Disclaimer: The intellectual property rights to Shin Megami Tensei: Persona 3 belong to Atlus and its respective creative directors, as does the My Hero Academia series, with Kohei Horikoshi.

Author's Notes: Whoo, 1K release! Also, small announcement at the bottom. Happy Easter and Passover, everyone!

0.0

"Wut?" Yu asked around a mouthful.

Without missing a beat, Arisato Minato's new roommate chose not to stop her morning routine as she addressed him, toothbrush still in hand. She blinked at him tiredly beneath a pair of black-rimmed spectacles.

Minato didn't want to admit it out loud, but Yu had gotten far too comfortable, far too quickly, around him and their shared living space.

"The school wants me to move into their dorm," he repeated. "They want me in by the weekend."

Yu retreated into the bathroom, the sound of running water and heavy splashing reaching him as he waited, before she exited fully sans toothbrush. She frowned at him. "That's just two more days. Isn't that a bit short noticed? What about the apartment?"

"I'm under financial assistance. The school agreed to continue subsidising the rent. It's cheaper than voiding the lease." He shrugged, adding, "If you can pay, you could take over for me."

Yu grabbed hold of him by the shoulders and shook violently. "Yassss! I'll take it! Are you kidding me?! Paying that kind of money for rent here in Tokyo? Hell, I'd give an arm and a leg for it!" She then scrambled past him, reaching for her phone.

"I'm off to school," Minato said, heading for the door. "I won't be back tonight. There's a housewarming party at the dorm later."

Yu didn't hear him apparently because she was on a call. "Papa, you won't believe it! I finally found an apartment! What?! That's not important! I mean, it kinda is, but you're totally missing the point! I have my own apart—"

Minato shook his head and shut the door behind him.

0.0

"Oh my God!"

A girl, pink skin with equally pink hair, had her hands wrapped around the shoulders of a slender girl with an uneven bob cut. She was shaking the other girl, so much so that the earphone jack appendages attached to her earlobes swung in tandem to her ministrations.

"You're totally right! It is a Todoroki clone!"

Arisato Minato hid a frown.

Her outburst brought the attention of her class solely on him. He recognised a few faces from the Sports Festival, but one in particular stood out—partly because of her hair.

Momo gave him a tiny wave.

Next to him, Kayama cackled. "It's like watching a bunch of predators circle their prey." His homeroom teacher pushed him forward, much lower than he had expected, and into the operations room of Training Ground Beta. "Go mingle with your cute little juniors, Arisato-kun. I have to meet the other teachers to set up the exercise."

He grimaced at her, which only fed her amusement as her smile grew, almost tauntingly, in reply. He baulked. His steps were brisk as he made his way over to the group. Minato exchanged polite nods with a few others, but lagged near the rear, distancing himself. Not surprisingly, Momo made her way next to him. He could sense that they had unwittingly become the centre of attention, given the fleeting glimpses and not-so-subtle stares directed their way.

"Is that really your costume, Minato-senpai?" Momo asked.

He looked down at his attire—his customised body armour over a pressed white shirt and black slacks.

To call it a costume was an overstatement, which was how he preferred it. Even then, the design team at UA's affiliate support company had taken some creative liberties with his request, but he wasn't displeased with the outcome. He had his body armour, light as he had requested, yet the high-strength material offered adequate protection and was malleable enough not to hinder his mobility. A thin strip of metal, indistinguishable from the vest, was sewn into the back, trailing the curvature of his spine; his bokken was secured firmly across it.

She was hesitant, saying, "It's somewhat plain."

He took in her costume, or what little of it there was, and wisely kept his mouth shut. "I have no complaints."

Momo wasn't having any of it. "It's part of your image; a Pro Hero relies on the initial impression their costume conveys to the general public. I understand you're comfortable in… this, but perhaps something small—just to accessorise?"

Minato shrugged his shoulders.

She tucked a fist under her chin, her gaze growing critical, as she circled around him. It was, in all honesty, embarrassing, given that her classmates were now openly snickering, but Momo suddenly snapped her fingers and exclaimed:

"I know just the thing!" He could hear her Quirk activating before she draped something soft over his neck. "It looks better now. What do you think?"

