A/N: Well, bit of a longer note to start this (the longest) chapter this time. Bear with me, it needs it.
Firstly, I have to acknowledge it here- holy shit, we hit 1000 favourites. One, thousand. We have 1200 followers in any event, but good god we hit the jackpot. From the bottom of my heart to all of you who have come along for the ride, thank you so much. I shall do my very best to keep up the work for you and hope you all enjoy what's to come.
Secondly, I said last week I would do shout-outs to two people per chapter, and this chapter actually gets three shout-outs to people who gave me some incredibly generous gifts in the last two weeks. The first is CannibalisticApple, to the surprise of none who have read her work and to the surprise of none who have already seen me shout out Apple's fic Ignite to the Call as an inspiration. Apple was kind enough to give me an Incident Zero channel on her Discord, which feels amazing and I absolutely love having somewhere to call home and talk about this fic. If you want to join the Discord and come chat please do- the code for the next six days, until 25 March, is vzdBHCPq . If you want to join after the, PM me- the more the merrier, and thank you so much Apple!
The second shout-out goes to someone who rather generously gave me something I always aspired to when I started writing, and that someone is CocoaNerd. Cocoa is kind of a king when it comes to creativity and ficprompts, and co-writes Aftershock with Apple, a fic which all should check out on Apple's profile. However, Cocoa decided to go beyond this week and made this fic a TV Tropes page. I always hoped I would one day get one, and so for granting that authorly wish I owe Cocoa a lot of thanks. Rest assured, despite commenting that I would retire when I got a TV Tropes page, I'm going nowhere- you ain't seen nothing yet.
The third and final goes to Cottonmouth25, who I talk to a lot over this fandom, the Pokemon fandom which we both dip our toe in and out of, and general shenanigans- Cotton is responsible for inspiring my Eri oneshot and is a killer writer. Cotton has also written a one-shot which is his debut in the MHA fandom, Godzillo Raids Again, which is frankly hilarious in how it deals with a movie-exclusive Pro Hero who needs more love. Go send Cotton and that fic some love, yo, and thanks to Cotton for all his support and for being such good company so far.
Anyway, Bakugo seemed to go down well last chapter! But someone else cropped up and rather than go back to Izuku, I'd like to carry that on here, and bring back someone we haven't seen for a while too. I hope you enjoy!
(***)
"So, let me get this straight." Kyoka kicked at an empty beer bottle which had fallen from the dumpster in the alleyway, and took some satisfaction at the melody of empty glass as it skidded away towards the main road. "You met dad back when he was still in his band, playing small sets in the underground scene and dive bars. In one of those bars, you and Dad both met a guy who turned out to be able to get Dad's band a slot wherever they wanted to play, as well as loads of new kit that was probably stolen from somewhere-"
"In my defence, I never knew where it actually came from at the time."
"... Right." Kyoka blinked, and as her mother whistled innocently, turned to look at the seedy bar which they were stood outside, tucked into an alleyway in the back streets of Tokyo and doing its best to be ignored by the rest of the world. "And then, when the band broke up and you two went off to have me, you still kept in touch with the shady guy you met in a bar-"
"Well, of course. Raising a kid is expensive, Kyoka. If we wanted to get your father a comeback later on, I wasn't going to turn my nose up at cheap gear-"
"No, I get that. I just..." Kyoka stared at the posters on the wall, advertising some underground cage fight that sounded totally punk rock and totally terrifying at the same time, and shook her head. "I wasn't expecting this when you said he might be able to help."
"Hey, I just reached out on a whim." Mika shrugged, one of her Earphone Jacks tapping against her collarbone as if fidgeting. "I'm not gonna complain if he's cornered half the black market after Incident Zero. That's good equipment for my baby girl to keep herself safe, so count me in."
"Yeah but there's black market, and then there's..." Kyoka gestured at the whole building in front of her, the faded posters, the cracked brickwork, the blacked out windows. "Black market. Like, death metal black. Welcome to the Black Parade black. Am I going to get murdered if I walk through the damn door, sorta black."
"Oh bless you, Kyoka, you're so young and concerned sometimes. Your father and I went to gigs in much rougher places than this in our heyday." Mika strode forward towards the door, and turned to look at her daughter. "You coming, or what?"
"... Sure. Not like my day can get any weirder than it already has."
Kyoka Jiro had never meant anything more in her life.
When Kyoka had made the decision that in a world where the bad guys seemed to be around every corner and the government didn't want to help the little man, she wanted to go rogue as a vigilante and try to right a few wrongs, she would have been lying if she said she expected it to go quite like this. The theory had been simple, as she discussed it with her mother between takes in the recording studio; wear a mask to disguise her face, hide her Earphone Jacks by running them down the sleeve of her hoodie so they didn't blow her cover, stick to small jobs and slip under the radar while publicly advocating change in the system. It sounded like the punk rock dream for a young girl angry at the world and wanting to do whatever she could to change it.
What Kyoka had realised very early on was that dreams often didn't contain enough of a grounding in reality to go exactly as planned. She had been able to use her Earphone Jacks before to channel vibrations from her heart through the speaker of her phone, turning it into a temporary weapon- this had filled her with hope until she realised how impractical it would be to carry around a speaker all the time, robbing her of the ability to hold onto anything. After a few days of playing around and cannibalising her old portable speakers, she had enough to mount them on the back of her hands using gloves, a miniature gauntlet- Kyoka had been really impressed with her improvisation, notwithstanding the numerous times she gave herself an electric shock trying to get them to work. Now she had a weapon to defend herself and go after the bad guys.
That had been absolutely fine, until she actually encountered a bad guy and realised just how out of her depth she had been. She had tried to be careful, picking a fight she thought she could win and one where she could get in and out quickly. The news of a trio of robbers doing the rounds in Musutafu had caught her eye easily, after hearing all about the Tatooin Station incident on the news before- the city wasn't far on the outskirts of Tokyo, a simple ride to travel from the recording studio and do some stakeouts.
