as best he could while darting onto the bus.
"Think you can get us to Hiroo Hospital?" Sorahiko grunted at the driver as plopped down in the first available seat. There was a college student, headphones in and face buried in a textbook a few seats back. A middle-aged woman sat in the middle, likely coming off the nightshift seeing how she was fighting to stay awake. He eyed the man at the very back of the bus who was dressed in a dark coat and hiding the upper half of his face with a ratty baseball cap.
"Uh, sure? It's along my route…" The driver replied belatedly. The bus remained parked by the curb as he continued to stare Sorahiko with a dumb expression on his face. The Jet Hero waited a few more seconds before upgrading his frown into a scowl.
"Think you can manage it without pissing me off?"
"I'm sorry?" The driver said reflexively, clearly not getting the hint.
"I'll take that as a no." The Hero scoffed before returning his attention to the newborn, who was thankfully settling back into her nap. He sighed again while rolling his eyes skyward. "Sometime today would be nice." He snapped, which finally seemed to get the driver going. It took twenty-five minutes to reach the hospital and Sorahiko fully believed that walking would've been faster with how slowly the idiot drove. "Thanks for the ride." He bit out grudgingly before heading for the front doors. It took three seconds for a hospital worker to approach him, his cape, even while acting as a blanket, immediately drew people's attention.
"Can I help you, hero-san?" A platinum blonde haired nurse asked, her silver eyes homing in on the bundle in his arms.
"Found the kid in an alleyway." The woman frowned disapprovingly before dutifully taking the girl from him. Sorahiko paused, waiting as the nurse checked over the infant before calling out to her coworker stationed at the front desk. He shook out his cape, eyeing it for any new stains before shrugging it back on. As the child was passed off and quiet words were exchanged, he discreetly turned to leave only to have the nurse latch onto his arm.
"Wait a minute hero-san." She began authoritatively, looking unimpressed at his attempt to slip away. "I'll have to notify the police about this. You'll need to file a report and–" Sorahiko sighed for what felt like the nth time in the past hour as he realized he wasn't going anywhere for a while.
In the end, he had to call U.A. and inform the principal why he wasn't coming to work today. The Jet Hero answered question after question from both the staff and the police, reiterating the same damn thing repeatedly. His headache only worsened when Tanuma showed up halfway through another reiteration to announce that any evidence in the alley had all but been washed away thanks to the downpour. On top of that, every civilian he'd questioned was unable to offer any useful information, so the manhunt was still ongoing and looking none too promising.
Four hours after arriving at Hiroo, Sorahiko was told that the baby had been born prematurely by a few weeks, but that it didn't seem to be a cause for concern. She was healthy and weighed exactly six pounds. When he was finally allowed to leave, the nurse he'd first met pulled him aside and asked if he wanted to be updated on the girl's situation as it progresses. He thought about it for a moment before shrugging.
"Meh, might as well."
In all honesty, Sorahiko didn't expect much after that. He imagined he'd get a call at the end of the week, one informing him that the girl was being put into the system, or better yet, adopted straight out of the hospital. Instead, the nurse managed to get ahold him three days later to tell him the girl's name.
"We've decided to just list a given name for now." The nurse, Yamada-san, explained while Sorahiko sat at his desk, his back hunched over the latest assignment that he needed to grade. He gave a deep grunt, hoping Yamada-san would pick up on how he's most definitely not in the mood for small talk. Damn Nana for making him promise to watch over her boy. If he'd known it would involve extra paperwork outside of hero work, as well as mediating hormonal teenagers, he would've gladly thrown himself at All For One in her place. "The staff has decided to call her Nanako."
He doesn't react besides the slight stiffening of his posture, the hiragana blurring as the words instantly lose his focus. "She was born on the fourth and you know what bad luck that is. We thought we could counter that by naming her after the luckiest number instead."
"…It's a good name." He said gruffly, eyes shutting close as he fought against the twisting sensation that gad suddenly taken up residence in his gut.
"We felt so too, Gran Torino-san." Again, he thought that would be the end of it, but not even a week later he got another call. Only this time, it wasn't good news. The baby was sick. Somebody came into work with the flu and the whole maternity ward was turned into a hot zone in a matter of days. They'd already lost one baby, and from the look of things, Nanako wasn't expected to make it through the night.
