meiboukoushi

A/N: It's been so long since I last updated. Sorry. I guess Season 6 was just the push I needed. This will be longer than I expected, probably until their pro-hero debuts.


"You don't have to be a hero to help people, but what's the good in hiding that Quirk?"

You are eight years old, and the woman before you says she can make you a pro-hero.

Pre-canon. Mild AU: The HPSC takes a teleporter under their wing.


"I want to go home."

The end of your second year is punctuated with snow unlike anything you've seen before. It's nothing unfamiliar, no, because you'd spent some days here in the big city with your family just to get out of Okinawa's perpetually sunny weather and experience something cooler. But now, anywhere and everywhere you look it's just snow. It's just cold. You don't like the cold. You don't want to stay here anymore. You want to go home.

So it's obvious how Ms. Yoko would react, she looks up at you from her tablet and frowns.

"I know you're feeling homesick, but we need better scores to convince them."

You already know what she was going to say. Recently it's all been about impressing a certain them, proving your worth to a certain them, showing a certain them that you're going to be a great–the greatest–pro-hero. You aren't even sure who they are, but Ms. Yoko talks about them all the time. She talks like she's afraid of them, you think. Maybe it's that president lady you met all those months ago. Maybe it's that other guy with her. There was a show on TV before that had a council of higher-ups hiding behind concrete tablets with numbers on them. Would they be the same?

"I want to go home."

You stare at Ms. Yoko and Ms. Yoko stares back.

"You promised."

That's right. Ms. Yoko promised you'd spend an entire month back in Sukari once you've completed rooms fourteen and sixteen. And you have. Multiple times. Then she said you needed to break your record. And you have. Multiple times too. You can shift quietly and instantly. You can do it in a blink of an eye. You can do it faster. You can do it as easy as breathing. You can control it now. It's almost like a reflex. It's instantaneous. So you deserve more than just a month in Sukari, you deserve at least two.

"It's not up to me to decide," she frowns before putting her tablet aside, "Look, I know you're getting frustrated with all this, but we need to show them–"

"We?"

"–that this isn't for nothing, that you can–"

"I'm doing my best!"

This is the first time you've ever yelled at her like this, and Ms. Yoko is in shock. But you're too angry with her right now, with everything and everyone. Your mother always taught you to be kind and never say a bad thing out loud, but this is too much. And your mother isn't even here, hasn't been with you in a long time, and all those videocalls and short weekend visits don't count. You're alone in this big city and Ms. Yoko is the only one who's with you all the time. She's there when you need her, and she's there when you don't, so she–of all people–should understand–

"I'm doing my best already!"

–that you're just a kid.

"I can't," you bite out the tears, "I can't go any faster–"

And kids like you aren't supposed to be treated like this. All day, you're just cooped up inside, switching between training rooms and study rooms, switching between a plain uniform and a plain training suit. None of those hero facilities on those old shows would ever treat their heroes like this. Where's the fun stuff? Where are the field trips? Where are the hotpot dinners and curry lunches? And what about their promise? About you becoming an astronaut. Was this what it was going to take?

"Hey, it's okay," Ms. Yoko reaches out to you, "I know you're tired."

You're seated atop a tall, tall platform where she can't reach you.

"I'll try my best to convince them and give you a break," she continues, "you've been doing good and you've never disappointed us."

You don't want to believe her.

"The results aren't showing now, but that's okay," she reassures you, "you're just starting."

You don't want to believe her.

"And I promised," she smiles the same smile she showed you that day, "I promised Blue Stream I'd take care of you."

You frown at the use of your grandfather's pro-hero name. Lately, you've been hearing a lot about that too. How you're the next Blue Stream. How you're Blue Stream's legacy. How you're going to be even better than Blue Stream, how they're going to make you better than Blue Stream in every way possible. They say it like it's something you should look forward to. Like erasing your grandfather's achievements and mistakes is a good thing. They look at you in a strange way, it makes you feel uncomfortable. They look at you like you're special, and they keep telling you that you are. But it's your Quirk that makes you special, nothing else.

Sometimes you wonder if they'd look at you the same way if you had a different Quirk, or if you didn't have one at all. You weren't particularly gifted in anything, so is it just your Quirk that makes you special? No, this isn't even your Quirk anyway, it's Blue Stream's and you just inherited it.

"So that's it for today," Ms. Yoko sighs, "you can head back first, I'll talk to the higher-ups."

You shift back to the ground just to show her you're already good at this.

"You can't shift back to the apartment yet?" She laughs, "It'd be really cool if you could."

You shake your head. It's not that you can't, it's because you haven't tried.

"I'll see you later, okay?"