On arrival, it seemed the trio had been split apart. Two were holed up in a bar with hostages, and Kyoka had seen Heroes and Police begin to arrive from the distance; given the need for discretion, it had been simple and preferable for her to leave that situation be, and not expose her identity. But the ringleader, on the other hand, some guy with brick-like skin? He had ran from the scene and right into her path! That was all the opening she needed, the first time she could make a difference and take someone bad off the streets!
Kyoka thought all of these things, until the second she threw a punch that bounced off him like a drumstick off a cymbal, and hurt like a bitch.
Only at that point did she realise how completely unprepared she had been. The guy was huge, with skin that didn't look like it would crack if someone dropped one of her band's subwoofers on him, and clearly had the experience of a successful career in crime to go with him. The only reason he hadn't immediately bodied her, she reasoned afterwards in the car, was the surprise of being attacked by a skinny fifteen year old in a mask that gave her such shit visibility (and made her breathing ten times louder) it was a wonder she had even landed a punch. The golem man had laughed at her, snarled, raised two chunky fists to the heavens as if to smash her brains out, and all she could do in a panic was loose off the biggest sonic wave she could from her Jacks. Talk about a killer riff.
The soundwave in an otherwise-still alleyway had done exactly what she had been trying to avoid; alert every asshole in a several-block radius where she had been. That included, to her horror, the Pro Hero Death Arms, who had apparently been sent by the Hero Commission to deal with the same mess she had decided to interfere with. A bad debut had nearly gotten even worse, as Kyoka had panicked and tried to flee a Top 50 Pro who would have thrown her ass in jail the second he laid hands on her, a Pro who apparently summoned a nearby Hero to help him. She wasn't quite ready to kiss her music career goodbye and say hello to the inside of a cell in Tartarus, not if she could help it, but the second she ran into a dead-end she had expected the worst, hearing the loud crashing behind her of the guy on her tail as he arrived...
Katsuki Bakugo had been a surprise entirely.
Kyoka kept up with the news more than anything else, around her busy schedule, even before she started trying to scout out villains; the saying 'art imitates life' was one she knew, and one she lived by. Good music could capture the mood of the moment, and good punk music resonated with people because they could feel what they were living and relate to it, so she studied the headlines and learned what struck a chord. Kyoka knew more than enough about the system, and the major players in the world, and so the news Endeavor had taken the Tatooin Station boy as an apprentice had reached her long before he blew up on TV at the media and the Hero Commission.
His pride and his anger were palpable, his rudeness on another level. Kyoka hadn't wanted to like it, because it screamed of all the negative traits she saw throughout the current Hero system, the ones which had spurred her into taking action. There was something about him though, the defiant raging against the dying of their system, which hit the right note with her; it was punk at its most feral, no message of hope but a call to arms nonetheless. And then she had met him.
Safe to say she had not expected him to find her an escape route, no matter how much he hated the system of the Commission- not handing her in would cause him trouble, but he just seemed not to care. She hadn't expected him to lay down some home truths with her, to see right through her and how ill-equipped she had been for the whole vigilante side-gig, and as much as part of her had wanted to bite back and defend herself... he had a point. She hadn't got any form of self-defence or fighting technique to fall back on, she hadn't done her homework to think of contingencies, and she didn't have the gear to keep up or compensate. She had been lucky he had helped her, and seemed to take a shine to her.
He had given her a lot to think about. She would definitely try and extend that invite to him for a studio visit as soon as she could. Didn't make it any less weird that he had been so helpful, but still.
Now, though, she had this weirdness to deal with. She had told her mom exactly what had happened in the back of the car, as she rubbed an ice pack over her bruised knuckles, and to her amazement her mom's response was to declare that she knew 'just the guy' to help. They couldn't fix the lack of fighting practice right away- she would need sparring lessons before then- but her lack of gear was seemingly something Mika had in hand, to her great surprise. And so, after one sore car journey back into Tokyo, here they were. A bar, and a substantial risk of getting mugged or contracting diseases if she stayed outside in the alleyway any longer.
Maybe even both.
Sure, her parents had been pretty wild back in their younger days, but she didn't know they had played in places like this grimy bar, and she certainly didn't know that her parents had kept in regular contact with shady types from the underworld; Mika's response to her explaining the history had left her with far more questions than answers. Those would have to wait, going on the look on her mom's face as she strode through the door- Kyoka would just have to keep up and pray they weren't in too deep for now.
As Kyoka followed her mom through the door, rolling her eyes at the little bell that tinkled above the door, the bartender looked up, third eye blinking twice at the sight. They probably looked weird- mother and daughter so alike with their Earphone Jacks, Kyoka clutching an ice pack to her knuckles. "Well. Not often, I gotta say, that I get a famous face in here."
"Not often you get anyone in here, looking how quiet it is," Kyoka snarked, trying not to let her disgust at the wave of stale alcohol show on her face. "You like my music?"
The bartender looked at her, thoroughly unimpressed, and didn't even acknowledge her joke. "Some of it ain't hard enough. Yer a bit too well-known to be somewhere like my hole, don'tcha think?"
"We know exactly why we're here," Mika said smoothly, gesticulating to her mobile in her hand. "I got told I could come here to buy gear from an old dog-"
"I dunno who you're calling old, Mika Jiro, but I promise you I've got more than enough new tricks since we last met."
At the sound of the voice, Kyoka turned to see the man her mom had apparently brought her to meet, and she took a second to process what was in front of her. He was middle-aged, perhaps slightly older than her mother, with greying hair and the weirdest look in his eyes. There was a twinkle, for sure, a rogue's glint which marked the man as someone who knew what he did was not strictly right, but Kyoka could sense a bassline within the smile, a suggestion that he was no stranger to the darker side and wouldn't shy from it himself. All in all, he gave off the air of a hyena in a purple blazer; scavenging, mocking, but very capable of handling himself in hard times. "You... know this guy, mom?"
"Kagero..." Mika had completely ignored her and walked up to the guy, shaking his hand- Kyoka could tell they knew each other of old from the look in her mom's eyes. "Thank you for helping on such short notice."
