Countdown to Reality
1. I forgot to backup that chapter and had to write it twice… it happens from time to time, but it is still so frustrating… anyway Plus Ultra!
2. It's probably pointless, but since I write about politics (not too much, don't worry) and use real existing job positions I should maybe say that: Any resemblance to real and actual names or events is purely coincidental.
3. Thank you once again for reading! Let's start!
Day 3. Late Morning. Countdown: 19:16:28
Midoriya Izuku was not stalking his childhood friend. He was just staying close for valid reasons, which was not the same.
For example, Kacchan still had no phone, and it was one of his "valid reasons". (Inwardly, he could hear the quotation marks). He brushed away the fact that should an emergency arise, Kacchan could probably use his mother's phone. He brushed it away because it implied Kacchan would stay with her.
His friend patience was currently amazing. Of course, Kacchan never ceased to be amazing. Just… usually, patience was not exactly what amazed Izuku the most. Since he knew from personal experience that Kacchan's ability to put up with people was limited, he had a second good reason to stay close.
Izuku knew he was making excuses. He just had nothing better to do than tag along. (Answering Sumire-san messages had taken some time, as he was not sure if she was joking or not: "3 days at home for a stomach ache sounds like a lie, you know. Do you prefer having chickenpox or broken arms as a better excuse?" Since he had answered, "a cold is just fine" she had not insisted and he was alone with his thoughts.)
He was also worried. He could not help Todoroki and Ashido-san, – even if he had gone as far as to go back to his apartment, change back from his school uniform and grab stuff he could hide his face with if needed… in case, just in case – so at least, he had to make sure nothing happened to Kacchan. Fortunately, Kacchan was far enough and could not hear him mumble that sentence.
He was making excuses, he was stalking his childhood and he was an idiot. Kacchan was maybe a little weird lately, but he was still very capable of taking care of…
"Katsuki!"
One second, he was in a line with his mother – having an argument, obviously – and the next, he was not with her any longer, but almost halfway through the shopping center.
Ah.
Kacchan amazing patience just plummeted back to his standard quick-temper. Yet, it was a little strange for him to run away. He would have imagined Kacchan hitting something or vocally exploding at Mrs Bakugo, but running away? Izuku did not move at first, watching from afar his mother trying to catch up, and not quite managing it…
If he was not running away…
"Wait!" Kacchan shouted, disappearing behind a shop.
… he was running after something! Or someone.
Hagakure Toru was much, much more prepared to be a stalker than Midoriya or to be a spy than Kirishima. Her Quirk was the best for that job and she had always pictured herself in that role.
For most people, being naked in a room with dangerous politicians making suspicious deals at arm length would be a nightmare, but Hagakure loved it. Of course, she was afraid of sneezing, of moving, of someone stepping on her… of course she was! Nevertheless, the adrenaline was worth it.
Was there something wrong with her? Probably a little bit, but she was still aware of limits, boundaries and decency. She would only follow people with a fair reason – preferably a legal one – but when the opportunity was arising, she would always take it and enjoy it the fullest: People lives were like secret movies that no one but her would ever be able to watch.
Her boss?
Ah. Her boss!
The Small Hana was running a thousand lives. It was a show, an exhibition of journalists, secretaries, phone calls and a raging storm of signatures. Between suits, subtle touches of makeup and black ink on blank pages, there was also another show, a darker show. Hagakure could tell that the endless dance of obscure communications, discreet hand signs and fake smiles was the real thing.
Hagakure did not like her, but she was fascinating to watch.
In that morning alone, Hana had managed to fit seven different meetings in less than two hours, and the eighth one was about to arrive. The whole time, she had not moved from behind her desk, she had not even left her chair to shake hands. No. People queued outside, and while she listened, they stayed standing.
So far, everybody had abided by her unsaid rules, but that was until the yakuza-looking old man came back.
He did not queue. He did not knock, and he sat in front of her. He had gray hair, wore traditional clothing, and the way his body moved, was full of natural confidence. Hagakure had no proof he was someone powerful, or dangerous, or even remotely linked to illegal activities. She had no proof, but she did not really need proof.
Spying on people was not only about silently watching their lives. It was a tad more demanding. As people rarely summarized their existences for inattentive onlookers, understanding who they were and what they were doing was a key skill that Hagakure was working on sharpening.
The previous day, when that man came for the first time, her boss had told Hagakure to leave them alone. Hagakure had obeyed, and watched the elevator. Meaning? Meaning: Knowing that her boss trusted Hagakure with spying on very important people and with reporting very compromising secrets, the conversation was bound to be beyond ultra-top-secret. Conclusion? It was probably illegal, and old men in traditional clothing talking to politicians eye to eye were most likely to be powerful and dangerous.