She waves goodbye, takes her tablet, and walks away. She doesn't look back. Ms. Yoko rarely looks back anymore, so this is the perfect opportunity to go, to leave, to run. Go and don't look back. Shift and don't look back. Concentrate. Concentrate. If they won't let you leave, if they won't let you go home, how will they stop you anyway?

"You're going to do even greater things, and nothing can stop you."

Yeah, they can't.

So you close your eyes and think. Concentrate. Remember. Okinawa. Sukari. Beaches and sand. Home. Think of home. The grass. The bottle chimes. The painted window shutters. Think. Concentrate. Remember. Home. You haven't done this before, haven't even dared to do such a thing, but it's been too long since that promise and it doesn't seem like they're going to listen. Think. Remember.

All they want is results, results, results. Numbers that don't make sense. Words that don't make sense. Remember. They want it faster. They want it quicker. Why? Think. Concentrate. Remember. They want better scores. No, think of home. Home. Sukari. Okinawa. Home. Think of the beaches, the sand, the waves. Think of the sun, bright and high in the sky. Think of home. Home. Think of your friends.

"You'll meet him soon enough. And I hope you'll be fast friends."

No!

But you're falling before you know it. You don't know how high or how far, but you're falling before you know it. Air is shot through your lungs. Your eyes open, you're jolted awake. The sun above you is blinding white and the ground beneath you is too hard to be grass, to be sand. No, you're not home. You're still here in Tokyo. The sun above you is a big fluorescent light. The ground beneath you is polished wood. You sit up hastily, and the white walls are something you're starting to hate. You're back in room sixteen.

"What–"

Or maybe not.

"Who–"

You turn to the voice–it's something they're training you for, reflexes and quick thinking–and it's Mr. Mera. He's just as flabbergasted and shocked as you.

"You're–" he stammers, "you're Yoko's kid."

You are. Technically. In a sense. But you didn't want to shift here, you don't want another adult telling you things you already know. You want to go home, to Sukari.

"Mr. Mera? Who's there?"

It's a new voice, a voice you haven't heard before. You turn and see a kid about your age, you think, with a blindfold over his eyes and bright red wings.

Wow– is the first thought that comes to mind.

"Ugh," you hear Mr. Mera sigh.

Oh, no– is the second. You're going to get in even bigger trouble.

"Well," Mr. Mera scratches the back of his head, "guess now's a better time than any."

He turns to the blindfolded boy, "Let's take a break, Keigo."

And the boy takes off his blindfold, lets his wings stretch. They remind you of the seabirds in Sukari; you're starting to miss home a lot more. Mr. Mera calls him over, and his feathers trail behind him. You think he's molting, because feathers wouldn't come off so easily. Mr. Mera introduces you to him and him to you.

"His hero name is Hawks."

The boy nods and says nothing else. This is the first time you're meeting someone else your age, and though you're slightly relieved at the thought, you also remember Ms. Yoko telling you something about another kid your age, a rival. You think this might be him, but you don't want to be presumptuous. So instead, you say this.

"Wow, that's a cool name."

Keigo nods.

You continue, "I don't have one yet."

Now you're sure that he's the rival Ms. Yoko had been talking about, and he's already got a hero name! You're starting to feel jealous, you have a lot to catch up to.

"How'd you get it?"

Keigo looks at Mr. Mera like he's asking for approval. Mr. Mera nods and Keigo looks back at you.

"They gave it to me," his voice is small, "I liked this one the best."

Now, you don't think there's anything else to say. This is your first meeting and you aren't at all prepared for something like this. Keigo looks away from you, and Mr. Mera looks like he doesn't know what to do either. You're not sure what else to talk about or what to ask.

"Do you live here too?"

"Yeah," Keigo replies, "with my mom."

You're starting to miss Sukari even more. You understand why your parents aren't with you, but it's a little unfair that he isn't alone here.

"Lucky, my family's all the way in Okinawa."

His wings twitch, and you think it's cute. It's like he's surprised.

"You're alone here?"

"Yeah," you shrug, "I live with Ms. Yoko."

"I'm sorry."

You frown. He looks like he's feeling sad for you, and you don't like it. You don't think he should apologize. You don't like seeing someone take pity on you. Sure, you're away from your family and you're severely homesick, but that's not something to feel sorry for. You've worked hard and you've done good, and Ms. Yoko is working just as hard to make sure you get the break you deserve. You're going home to Sukari soon.

Right?

"No, it's great," you hide the frustration you're feeling, "I can do whatever I want and eat whatever I want!"

