So, it's a day left to valentine's and my joy con started drifting. There goes my plan for playing Breath of the Wild. Ah well, I guess it's finally time to play the Blood and Wine DLC on the Witcher 3 and then spend the rest of my Valentine doing productive shit like typing my novel and learning C++.
Responses to Comments and Reviews of last chapter below, feel free to skip them if you don't care much for my thoughts and just wanna enjoy the story:
Due to some questions I'll clarify, Izuku's "Precision" does not mean "Logical Precision." Even if it did, mean that, Izuku has no way or form of knowing that. Remember that ALL quirks are physical, hence, they work like muscles and grow with use. In canon, Izuku never attempted to use Full Cowling until his training because he didn't even realize it was possible to channel his quirk through his body at a lower percentage, rather than smashing at a 100% all the time and blowing his limbs off.
Hence, in an attempt to stay true to character, in this story, Izuku didn't even consider the possibility of his quirk changing his biology until someone pointed it out. While we, the audience, can do doubt assume that a superpower can do this or that, Izuku doesn't have that luxury. (This is in response to the reviewer who asked why Izuku didn't just use his quirk to try to 'convince' his mother, as if he has Contessa's Path to Victory. Yes, I've read Worm, and perhaps in the future, Precision may be able to work similar to Path to Victory, but not yet, and certainly not now, when Izuku barely knows how his quirk works himself.)
As for Izuku leaving his mother - I'll say this again - Izuku isn't meant to be some uber-rational person. Satan knows I've tried my hardest to display him as the opposite of rational with his dreams, beliefs and actions. I still don't know why I got people saying it wasn't a rational decision. That- that was the point. Even canon Izuku is anything but a rational person. The same type of person who would destroy his own limbs, again and again and again, just so he could continue his quest of becoming a hero. The type of person, who has never, EVER, tried to have a conversation with the villains to understand their point of view. He isn't the All-Loving Hero archetype like Tanjiro from Demon Slayer who would cry and comfort literal demons in their dying moment, and I don't know why many people in this fandom have that view of him.
Canon Izuku, has, and always will, put his goals and dreams above everything and everyone else - even himself. He had to literally be told that his arms would stop working if he kept using them as he did before he stopped using them and started using his feet to fight. Let that sink in, he's still a First Year - and he has arms that are so heavily scarred, that he could lose them forever if he keeps using them to fight as he always fights... recklessly.
Izuku makes a shitload of reckless actions, but because he's the hero, and because everything always works out in the end, we enter a state of Protagonist-Centered Morality where we view his actions as heroic rather than reckless. Without significant plot armor, Izuku would long be dead in pursuit of his dream, and Inko would be left without a child, because his dream of being a hero is more valuable to Izuku than his life.
But whatever - "Plus Ultra!" and "Go Beyond!" and the typical shonen hero stuff.
I mean, the show's got an awesome soundtrack, so let's all ignore how one boy's one-track-mind desire to be a hero is actually horrific rather than inspiring.
|A Precise Note|
They were diseased. All of them were diseased. The children, walking down the roads with their eyes held up in wonder at the facetious lies told by society. The parents, who enabled the lies, further spreading the disease from their lips with no care for the contagion, with no respect for the uninfected.
"And in the latest popularity poll, All Might remains the Number One –"
Diseased. It itched. He turned away from the billboards, from the moving crowd. They made a berth for him, parting as he walked. It was ironic. The diseased avoiding the uninfected. He cared little. Time was in his favor. He would bide his time, because the One Who Ruled was still present. The King of the Underworld. Perhaps, the most diseased one of all of them. A man who possessed within his power, the vaccine to cure the illness that was hero society, yet, choose to keep it from the world out of either amusement or apathy.
It mattered little. The time of the King would soon come to an end. He was not one for regicide, but he would not shy away from it if absolutely necessary. Those who had made a paradise of the darkness were far stronger than those who attempted to govern the light. The light knew this. They were terrified, of this. Hence, why they struggled, like frantic bees buzzing in the confusion of their destroyed hive, to ensure that those in the darkness never united as one.
The doors to the supermarket opened, and the clerk, as always, lowered her head in reverence. There was understanding, and there was respect. The knowledge of the old ways of the world before the disease called quirks came to upturn the proper order.