Sorahiko didn't know why he went to the hospital, but he still ended up lingering outside the nursery, a mask on his face at the request of the staff. He peered into the rows of tiny pink and blue cots, but was unable to find Nanako on any of the nameplates. He feared the worst until Yamada-san spotted him and redirected him to the NICU. He hadn't even known that was a thing—a ward dedicated to dying babies. Startlingly, as Yamada-san lead him deeper into the hospital, Sorahiko had the realization that he could just turn around and leave. He had no obligation to stand vigil over Nanako's crib. Could anyone fault him for choosing not to watch an infant succumb to her illness? Thankfully, he stomped on that spineless notion before it could fully take root. The only thing he'd ever ran away from was the fight with All For One, and that was only because Nana had left him with no choice.
Upon entering the quarantined room, Sorahiko saw that there were two other babies in incubators with despairing parents hovering over them. He doesn't think they're sick like Nanako though. One looked incredibly small and had a plastic tube taped against their mouth. The other seemed to be missing the lower half of their body and he hoped it was just the result of their Quirk. Most people with mutant Quirks were like that, born with their power already manifested. However, from what he could tell, neither parent possessed a Mutation Quirk of any kind. Yamada-san directed him towards the corner of room that was divided with strips plastic forming a makeshift barrier. He could clearly see Nanako inside her own incubator with a dozen more tubes and wires coming out her small body. Sorahiko felt something catch in his chest as his stomach churned with something akin to dread.
Yamada-san rattled off a series of symptoms and an even larger list of medication that the girl was on. The Jet Hero didn't hear most of it, but he understood the bottom line. If her fever didn't break by tonight, she likely wouldn't live to see morning. Silently and with clenched fists, Sorahiko made the solemn decision to stay. If the girl pulls through, great, but if not—well, at least she won't die alone.
It was more than what he'd done for Nana.
Yamada-san showed him how to use the ports in incubator that has gloves so that he could comfort Nanako. It's an odd feeling, the tiny mass of her chest puffing up and down under his hand at a speed that nearly makes him nauseous. He muttered to the kid now and then, complaining about having to drag his ass back out here because she apparently couldn't go a week without causing him trouble. He grumbled half-heartedly about Toshinori and how the kid drove him up a wall with his lack of self-care. When it's midnight and the girl's fever has only risen, he tells her about Nana in chocked whispers. He tells her to fight for her life. He begs Nana's spirit to help the kid pull through.
At 3:11 in the morning, her fever breaks.
Sorahiko collapsed into a horribly uncomfortable chair and found himself suddenly fighting back tears born from sheer relief. Yamada-san gave him an odd look, gazing at him unblinkingly while her mouth was pursed into a thin line, but he paid her little mind as he continued to stare at Nanako with no small amount of awe. The doctor and nursing staff had made their opinions on her survival obvious every time they came to check on the girl. The only ones who hadn't given up on the girl was himself and Yamada-san. The Jet Hero had visibly smirked when one of the nurses voiced his disbelief at the kid's miraculous improvement. Sorahiko had replied, perhaps a bit smugly, that Nanako was just a natural born fighter. He returned to the hospital daily throughout the following week, his grin widening by increments as Nanako slowly but surely recovered.
He saw for himself that she had vivid dark green eyes, a color that reminded him of emeralds. Her hair was coming in too, the wispy strands beaming a strange shade between pink, purple, and red. Yamada-san and he debated over the color nearly every visit. Because he knew it nettled the blond nurse, Sorahiko curtly claimed that Nanako was just another redhead. After the argument was rehashed for a sixth time, Yamada-san came to him with a color palette, held it up to the baby's hair and settled the matter firmly by declaring that Nanako's hair was indisputably "razzmatazz".