He was unsurprised at the craftsmanship of the scarf, but it was strange, in a way, to steal someone else's look; it reminded him all too much of Ryoji. Then again, with how pleased Momo was, he doubted he could say no without crushing the mood entirely. He also made no mention of the fact that his new scarf was in the exact shade of red as her costume.

He bunched the fabric up to cover the lower-half of his face. "If you think so," he said. "I suppose it's not so bad."

The alien girl came bouncing up to them.

"Hey! Hi, I'm Ashido Mina!"

Up close, Minato finally noticed her eyes, large and almost squarish, were bright yellow and muddled in the deepest shade of black; in them he could see her mischief bleeding through. "So uhm," the two squiggly horns peeking through her hair twitched as she spoke, "you're our senior, right?"

"Yes," he said, bowing in greeting. "Arisato Minato."

"Hey, cool! We kinda have the same name!" she cheered with a fist. "So is it true? Did you really transfer to the Department of Heroics by fighting one of the teachers? They said you beat him up so bad that he's still hospitalised!"

"Partly true," Minato answered. "What else did they say happened?"

"That you and our Yaomomo are estranged lovers," Ashido said matter-of-factly. She pouted her lips and blew a kiss at Momo, but was quickly smothered by the girl in question. "G-Guh! I-I heard what you did during the festival, you crazy exhibitionist! Everyone did! Don't try to deny it!"

"It was nothing of the sort!"

"And you made him a scarf?! A scarf that you chose to give him in front of all of us?!" Ashido leaned back, trying to escape from having her face smushed. Although from her enduring smile, it was clear she was having her fun. "How scandalous! Who knew you'd be such a brazen woman?!"

"I-I was merely offering my critique!" Momo said, stammering. "A-As a peer!"

"Eww… You kinda made him look like Aizawa-sensei." The girl with the uneven bob cut grinned impishly; this one seemed familiar for some reason, but he couldn't place where he had seen her last. She twirled the headphone jack on her ear idly, saying, "Guess you got a type, huh?"

"Ashido! Kyoka-chan!"

"Don't be shy, Kyoka! Get in there!" A baby gimp, standing tall at just below his waist, wiped away the dribble that leaked down his chin. "G-Grope a bit lower! S-Someone's top might pop off!"

Minato was forced to do a double-take.

"I heard," the voice that cut in was gruff, feigning disinterest, "that a rookie Pro Hero took in a Quirkless intern from UA; some senior who thinks that a wooden sword is enough to prove that he can be a hero."

The outright hostility was a surprise.

The crowd seemingly parted around the speaker; a boy in a near-black costume. Minato remembered this one. Bakugo—the intense shouty one. His beady red eyes narrowed, shadowed as they were beneath his spiky ashy-blond hair, as Bakugo adjusted the enlarged grenades affixed over his forearms.

"Also partly true," Minato said.

The younger blond scoffed and turned away. Minato didn't miss the flinch on another boy—one with scraggly green hair and an outfit to match it; he was looking down at his feet, fists clenched tight.

Minato frowned, taking in the chaos around him mutely. Being inundated with the dynamics of another class was a pain, more so, when he was introduced to it all at once.

"Quiet," Eraserhead's voice, hard like steel, effectively cut through the chatter.

He strode in with the other faculty members, with All Might leading the way. All at once, his students straightened at attention, even Ashido—Momo aside—had the ability to look ashamed. Her cheeks were tinged with a dark red hue that stood out against her unnatural skin.

"I see some of you are making nice with our new guest," Eraserhead said, pausing to blink at him, or rather, at his new accessory. The man looked away and cleared his throat. "Right… For those unaware, this is your upperclassman, Arisato Minato. He will join your 'Foundation of Heroics' classes with All Might from time to time."

"He's here for remedial classes," Kayama said, cackling.

Just like that, Minato could feel the class' opinion of him drop. He shot his homeroom teacher a withering stare, to which the woman simply grinned in turn, slowly brushing a finger against her bottom lip.

"Thank you, Aizawa… Midnight," All Might conceded after a pause. "I would be remiss if I didn't introduce our other guest for the afternoon."

The tiny mammalian form of their principal bundled forward with a flourish. "Yes, it is I, students! UA's lovable furry mascot, Principal Nezu!"

"Principal Nezu has kindly taken time off from his schedule to observe your class today," All Might said. "Do not be surprised if he chooses to join the exercise; I'm sure his insights will prove to be invaluable, not just for today, but for your future careers as Pro Heroes!"