His phone buzzed. He didn't need to reach for it. Not when it was already within him. Part of him.
"Speak."
"It's your favorite broker speaking." Came the voice on the other end. "How is Japan's most feared Yakuza boss doin?"
"I don't have time for your jokes Giran."
"Always ever so serious," the broker sighed. "And to think people said you'd mellowed out after adopting a daughter. How's little Eri-chan doing? I heard she's head over heels for you."
He didn't react. There was no reason for such a reaction. "And where did you hear that?"
"Tut. Tut. Come on Chisaki. You know how this song and dance goess."
"Don't test me."
"Ooh! You gonna send Nemoto after me to make me spill my guts?" the broker laughed. "You know, your man's been making a hell of a reputation for himself. Know what they're calling him?"
"I don't care."
"Azrael," said the broker. "Means the Angel of Death. Funny, considering Nemoto doesn't even kill his victims, he just makes them spill their secrets. Though I suppose for those tight-lipped and cautious government and company types – spilling their guts out is pretty much guaranteeing their death."
"What do you want Giran?"
"Well, as it stands… some bastards are getting close on my tail. Time to switch things up. Get a different look."
That was news. "The Pro-Heroes are closing in on you?"
Giran's loud laugh almost made him irritated. "Hah! As if. The heroes are as oblivious as ever. Too self-righteous to ever do the deeds needed to get in touch with me. No, I'm talking about another group. A more… troublesome group. You should have heard of them. Their leader is Destro's son – he calls himself Re-Destro."
"Another group of the diseased. I know them. The Meta Liberation Army."
"As expected of the youngest Yakuza Boss in Japan. Always up to trend with potential contenders."
"What do they want with you?"
"What don't they want with me? I'm Giran. Once upon a time I'd brag about how I'm the underworld's greatest broker – but it's actually pretty annoying now that everyone knows it. I'm the dame at the ball in the short dress and everyone's eager to take my hand and dance."
He muttered softly underneath his breath. "Have you decided on the look?"
"A girl. Eighteen or so. She's a cute one too. Orphaned from hero parents, no real friends or family – zero records in the system, and a quirk that let's her enter people's dreams. She's perfect. Aren't you perfect, darling?"
He heard the sound of frantic whimpers and groans.
"Yeah. She's perfect. Plus, no one ever suspects cute girls. It's why that serial-killer chick manages to escape the law every time. I'd have gone for her, cause her quirk let's her transform into other people, but it needs blood to do that, and I'd rather not catch something from drinking people's blood. God only knows what kind of shit is inside Stain's system."
There was a pause. "Speaking of viruses –"
"No, Giran."
"Come on Chisaki! You were making a fortune! We were making a fortune!"
"Money isn't a concern of mine any longer."
"But you could always make more! The Americans loved your stuff! It's not like it costs you anything. Just grab a common pneumococcus bacterium, get a petri-dish of some obscure African virus, slap 'em together with your quirk and upgrade the lethality and viola! Instant bio-weapon! A hundred million dollars for a couple o' minutes of work."
"Giran… the more you speak, the less sure I am that I won't kill you when we meet."
"Fine – fine – no more creating extinction-level viruses. I get it. Now you're all about that Trigger drug and, of course, your magnum opus –"
Slowly, he rubbed his thumb and index finger down his nose. "Giran… I understand. You know my secrets. You have the means to leak them to the world. I'm not a fool. I don't have time for these games. Once you're ready for my services, call me."
"Tut-tut. That's so not fair Chisaki. You're making me out to be the bad guy here, dangling your juicy secrets in front of you." The Broker hummed. "To make things a bit fair, I'll give you some interesting information I picked up. Free of charge."
"What's the catch?"
"I like to call it a down-payment of good faith." Giran said. "Now, do you want to hear it or not?"
"…go on."
"I have reason to believe that the Symbol of Peace is on his last legs. A year, maybe, if he pushes it, two – and the kingdom of light will lose their King."
Chisaki stopped. His gaze landed on the stocked supermarket shelves, cold air wafting from the refrigerators stocking yoghurt and milk.
"Where did you get this info?"