"I expected your son to join us." The Small Hana lashed out as a welcome.
"He was looking forward to meeting you in person." The old man answered in defiance of her harsh way to engage the conversation. "We saw each other less than an hour ago, but we agreed that at least one of us should remain at our estate. With all the prison break commotion, it would be unreasonable to leave it without minimal supervision. I don't want the police to check on us while the house is empty."
It sounded like the truth, but there was something more underneath. The old man sounded conflicted. Hagakure did not miss it and Hana neither.
She knocked on her desk with her emerald fountain pen.
Very. Slowly.
The old man did not lose his composure, but for one brief second he broke their eye contact. He immediately came back to her, standing tall, but he had diverted his eyes. Hana had not. "Mrs. Shimura. We need to discuss the topic more in depth. While my son is very eager to make that deal with you, I cannot give you a commitment yet. It wouldn't be reliable."
There was something careful in his voice…
Knock.
…yet the tone was a little infantilizing, as if he was talking to a spoiled child.
Knock.
"Mrs. Shimura. Your support, discretion and donations are everything for my family. You know I would never think of making you wait and I will do everything in my power to come to an arrangement. But you cannot expect that kind of deal to be done in a day."
Knock.
The pencil noise was like a small hammer.
Knock.
The old man was sweating.
Knock.
He was doing his best though, keeping an unshakable face.
"What you ask for is not unreasonable." He told her. "My son is ready to speed up the process, but his final version is just a prototype. It isn't ready, and I will oppose him if he starts putting too much pressure on the person whose Quirk is key to the process."
Knock.
Hagakure was trying to connect dots.
Knock.
The old man was not looking good.
Knock.
"…Mrs. Shimura…"
"I want your son, in my office. With a date. With a price." She enumerated.
The old man barely managed to keep his face neutral. From where she sat, Hagakure saw him making fists under the table. The Small Hana did not make any move, as if she was about to eat him whole and chew on his bones.
"Tomorrow, 10 a.m. sharp." She ordered, not even checking the schedule opened in front of her.
The fists were white under the table.
"Mrs. Shimura. What is the rush? You are a public figure. If you are caught killing people or trading with us, you'll fall, and we will fall with you."
"Killing?" Hana repeated, her smile changing for something less carnivore. "I'm afraid you misunderstood. Killing has never been in my plans, and never will be."
"That's unfortunate." He deplored. "It's unfortunate, because the prototype success rate is 50% now, and when it doesn't work, it kills."
Hana slowly put her fountain pen down. She rose from her chair and the old man also did, not wanting to have to look up to be eye to eye with her.
"It would be very kind of you to stop trying to slow your son and I. Ask him to prepare two doses of the prototype, along with a draft of the contract, and if you would, please inform him I will meet the General Commissioner at 10:30. Any lateness could lead to an unfortunate encounter."
Hagakure had an inkling that the General Commissioner was an important person. She had learned that, at some point in her younger years, but she was not sure anymore if he was the chief of the police or someone else…
The old man looked baffled.
"Mrs. Shimura. We are partners. There is no need to try threatening me."
"We will be partners once a contract is signed. For now I'm just an anonymous patron, that's all."
Baffled and angry. He opened his mouth to protest, but the Small Hana's phone chose that moment to emit a short ring. She instantly stopped staring into his eyes, and checked it. The old man fists tightened even a bit more.
"Mrs. Shimura. Are you sure this is what you want?"
She looked up, and for the first time since he had arrived in her office, she allowed a soft smile to paint her lips.
"I have never been less sure in my whole life." She whispered. "…but opportunities don't happened to be ignored. Thanks to your son's work, my plans have a chance to succeed. The last pieces I needed on the chessboard happened to enter the game sooner than be both wanted, but I'll seize them anyway."
Hagakure held her breath. The evening conversation with Hana's brother was still echoing in her mind. That woman had a plan. A plan involving Todoroki, Mina, and apparently, the deal with this old man. She wished she knew what it was, and at the same time, she was glad she did not.
The phone was still ringing.
"If you excuse me, I will leave." The old man told her. "I don't like what you two plan to do but…"
"No one will die." She told him, picking up the phone. "People are just people… and the ones who are not considered as people anymore, they deserve our help to be people again. It has always been my pledge to this country."
Hagakure did not understand, but she did not like it. The old man turned around, leaving the room, and Hana, smiling, answered the phone.