You think the only good thing about this is the food. Ms. Yoko is generous enough to let you eat your favorite foods whenever you want. From pork cutlet and egg fried rice, to waffles and ice cream, the only nice thing about living here alone is that Ms. Yoko tries her best to make you as happy as you were back in Sukari. But no matter how delicious the food is, it can't compare to your mom's cooking.

Now you really, really want to go back to Sukari.

"That's nice," Keigo gives a small smile.

You give him a small smile back. You think you're starting to become friends now, and it feels… nice. You see his feathers flutter a little and think they look so soft.

"Okay, kids," Mr. Mera clears his throat, "you aren't technically supposed to meet yet, so..."

What?

"Are you going to tell Ms. Yoko, Mr. Mera?"

He blinks at your question, "Well, yeah, obviously."

"Am I in trouble?"

Well, this is your fault. You shifted here when you were supposed to shift somewhere else. And if you and Keigo are not supposed to meet yet, what does that mean?

"No, don't worry about it," Mr. Mera smiles, "it's actually great that you two finally met."

You know that's supposed to be reassuring, but you can't stop thinking about why you aren't supposed to meet yet.

"I'm happy to meet you, Keigo."

You beam at him and watch his wings flutter.

"Me too," he says shyly, "I'll see you around?"

"Yup! I'll get my hero name soon too."

You actually aren't sure about that, but if he's going to be your rival, you might as well. You've been working hard all this time, and you think it's time the higher-ups start taking you seriously. You've already got an idea of what kind of hero you want to be, and you're doing everything to make sure it happens. You'll be a great hero, you'll be an astronaut. You're going to help people and you're going to see the stars. You're already so determined, so sure, so you say one final line–

"Call me Super Star!"

–before shifting away. That'll show him and Mr. Mera that you're going to be even greater. Keigo may have bright and pretty wings, but you're a teleporter. And if what Ms. Yoko and everyone else is saying is true, about how rare and special a teleporter like you is, then it's almost guaranteed.

"The brightest star in the Milky Way galaxy."


"I have good news and I have bad news."

Ms. Yoko arrives at the apartment with takeout. You shift to the dining table, already ahead of her, and unpack the boxes as she places them. It's from your second-favorite restaurant, pork cutlets and beef bowls. There's mochi and ice cream too, so you know Ms. Yoko is in a particularly good mood.

"Bad news first," you say, taking the pork cutlet for yourself.

"Okay, well," she begins, sitting across from you at the table, "I heard you've already met him."

She eyes you like she's going to scold you, like she's found you out.

You pout, "Mr. Mera said it was fine."

Mr. Mera said it was great, even.

"Yoku–" she clears her throat, "There's a reason why you two shouldn't have met yet."

Shouldn't have?

"He's your…" she looks for the word, "rival."

That's not what she said all those months ago. So you ask her, "Why?"

"Well, not really your rival, but…" she hums as she mixes her food, "he's like your competition."

Again–

"Why?"

"Uh…" she scrunches her brows, "how do I explain it…"

"You hoped we would be fast friends."

"Oh, right!" She laughs, "Well, things are different now."

Different how?

"You see," she continues, "he was really young when he got into our program, about two years before you, and you're the last one. It's like… you're the only two participants in this batch. For now. We haven't seen other kids your age yet."

You think you've seen this in a cartoon before, about a special school, but you don't remember if it had competitions and rivalries like this.

"So to the higher-ups, it's you versus him, him versus you. You two have very, very special Quirks," she says carefully, "very rare and very unique. And there's nothing wrong with a little competition to take your abilities to the next level."

Now it's starting to make a little sense. Is Keigo the reason they want you to do better? To be faster and shift farther? Because he's already so good?

"Is that why, Ms. Yoko," you piece things together, "they don't want me to go home yet?"

She sighs, then gives you a smile.

"That's the good news."

She tells you the higher-ups have granted you a two-month trip to Sukari.

"Oh, thank you, Ms. Yoko!"

You're shifting before you know it; you hug her tight. You feel like you're about to cry.

"Hey, hey," she laughs, "but you're taking me with you."

You release her immediately, knowing full well what that means. You aren't just going to Sukari, you're going to take your training and your studies with you.

You frown, "It's not a break?"

"Sorry, kiddo," she replies sympathetically, "we're not stopping until you get your hero name."

You wonder how much Keigo had to do to get his.

"I wanna choose mine."

She blinks at you, "Well, that's up to the higher-ups to decide, but if you want to choose yours, you have to prove it to them."

Keigo's got a headstart, and even if you're both the same age, you wonder how wide the gap between you is.

"I will."

But you're determined.

"And I have no doubt about that, Super Star."

Ms. Yoko smiles, and the way she uses the name makes you even more determined. You're going to shine as bright and as big as the Dog Star.