All scenes with only MHA characters will be written in English, for ease of reading, but the characters are actually speaking Japanese to each other.
"This sentence is in English, but shhh." This is for when the scene is from a Japanese character's POV and they don't understand English, or, if they understand some words, those are not underlined.
"Dialogue in Japanese that is getting translated in real-time." If all words are in bold, the English character can understand everything that is being spoken in Japanese.
If a scene is being translated the entire time, and there are no language issues anywhere in an entire scene because of a translation device, the scene will just be written as normal. But you know who speaks what. I believe in you.
The audio version of this chapter can be found by searching Weshney Portal Panic on Youtube.
Sorry it took so long, this chapter has been hell for me. It was like pulling teeth. I was hardly interested in any of the scenes.
But, I persevered! Took a week off, then had major health issues and HAD to take a week off, then took down a wall in my house the third week. Then more health issues coupled with coming down with a bad cold (can't record audio with a cold lol). But yeah. Writer's block combined with all those things to bring you this. XD
Triggger warning: This chapter has one description that sounds like it's referencing suicide, but I didn't mean it that way. However, I don't want to change it because I really liked the description. Sorry folks.
Shout outs this week:
CRUDEN, as always, thanks for the reviews! Yeah, I can see where Japanese wouldn't eat cheese. It was gross.
fandumo2468 for the chuckles you gave me and all the back and forth chats. Love how you comment on specific details and how you experienced them.
Death of Snipers, for the consistency correction. :D Also, thanks for saying it was a good fight scene. I struggle with them a lot, so it was really nice to hear.
thekingsfun, for the encouragement! Knowing you were interested before, and that your interest has only grown with each new chapter makes me really proud of myself.
anon thanks for the correction! Normally, you would be right. But in this specific instance I am referencing Toru's first name, which literally means persistent. It'd be like someone named Grace being "I'm a graceful person!"
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Thursday, September 13th
8:42 am
A brunet perched on an office chair, one white-gloved finger lightly tapping a walnut desk in thought. A scruff of faux fur sat across his slender shoulders, the lining of the hunter-green parka tickling his neck and giving the impression of a griffon vulture staring down its next meal. Because, for once, the man's golden eyes did not have the sharpness of a predator, but the keen intrigue of a scavenger.
The computer monitor in front of him was split down the middle, dominated by two largely different graphics. On the left was a paused CCTV recording, the corner timestamped 9/11/83 9:04 am. On the right was some kind of analysis, graphs and numbers interspersing a document.
Reaching over to click his computer mouse, the young head watched as the image unfroze and started to play.
A green woman barrelled across a mostly empty cafeteria, heaving her fists at a colorful law enforcer. The lady's bash missed her target, getting batted to the side and redirected to the floor. Her opponent's knee, however, did not miss. It jerked up as she fell and, with a sickening crunch, a viscous liquid splattered the linoleum.
Behind the battle, several civilians fled the room, ushered out by an armored figure.
The woman raised her arms and the local KFC started to rumble, spewing half-frozen chicken toward the fight.
A breeze kicked up, and a single, discarded napkin fluttered across the floor as if caught in the peripheral wind of the meat-nado. It tumbled through the jelly-like substance that coated the ground before sticking in place. Then, (with slightly more force than should have been possible) dislodged itself and danced away, a toxic green staining its surface.
Chisaki's smile rose unbidden, hidden behind a plain-black hospital mask.
Mimic always did do great work.
Thursday, September 13th
11:14 am
Try as she might, Lunch Lady couldn't stop thinking about yesterday. The encounter had left her a swirling, churning mess of emotions. She had lost! Tricked by that underhanded sack of rat droppings into an ambush. And that wasn't even the worst of it; he was starving his children.
There was that hoofed girl, the explosion brat, the two teens that had caught him….and who knows how many other students she'd missed during the battle.
Lunch Rush was an insult to the profession. She wouldn't put it past his cutting boards to carry salmonella.
She had to fix this.
Thursday, September 13th
11:14 am
Staring out the window of a bullet train, Aizawa watched the scenery pass without really seeing it. Brow perpetually furrowed and tired eyes burning, he attempted to use the glass as a pillow. Its soothing chill failed to lull him into anything more than a light doze, his thoughts vociferous as a crow at dawn, screaming down from high branches at a campsite.