The Jet Hero learned firsthand that Nanako was a fussy eater—in that she threw a fit when any nurse besides Yamada-san tried to feed her. Then one day the blonde was called away mid-feeding where she unceremoniously dumped Nanako into his arms, shoved the bottle into his free hand, and all but ordered him to take over. For a moment, both Sorahiko and Nanako blinked dumbly at each other, taken about by the sudden shift in dynamics. Yamada-san rushed out of the room, expertly ignoring his sputtering denials, and the Hero hesitantly brought the bottle to the baby's mouth. For a second, he thought Nanako was gonna throw a fit like normal, but then she began to drink, seemingly just as uncertain as he was. Somehow, he got wrangled into feeding the kid every day after that.
Nanako wasn't one for wailing. While the other babies in the nursery tended to sob and scream over every little thing, the girl was practically mute in comparison. Sorahiko saw that her quietness, the strange impression of self-awareness, was viewed as off-putting by most of the staff, who mostly left her care to Yamada-san.
Sorahiko also discovered that Nanako didn't sleep as soundly as most newborns. She wasn't restless per say, her body was physically incapable of staying awake for hours at a time after all. The hospital staff were pretty much useless in his opinion, spouting several diagnoses ranging from a hormonal imbalance to the cause being an aspect of her unknown Quirk. The Jet Hero realized that the problem was less complicated than all that, if not just as unusual.
Nanako was having nightmares. He knew it from how she whimpered in her sleep, from her muffled grunts, from the way her little arms pushed at something that wasn't there, and from her gasping breaths that never failed to make him worry. When she woke it was usually with silent tears spilling down her face and Sorahiko always found himself holding her afterwards. He remembered the few times he'd witnessed Nana soothe Kotaro when he was young and so he tried imitating her actions, muttering nonsensical bullshit in a poor facsimile of comfort.
And to his surprise, it actually worked. Nanako would wiggle her little body as much as she could to press herself up against him and sniffle pitifully into his chest. Yamada-san claimed that it was heartbreaking and heartwarming at the same time. Sorahiko could only silently agree.
When the second week of day-to-day visits seamlessly passed into a third, the Hero realized he'd willingly been spending his free time with a healthy baby with no justification for his ongoing presence. The thought that he might've grown attached spurned a wild feeling of panic inside Sorahiko. He returned home that night, downed a bottle of sake in his bedroom, and swore that he wouldn't go back to the hospital. In the ensuing weeks, his temper grew even shorter with his students and Toshinori pretty much became a human punching bag. As November ended and December began, Yamada-san left a clipped voicemail informing him that Nanako was now in the system and eligible for adoption.
When he received no further messages, he figured that Nanako had been adopted, so he had no right to know how she was doing. Sorahiko tried his best to put the girl out of his mind, telling himself that he'd likely never see her again. He was therefore thrown for a loop when Yamada-san reached out to him late December. Apparently, a few families had looked into adopting Nanako, but when the baby was introduced to them, she would scream and flail to the point that it caused a great deal of alarm for everyone involved.
"Truthfully, she hasn't been the same since her fever." Yamada-san confessed and despite his best efforts, Sorahiko's face became pinched with worry. "If something went wrong, we won't be able tell what, not until she's older, but…" He waited with bated breath and urged her on when she continued to hesitate.
"But what?"
"I think she misses you." Yamada-san said in a rush and the Jet Hero nearly dropped his phone.
"Excuse me?"
"I think she bonded with you, Gran Torino-san."
"She's not a goddamn duckling." He gripped at the woman, who huffed back at him with just as much attitude. He sighed into the phone even as an emotion he can't name swelled under his ribs like a balloon. "…You really think this is about me?"
"I do, and if you come back to the hospital, I know you'll see it too." So, after getting through his classes with only half his attention, something which caused a wave of relief amongst the students, he headed to the hospital once more. He inwardly marveled over how big Nanako had grown during the past four weeks without contact. The few wisps of hair had grown out, forming a razzmatazz fluffball. Those big emerald eyes locked onto him the instant he was by her side and a smile broke over her chubby face as she reached up to him with tiny hands.
"Well, I'll be damned." He muttered, feeling both stunned and inexplicably pleased with Nanako's reaction. He picked her up, a smirk quickly forming on his face. "You really have been throwing a tantrum because you wanted me. You're a stubborn little thing." He chuckled as he rocked her slightly from the crook of his arm. "I can respect that."