A scattered response of 'yes, sensei' met All Might's announcement, some more enthusiastic than others.

"Excellent! Let us not tarry any longer!" All Might continued. "Remember that this will be our final lesson before you embark on your week-long internship next Monday. As such, we'll touch on an important subject. Our lesson today revolves around personal security—or to be more apt, what will be required of you when you are tasked to protect an individual rather than managing and subduing the immediate villain threat."

The lecture continued along the same vein, with All Might espousing the importance of preparation and evasion rather than defeating the aggressors; a brief but spirited debate followed about 'why can't we just kick their ass; we can totally kick their ass', which was ultimately shot down when Eraserhead told everyone to shut up and listen.

When it finally came to the first battle simulation of the class…

"I volunteer Arisato-kun," Kayama said, with her hand raised. "He's told me so much about wanting to set a good example for his juniors that I don't think it's right to deny his wishes. Please let him go first, All Might!"

"Splendid!" Nezu said, raising his paw as well. "Then I shall volunteer myself to be his VIP. Protect me well, Arisato-san!"

"Ouhhh, I suppose I can't back down then, Principal Nezu. It's only right that I, his homeroom teacher, become the villain."

They… They weren't even trying to not make it look obvious.

Minato stared up at the ceiling and sighed.

0.0

"Am I under suspicion?"

Arisato Minato, along with the tiny form of his VIP, were making their way to the starting point of the exercise; it was a fair distance away from the operations room given how large the artificial city of Training Ground Beta was.

It was frankly a feat of engineering marvel how UA was able to build and maintain a living, breathing city in the first place. To prove his point, a group of civilian bots zoomed past them and stopped before a shop window. Their chatter, a garbled string of beeps and bloops, rose seemingly in excitement.

Nezu, perched atop his shoulder, didn't visibly react to his question.

"Did you know that one in a thousand individuals have their Quirks wrongly diagnosed during childhood? It does make sense, however. It's not an exact science. Some Quirks are, by their nature, so incomprehensible that there is no distinction between living a normal life versus a powered one."

"It's about my Quirk then?"

Nezu continued as if he had never heard the question, "It is due to this oversight that some villains are able to exploit it to conceal their true identities. After all, as comprehensive as the Quirk registry is, it means little if the data is inaccurate in the first place. There was even a study that tracked the correlation between a misdiagnosis and the probability of which a villain is produced. The findings were highly controversial, but it remains an interesting study."

Minato chose to remain quiet.

"Which begs the question: who are you, Arisato Minato?"

"I'm not sure how to respond to that, sir."

"I did leave it as a very open-ended question, didn't I? Forgive me. It's hard to escape my penchant for dramatics." Nezu chuckled, saying, "I have reservations still about my decision to approve your transfer into this programme. It is unorthodox to have an untrained third-year pursue Heroics simply on a whim. Do you know why I pushed for it in the end?"

He shook his head.

"I worry what the future holds for you had I not intervened. You are skilled, I have no doubt, even without the use of your Quirk." Nezu regarded him coolly—as coolly as a furry rodent could be. "And power without the correct guidance can have dangerous and far-lasting consequences. Do you understand what I mean, Arisato-san?"

"So… this is a test?"

"How silly of you. Of course it is. We're in class, after all. Speaking of which…"

There was no bell to signal the start of his exercise. Instead, Minato saw it first before anything else; a faint violet-pink miasma that crept slowly onto the street that they were on. Further ahead, where the gas was visibly denser, hid a shadowed figure sashaying towards them.

"Come to me, my little slaves!" he heard Kayama shout. Her voice was faint, but it wasn't hard to mistake the ire in it. "Come fall into the sweet unforgiving slumber of death!"

All around him, the street descended into chaos with the civilian bots milling the streets suddenly whooping in alarm. They scattered in droves. Minato rushed around a pair of bots in his way, and took an immediate hard left into an adjacent alley that was straddled between two tall commercial buildings.

"She sounds angry."

"At me, no doubt," Nezu said cheerily. "There has been some push-back regarding the recent switch to an all-boarding school system. Kayama should be quite motivated to see this exercise through."

Minato grimaced.