The man, Kagero, waved a hand as if dismissing it. "It's nothing for an old friend. I was sorry to hear about Kyotoku- that man's crazy passion was enough to give me a few good memories."
"Heh..." Mika looked wistful for a second. "I'm sure he's raising hell wherever he is now."
"Me too." The man chuckled, before turning to Kyoka. "Although You're not here for a catch up with an old timer like me, are you? You came with requests. You came on business. For this young lady!"
"That's right," her mom said, with a comforting smile in her direction. "Turns out being a part time vigilante isn't as easy as it looks. Don't want her getting hurt, do I?"
"Say no more. She looks the spitting image of you! And apparently she's inherited both your musical talents..."
"Flattery gets you everywhere." Kyoka had been apprehensive around the guy, but she was a sucker for anyone who gave her music a compliment. "Sorry, mom kinda dragged me here, so I don't really know who you are..."
"If you know who I am, usually you're doing somethin' you shouldn't be." He grinned and extended a handshake- it was the sort of firm and honest handshake she would expect from someone who wasn't entirely genuine. "The name's Giran. I'll take your mother calling me Kagero, but just since we're here on business and you're doing things you shouldn't, I won't use your name and you won't use mine."
Kyoka raised an eyebrow at the emphatic way he said that. "Oh? Don't like your customers knowing your real name?"
"Just as much, I bet, as you not wanting villains to know they're getting their ass kicked by a pop star."
"Hey. My music is definitely not pop and you know it."
"Ha! She's got your fire, alright." The now-named Giran turned to the bartender. "Inamura, do you mind calling Toshi through, and making yourself scarce? Since it's business, and all..."
The bartender sighed like he had heard it a thousand times before; Kyoka realised he probably had. "Fine. Don't break anythin' while I'm gone, Giran."
"No promises." As the door closed behind the bartender, Giran smirked, almost feline and wicked. "I've gotta say, people as well-known as you don't tend to start a side hustle as a vigilante. Or come my way, come to think of it. I hear you need new gear to keep up."
"I need a lot of things," Kyoka said, bluntly- there was no shying away from it. "I don't know what mom told you, but I nearly got my ass kicked on the first day. I need to train, for sure, but if you've got anything to give me an edge..."
"If I've got anything? My dear, you really do have no idea who I am." Giran stretched out his skinny arms as if wanting to bathe in some glory. "There's a reason a little broker like me is a C Rank Villain, in the eyes of the Commission. Anyone who's anyone gets their gear from me, so rest assured I'll have what you need."
"C Rank?" Kyoka narrowed her eyes at her mom. "You didn't tell me you were bringing me to a Villain."
"I didn't know he was." Mika looked at Giran coolly. "You really have been busy."
Giran shrugged, not looking at all fazed by the attention that comment had received. "You think me hanging around in bars like this was gonna keep me out of trouble? The sorta people who come somewhere like her and who buy from me don't want questions answered, just like you. I don't ask questions who buys from me, why they want my information or my support gear, and they don't ask where I get stuff from; I just take the money and move on. If that labels me a villain, so be it."
"Right..." Kyoka was unconvinced by that answer, but the need to work on what she had was keeping her from walking out the door.
"You're asking yourself if this is a price worth paying, aren't ya?" Giran had apparently seen right through her, and as she started he chuckled to himself, lighting a cigarette. "Look, you've made a choice that this system is broken, right? That you need to do something while the Heroes are making a mess of it all? You and everyone else who walks through my door. Sure, they have different reasons- some want to do it to save people, some want to do it to profit. But whatever your noble goals are for going rogue, someone is going to paint you as a villain for what you're doing whether you like it or not."
"I know... but I don't care." Kyoka's pride made her say fiercely, and she had to bite back her frustration. "People are being failed every day because of this world we live in. If the price I have to pay to change that is getting a few support items off someone shady, then fine, I'll pay up."
Giran looked at her with a twinkle in his eye. "... You really are new to this, aren't ya? Nobody who's had much exposure to our side of the world ever uses the word shady."
Kyoka couldn't help but groan at that, as her mom laughed behind her. "You know what? Just show me the damn gear."
"All in good time. My right hand man will have some stuff for you in a bit." Giran beckoned her over, and despite the rude gesture she obliged, as he took hold of her mask she had been carrying and inspected. "You weren't kidding when you said you were new. The fact you beat someone wearing this gives me a lot of questions about what he was doing..."
"Yeah, I tried to be clever and all but... I couldn't breathe. And someone heard my voice and recognised me, so..." Kyoka rubbed the back of her head sheepishly. "I guess I need a voice alteration thing too."
Giran gave her a dry look. "... You've already exposed your identity? No kidding, you need help."
"Eh, it was Endeavor's apprentice. That Bakugo kid." Kyoka shrugged, not worried in the slightest. "Considering he kinda helped me get away from the Commission, I'd say he's not gonna tell anyone."
"Huh. I always thought the guy was an ass. Don't tell me there's actually more to him under all that shouting."
The drawling voice of the newcomer was tired and dry, almost bitter in how it talked about Endeavor's apprentice; when Kyoka turned, she didn't know what she had expected, but a boy her age was certainly not it. He was tall, a lot taller than her, with wild indigo hair that flared out behind him in an untameable mess; what she spotted immediately where his purple eyes, deep tired bags underneath them, a resigned look in them. Almost like he didn't want to be there. "Sorry, this... this is your right hand man?"
"For now," the young man muttered, placing a large cardboard box down on the bar besides Giran. "Those amplifier gloves from Feel Good Inc weren't easy to find. Fix your damn storehouse, old man."
"That's what I pay you for! Now show some manners, Toshi." Giran clapped the skinny boy on the back and Kyoka tried not to laugh as he rocked from the hit. "This is my boy, Hitoshi Shinso. He's helping me out for now as a favour until I can get him a meeting with the right people, since he has nowhere else to go. Gotta keep a low profile when you've run away from the Hero Commission, right Toshi?"