"I'm not one to say I told you so…" Yamada-san said from where she stood at the entrance of the nursery, causing the smirk on his face to pull into a glare.
"And yet here you are." He grumbled at the nurse. "So, what do we do now?"
"…Have you ever thought about adopting?"
He didn't throw Nanako at the grinning woman, but it was a very close thing.
She died. She's dead and now there is no light, no air, no feeling—Nothing.
She died, she is Nothing, and she remembers it all perfectly… but how can she remember something if she's Nothing? If there's Nothing, there should be no sense of self. So, if there's awareness, then she couldn't be Nothing, could she? As she pondered this, a famous proverb seemed to pop to the front of her consciousness.
'I think, therefore I am.'
With this rationalization comes a strange swell of pain. Air and liquid fill her deprived lungs, hot and cold consume her body in equal measure and her body feels unexplainably different. There wasn't Nothing before, just a severe lack of sensory. Or perhaps she'd been in shock, left incapable of comprehending anything. Yet now there was suddenly too much to take in all at once. She felt so overwhelmed by it all that she impulsively screamed, which sadly only left her already ringing ears aching from the additional noise.
She was alive. Help had arrived and somebody must've have pulled that man off her. She had either started breathing on her own, or judging by what she'd just felt, she'd needed to be resuscitated. It was with no small amount of distress that she realized she'd must have had a near-death experience. After that, it was hard to keep track of things as she slipped in and out of awareness.
She thought that there might've been a woman nearby but discovered that light seared her retina, so she kept her sensitive eyes closed and dealt with the headache that came from focusing too much on her hearing. Something warm and slightly rough was wrapped around her, irritating skin. However, it's not long before cold air and something wet seeps through the material, making her shiver. She tried to speak, to learn if the woman was the person she'd tried to help, or if she was an EMT. She didn't hear what ended up coming out of her mouth because her exhaustion got the better of her, pulling her back under unconsciousness again.
She woke to a sharp whistle, a man's gruff voice, and a heavy downpour.
She fought harder to stay awake, focusing on the cold and wet fabric surrounding her while prying her eyes open again. She managed, but only after several minutes of exertion. Sadly, all she could see was a blur of colors that bled into each other. White and yellow made up her vision, but from what she could tell, she was wrapped up in something much warmer than the wet fabric from earlier, and the same man seems to be carrying her. It's a good voice, she groggily decided while yawning, one that unfortunately lulled her back into a stupor.
From there, it took her awhile to put the piece together. She woke to hands prodding her, but they were gentle in their jostling, so she didn't immediately panic and lash out. Instead, she once again tried asking about her situation, but what left her mouth wasn't words—it was pure babble, a hiccup of disjointed high-pitched noises. She figured she was just still too tired to make any sense and let herself fall asleep once more.
The next time she woke up, she felt more rested. Her vision was still shit, but at least she could make out shapes now, even if they were vague. She tried to sit up and her demeanor quickly begin to unravel when the best she managed was a few weak wiggles and flailing limbs. She could only keep up her floundering for a handful of minutes before exhausting herself, feeling not unlike a turtle stuck on its back. The rest of her body was just as difficult to move. Her head was too heavy to raise fully, and her legs flapped about like unwieldly stumps. She shouted for help then, terrified at how limited range of motion was.
The infantile wail that came out of her mouth was as damning as it was horrifying.
The following days were filled with a series of breakdowns that the hospital staff around her seemingly wrote off as her being fussy. She didn't have long to indulge in her depression and existential crisis, however. At first, she thought she made herself sick, but while a fever might have reasonably formed from the stress she put on her underdeveloped body, the harsh coughing and sudden soreness in her joints meant that the cause was something else.
She wallowed in her worsening illness, unsure if she wanted it to claim her second life or not. She feared dying again, of going back to that consuming void of Nothingness, but the idea of living seemed just as daunting. As a baby she couldn't do anything for herself, she was constantly at the mercy of others, and being so vulnerable threatened to spiral her into another panic attack. What if her new mother was just like the last? What if this life ended up being worse? She soon fell into a haze, delirium invoking awful visions that she couldn't fight off.
What was the point of being reborn, only to continue suffering?
Was this a punishment? For what? Hadn't she died trying to save someone?