Yesterday, at yet another faculty meeting, Nezu had informed Shota (in no uncertain terms and despite much protest) that the scraggy man had to keep his appointment at Detnerat today. The principal insisted the school couldn't take any more blows to its image. Stopping the attack yesterday had been a step in the right direction; but UA was a big-name school for a reason.
Putting its staff on loan for the good of the community was a part of its prestige.
The rodent was adamant, claiming that UA couldn't afford to be seen hoarding teachers on campus or copping out of a commitment made before the attacks started.
Aizawa disagreed. If anything, he was sure the public would take it as a sign that they weren't taking things seriously. Sending off a faculty member that consistently proved he would do everything in his power to protect the students seemed downright stupid.
But as much as the command rankled, he couldn't really fight it. His employment contract was explicit. All teachers had to give at least seventy-two hour notice to cancel or reschedule PR appointments.
Still.
It didn't mean he had to be happy about it.
Especially after what happened this morning.
He'd had to inform 1A that he'd be leaving shortly after homeroom and that Ectoplasm-sensei would be filling in for the rest of the day. Midoriya and Ojiro's expressions both shifted, sending Aizawa's heart into freefall. They didn't trade glances or anything. Hell, their faces hardly moved, but Shota knew something was up. He could almost taste it.
Any time one of his Problem Students™ was involved in anything, all you had to do was rearrange and cut a few letters before it spelled trouble.
Here's hoping he'd be there when shit hit the fan.
Thursday, September 13th
12:25 pm
Invisible and intangible, Lunch Lady floated twenty feet above a familiar, tan wall. Looking at the giant H-shaped building beyond, she mentally ran through a plan.
She had a mission. An important one.
It was somewhat harsh and involved a power she'd normally never use; but that evil bus-boy had it coming.
She couldn't whisk the students away from the school. The ghost wasn't strong enough to fend off all the strangely powerful humans and force feed a ton of kids. So, for once, she was going to play things smart.
If she got Lunch Rush fired, then someone else would have to take his place.
An unrelated morsel of guilt unfurled in her midsection, momentarily overcoming the rage and anxiety.
She just had to make a quick stop first.
Thursday, September 13th
12:32 pm
The room was rather plain, the remnants of a trigonometry equation left half-solved on the electronic board at its front. Class 1A shuffled in and out of their seats in preparation for a now in-room lunch period.
In the corner squeezed a table, UA's second-year math teacher tucked neatly into its side. The imposing blue man dwarfed the furniture, yet withdrew only a small box from one of its drawers. Picking through the meal with all the care of an eighteenth century doweress, the man covered his mouth to suppress a small hiccup. Light mist puffing between his fingers, he reached toward a little rice cat with Ladybug chopsticks.
Frowning at the pro hero's daintiness, Katsuki Bakugo snapped closed one of the kelly-green cubbies lining the side of the room and returned to his desk. Aggressively scooting his chair back and dropping down into it, the explosive male glared down at his own bento as it clanked hard against the tabletop.
It was too bad the seat had wheels, the screech of metal legs across a hard floor was therapeutic in a way he couldn't describe.
Bakugo pulled at a slip knot, the fabric surrounding his meal dropping away with little effort. It wasn't long before a clatter sounded next to him and his best friend—not that he'd ever tell the redhead that—sat nearby.
"Oi, Bakugo. Do you think you could help me with homework tonight?" Kirishima asked, hands up and pressed together in a begging pose, one eye peeking up in embarrassment. "I didn't really get how to find the volume of a sphere."
"Jeeze, Shitty-hair, you're helpless." Secretly, Katsuki was pleased. It'd let him spend time with his friend and give him a chance to show off. He needed something to keep his mind off everything. Last night had been…bad.
"You'd be failing math by now if it wasn't for me. All you gotta do is plug some numbers into the equation and it spits out an answer. What are you gonna do when we get to algebra, huh?" he antagonized.
"I knoooow," the other hero-in-training whined. "But at least I shouldn't need to know too much of this stuff when we graduate, right?" Kirishima added hopefully.