"Hey, inspector. You have good news I expect?"
Hagakure instantly wished she had Jiro's or Shoji's ears, because Hana's smile turned back to her toothy grin, and if news were good for her, they were probably not for Hagakure's friends.
Spending the night outside, on the floor of a burned house was not enjoyable and Kaminari Denki would not do it again if he could avoid it.
Everything hurt from his back to his head, and he was cold and bored. He had spent his time playing games on his phone, spamming Aoyama, checking the news, eating junk Konbini food, checking the news, spamming Yao-Momo (she was freaking out because she had advanced German classes, and she was freaking out even more about the idea of skipping), drinking cans of energy drinks, checking again the news, and again, and again.
He was not usually a news-nerd, but boredom was switching his interests. While he could not focus on games more than ten minutes, he was hooked on what experts were explaining about the police, the prisons and politicians. Each time Mina's name was quoted by someone (and Todoroki's as well), he regretted having ingested that much food, but he was still turning up the sound of his phone.
"…am wondering how the government can guaranty that jailbreaks won't happen again. They have not yet a clear on view on what happened! I also must point out that the Castilon prison west aisle is still under a fair layer of ice, and that the government has not confirmed if the headcount was completed… I mean, until it is confirmed, there is no guarantee there is no other people outside the walls…"
Kaminari rolled his eyes. Icebergs that size were not about to be half-way melted in just a day or two. Good luck with that.
He switched off the news podcast he was listening, and answered his fake best friend. (Yes, he was still with that cute girl… but she was a bit cold, it was not a fun night, and he still hoped he could make things right.) Then, he switched it back.
"… which is very good for The Little Hana. More citizen than ever are currently joining her personal support groups, and if the trend continues, she will soon be officially the Lower House Representative with the more important supporter group and founds…"
If there were ever a test on Japan government organization, he would call sick. All the titles and positions were mixing up in his head and making nothing better than a thick soup.
"…with this incident, many representatives will soon present public excuses and resign. Available seats will be filled by newcomers and with upcoming elections in October, this shift could change everything. While Shimura Hana had no chances to win the next election before, her young age and lack of experience acting against her, she could now have more than half the seats with her…"
In the distance, Kaminari heard a car park in the street. He turned up the sound, trying to focus.
"…and her historical main antagonist, the General Commissioner, Shigiya Norito, is also currently in a very delicate position. He was convoked along with the Justice and Defense Ministers. If he were to fail catching the escapees and calm the situation in the Castilon prison, he would have to resign as well, letting an open path to a Not So Little Hana… the Prime Minister title is clearly within her reach."
They should have started by that sentence! All these complicated words to say just that… Kaminari decided to switch to another podcast, something less complex if he could find it. Suddenly, the absence of sound – loud sound – in his ears made him aware that he was not alone anymore.
He slowly looked up as a shadow was leaning over him and he almost dropped his phone on the ground. A man, wearing a police uniform, was staring at him from above.
"Skipping school?" The man asked.
Kaminari spent no time thinking and said, "Yes, skipping school." As fast as his tongue could make words.
"Here?" The police officer asked again, making it quite clear there were probably better places to skip school than an abandoned ruin.
"Yes. Nobody usually comes here. My friends say it's haunted, but it's actually just empty… I was not trespassing… can you even trespass abandoned places…?"
Kaminari couldn't tell if he was in trouble or not. The man seemed surprised to have found him sitting beside an old burned wall, but he was not menacing. He decided to play his usual dumb card.
"That's still trespassing."
"Oh. Oh, I… I… I'm going to jail?"
The man rolled his eyes. Good. Dumb card: working.
"Of course not. I might give your school a call though."
"Oh."
"And your parents."
"Ah."
"And that is probably going to end up on your record."
"Ehh… that's unfair, plenty of other people come here too."
The officer looked suddenly interested. He crouched next to him, and took a pencil and notebook out of his pocket.
"What kind of people? By chance, did you spot any other teenagers…? Some teenagers that could be homeless or running away from home? A boy and a girl? With colored hair? Scars? Quirks?"
He was looking for his friends! Kaminari hopped nothing was showing on his face.
"You mean today?"
"Yes."
"No. I only saw a guy taking a piss behind that tree, but he left. Why?"
The police officer sighed.
"No reason. Let's get to my colleagues. On a normal day, I would have let you at your skipping, but it is not a normal day, and you are in a place linked to very complicated events. I need to take your identity and phone your parents."
"Are… are you sure? I mean, I can swear I'm going back to school…"
"I'm pretty sure, yes."