"…あなた わ あまり よく みえません…" It was the voice from before. The man's voice. Strange how she could pick it out after not hearing it for who knows how long. Maybe it was because the people around her had all been female? He muttered in a foreign language that she identified as Japanese and was surprised to find that his soft tone acted as a reprieve from her hallucinations. She sunk into his deep voice, letting it wash over her.
"…あなたはこのガキを倒したほうがいい…"
Her consciousness ebbed and flowed around him.
"…つよい こ に なり なさい…"
His presence like a lighthouse, her only harbor against a dark ocean determined to drown her.
"…菜奈、彼女の人生を助けてください…"
In the end, she fully believed that the only reason she survived was because of him. She didn't know how to feel about that fact, but she was at least grateful that he stayed with her. He didn't leave her to the gaping maw of her nightmares, didn't let the undertow drag her back into that terrifying state of oblivion. She's not sure she wanted to be saved, but she hadn't wanted to die alone again either.
She was finally cognizant enough to understand that she'd gained a new name.
The man, dressed in white and yellow, calls her Nanako.
The man, who bizarrely seemed to answer to Gran Torino, kept visiting her after that. It was difficult to keep track of time. She was kept in a nursery with no windows within her limited line of sight, so she couldn't use the sun as a waypoint. She couldn't even use meals as a measurement of increments because her infantile body was almost always hungry. When Gran Torino started visiting regularly however, she suddenly had something to measure time with, and it just became another reason to feel grateful towards him. His arrival marked a new day, and while the time he spent with her varied, she could tell that his visits grew to last longer and longer as each day passed.
Then, one day, he didn't show up and she was left adrift once again.
She gained new visitors instead, their unfamiliar faces looming over her as the spoke in what could only be described as babytalk. It's just as demeaning as when the staff first subjected her to their coddling, and she'd been quick to make her displeasure known. The blonde nurse, who was called Yamada-san by her coworkers, was the only one who seemed to catch on, and thus essentially became the sole caretaker that she tolerated. She made an aggravated noise when the first couple of many picked her up, loudly cooing over her in rapid Japanese, and as her improving vision took in their regular clothes instead of scrubs, she belted out a loud shout. The pair startled so much that they almost dropped her.
She figured out early on that she likely had no parents in this life. She was never taken out of the nursery to meet an exhausted mother recovering from childbirth, and no distraught father came to tap on the glass of the nursery while peering into her cradle. That was fine with her at first, until she realized that, as an orphan, she could be adopted.
So, every time a prospective couple came to visit her, she did her best to be as problematic as possible. She yelled non-stop, her chubby hands reaching out to grab and pull at any hair within her reach. When they tried to feed her in an attempt at bonding, she refused. She had no teeth to bite with, but her tiny nails were sharp, and she left dozens of scratches on the ones who weren't scared off so easily. When they were eventually shuffled out of the room by Yamada, who always spewed a litany of apologies at the traumatized couples, she'd quickly go quiet, content at having warded off another set of potential parents. Yamada picked up on this routine after the first few visits and seemed to admonish her halfheartedly.
Then, just as suddenly as he left, Gran Torino came back, dressed like he was just coming back from a weekend at Comic-Con. The superhero costume was white and yellow, the same colors she'd associated him with, which meant he'd always wore that outfit when he'd visited her. Maybe he was an actor, and the costume was part of his wardrobe? God knew that the superhero genre was all the rage now thanks to Marvel.
She reached out to him the moment she registered his presence. Her improved vision could see the details of his face, like the subtle smirk that formed when he picked her up. He spoke to her, not with degrading babytalk, but with a sarcastic edge that was infinitely more appreciated. There was an odd scent to him, a faint odor of ozone—not like a thunderstorm—but the kind that was carried on early autumn winds. The stronger smell of coffee almost overrode it however and she sighed blissfully at that familiar scent. She missed coffee. A lot. She watched, content and passive as Gran Torino briefly conversed with Yamada, before the man's entire body stiffened, his hold around her tightening ever so slightly.
"いいえ." She paused at the one-worded response. She knew very little Japanese, and what she did know came from spending the majority of her adolescence obsessing over subbed anime. She recognized that word as 'no'. And even if she hadn't, the stone-faced expression Gran Torino wore probably would've clued her in.