"I am a man of great generosity, Chisaki – but if I went around telling people how I got my info, I'd be a rather shitty information broker. Anyway, if you don't believe me – you can always send your 'Angel of Death' to confirm. His Confession quirk is the ultimate lie detector. All you need to do is send him to corner Chiyo Shuzenji and ask the truth from her."
"Who?"
"An old woman. She's more commonly known as Recovery Girl."
"The Light's healer."
"Exactly. A national treasure. Of course, she's the only real healer the light have, so she's extremely well protected. About a dozen assassins try their luck to end her every month – but because the old bat lives at UA and the Demon Nezumi has marked that place as his kingdom… all who have tried have been caught and incarcerated. No one has broken into UA since its founding… but you're Kai Chisaki. If anyone could succeed, it just might be you."
"I have no interest in school children."
"Says the man who spends several hours every day in a dark room with a little girl strapped down."
"Giran…" Chisaki warned.
"Oh come on, where's your sense of humor? Ah, whatever. I've told you my piece."
"You're hiding something," said Chisaki. "You wouldn't tell me to send Nemoto after Recovery Girl if you didn't believe it was possible. You wouldn't suggest attacking UA either. Giran… what is your real intention?"
"… My sources tell me All Might will be taking a teaching job at UA in the coming year."
"And?"
"Taking a teaching job… just as his time in the sun is about to expire? Come on. Even Chinese martial art movies aren't that obvious."
"…he's in search of a successor?"
"We all know Endeavor can't be the Symbol of Peace. He's covered his tracks well, but all it'd take would be to point out why his wife is confined to a psychiatric ward to make his wax wings melt. Hawks is strong, but he doesn't have the same presence. Best Jeanist and Ryukyu aren't in the same punching class. So, that leaves finding someone young and moldable. A new player."
"I see. You've given a lot of thought to this. I'll ask again… what is your goal, Giran?"
"…tell me, Chisaki… do you watch Pro-Wrestling?"
"No."
"I do. I love it. The athletes are well-trained, and of course, I know they don't actually try to hurt each other, but the performances are still spectacular. Many hate it because they say it's fake. They miss the point. It never advertised itself as something real. The wrestlers are playing a role, they're characters, and the way they interact with the other wrestlers, the other characters – it's a beautiful performance. The ways a character can turn from face to heel or heel to face, or reach a famed 'Gold' status wherein they are never booed and always loved regardless of whatever they say or do… I love all of it."
"I assume there's a point, somewhere in there."
"The entire system of villains and heroes is just like Pro-Wrestling. But… it's real. The stakes are real. The consequences… real. Yet for the past several years… things have been at a stalemate. A boring, equilibrium. Rarely do we hear of villains turning into heroes, and far, far more rarely do we hear of heroes turning into villains. Then there is the most famed impossibility, a person who, is neither hero nor villain – yet, the masses arise as one, and they cheer. They chant, and celebrate whether this person kills dozens or saves people in a burning building – they cheer. A person whose existence is so controversial, so inexplicably unique that they are above the classifications of hero and villain… they are, unto their own right… a legend."
"Such a person can't exist."
"I know. That is why I will do everything in my power to make the next best thing."
"And that would be…?"
"You'll know it when you see it Chisaki. You'll understand, only when you see it.."
The famed Broker of the Underworld was a person who rarely shared his true goals with others. All knew that he was not after wealth, for the man was wealthy beyond reason. He was not after power, for the man had many chances to attain it, but turned it down. Yet, Chisaki could never have imagined, that the reason Giran chose to be Giran, was because of something like this.
He's diseased… just like the rest of them.
"Well, I've taken up far too much of your time already. You'll find me at Warehouse 9 in the Kamino Red Zone. It's been a pleasure as always."
The line went dead. Chisaki Kai scratched the bumps on the back of his hand.
Diseased. Just like everyone else.
| A Precise Note |
"You're fucked in the head, Izuku."
"It's just – just for a little while."
Katsuki Bakugo snarled. Explosions rocketed off his palms as the cool night breeze rushed in from the window. The idiot hanging from his window, looking like his puppy had been kicked a thousand times over, was easily the only person in the world who could have gotten him so riled up.
"No."
"Kacchan –"
"Go home Izuku." He said. "Don't be a fucking idiot. You think UA is gonna let a fucking runaway apply to their school? I don't give a shit about what problems you and your mom have – work it out."