"Do you seriously have to tell everyone that?" Hitoshi sagged, shaking his head. "Every damn customer you have in the underworld knows where I've come from now-"
"You wanna make friends, then trust people with your name for starters." Giran shrugged, looking at Kyoka as if lost what to do with him. "He'll learn. So, you wanna look at your new toys?"
"In a bit..." Kyoka eyed Hitoshi, unsure what to make of him. A Hero Commission kid, in a place like this, under the wing of a broker who seemed to have connections to half the criminals in Japan? Something didn't add up. "You ran away? Why?"
Hitoshi didn't flinch from the blunt question, to his credit. "More than enough reasons. They're not Heroes. Not anymore."
"So bad that your best response was to run away and find a villain to hole up with?" Kyoka asked, frowning and not understanding his curt response.
"Trust me, I wouldn't be here if I had better options. You wouldn't understand what that's like."
"Toshi..." Giran growled, and as the young man huffed and looked away, he shot Kyoka a look. "Right. Your gear, Miss Jiro?"
"Right..." Kyoka spent a second longer staring at Hitoshi, who was sullenly staring at the bottles behind the bar and deliberately not making eye contact with her. Whatever his problem was that had caused that blunt response, it wasn't worth it. "The gear."
"Good stuff, right Kagero?" Mika had a smile on her face that Kyoka used to see whenever her mom decided to mess with her dad. "No second-hand junk?"
Giran actually looked offended for a second. "Hey! C Rank, remember? It might be second-hand but the things I get from Detnerat are fresh out of their box!"
"Yeah, no kidding..." Kyoka had picked up the mask which had been included in the box of gadgets, turning it over in her hand before she placed it over her face and took a couple of deep breaths. Light to the touch and easy to breath in, the air she was breathing through it felt cooler and fresher than the stale air in the bar. "Woah. This thing is rockin'."
"Oh that's a beauty, alright." Giran's voice had the swagger of a salesman to it now. "Detnerat made that back in the day as a prototype for the Kyoto Police riot control team. Air filtration and gas filters, not at all claustrophobic on your vision, and the kicker? A lovely voice distortion circuit, perfect to hide their front line officer identities and eliminate accountability for crimes in the line of duty."
Kyoka looked at him with a smirk. "Geez, giving this a glowing review aren't you?"
"Heh, ethics committees vetoed their use back in the day. Just a shame Detnerat didn't keep them in a more secure warehouse." Giran patted the box of support gear. "Not all of my customers get gear this good, y'know."
"Killer. And the gloves?" Kyoka held them up, and her eyes widened with glee. "They're amps? Just like my gloves?"
"Only these ones were made in a lab, not a basement, so ten times lighter and ten times less likely to short circuit and hurt you in a pinch." Giran took her old gloves off of her without resistance and held them up to his eyes, like a jeweller inspecting the facets of a diamond. "Not a bad effort, though. You sure you didn't fancy going to UA in the Support course?"
"Not my jam." Kyoka rifled through the rest of the box quickly and grinned at her mom. "Okay, moral questions aside, this stuff is amazing. How much am I going to have to pay for-"
Mika waved her off dismissively. "You're not paying, sweetie. We have enough money from the payout of your father's life insurance that these are on me."
"... Seriously?" Kyoka faltered, realising what her mother was saying. "I've got enough money from the last album, I can-"
"Oh, I know you have enough money." Mika leaned over to dig an elbow into her ribs, and Kyoka cursed how skinny she was that it made her sides hurt, just for a second. "But you are also my daughter, and if this keeps you safe while you go make the world a better place, it's worth the money. And hey, if Kagero's some big shot villain these days-"
"C Rank does not make me a big shot," the broker groused, to Kyoka's amusement.
"-then it's probably better I pay, so some tabloid doesn't pick it up and run a story." Mika nodded to Giran. "We'll take it all. I'll send you the money tonight."
"Pleasure as always." Giran smirked, and bowed his head- Kyoka laughed internally at how he looked so insincere. "Discounted, of course, for old times sake. And they say I don't have a heart..."
"Well this is great. All the goods went down well. Now the pop princess can have all the gear and still have no idea."
Kyoka froze on hearing that remark, and turned to look at Hitoshi with a glare, Earphone Jacks snaking up and pointing at him angrily. "Excuse me? Seriously, what is your problem dude?"
"I heard why you came in from Giran, even before you confirmed it yourself," Hitoshi said, tapping one bony finger on the wooden bar top. "You got in way over your head, nearly blew your cover, and only got out because Endeavor's anger management project decided not to be a dick for ten seconds and give you a chance. That should have been your wake-up call."
"Toshi..." Giran said, the warning in his tone plain to hear. "Don't say anything you'll regret, boy-"
"Oh believe me, I've not said enough." Hitoshi shot him a glare as well. "All the best gear in the world doesn't mean anything if she hasn't got a clue how to use it. Do you even know how to fight? Has anyone ever taught you self-defence around all those interviews and album signings?"
"Seriously?" Now Kyoka was pissed. "I know it's not enough on its own. Endeavor's apprentice was kind enough to tell me that before he let me go. If you think for one second I'm going to forget that, or not do anything to train myself up, then you're a fucking moron."
"Kyoka-" Mika warned, trying to gesticulate to stop her.
"I'm the moron? You seriously think you can just turn up at the gym, take some beginner classes, smack a punching bag and be ready for the outside world?" Hitoshi stood now, looming over her. "Bakugo didn't give you a second chance, he gave you an out. The people out there have years of training and on-the-job wisdom that means they'd kick your ass in a real fight. Even with the new gear, you'll be smacked down before you can even say 'vigilante'. But you're not gonna take it-"
"Hell no I'm not!" Kyoka wasn't going to let height difference get in the way of standing her ground, and she brought her Jacks up to keep them pointed at Hitoshi's face. "Why would I give up? What am I supposed to do, sit here and do nothing? Let all the villains win and let the Heroes mess the whole thing up?"