"これについてもっと慎重に考えてください." Yamada replied in a low tone, raising her hands in an appeasing gesture. She could feel Gran Torino hesitate, a strange motion that seemed to travel the length of his body. His gaze dropped to her, frowning heavily. "質問することがたくさんあることを私は知っています–"
"それは無理だ." Gran Torino cut her off, shaking his head as he spoke. "私はヒーローです. 赤ちゃんを育てる時間がありません…"
"…しかし、あなたは彼女を幸せにします." Yamada uttered softly while bearing a sad looking smile. "そして私は言うことができます、彼女はあなたを同じように幸せにします."
Sorahiko returned to his apartment in Korusanto, his mind bogged down in a way he had never experienced before. His conversation with Yamada-san refused to leave him alone, pinging about in his head and threatening to give him a migraine. The nurse had poked and prodded at him like an abscess that needed to be drained, refusing to accept his initial rejection. He didn't know what gave him away, but Yamada-san had somehow sensed the doubts even he hadn't been aware of until that moment. He had to give the woman credit where it was due. While Yamada-san could be highly irritating, she obviously had good instincts.
Of course, he couldn't adopt Nanako. He had no time to spare, not with his extra lessons with Toshinori, his job at U.A., and the remaining hours spent patrolling numerous cities. Besides, he was already responsible for a kid and look at how well that was turning out. Toshinori would likely never speak to him again once the boy fled for America after graduation. And even if he somehow managed to work around all that, he had no clue how to take care of a baby. He'd admitted as much to Yamada-san in a last-ditch effort to get the woman off his back.
He didn't know how she managed to muster a counterargument, let alone one that stubbornly pestered him hours later. After questioning him, she learned that his position at U.A. would only last for a few more months and had correctly pointed out how much time he'd get back upon resigning. Combat training with Toshinori would also come to an end around the same time. The only duty he'd have left would be his hero work, and as a freelance hero, he got to choose the hours he put into each day.
He'd honestly been a bit stumped on how to reply to that breakdown. In a matter of minutes, his reasons had started to sound like excuses even to his own ears. So, he fell back onto the undeniable fact that he still didn't know how to care for an infant. Yamada-san hadn't been the least bit sympathetic, claiming that his position was not all that different from new parents. She recommended several childcare books and offered to make an extensive list concerning supplies he would need to buy. Feeling as if he was being cornered, Sorahiko finally pointed out that, even if he'd gain more free time in the future, he still had three and halfs months until the school year ended.
Yamada-san fidgeted, and he thought he finally had her before she quietly suggested that she and her wife would be willing to take care of Nanako until he was ready. Apparently, her wife had given birth to their own kid back in July. She was staying home to take care of the baby, and after Yamada-san had explained Nanako's situation, her wife had nonchalantly declared that temporarily taking on another child wouldn't make much of a difference. They would take care of Nanako until Toshinori graduation.
Sorahiko hadn't known what to say to that. He'd confessed as much to Yamada-san, who smiled at him with more patience than he deserved. She advised him to think on it, giving him a week to consider his answer. If he still refused, Nanako due to be sent to a foster home in Hosu.
So there the Jet Hero was, sitting on his couch and staring at the muted television, faced with a decision that could irrevocably change his life. He sighed in frustration, burying his face into his hands, unable to make a choice.
Logically, he should say no. Putting aside his questionable nurturing instincts, and whether he was even qualified to raise another person, All For One lingered over his head like a damn guillotine. Nana had given up her own son to protect him, which was something Sorahiko had personally disagreed with. He'd kept his mouth shut on the matter however, because he had no say in how she protected her family, but wouldn't adopting Nanako be the equivalent of spitting on Nana's decision? Would All For One target the girl? Or would he ignore her existence completely? The bastard had yet to come after Sorahiko himself, despite how the Jet Hero had actively been looking for All For One since Nana's death. If the villain saw him as too insignificant to hunt down, then wouldn't that opinion extend to Nanako as well?
Just the slim possibility of All For One targeting Nanako should have been deterrent enough.