"I can't." Izuku grit his teeth. "You – you don't understand Kacchan. I can't. I can't stand to look at her. All I see when I look at her… is those moments. Those moments when she looked at me… looked at me as if I had no hope. As if… as if –"
"It's fucking two am in the middle of the night Izuku." Katsuki Bakugo growled. "Deal. With. Your. Shit."
"I – I'm not going back there."
"So, what, you're just gonna leave your mom to hang and dry, wondering where the fuck you are?" Bakugo didn't have the patience for this. "What happened to all that bullshit about always being in someone's corner? Not letting anyone feel fucking alone? What, it only applies to strangers and not your own goddamned family?"
"It's… it's different."
"How the fuck is it different?"
"I could accept it from you, or from some stranger or from anyone else – from anyone else… but her… but… her…" Izuku's teeth grinded against each other. "And – and when I got my quirk, she tried to act as if all the years behind us hadn't happened. She was… so relieved… as if – as if she'd done something right. As if it made up for it."
"What the fuck are you on about?"
"It's like… you had no faith that your crippled child would ever accomplish his dreams because he was crippled. But – but one day a miracle happens and he can walk again! He can walk again! And all of a sudden – you expect him to just… throw his arms around you? Just like that? He's supposed to just… forget?"
Bakugo didn't have the words to say. He was tired. Sleepy. Irritable. At the same time, he knew, that Izuku was, annoyingly stubborn. Unlike him, Izuku's stubbornness wasn't apparent. It was a hidden facet of his personality. Once he made his mind on something, committed to something, believed something – it was difficult to force him to believe otherwise. Katsuki knew it well. Other people, after receiving the same words of discouragement and mockery would have quit, chosen a different dream. They wouldn't stubbornly cling to one goal or one ideal, to one desire, to shun every and all other possibilities in pursuit of one thing.
Who knows what would have happened if the boy had remained quirkless. Katsuki didn't want to think of the grim possibilities. Of what someone, with that complete desperation and desire for an impossible dream, would have done upon realizing that dream was out of their grasp.
"I just… I just need a place to stay for tonight. J-just… one night, and then – then I'll find my own place. I-I'll get myself in order."
"You don't have any fucking money."
"I'll raise money. My quirk… it's good for that. I'll… I'll think of something."
Katsuki Bakugo hated troublesome situations. He hated family drama. He was glad that his family was the way it was. His mother was blunt and to the point. His father was a softy, but the man couldn't tell a lie or hide a secret to save his life. Secrets and lies and having pent up thoughts that you never let out but just let it build up was the reason drama like this happened.
"One fucking night."
"That's all I need Kacchan."
"One night – and you and your mom deal with your shit."
"I can't –"
"If you can't even do that, then don't ever fucking talk to me about wanting to be a hero that saves 'everyone.' That'll just be you being a bullshitting hypocrite."
He didn't give the boy the chance to respond. Bakugo opened the window fully, turning around. "I'll get the spare futon. Make too much noise and you're dead."
"Thanks, Kacchan."
"Whatever."
"Meow."
Both boys turned as one, to the soft ruffling noises made from Izuku's backpack. The green-haired boy's eyes widened as he realized it. "Ah! Sir Kuro!"
Katsuki's brow twitched. "The cat?"
The black cat emerged from the bag, stretching its paws and feline body out. Katsuki could feel his irritation grow with each passing second. "Why the fuck is Shinigami in your bag?"
"I picked him up from the park… I forgot he was in there."
"So, what, I'm getting two fucking freeloaders for the price of one? I didn't ask for this shitty deal."
"Come on, Kacchan – Sir Kuro will be on his best behavior – he – he won't cause any trouble. Will you, Sir Kuro?"
"Meow."
Katsuki Bakugo found his brow twitching in further irritation. The damned blasted cat was somehow able to read the room stretching it's paws out in an attempt to act cute and innocent. Bakugo was no fool. He wasn't buying it for a second.
"If I wake up to find you in my bed – I'll murder you."
Izuku frowned. "I wouldn't –"
"I wasn't talking to you, Izuku."
"Meow."
"That's right. I'll fucking murder you."
| A Precise Note|
Midoriya Izuku couldn't sleep.