"Maybe not for the work you'll be doing." Katsuki jeered, ignoring a yelped "HEY!" "But I'm going to surpass All Might. Battle strategies and rescue operations require quick calculations; I have to be ready for anything." With a cocky grin, he added, "Just let me use you as a training dummy later and I'll help you pass."
Rather than groaning, Kirishima lit up, pounding a fist on the desk. "All right! Thanks, Man!"
Bakugo's smile got just a little more feral and he twisted around to shake on it.
Swinging back toward the front of the room after the testosterone-induced hand clap, Bakugo's instincts suddenly itched. Then a different sense told him something had changed. The air was sweet. Too sweet.
Yanking his desk drawer open and peering inside, Bakugo's expression turned ugly.
Literally and figuratively exploding out of his chair and past several desks, the blonde shoved the room's third-story window open and blasted out into the sky.
Thursday, September 13th
12:32 pm
Katsuki had been too short-fused and hyper-focused on self improvement to hang with Kirishima lately; and it was taking an obvious shotgun to the face on the other boy's mental health. Eijiro needed to have a talk with his friend ASAP, but knew nothing short of ol' reliable was gonna strong-arm the genius into spending time with him after school.
So with minor chagrin, Kirishima pulled the "I'm too stupid to figure this out; help me, Sempai," trick, fully intending to drag the ticking-time-bomb teen from of the churning depths of his own mind.
As smart as Katsuki was, sometimes he could be kind of dumb. He always took the bait.
Only this time, after the hothead had already swallowed the hook, line and sinker, something spooked the boy and he booked it.
Talk about emotional whiplash. Kirishima had been doing so well, too.
Now he watched with widened eyes as Ojiro sprang after Bakugo, darting through the window a split second later.
Seats rolled and nearly toppled across the classroom as his peers started to stand, but Kirishima was already running, catching Uraraka's gaze just as a dense, white fog started to spill from Sensei's mouth.
When both of Uraraka's hands shot out, Kirishima realized he wasn't the only one who'd caught his classmate's eye. A pink hand clapped the zero-gravity girl's outstretched fingers just as Eijiro's did.
Almost in tandem, Kirishima and Ashido launched from the window, jetting toward both the ground and the sound of explosions in the distance.
Thursday, September 13th
12:34 pm
Damn. How could have he missed that?
Granted, Shoto'd been spacing out a little (thinking about a text Fuyumi had sent him earlier); but his classmates were worlds ahead of him in reaction time. They'd made it out the window before Ectoplasm-sensei could shout even a single threat of expulsion.
He had to suppress an overwhelming urge to call "saaaaafffffeee" like he was at a baseball game.
Okay, minor urge.
Fleeting thought…
Whatever.
Maybe one day he'd be more expressive. Outlandish outbursts were more Mina or Kaminari's style.
Crap. He'd spaced out again!
Trading glances with one ultra-stressed-out Midoriya, Shoto forced his eyes back to the ectoplasmic clones that blocked all the exits.
Nobody else would be getting out; but that didn't mean he shouldn't check and see what had set Bakugo off. Crossing the room like he was the eye of a particularly noisy hurricane, Todoroki approached Bakugo's seat.
Midoriya got there two steps before him, quick to open the desk's drawer.
As one, their eyes landed on an artfully decorated cake.
Uhm. Okay?
Todoroki glanced up and spotted a look of horror on Midoriya's face.
Did Bakugo hate sweets or something? But why would Ojiro and Ashido go after him?
Forcing himself to read the English letters frosting the top, the icy-hot boy accidentally dropped the room's temperature.
Sorry I hit so hard, Dearie.
Heal up well,
-Lunch Lady
Oh.
Ohhhh.
Thursday, September 13th
12:36 pm
Mina Ashido wasn't losing another friend. She took care of her friends and Ojiro was in the headspace to do something reckless.
Glancing over at Kirishima as he ran next to her acid slick, the pink girl saw an expression on the boy's face that she knew mirrored her own.
Agitated yelling replaced the firework pops they followed, catching Mina's attention and drawing the girl's gaze forward as she slid into a well-manicured field. Cutting off her corrosive secretions—no reason to get yelled at for burning the grass on top of ditching safety protocols—the pinkette watched as Katsuki dropped from the air, landing directly in Mashirao's path and forcing the younger blonde to sidestep.