"You don't have to do nothing, with a platform like yours! You can use it as a force of good, use your music to call for change, without risking everything because you didn't realise you were out of your depth-"
"The good Heroes in the old days risked everything to keep us safe. Why should I hold back and be any different?" Kyoka glared at him. "I'm not gonna be lectured by someone who gave up on the Hero Commission and fled to the criminals. Just because you couldn't face a world like this and would rather become the Villain than even try to be the Hero-"
"I couldn't face it? I became a villain? Is that what you think?" Hitoshi smacked his palm on the side of the bar, and Kyoka saw something flicker in his eyes- for some reason that comment had properly enraged him. "I've lived too damn much of my life being called a villain to take that from you when I try and help-"
"Maybe if you didn't behave like a dick, you wouldn't get called a villain-"
"Maybe if my Quirk wasn't Brainwashing, I wouldn't have to spend my whole life convincing people I want to do good!"
"Brainwashing? That's seriously his power?" Mika asked aloud in the background, before Giran shushed her and lit a cigarette, clearly unwilling to intervene in the argument.
Kyoka raised an eyebrow at that confession, surprised at his bluntness, before she shook her head. "Dude, I don't care what your Quirk is. I'm not gonna argue with you over that and if people didn't give you a chance, fuck 'em because that's not what counts. It's people's actions that define them, not their Quirk. And you left the chance to become a Hero behind so that you could sit in some sleazy bar and sell stolen gear to bad people? What do you think that defines you as?"
"You don't know anything..." Hitoshi scrunched his hand into a fist. "You don't know what they're doing, so don't you dare-"
"I know enough to see you're giving up!" She didn't back down even as his voice rose. "What else do you call this-"
"How about trying to save your life from what's to come before you throw it all away, you naïve bastard!"
The yell from Hitoshi actually made her step back, but as she looked to bite back Kyoka saw the look in his eyes and stopped. It wasn't a look of anger, or frustration at arguing with her; it was desperation, and the fact she didn't know why she could sense that confused and terrified her in equal measure. "Wh... what do you mean, what's to come?"
For a long moment, the boy seemed frozen, before he sighed, so intensely that his whole body seemed to slump from the effort. "... Look. The reason I get so hung up on using my Quirk for good? It's because others with similar Quirks to me aren't using theirs for good, at all. My mother, an Underground Hero, the only reason I got into the Commission and got the chance to use my Quirk for good? She's one of them. I left because of what she's doing for them, what they plan on doing."
He moved to the bar, and ran his hands over the lid of the box containing the gear which he and Giran had prepared for her. "They hate vigilantes almost as much as they hate the normal criminals, because you're making them look bad and doing their job for them. But instead of fix the way they're working, and because of this messed up world, they're just gonna deal with the problem by making sure ou don't even exist anymore. They want to kill vigilantes. Not just lock you in a hole in the ground and forget about you, they will murder you in the name of keeping the streets theirs and theirs alone."
He turned to look at her, and what struck Kyoka was the absolute despair he could see in her eyes. "My own mother is doing it. A Quirk like mine that can take control of someone's mind, and she's not using to talk jumpers off a ledge, to get villains to put down their guns. She's using it on Hawks-"
"The Number Two Hero?"
"The Wing Hero, their precious baby Hero they grew within their own walls. She's using her Quirk to wipe out his inhibitions, to mould him into someone they can use to kill criminals and vigilantes without any of the hesitation of a good and moral Hero." His voice cracked, indigo eyes staring right through her. "And I don't know what's worse. The fact they applaud her for doing it, or the fact they think this is the only justifiable and effective thing to do. The fact that I don't know if other Heroes are being subjected to it in the name of controlling society, or the fact that innocent people who just want to do their best are going to be caught by this. It's coming for all of us. And... it'll come for you."
Kyoka stared at him, and really wanted to say something to help the guy in that moment. The weight of what he was saying was not lost on her, and what it would mean for her if she got caught; now she understood why he was so bitter about the thought of her going out as a vigilante. "You're... warning me not to go through with this, aren't you?"
Hitoshi took a deep breath through his nose and nodded. "Yeah. I am. Look, I've seen a lot of people try to do what you are- people with the best intentions, and some dream of wanting to be a proper hero, to rage against the machine-"
"Please tell me you made that reference on purpose." Kyoka cursed internally when his face was completely blank, and stopped smiling. "Sorry, carry on."
"... Right. You might have that dream, but the reality of what's out there in the shadows, and what's coming for all of us is going to eat someone with no experience alive. I..." Hitoshi swore under his breath and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I just want to save someone before they hurt themselves, and I might as well try and start with you. Go back to your sound studio, use your songs and your platform, start speaking out on TV and give people a battle cry to remember. Please... don't throw it all away."
"... Huh." Kyoka didn't know what to say for a moment. She had expected others would think that it was dumb, what she was doing, expected them to tell her she was making a mistake. Not in a million years would she have expected someone to tell her all of this too, and she'd have been lying if it didn't scare her. One low-life, no-reputation robber had been difficult enough for her, with her complete lack of situational awareness of training, and now she was being told there were people within the ranks of the Heroes who would actually murder her for what she was doing, given the opportunity. The idea of continuing in the face of that, dealing with such huge stakes, was daunting to say the least, and it made her hesitate for a long second.
But... she had made a promise to herself, in her heart. To her father. She had a song to finish, and she had to live up to it. To be a hero too.
"I'm... sorry, Hitoshi." She nodded, bunching a fist. "I can't not try. I can't sit back and do nothing. I appreciate your warning, but... I can't just be on the sidelines cheering people on. Sometimes you've gotta get in the mosh pit, I guess? But..."
"... But?" His face was completely unreadable.
She let her Earphone Jacks drop, and took a step back towards her mother. "But I'm not going to throw it all away. Not after your warning. I'm... not ready, not like I could be. I know I need to practice using my gear, and practice fighting without it. It's like... my songs. I can jam out, but if I never rehearse any of my songs I'm not gonna be good on stage, right?"
"Is everything a music reference to you?"
"Not everything. About sixty percent of what she says in the long run," Mika called from behind the pair of them. "You'll get used to it."
"Thanks mom." Kyoka rolled her eyes. "So I guess what I'm saying is... I won't promise to give it up. But I won't go out again until I'm properly ready, and so that I can be ready... I wanna come and train here a few times a week. With you. If that's alright?"