Each thought that came into his mind was preceded and followed by another one, each more turbulent than the last. He knew, Kacchan was right, to a rather large degree. UA was a school that did background checks on its students. If he wanted to pursue his goal of becoming a hero, of entering UA, he couldn't do it without some sort of parental seal of approval.
But… is entering UA the right choice?
Of course it is! This – this is my dream!
He could become a hero by entering UA, that was true. That was his goal, his dream, for the longest time. So why… does it now feel so…?
Perhaps, because, he now had other doors open. Other avenues he hadn't considered. Saiko herself told him, that he could become a Surgeon or an Inventor with his quirk. Using it to help people in smaller, but more significant ways. He could, perhaps, solve problems by inventing some sort of device that helped people who had troublesome quirks live easier with their troublesome quirks.
I can't be the only person to have thought about something like this… can I?
It felt farfetched. Impossible, to consider it. The possibility that no one else in the entire world had thought about trying to help people with troublesome quirks. Schools did guidance counselling on how students were supposed to use their quirks respectfully, and the government placed bans on using quirks in public/official areas, with hefty fines and jail time given to offenders.
The only institutions in the world that taught you how to properly control your quirk and provided you with gear and equipment to maximize the benefit of their quirks and reduce the drawbacks… were Hero Academies. Yet, Pro-Heroes were basically public-servants, and as public-servants, they were entrenched within the system, and could not save it. They could not change it, when they were a part of it.
His phone pinged, the bright light flashing in the darkness of Kacchan's room. Midoriya's eyes adjusted immediately, as he checked the phone to see a new message from an unknown number.
?: Hello, Midoriya-kun.
Midoriya: Umm… hello.
Midoriya: Sorry, who is this?
?: Tell me, Midoriya-kun… did you think about our discussion today?
Their… discussion? Izuku's nose crumpled. The only person he discussed with…
Midoriya: Intelli-san?
?: Saiko-san is fine, Midoriya-kun.
Heat rushed to Midoryia's face. He remembered, now, that she'd collected his phone number.
Saiko: Midoriya-kun, I'll be upfront with you. I believe you may be of great use to me.
Midoriya: Use…?
Midoriya frowned.
Midoriya: Are you talking about that Quirk Marriage offer?
Saiko: That is one way, but no, I'm referring to something else.
Saiko: I'm going to send you a book, Midoriya-kun. If you wouldn't mind, I want you to read it, and tell me what you think of it when you're done.
Saiko: [File: Meta_Liberation_War]
The book Saiko sent him was one that sounded familiar. The Meta Liberation War, an autobiography, by Chikara Yotsubashi. Izuku knew he'd heard the name before. He was not entirely certain as to where.
Midoriya: Alright. I'll read it.
Saiko: Excellent, Midoriya-kun.
Saiko: Also, Midoriya-kun, I think it's best, for now, if you were to try and reconcile with your mother.
Izuku's heart froze.
Saiko: Goodnight, Midoriya-kun.
Midoriya: How did you know?
He waited. Seconds. Minutes. The agonizing passage of time eventually settling it in his mind that Saiko wasn't going to give him a response. Midoriya's lips pressed tightly against each other as he stared at the phone in his hand. How did she know? That was uncanny. Disturbing, even.
Izuku wasn't willing to let it die. He wasn't willing for the matter to drop there. Swiftly entering into his browser, he immediately opened the search engine and typed in the name: Intelli Saiko.
"…four million results?"
Intelli Saiko – Quirkipedia, the Free Encyclopedia.
Intelli Corporation officially Merges with the Detnerat Company – BusinessInsider.
Intelligence Based Quirk Company Attempts to Re-kindle fervor for Space Exploration – ScienceToday.
Intelli Heiress crowned National Chess Champion at 6, sparks debate about banning Intelligence Quirk Users from official tournaments – FIDE-Official.
Izuku stared at the results, his eyes growing larger with each one. The girl had said she was a genius, but she had not mentioned anything about being famous. Izuku clicked on the first option that came up, directing himself to her biography on Quirkipedia.
S-should I…? He hesitated. Was it… wrong, to learn about Saiko from the internet like this? Wouldn't it be better, if he got to know her, for who she was, rather than what people said she was?
But… how did she know I had a fight with ka-san?