Ojiro stumbled, one of his indoor slippers falling off his foot and the other getting absolutely covered in grass stains.
Grabbing Mashirao by the front of the shirt before the tailed teen could find his footing, Bakugo pulled him in close and growled something in his face.
Kirishima and Mina put on a burst of speed, lunging at their respective charges and pulling them apart like rambunctious toddlers.
"Guys, what the heck?! Ectoplasm-sensei's gonna have our heads when we get back!" Mina yelled.
"Shut it, Racoon-eyes! Piss off back to the classroom if you're so worried about getting in trouble!" the fiery teen spit, tossing off Kirishima's arms with a violent shrug.
Ignoring the comment, Mina asked, "Why are we even here? What was that?"
Ojiro glared at Ashido, catching the acidic girl off guard. Mashirao-kun was always sweet.
Ignoring Mina's question, Bakugo huffed, "Help us find the green bitch or leave!", now more focused on scanning the far trees than arguing.
Kirishima automatically parroted, "...green bitch?" before his brain seemed to catch up and his eyes widened, mouth dropping into an "O".
"She's here. The villain that attacked yesterday," Ojiro clarified with grit teeth. "We have to catch her."
Mina felt her stomach sink.
Before she could ask how exactly they planned to do that, a hero on the far side of the field started to approach the group. The woman's costume was streamlined, the main portion of the fabric a dark green, accented with black. On her head was a set of goggles that looked like they belonged in either a spy show or the military.
The adult only got about a third of the way to them when three things happened at once. The security sirens burst to life; the hero's walkie-talkie crackled; and Bakugo shot off in the direction of the cafeteria, Ojiro and Kirishima fast on his heels.
"UGH!" Mina exclaimed, rushing to catch up with the boys as they darted into one of the many wooded pockets that segregated the campus.
Small branches raked across the bubbly mutant's skin and she found herself envious of her friends' quirks. Bakugo's jet propulsion let him skip the trees entirely, Ojiro was in his element, swinging between them like a monkey and Kirishima didn't get so much as a scratch from their foliage.
Bursting through a row of bushes and back into a well-groomed area, Mina heard a rustle. The pinkette dropped into a defensive stance and turned her body toward the sound. Three meters away, the special-ops lady jumped over the tea hedge, clearing it in a single bound and dead-sprinting toward the cafeteria.
Eyes wrenching back toward her friends, Mina was surprised to find the three had almost made it to the building's closest side.
The entrance was around the corner. What were they—?
Katsuki's flight suddenly veered down and to the right, bee-lining toward a broken window.
It made sense, the frame was only taped closed with a single sheet of flimsy plastic.
But what about the other two?
"I got it!" Eijiro yelled a second later.
Mashirao slowed just enough for the redhead to rush past him, rocky body aiming a punch at a lower pane of glass.
The blow never connected.
All the windows in the building exploded as one and Ashido felt a rush of heat bombard her face, even from back here. Panicked, she watched as Kirishima took the brunt of the glass shower for Ojiro, shielding the slightly smaller boy while Bakugo tightly gripped the windowless frame above, jagged pieces flying away from him like translucent shrapnel.
It was a case of sheer, dumb luck that they didn't get impaled.
Mina had only a second of relief before she noticed the spy-like woman lying on the ground, a nasty gash pooling blood around the pro hero's thigh.
And as soon as her brain made sense of that, a cloud of pink creatures poured from the now glass-free building, swarming in and out of the newly made holes like erratic, angry wasps.
Shrimp.
Flying, humming, reanimated shrimp were protecting the cafeteria like a nest.
"I CURSE YOUR FOOD TO TASTE FOREVER OF ASH!"
This was soooo not good.
Thursday, September 13th
12:38 pm
Aizawa walked through the sliding glass doors of a skyscraper, the warm air of the lobby chasing away the lingering chill from outside.
He was just starting toward the front desk when a spritely ginger broke off a conversation with one of the staff and bounded across the room, positively beaming. "Oh, you made it! Just in time, too!"
The guy was roughly Aizawa's age, but "felt" much younger. It was obvious that the kid had never been forced to make a tough decision in his life.
Even under normal circumstances, Aizawa would have found the man's bright hair and matching energy irritating, but today, it was all he could do to bite back an insult. "Yes. Being late is inefficient. As is small talk." The scraggy man gave the other male a pointed look.