His plan to counteract her Quirk was simple: don't breathe it in. The objective of the battle simulation was to protect the VIP for as long as possible; there wasn't much of a need to confront his villainous homeroom teacher when avoiding her was the best possible solution. That, in itself, was strange. The odds were heavily stacked in his favour given that he had an entire city in which to hide.

Unless…

The feeling of being watched was imperceptible.

Minato ground to a halt next to a random door and bodily shoved his way through, unmindful of the passenger on his shoulder. Nezu squeaked, indignant. Once inside, he barricaded a nearby table against the door and pulled down a shelf over it for good measure. It was crude but effective. His instincts were proven right however, when a distinctive 'bang' resounded from the other side.

The door inched open, but no further than that.

"You're a sharp one, Arisato," a voice said through the gap, stern and low-pitched. "Good. Let this be your first lesson: villains do not fight fair. Expect more the longer this goes on. What you—"

"Tough luck, Ectoplasm!" Nezu cheered. "But we're walking away as I speak!"

Minato swatted at his VIP to remain silent.

They emerged from the nondescript backroom into a mock-up of a convenience store. A robot attendant standing behind the counter greeted him upon entry, playing a recording of a woman's voice.

"Welcome to J-Mart!"

The front entrance chimed as the automated doors opened to reveal his mathematics teacher.

Ectoplasm was tall, his frame hidden beneath a long tan trench coat that reached down to cover his prosthetic legs. His mask was an uneasy one, almost villain-like, with sharp narrow eye-slits and a golden jaw-guard that extended past the back of his head. It was hard to get a bead on the man's emotions for a disturbingly wide smile, that reached past his jawbone, was permanently affixed upon his features.

For his peers that struggled with algebraic expressions, this man was the bane of their existence.

The robot turned to Ectoplasm and greeted him.

"Welcome to J-Mart!"

"Your first lesson, Arisato," Ectoplasm repeated, standing tall in front of the entrance, "is that villains do not fight fair."

"Your clone already went through this, sir."

"Lessons need to be reinforced. That is the best way to learn. This lesson, in particular, is a good one. It teaches you to be critical, to not simply take the situation at face value, and to adapt—always to adapt."

More clones rushed into the store, whipping the poor robot attendant into a greeting frenzy. A seemingly endless wave of Ectoplasms flooded the narrow aisles and barred their way out.

"Come, Arisato."

Minato didn't need a prompt. The moment he reached for his bokken, rage filled his being.

His was an existence consumed by wrath. As a dharmapala, anger fed his belief, fury became his weapon, and peace was forever out of reach; such was the life of a protector of the Buddhist dharma. It was not righteousness or justice that guided his path forward. Instead, it was a single-minded resolve to destroy whomever dared to stand against his makers.

Zouchouten.

He breathed deep. He breathed aloud.

And moved.

A clone rushed him, face-on. Ectoplasm disguised a feint, his body ducked low, but dived forward with a side kick aimed at the outside of his thighs.

Minato braced himself for the lead-in, and closed the distance to limit the force behind the attack; he weathered through it with a pained grunt. Before Ectoplasm could even place himself level, Minato thrust his sword forward, the blunt tip finding home on Ectoplasm's unguarded chest.

The clone dispelled into a gooey mush.

"Behind you!"

Nezu had vacated his position on his shoulder and was now scurrying in between his legs, attempting to call the fight.

Minato took a heavy kick to the shoulder, forcing him back against a fixture filled with housing miscellanea and partly knocking it over. Scrambling to his feet, he evaded a swipe to his midsection and kicked at the opposite shelving with the full force behind his weight. In doing so, he cut off the opportunity for Ectoplasm's clones to rush in behind him.

"Excellent judge—!"

Minato despatched the clone before it could finish. More tried to swarm him.

Minato brought his bokken up, his weapon held overhead as he parried an axe kick bearing down for his head. It almost forced him to his knees. Shifting slightly, he angled his bokken sideways, letting it run down the length of Ectoplasm's prosthetic leg and burying it into the clone's groin.

Collectively, the clones sucked in a breath, hissing.

Minato was undeterred.

As their exchanges grew longer, he found that there was a strange caveat to Ectoplasm's Quirk. Landing a hit wasn't as hard as he thought it would be, but having it be a disabling one was easier said than done given the man's combat prowess. Ectoplasm modelled his fighting style around speed and finesse, and his game plan was an obvious one.

Deny and swarm.