"... With me?" Now Hitoshi's composure broke, and the young man looked confused as much as anything. "Sorry, hang on. Why with me?"
"One, you're a Hero Commission kid, so you've got more training than me and will know what's easier to get used to." Kyoka tapped twice on the side of the bar. "Two, you've got all the backstage intel, so I wanna know more about what they're getting up to. And three... no offence dude, but you can do better than this. If you really wanna prove it's not a villain's Quirk, and stop the Commission from hurting people, then you can do more than sit in a bar drinking, warning idiots like me that we're making poor life choices. Don't you think?"
There was a moment of silence, broken by a sudden chuckle from behind Hitoshi; both teens spun to look at Giran, the older broker shaking slightly as he laughed. "Hoo boy, this one's got fire! I think she just threw down the gauntlet to you, Toshi. Seems like you've got a sparring partner..."
Hitoshi frowned, looking at his boss. "Are you sure? Is that going to get in the way of our arrangement for-"
"Nah, don't you worry," Giran interrupted, his gold tooth flashing as he smiled. "We'll have plenty of time for that and for you to show Miss Jiro the ropes. There's the old gym round the corner, the one they use as a backup venue for the underground cage matches- if you two want to get started, I can't think of a better place."
"Then it's sorted!" Mika jumped up and patted her daughter on the shoulder. "I'll text Giran with some dates and times when we're clear of recording, and we can work around that?"
"Sounds dope." Kyoka looked up at the taller teen across from her, a challenging smirk on her face, and held out a fist. "I'm in if you are. Unless you're chicken?"
"..." Hitoshi tutted, and reluctantly bumped her fist with his own. "Don't make me regret this."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
"Hey, Kyoka?"
"Hmm?"
"I'm sorry for what I said. I was trying to drive you off with whatever means I could, and I guess that means I didn't hold back." Hitoshi nodded to himself. "I meant well, promise."
"... So did I." She smiled, and hoped that he didn't think she was mocking him. "Thanks for the warning. I'll be careful, promise. And thanks for the gear."
"Hey, it's my stock, not his!" Giran nudged his apprentice in the ribs, and Kyoka snorted with laughter as Hitoshi clearly hadn't been expecting it. "Now go on, get out of here before anyone realises where you are. Go test your new toys, and let me know when you want to sort a spar out with the rude one over here."
"Thank you for helping her out, Kagero," Mika said, taking her daughter's elbow and heading towards the door. "In a world like this, this stuff makes me a lot happier for her to be going out."
"Ask, and I shall provide." Giran sent a twinkling smile Kyoka's way. "I'll be seeing you soon, oh queen of punk."
"You better believe it." Kyoka gave one final nod to Hitoshi and his strange guardian, the black market man of mystery who somehow knew her mom, and followed Mika out of the door of the bar and back towards the alleyway. The box in her hands clanked as she walked, the sound contents of the high-end gear she had somehow been able to acquire, and her head was slightly spinning with so many thoughts from the brief argument with Hitoshi; Kyoka was struggling to focus on just one of them. This day had not gone the way she expected at all, and that argument was another way. She really hadn't been ready for what the life of a vigilante would entail, at all. But now...
Now she was starting to get on the right track. Now she would show them she could be a musician and a hero, and one rocky debut wouldn't get in her way.
"So it's tough, being a hero too?" She asked herself, under her breath, and smirked. "Bring it on..."
(***)
As the door slammed shut behind Kyoka and her mother, Hitoshi turned to Giran and bowed his head apologetically. "Sorry. I know I was rude, I just-"
"You've got a big heart, kid. Big mouth, sure, but a big heart." Giran looked both ways to see if Inamura had returned, and dove behind the bar when he was sure the barman was nowhere near, claiming a bottle of Scotch as his own. "As much as I don't mind a steady revenue stream of young vigilantes wanting to change the system, you're right to get angry about some of them going in blind. I'd rather all my customers weren't killed on their first day out, after all."
"You're..." Hitoshi hesitated. "You're not mad." It was a realisation, and not a question.
"Nah. Part of me feels I should, because I can't have you go scaring off business like that. But... that girl has a lot to live for and a lot of good she could do." Giran poured a stiff measure, critically examined it, and poured more into the glass. "Plus, she had you nailed, boy. All of that coming from someone like me is fine, but someone your age? Someone you can relate to? Maybe training with her and having her challenge you at the same time will be good in the long run."
"Heh. We'll see. If it keeps her from killing herself..." Hitoshi allowed himself a little smile. "Then I'm not gonna complain."
"I thought you'd taken a liking to her."
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing. Although..." Giran poured him a drink too, and slid it across the surface of the bar, the skilled hand of years not making the glass tip one bit. "If you ever call her music pop again, I don't think the Hero Commission are going to be what kills you."
"Right..." Hitoshi took a swig, more used to the taste after being longer associated with Giran and getting to know his habits. "So I guess I'll start sparring with her next week?"
"Late next week. I've got something that might be of interest for you." Giran appraised him. "You remember my schedule this morning?"
Hitoshi's mind whirred through the meetings which Giran had told him about, before he left for the morning. "Um. There was the gang leader from the suburbs of Musutafu, that old doctor who asked for some contacts to hire for a job, and that one with the weird codename... Swimmer?"
"Spinner," Giran corrected. "I've never told you about Spinner, have I?"
"Not that I recall. Is he important?"
"Not on his own. He's... a bit of a fanboy. He's well trained these days, but that's only because of his master taking some time with him." Giran smirked. "His master, on the other hand, is very important. Time was, the Hero Killer always worked alone, but... now he's got Spinner and others to send to me with requests."
Hitoshi paused, tapping the bottom of the glass against the bar twice. "Huh. The Hero Killer's right hand, met with you..."