"R-right! Please follow me." Rubbing his neck with a slight blush, the bespectacled guy quickly spun on his heel, lab coat billowing slightly as he trekked back the way he'd come. Motioning toward himself with a nitrile-gloved hand, he explained, "You don't have to sign in at the front desk, but we will need to run a few tests to make sure you aren't an imposter. Standard protocol and all that. My name's Hiroki Mori, by the way."
Aizawa frowned. Tests to prove he was legitimate? What a waste of time.
Instead of voicing the thought, the teacher responded, "Shota Aizawa."
"Well, I should hope that's your name, otherwise we'd have a problem." Laughing, the ginger badged them through a door.
Rather than empty into a hallway it let out into a large chamber with a vaguely medical feel. Various platforms populated the floor, each no more than a shaku in height. Most of the decor was white and one of the devices even looked like a doctor's scale.
"If you'd stand here first, please. I'm just going to take a quick energy analysis." Aizawa shuffled onto the indicated spot and the scientist pushed a lime-green button on the adjacent wall. "Then we'll move on to a DNA test, fingerprint scan and of course a boilerplate non-disclosure agreement for your work here today."
Aizawa went through the motions, not even grimacing when Mori-kun accidentally scraped his skin a little harder than necessary to obtain a sample. It wasn't like indicating pain would do anything except make the man apologize, which would just take longer. Exactly what he did not want to happen. He'd already held his tongue about having to go through security for the same reason.
So he sighed, readying his eyedrops when Mori-kun put in his final request, "Now I just need you to cancel my quirk and we're set!"
"Flexing" his eyes like he was going to unfocus them, Aizawa watched as an orange power evaporated like liquid fire off Mori-kun's palm. As the final embers flickered and died, Shota's long hair settled back onto his shoulders and his abused sclera cried out with tears of discomfort.
"Perfect! Now if you'll follow me again, we can head over to the lab. Ono-san, Nishida-san and Shirai-san are already waiting for us."
"They're the volunteers?"
"Oh! Yes, sorry! I've been in contact with everyone for several weeks through email. I keep forgetting that I'm the only one who knows everyone else. I actually forgot to introdu—" Mori paused his walk, catching Aizawa's agitated look out of the corner of his eye. With a not-so-subtle cough, the ginger opened a door and gestured the dour male through. "It's just down this next hall."
"But yeah, they're the volunteers. We specifically chose low-risk quirks to start. If anything gets out of hand, we should be fine." They entered a small decompression chamber, the final door opening with a hiss as Aizawa's ears popped.
A sterile, white room lay before them, looking like it belonged in an insane asylum. The walls were cushioned and everything appeared heavily regulated, judging by the digital display up in the corner. Temperature, oxygen, carbon dioxide, and humidity levels were just some of the stats across its screen.
Only a single person sat cross-legged in the center of the space, the other two volunteers apparently missing.
Aizawa would bet Shirai-san and Nishida-san were in separate areas. It's what he would do. It'd give Detnerat more control over the experiment and minimize the number of people in the line of fire if things went south.
The elderly woman waved, offering Aizawa a kindly smile which emphasized a prominent set of crow's feet. Next to her seated form was approximately five pounds of river rock and a small, pyramid-looking gadget.
"This is Ono-san. Her quirk allows her to change anything she touches with all five fingers into a rabbit."
"In your emails you said we were here to test unstable quirks. How exactly is this one low-risk? If the rabbit comes part-way to life and she loses control, it could die." Aizawa glared at Mori-kun, mind instantly going to Nezu.
Atrocities committed for the "greater good" were unfortunately something an underground hero saw a lot of; and Shota wasn't about to let this slide.
"Oh, no-no-no!" The obaa-san spoke up, "You have it all wrong, Kiddo! I can't create life. All these little rocks will just turn into figurines. Only another animal would turn into a real rabbit." At the dark man's semi-skeptical look, she tacked on, "Even plants get confused and just end up looking like topiary."
Aizawa finally relaxed a hair.
"We aren't here to create more suffering, we're trying to ease it," Mori defended, giving his questioner a sharp look.
It was the first negative emotion Shota'd seen from the scientist.