Ah. He had to tell the others his stakeout was ending sooner than expected, and that the police had the same idea as they did.
Why had Aizawa not done anything to show he was there?
Why had he been watching them? For how long?
Bakugo ignored his mother terrified squeak when he left her alone in the crowd, and moved the passerby aside. His teacher turned the corner, and for one second, he lost him from sight.
"FUCK!" Bakugo screamed, and he rushed between a few pastries shops.
Aizawa was walking away, hands in his pockets. Why was he wearing his usual clothes? Where had he found the scarf? Was he a kind of Hero in that place too?
"Wait!"
Aizawa did not turn around, and continued walking away as if he had not heard. Fortunately, there was almost no gap left between them. The moment Aizawa entered a desert passageway between old toilets and a travel agency, he caught up with him. Between the smell and faulty neon lights switching off from time to time, the place was not welcoming. There was nobody around.
"Sensei! Fuck!"
Aizawa finally turned around, and both his eyebrows shot up in undeniable surprise. His mouth even opened a little.
"You were watching me and my mother! Why did not you show yourself?" Bakugo yelled.
Aizawa's lips moved, and Bakugo did not understand. He knew his teacher was actually talking, but the words… the words just never happened.
"What?"
Aizawa got closer, walking past the faulty neon, and spoke again, only to produce silence.
"Kacchan?"
Bakugo whirled around. Deku was just standing behind him, stupidly looking in his general direction.
"The fuck Deku? What are you doing here?!"
"I… huh. I did not go to school." He admitted.
"No fucks! Why is everyone following me today?"
Deku looked puzzled. Really, worriedly puzzled. "Everyone?"
Deku was not exactly blind or stupid. It was Bakugo's turn to be puzzled. He turned to Aizawa, who was still standing there, and took a step to the side. Deku did not give any reaction.
"K-Kacchan?"
He was not looking at Aizawa. Not at all.
That information went very, very slowly through Bakugo's thinking process. Deku. Was. Not. Looking. At. Aizawa.
He checked again on his teacher and became very aware that the light from the travel agency was switching off faster. Switching off and on, faster with every passing heartbeat. He took a step back, and Aizawa, still talking with no result, took a step forward.
"Deku. Tell me you chose the worst moment ever to try being funny."
"Kacchan? What's wrong?"
Everything.
Bakugo stumbled, and tripped over his own feet. He heard Deku getting closer, he also heard his mother finally catching up with them, but suddenly they both seemed to be from very, very far away. Aizawa crouched to be at eye level, keeping a reasonable distance between them.
The travel agency was gone. The floor was gone. Aizawa was partially gone, reappearing between flashes. Bakugo tried to fight the urge to close his eyes, to escape what was happening… he could do it. He had already resisted it on the windowsill, but it was getting harder with every flicker to stay there, with them… he felt dragged towards… towards… he had no idea towards what exactly.
Deku was somewhere in the blur, maybe trying to shake him, or whatever, so he pushed – punched – him away. Fucking nerd, he did not need his useless help, and he felt half-satisfied, half-guilty as the nerd collided with something (probably with his mother, but who cared?)
The light was really getting faster, too fast to follow up… but Bakugo knew he was starting to get a hold back on things. Even if the world was all-flickering, a few things were not. His own body was not. Deku was not. His mother was not. Some of the walls were not. He focused on them and the world stabilized a little.
He was going to win this. He was going to win over this, and in the process, he would also find proof he was not crazy.
Aizawa stopped trying to talk, understanding there was no use. With his hands, he made very simple signs.
"Breath."
Bakugo breathed, because, well, it was a reasonable idea. Aizawa repeated the sign. It was so simple, something they had been taught in class. Bakugo breathed in and out again. The neon of the travel agency was back to a bearable flickering pace but Aizawa was still flickering fast, like an odd broken TV.
"Good. Breath. Again."
He was. He was, he was not stupid! Couldn't his shitty teacher tell him something a little more useful? It was hard to stare at him, he wanted to divert his eyes, and he could not communicate with Aizawa if he did. It was too fast, really too fast.
Aizawa started to write something inside his own palm, but Bakugo couldn't read the words. Since when did he have a pen? There was someone behind Aizawa, a shadow who had given him something to write with…the hiragana were mixing up, flashing and dispreading.
Flashes were growing faster and faster around his teacher, and he could hear him speaking now, but he had strictly no idea what he meant. The shadow had a face as well, but he could not tell who it was…
"… … don't save… … … … the pajamas… …"
"That's stupid as fuck." He answered. Maybe he also closed his eyes, because Aizawa disappeared, and so did the world.