"And of course, I just so happened to mention that an old Hero Commission student had come my way. One with Pro Hero parents, and enough dirt to surprise even Stain, old hand that he is." Giran deliberately didn't make eye contact with him. "You can meet him early next week, if you want. Stain wants everything you know, if you're happy to share like you said before. And given that you were so willing to share with me, and with the girl Kyoka today-"
"I'll do it," Hitoshi interrupted without a moment's thought, trying not to let the relief spill into his voice at finally being able to speak to someone who might be able to change the dire situation with Sway, Hawks and the whole circus within the Commission. "Thanks, old man. I... didn't expect you'd move so quick to get me an audience."
"I'm a softy, deep down," Giran said, with noticeable sarcasm. "Just do me a favour and don't forget me if the Hero Killer likes you enough to offer you shelter. I am the one who took you in, after all."
"I won't forget you, don't worry. It'll be even easier if you offer me discounts on gear once I'm gone."
"Ha! Have I not given you enough?" Giran lit another cigarette. "Keep that up, and I'll make you pay for those Artificial Vocal Chords when I'm done tweaking them to match your Quirk-"
"Shutting up now, sir." As Giran laughed, Hitoshi turned back around, and allowed the brief moment of amusement he felt to flash across his face. After that, the weight of everything hit him again, and he found himself filtering out the rest of the sounds of the bar around him, the sounds of the police sirens outside. None of that mattered, really.
Hitoshi had been sick of seeing the young and idealistic, the naive and the clueless, wandering into their lap with a load of money to burn on support gear as if it would make them the next All Might. Incident Zero had done more than enough damage to society, but given everything he knew about how the Commission were intending to clamp down on the lawless, how Sway and the others wanted to violate all that was right in order to regain control, he could barely stomach seeing the backs of people who he knew were leaving to their deaths. He had lost his temper at the famous singer who had wandered through the bar door like all the others, angry at the sheer waste of a life it could have been, but to his great relief she had actually listened in some way.
Maybe, just maybe, even one person could be saved by his hand. No matter how useless he was until he could share what he knew with those who could make a difference, those who had the power to act, Hitoshi might be able to be the Hero, and not the villain after all.
Hitoshi looked back down at his drink, and frowned. "I just hope we aren't too late..."
(***)
Somewhere across Japan, deep within a hidden alleyway at the heart of the city of Saitama, Denki Kaminari tried to yell for help, and failed to get anything more than a scream of pain out.
It was just his luck that he had just been starting to turn a corner when this happened, as well. Denki had applied to UA for the new intake that year, as had been his childhood dream long since before Incident Zero; the death of All Might hadn't been enough to deter him from wanting to become a Pro Hero, wanting to be something cool for people to look up to. UA turning him down from their Entrance Exam had been hard to take at first, but it had made him look at himself and realise he hadn't been ready to go Plus Ultra at all. Electrification wasn't completely under his control, and one use of his upper wattage limit turned him into a complete derp! He wouldn't be a great Hero like that at all!
So Denki had apologised to his parents, and kicked himself back up with every bit of determination he could find. The training hadn't been easy, but he had done everything he could and was finally able to get a grip on his Quirk, able to use higher wattage without burning himself out and going braindead the first time he tried. He'd show them all he could be trusted with his powers! He could be a great Hero after all!
And as far as Denki had been concerned, the job of a Hero was to stop bad guys in the moment. So when he had been walking home from school yesterday with two of the girls from his class, including that new cutie who maybe (just maybe) might have been interested in getting a coffee, and two ugly shirtless villains jumped out of a van and tried to grab the girls, and when there wasn't a Hero or policeman there was no way he was gonna stand by and do nothing! Not when he could be the hero, with an Indiscriminate Shock!
He had beaten them, tied them to a streetlight and left them with a note for the Police. He'd even got a kiss on the cheek from the cutie who told him she definitely wanted that coffee now. Everything was looking great from that day, and he had gone to school today with a spring in his step, waiting for the end of the day so he could go home and get changed to go out on his date. He was on his way home and over the moon...
... Right up until the moment something flying above him swooped from the sky, threw him into an alleyway and stabbed him through both shoulders, so hard that they buried the sharp objects into the wall behind him.
Now he was stuck. Now he was hurting, and terrified, and it hurt to try to begin to summon his Quirk, and he wished he was at home and safe in his room playing Texas Smash, or back at school, or in the cafe with the new girl eating mochi. He was scared for his life, and he shouldn't have been...
After all, those were red feathers which had been stabbed through his shoulders, which were covered in his blood. He knew exactly who those belonged to.
"Why..." Denki moaned, staring up at his assailant, unmoving and unresponsive as he stared dully at him. Denki had never met him in person, but he had seen his assailant more than enough times on TV interviews or in the news bulletins he had started watching to try and improve his awareness of the world (he had to fix his grades somehow). Hawks definitely wasn't ever this cold, never showed this little emotion, and the eyes which were so full of fun on TV were absolutely dead to the world as the Number Two Hero stood in front of him. It was almost like Hawks wasn't there. "Why have -urk- you done this?"
"Remarkable, isn't it? What you can do if you really put your mind to it?"
Denki squinted at the sound of the new voice, his vision beginning to blur as the pain got to him, and didn't recognise the woman with violet hair and huge bags under her eyes who had strode down the alleyway to stand behind the Wing Hero, stroking his red wings. "Whooooo are you-"
"Oh, my dear boy, my name doesn't matter." Hawks hadn't even flinched as she raised a hand to caress his cheek. "I'm just the one they ask to deal with the troublemakers like you."
"T-Trouble? Gah..." Denki was feeling dizzy, and he hadn't even gone over his limit. "I didn't do anything wrong-"
"I think we both know that's a lie, don't you?" The woman looked him up and down. "You failed to get into UA, Denki Kaminari. You failed to get into Shiketsu. You aren't a Hero, not even one in training, and yet you think you can hand out vigilante justice to whoever you like?"
"H-Hey!" Denki clenched a fist, electricity finally crackling in his left hand in anger at her words. "I was only t-trying to heeeeelp my friends-"
"And yet it wasn't your place to, was it?" The woman looked down at the lightning in his palm and tutted. "And now you're trying to use your Quirk on both me and dear young Hawks over here, aren't you? We can't have that."