"Ono-san has had problems controlling her quirk for a long time. She wears finger covers constantly, afraid she might hurt someone." One nitrile glove gestured toward its twin's fingertips, then over at the wizened woman. It was becoming obvious that Mori spoke with his hands more than most.
"Yes, there were other applicants with better suited quirks;" he went on, "but, this may be her only chance to ever use this machine." The ginger crossed his arms and stole a glance sideways, drawing Aizawa's gaze more closely to the grandma's sunken eyes and prolific wrinkles. "Who knows how long it'll be until it's market ready, if it even makes it that far."
Before Aizawa could mention biased trial selection, Ono spoke up, "I was thrilled when I got the call from Hiroki-san." A fragile hand lifted to the light and the woman's bare fingers shook lightly. "I'd love to hold—truly hold—my granddaughters at least once before I die. And if not, I'd like to make the world a better place on my way out."
A tremor.
Shota should have noticed that earlier. Annoyance and exhaustion must have compromised his normally keen eye.
Gaze narrowing, he said nothing, dragging his focus back to the room's other inhabitant.
"See?! This work is very important! We're out to help people just like Ono-san all across the world." Mori cast a glance toward the obaa-san and noded resolutely. "We've still got a long way to go; but can you imagine? Everyone able to control their quirks? Using them to their fullest and without fear?!" The words ended on an enthusiastic note, the scientist throwing his hands skyward.
A vague unease tickled Aizawa's neck hairs. Mori's eyes seemed a little too bright, the delivery of his words just a tiny bit…off.
"How long have you been working on it? Is it safe?" NDA or not, Shota would report Detnerat to the Industrial Safety and Health Association if things sounded shady.
Mori stiffened slightly at Aizawa's tone, then, with a breath, the tension eased from his back. Ignoring the blunt, implied-accusation, he explained, "I've been working on the schematics for years, but didn't get to build the first prototype until five weeks ago." Stiff inflection giving way to a chuckle, he admitted, "I can't even tell you how many hours of virtual simulations I've logged."
The first prototype was built only five weeks ago?
Seeing his guest darken instead of lighten as expected, Mori winced slightly, but continued, "It took about three weeks and fifteen iterations to get the prototype running. Then we tested the machine's outputs extensively. As far as we know, there shouldn't be any side effects like radiation poisoning. We can't speak to quirk-based ones, however; not without live test subjects."
So only two weeks of analysis from the first working device to human trials? Way too risky. Aizawa's hate of animal testing aside, there was a reason companies started with it. Detnerat couldn't take that route, as most animals didn't have quirks, but they shouldn't be jumping in so fast. Shota opened his mouth, face sour.
"And that's why me and my cohorts were brought in. Us terminal volunteers are ready to get this party started!" Ono's words once again clipped Aizawa's budding protest.
Hn.
Morbid. But highly practical.
"We even made sure to install the amplifier on Sunday because we wanted to run a lot of additional safety checks before today." Mori's pleading look had Aizawa sighing.
Fine.
Good enough. For now.
Eager to get this over with, the shaggy man asked, "So how is this going to work? You just want me to stop Ono-san's quirk if it starts to act up?"
Beaming at the sudden change of tune, Mori answered, "Well, yes and no. The machine is actually powered by my quirk, Volatilis." At this, the ginger bent down next to Ono and rapped a knuckle against the side of the prototype. "It's an energy quirk that likes to alternate between a gas and a liquid."
"We'd use something else, but it seems to be about the only thing the machine will run on, and the fluctuation only affects output strength. We're actually working on creating a synthetic version and trying to stabilize it with—" Catching his errant ramble, Mori finished sheepishly, "You should be able to shut the device off with a look if things get out of hand."
"Let's hope I don't have to." Shota commented, pinning Mori with a stare before dousing the fire of his eyes in artificial tears.
-Cut from beginning of Kirishima POV scene-
Bakugo had been in a downward spiral ever since Hagakure'd been kidnapped. And as his best friend, it fell to Kirishima to do something about it. The hardening hero had already spent most of last year cracking Katsuki's shell, slowly learning what made the other boy's bomb tick and talking the stressed teen through many an internal struggle.
Some of those talks may have been under threat of death; but hey, when your friend could slip into a coma if he was ever too calm, what could you do?