In such a confined space, especially given his use of a weapon, Minato knew he couldn't afford to keep this up. If there wasn't a way around Ectoplasm, then the obvious route was through him.

"Stick close," he said to Nezu. "Move with me."

And so he lost himself in battle; it was what Zouchouten knew best.

His stance, feet planted shoulder-width apart, was rigid. His strikes, knuckles white on the grip, were unyielding. Yet, in that cloudy haze, his anger flowed as he cleaved through clone after clone without reply.

Minato was afforded no rest, no reprieve, when they finally emerged from the convenience store. Ectoplasm didn't back off, but his tunnel vision of their ongoing fight made him miss the figure approaching them, surrounded as he was by the mass of clones. This time, the aroma of gooseberry and lilac, the undertone laced with a hint of spice, tickled his nostrils before he even realised his mistake.

Complacency had crept in.

His nights scaling the winding floors of Tartarus had felt like lifetimes ago. Back then, he had the members of SEES to watch his back. Being caught off-guard had been a rare occurrence; even then, they had always pulled through with sheer numbers. Here, given how he was, he had to do better. Ectoplasm was right.

Adapt.

Always to adapt.

Even as he held his breath, draping his newly-minted scarf tight over the lower-half of his face, Minato could feel his eyelids begin to droop. Immediately, he felt his body slow; his movements clumsy and his reactions delayed. Fumbling, he shoved a clone aside, and barely had the time to destroy it before it dispelled on its own—no doubt affected by Kayama's Quirk.

More of the clones met the same fate, until it finally revealed his homeroom teacher, shrouded as she was in the vapours of her Quirk.

"Hello, my pretties~~" Kayama said, her voice saccharine.

He reached down for Nezu, who was strangely unaffected by the miasma, and scooped the rodent under his arm. On uneven feet, he made to run away, but a solid cement block rose up, reaching to almost three stories in height, to wall off his escape. There were more blocking his path, until it enclosed him completely on all sides.

Minato sank to his knees, using his sword to keep him upright, and inhaled a shuddering breath.

"How long will you continue to hide it, Arisato-san?" Nezu asked, sighing. "This reticent not to use your Quirk, it is unbecoming."

He shut his eyes.

"Is this truly the extent of your resolve? If so, I have judged poorly."

In that all-encompassing darkness in which he was the centre, Minato had his head bowed, his grip on his sword slackening with each breath. Beside him, basking in the light that shone directly above, the vengeful form of Zouchouten stood tall and mighty, ostensibly uncaring of his plight. His persona's gaze was resolute and far-seeing, staring into the inky darkness with narrowed eyes.

Forcibly, Zouchouten was banished into the sea of souls, disappearing in a glint of ethereal blue. Another persona sought entry—not at all benignant.

He could hear it strike the invisible walls of his subconscious, feel its searing heat lick his skin, and for once, peer beyond the darkness, at the large and impossible, otherworldly presence lurking just beyond.

His sight gave way to a void; a black well of nothingness tinged with a shade of dark red, as if the fiery hell of sulphur and brimstone awaited on the other side. With it, eclipsing his vision, was a being born of fire and malevolence; a jötunn that once slumbered deep in the molten fires of Musphelheim—a guardian to a forgotten realm. Each time it bore its fists down upon the walls, lightning flashed, revealing its fearsome visage in its entirety.

Surt.

There was but a single memory, bound together since time immemorial; it was of fire and agony. Tension grew in his temples, twisting his vision to the point that he saw white, but at all once, his exhaustion gave way to something else entirely.

The fire rose, almost as if it were alive, with Minato at the centre of it.

He could feel everything melt away and wash over him until a single emotion took a hold in his core. He stood up, his sword pointed at Surt, and mirrored the emotion of the being staring down at him.

Distantly, he heard the sounds of glass tinkling.

Glass did not shatter, however. It sounded rough, incomplete, straining to the point of breakage. Whereas once power flowed freely, it now seeped through the cracks, almost like a dam being fed through a tiny funnel. It came to him all the same. He allowed that power, less than what he remembered, to swirl within him and directed it down—towards his blade. His persona resisted, but he crushed its meagre resistance ruthlessly.

Laevateinn.

Brighter than any star.
Heavier than any moon.
The sword destined to bring about Ragnarok.