"Huh?" Denki had felt something in the air in the way that she said the last sentence, and almost immediately Hawks responded, one wing rising and curling lazily to shoot a feather straight through his palm, stopping his building charge in an instant. "HAAAAH!"
"Foolish boy." She shook her head, her short indigo hair seeming to bounce for a second. "Back in the old days, of course, they would slap you on the wrist and tell you not to go it again. And of course, you wouldn't listen, going back to it time after time, enjoying the kick you got from the fight or the attention you got after. I'd let you go, and you'd keep doing this until you got someone hurt, or killed, until you failed someone because you didn't really know what you were doing and couldn't get carried by your instincts."
She stopped caressing Hawks' wings, the Hero still completely unresponsive as he stared through Denki, and frowned at Denki. "These aren't the old days, anymore. You and the villains don't get to run around doing as you please, and I get to deal with you all as is necessary in a world like this. Finishing things off, one mindless vigilante at a time. Ending the problem."
"P-Please..." Denki didn't know what else to say, as he felt the chill down his spine again despite all the pain he was in, as Hawks' head moved again and the Hero's unseeing eyes met his own panicked stare. "I h-have a family-"
"I know. It's a shame, really." The woman tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and when she spoke something awful vibrated in her words. "What are you doing to do, Hawks?"
The wings rose high for a second like an avenging angel, curled as two feathers from the tips shot out into the chest of the boy, and Denki Kaminari slumped lifelessly, still pinned to the wall by the feathers of his assailant...
"Well. That was impressive." Sway took a moment to clear her throat, looking the boy up and down, before reaching into her pocket for her phone, launching an app and dictating with a press of the button. "Field test six of ten, and Hawks continues to show promising response to commands. Field test six has varied the moral parameters for Hawks to respond to; while it is clear the subject of this test remains an undesirable, and one acting outside the law, it remains that the subject was a fifteen year old school student. Despite this, no moment hesitation was visible when commanded to intercept or dispatch- if further testing shows this, full deployment may be achieved sooner than anticipated."
She finished the recording, sent, and closed the phone, sneering at the boy's body. "He even wanted to attack us. They have no shame, these days." She looked at Hawks, who stood statue-like beside her with his head bowed to the floor. "Make sure to get the feathers from him. Clean up the mess."
Hawks stiffened, and moved forward to the boy, removing the feathers as they had been stabbed through and pocketing them within his jacket as Sway spoke to herself. "It's good we caught him so young. A Quirk as dangerous as Electrification, in the hands of someone willing to step outside the law and act as he please? We could have had a dangerous individual on our hands or in the system, if we let him go free. Still, he won't be the only one we have to neutralise. Not by a long shot. So the sooner you're fully ready, the better." She paused, realising that Hawks had stopped moving in front of the boy, one bloody feather still in his hands as his head remained bowed. "Hawks, are you finished?"
There it was. A sudden jerk of the head, almost too small to be picked up on, and the feather buried into a jacket pocket all too quickly. Sway had spent far too much time with her trainee to miss something like that, and that sort of movement wasn't within her expectations at all. "Hm. What's wrong, Hawks? Why did you stop?"
There was silence for a moment in that alley, as a light breeze gently wafted through the feathers of the Number Two Hero's outstretched wings, and Sway shook her head at the lack of reaction, even though she had given him the chance. "Hawks. Look at me."
Finally he turned, straightened up, looked dead ahead at her, and Sway saw it. There was no way she was going to miss it after all. No matter how fixed the facade was, he couldn't hide the physical evidence that betrayed so much to her, no matter how small it was...
A single tear, in the corner of his eye.
"Oh, no. That won't do, will it?" Sway cupped his chin with her right hand for a moment, and tutted. "And I thought you were so much more ready than you actually are. Hawks, kneel."
The Hero complied, sliding down in front of her, and she saw it in his eyes, like looking through the surface of a frozen pond and seeing life below; the emotions and turmoil she had been working so hard to suppress were threatening to crack the ice. "I suppose there's so much more work to be done before we can finally make a difference. And I was so proud of you as well." She placed both hands on his cheeks and stared right through his eyes, indigo eyes flashing with fire. "Keigo Takami. Time for some essential training."
Indigo filled his vision, and trapped deep in his own mind, deep underneath the surface of the haze, Keigo Takami screamed at the pain that coursed through his whole body once more.
(***)
Kyoka Jiro. Aged- 15.
Hitoshi Shinso. Aged- 15.
Kagero Okuta, Giran. Aged- 44.
Keigo Takami, Hawks. Aged- 23.
(***)
A/N: Oh yeah, Kaminari didn't make it into 1A in this fic, did he?
I wanted to break my usual Izuku/someone else/Izuku pattern and deal with Kyoka in this chapter because I didn't just want to leave her hanging after last chapter with Bakugo. I have been determined with her not to play the "becomes vigilante and instantly starts saving everyone left right and centre" card, because to be frank I don't like seeing it sometimes. My Kyoka hasn't had any Hero Training whatsoever, and she's idealistic but out of her depth; she needs reality checks and she gets them.
This gave me the perfect time to bring back Shinso for a chapter. His resentment of the 'heroic Quirks' students in canon means I wanted to carry it across to here; that feeds into his anger at Kyoka this chapter for being naive about the very real risks she faces going out into the world without being properly ready. He should know- look at his mother, after all. He was fun to write here.
Anyway, I won't keep this too long. It's Izuku going to school next chapter, to the relief of all who have waited for 29 chapters to make it to Izuku's first day at UA; blame me wanting to world-build for the delay (I do). I am incredibly grateful as always to all of you for the support you are showering this story with- to all of the 1000+ favourites and followers, the 550+ reviews, and the numerous people who fill my PMs with lovely and frankly hilarious messages, thank you so much.
If you haven't already, please feel free to follow/fave, any reviews are appreciated, and if you really want, check out the Incident Zero channel on the Ignite Discord- vzdBHCPq is the code for the join link until 25 March.
Until next time, ya boy out.