-Cut Detnerat Testing-
"Enough chit-chat, boys; let's start 'er up! My sciatic can only handle sitting in place for so long," Ono called, shifting to the side and readjusting her pelvis.
"Right, sorry Ono-san! Just give us a second to get to the viewing room!" Mori's pace was quick as he trotted away, shoulders hunched and eyes glaring at the floor.
At least the kid cared about his volunteers.
Aizawa followed the flushed male through a thick door, up some steps and around a corner. Cramming into a small room behind the scientist, the hero glanced at Ono-san through a reinforced window before shifting his gaze down. It felt a lot like one of the few times he'd had to ride shotgun in an aircraft cockpit for work. Several monitors, various instrument readouts and a whole slew of buttons surrounded them.
Mori's green eyes flicked back to check if Aizawa was watching (he was) before the male awkwardly double-clicked a file labeled "pieceOfShit. exe".
Knowing his fair share of programmers, Aizawa didn't comment, but did raise a brow, just to watch the kid squirm.
The red-faced ginger leaned over and cleared his throat, holding down a button and speaking into a microphone. Near simultaneously, his voice echoed in the room below, "Okay, I have the recording equipment running and I'm going to start the machine."
Shota slouched, still exhausted, but redirected his focus to Ono as the device hummed to life.
"The first test is only ten seconds. We will have a minimum of one minute breaks between and gradually increase by ten seconds each time." As the explanation finished the machine shut off, the first round already over.
"How are you feeling, Ono-san?" The loudspeaker called.
"Just fine. Nothing seems off to me. No pain."
"Good. And your vitals look great as well!" Mori's voice was back to chipper. "Now this next time, I'd like you to try and use your quirk. See if you can't morph one of the rocks. Then let me know if it seemed easier or harder than you remember. And make sure to let me know if you feel even the slightest discomfort."
"Besides my back?"
A muffled laugh, then, "Yes, besides your back." Turning in his swivel chair, Mori typed something out in a notes document. "Although I'll record your back pain as well. Just to be thorough."
It wasn't long before Ono picked up one of the river rocks and the machine revved to life again.
Aizawa could only just see the smooth stone shiver from his and Mori's vantage point, taking on a frosting-like consistency as it began to move in jolty, creeping waves. By the time the elder put it down, the twenty second round was ending and a tiny, granite rabbit wiped at its face with frozen paws.
"It was hard…" the shaky words trickled out. "And my control slipped a few times."
Mori's lips thinned and he tapped something into the notes document.
"But I did it."
Eyes halfway filled with disbelief, Ono stared up at the viewing room. "It's been ten years since the diagnosis." Tearing up, she added, "Ten years since my last bunny."
Chapter Notes:
-"I'm so close, I can almost taste it." Cue Aizawa aggressively licking a spongebob popsicle
-Problem Students
Troblem Spudents. Change the "t" for "P"
Troublem Spdents. Move the "u"
Trouble. Cut the rest.
Three easy steps to get from Problem Students to Trouble.
-bento means lunchbox
-my headcannon is that Kirishima subtly manipulates Bakugo for some stuff (with good intentions), and isn't quite as dumb as he acts. Yes, I made him use the trope for snaring tsunderes. hahaha
-The broken window was from the fight the day before, when LL threw the tray and it hit the glass.
-Five points will be awarded to each of you for sheer, dumb luck. -prof McGonagall
-a shaku is a unit of measurement that is 30.3 cm and was originally based on the space between the tip of your thumb and forefinger when they are fully spread apart
-obaa-san means grandma or old lady
-volatilis means to fly, fleeting, transient and volatile. It seemed fitting for an energy quirk that could be a gas or liquid.
-Japan Industrial Health and Safety Association is the actual Japanese equivalent to OSHA here in the states.
-Katsuki dying if he isn't under enough stress is a fan theory I subscribe to. XD
"Bakugou's anger and constant adrenaline is his body's way of dealing with his quirk and keeping him alive. Because nitroglycerin can lower a person's heart rate dramatically, so if he's not constantly stressed he would literally pass out." is the theory.
-piece of shit is a phrase near and dear to my heart because my dad says it all the time when he's frustrated and working on something that almost always doesn't work because he's the problem. I love him so much.