He should call Yamada-san up right now and say no… so why was he hesitating?
Annoyed with himself and the situation, Sorahiko stood and headed for his bedroom. Tucked in the drawer of his bedside table was an old family heirloom. It was a discontinued 5 lire coin, forged in Venice back in 1848 when Italy revolted against Austrian control. It had no value other than how his ancestors had considered it to be a good luck charm. He pulled out the black velvet box and idly traced the winged lion of St. Marco etched into scuffed silver. Maybe it was in poor taste to leave this decision up to chance, but Sorahiko wasn't an indecisive man. He was done figuratively wringing his hands over this.
"If it's the lion, I'll keep the kid. If it's the laurel crown, I'll let her go." With a flick of his thumb, the coin flipped through the air in a series of tumbles. He caught it before slamming it on the back of his hand. For a long moment he stared at the opposite wall before pulling back his hand. The lion stared back at him. Sorahiko put the coin back into the drawer, sending a silent prayer to his ancestors, and retrieved his phone to give Yamada-san the news. He violently jerked away from his cell when she suddenly began shrieking.
He was gonna regret this, wasn't he?
So, let's hit the easter eggs and whatnot by point of order, shall we?
Nana's hero name was never stated as far as I'm aware, which means Horikoshi just never got around to naming her, or that she took her own name as her codename, like Shouto. However, considering how fun Nana seemed to be, I doubt she'd be that unimaginative. Lots of fans make Skywalker her name, as a nod to all the Star Wars references Horikoshi uses, but I didn't want to be too on the nose, ergo, Skyrunner. I had All For One kill her on March 7th because he's a petty bastard and no one can convince me otherwise.
Seizon Etsuno is an OC, one who's backstory won't be explained for a very long time. Like Horikoshi, I put a good deal of thought into her name. Seizon – "生" (sei) means to "life, genuine, birth" and "存" (zon) means " suppose, be aware of, believe, feel". By combining these kanji, you get the Japanese word for "survivor". Etsuno – "悦" (etsu) means "delight, joy, pleasure, ecstasy" combined with "乃" (no), a possessive particle "you".
Tanuma Eizō is not an OC, but rather a character from My Hero: Vigilantes. He is Detective Tsukauchi's older partner, an older man who seems to know more than he lets on. It's through him that Tsukauchi even meets All Might and seems completely unsurprised that his partner has taken up doing All Might's paperwork. I'll really liked the idea of Tanuma being friends with Torino and Nana, filling in the role Tsukauchi later plays for All Might in My Hero Academia. I haven't decided if he knows about One For All's history, but he definitely knows about All For One and that he's the one who killed Nana.
Nanako's name comes from the Japanese belief that "四" means "4", is an unlucky number because since it can also be read as "死" meaning "death, die". Nanako was born on October 4, so to counter this bad luck, the hospital staff named her Nanako on October 7. "七" (nana) means "7" and "子" (ko) means "child".
Here are the translations for what Torino says to Nanako while she's sick:
"あなた わ あまり よく みえません." = "You don't look very good"
"あなたはこのガキを倒したほうがいい" = "You can beat this kid"
"つよい こ に なり なさい" = "Be strong"
"菜奈、彼女の人生を助けてください" = "Nana, please help her live"
This is the dialogue Nanako hears Torino and Yamada exchanged:
"いいえ" = "No"
"これについてもっと慎重に考えてください. 質問することがたくさんあることを私は知っています–" = "Please, think about this carefully. I know it's a lot to ask–"
"それは無理だ" = "It's impossible"
"私はヒーローです. 赤ちゃんを育てる時間がありません" = "I'm a hero. I don't have time to raise a baby"
"しかし、あなたは彼女を幸せにします. そして私は言うことができます、彼女はあなたを同じように幸せにします" = "But, you make her happy. And I know, she makes you just as happy"
*Please keep in mind that my translations come from Google, so be prepared for discrepancies.
Finally, while it's established in Canon that Torino lives in the Yamanashi Prefecture, we aren't given the city itself that he lives in. So, I made up his home city, Korusanto, which is Coruscant in Japanese. This is a reference to the iconic planet in the Star Wars series.
–Hexalys