She was smart, and her Quirk doubled her intellect, but that didn't mean she was somehow all-knowing… did it? No – no, there had to be a simpler, more plausible explanation, than people's quirks somehow making them clairvoyant.
…But, there are people with clairvoyant quirks. All Might's former sidekick, Sir Nighteye… he has a quirk that lets him see into the future. Is it possible that Saiko's IQ Quirk can allow her something similar by boosting her IQ continuously? She never mentioned if it was possible to stack her Quirk and thus multiply her IQ by drinking different cups of tea, or several cups in a single sitting, and I can't know for sure what it's like to be someone with a four-digit IQ…
Izuku couldn't even begin to imagine what it would be like to be that smart. To have the correct answers to all the problems. To be able to form and conceive solutions to any challenge that came your way as easy as one-two-three.
He couldn't even figure out how Saiko managed to know what she did. He couldn't figure out a way to help Matsuda with his quirk. Couldn't figure out a solution for all the people, suffering because of the absence, or presence of an ability they did not choose. He couldn't even figure out, if his goal, the only thing he'd ever wanted to be since he was a child, was the right way to go about accomplishing his desires.
What was it worth to be a hero, when he could not save those who needed the most saving?
When ultimately, he would have to choose, to draw a line, pick a side, and rather than save the villains, he would grow satisfied with merely containing their damage, patting himself on the back as a hero, content with letting one person suffer as long as no one else suffered along with them?
"So, what, you're just gonna leave your mom to hang and dry, wondering where the fuck you are?"
Izuku felt a bitter taste in his mouth. Kacchan's words came reeling.
"If you can't even do that, then don't ever fucking talk to me about wanting to be a hero that saves 'everyone.' That'll just be you being a bullshitting hypocrite."
He ground his teeth against each other. Here he was, talking and thinking about saving the villains, about saving everyone… and… what had he done…? He – he couldn't even find it in himself to forgive his own mother for her mistakes. Was he supposed to expect the families and loved ones of those hurt by villains, to forgive a total stranger? Was he supposed, to find room in his heart to accept people for their flaws and support them in their aspirations, when he couldn't even do the same for his own flesh and blood?
Why?
Izuku grit his teeth.
Why am I… still so…
He had a quirk now. He had power, now. He wasn't the same. He shouldn't still feel like his goals were so far out of reach. Still feel so small. So weak. Feel as if he was still grasping at straws. As if he was still chasing something impossible to attain.
No. It's – it's not my quirk.
It wasn't his quirk that was the fault. His quirk was amazing. Had it landed in the hands of a doctor or a scientist – his quirk would be revolutionary. Yet, he couldn't see himself becoming a doctor or a scientist. There – that was the problem. He was the problem.
In the end, he wanted to be a hero – but he wanted to do it his way. His own selfish way – and that – that wasn't what a real hero did. The problem wasn't his quirk or his dream, it was him. He didn't have the right mindset, the right skillset, the right determination and confidence, the right ruthlessness and fervor to chase after his dream and make it reality. Most people were willing to do anything it took to turn their dreams into reality, but for him, while he'd been quirkless, all he'd done was mope, sit around, browse the net in desperation and convince himself that one way or another he'd still become a hero.
No more.
No, Midoriya Izuku decided. No more.
I need to be willing to do whatever it takes.
Midoriya Izuku closed his eyes. He wanted to be confident. He wanted to be smart. He wanted to stop having doubts and insecurities. He wanted… wanted to have a heart that could be big enough for everyone.
With a deep breath, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration. The Quirk called Precision was at the whim of its owner, and thus, to reshape an individual's personality, eliminate their doubt, allow for greater neuroplasticity – a lot of change was needed to be made to the sole organ in the world that controlled directly who and what a person was.
The knowledge of anatomy he'd been studying for the past several months were used. Midoriya Izuku channeled his quirk, feeling for it, and, like instructing a computer to perform a given task, he ordered it to perform changes unto his own form.
Hypothalamus, controlling maintenance functions and the endocrine system. Precise.
Medulla, controlling heartbeat and breathing. Precise.
Cerebellum, controlling voluntary movement and balance. Precise.
Amygdala, affecting emotions. Precise.
Hippocampus, affecting memory. Precise.
Whatever it takes.