When his eyes snapped open, Minato beheld the ancient weapon in all its glory. Such was the intensity of the heat pouring from his weapon that the superheated air created distortions around the blade. The sweltering flames didn't hurt him, however; it felt warm, akin to an embrace that seeped into every fibre of his being. He couldn't say the same for Nezu.

When he breathed, the taste of sulphur, not gooseberries and lilac, lingered on his lips.

"You should step back," Minato said.

When Minato plunged Laevateinn into the cement block, the fiery sword found no resistance. He fashioned an exit, motioning with his head for Nezu to follow him.

"That was," Nezu began, coughing; the look on his face was unreadable, even as he followed at a distance, "quite interesting."

When they emerged from the confines of their concrete prison, Kayama was waiting for them, riding crop in hand. She quirked an eyebrow, eyeing his new-found weapon with mock surprise. "Some Quirk you got there, Arisato-kun. This must be one hell of a coincidence, huh?"

Minato regarded the woman for all but a moment, before he blinked and swayed lightly on his feet; the sudden rush of adrenaline that had coursed through his veins was draining away, all at once.

Once more, he could feel the effects of her sleeping gas start to overcome his senses. Laevateinn slipped from his slackened grip, the fervent warmth leaving him entirely as it did. Before it could touch the ground, the weapon disintegrated, baring motes of dust and ash to float upwards into the breeze.

Surt was no more.

Numbly, Minato reached for another persona straying in the periphery of his sea of souls. He did not need strength. He sought for a being that carried the nectar of gods, the fabled drink of devas; one that was said could cure ailments and transcend immortality.

Amri—

His homeroom teacher walked over and poked him on the chest. Predictably, he crumpled to the ground.

"Guess all that gas finally did its work," Kayama said. "You really toughed it out there; I'm seriously impressed you lasted so long. But then again… Adrenaline can only take you so far before your body eventually shuts down. You have my permission to rest, slave." She turned to the tiny form of Nezu. "As for you… Well, don't forget that I still get to kill you."

The last thing Minato remembered before his eyes fluttered to a close was Nezu's quiet plea of forgiveness.

0.0

Arisato Minato blinked at the unfamiliar ceiling.

It was dark out, that much he could tell, but the barest hint of light peeked through his curtains, giving him a cursory view of his new dorm room. It was spartan, with nothing but the furnishings the school had provided; he still had a few odds and ends that he wanted to bring over from his apartment.

Fumbling for his phone, he found a sticky note posted over his screen, with his homeroom teacher's tidy penmanship scrawled across it.

'You were out cold.
Nezu said you passed btw.
Come downstairs.
Party's started.'

He got up from his bed and went through the unread messages on his phone, returning a few replies to both Yu and Momo. The most surprising was Nejire's, who had kindly included him in their class' group chat. She had sent pictures of her and their classmates grinning over an army of portable grills. There were more messages. Dozens, in fact. In between texts, he went to his small en-suite bathroom to freshen up.

From the fifth floor, Minato made his way down to the common area, where the liveliness of the party bled through the walls.

The first one to notice him had been Mirio, dressed as his costumed alter ego. Given how late it was, Minato assumed that the taller teen had just returned from his internship duties. Mirio was being cheered on by the rest of the class as he cannoned in and out of the ground to chase after a floating piece of barbecued meat. With a flourish, he landed gracefully, his prize sunk in between his teeth.

"Minato-san," his voice was muffled as he chewed into the meat, "we thought you'd never wake up!" Mirio slung an arm over Minato's shoulder and pulled him towards the dining area. "Hope you're hungry! Kayama-sensei bought a ton of meat for the housewarming party tonight." Mechanically, he brought his free arm up, squeezing his hand tight. "It's a legit… fist! Get it?! Feast?!"

"Stop being so corny, Togato!" someone shouted. "It's like literal nails on a chalkboard!"

Mirio was unperturbed. "That could have gone better," he said, his cherubic smile not wavering in the least. "Hey, everyone! Guess who finally decided to join the p-p-p-party!"

His presence sent another round of cheers around the room, with a healthy spattering of 'new guy', each with a different iteration, directed his way. He was then pushed into an empty seat in front of their homeroom teacher. Kayama, dressed in simple casualwear, eyed him with thinly-veiled contempt. It wasn't an emotion he was expecting, but seeing that she was as flushed as a peach and swigging down a small cup of sake…

Well, it explained a lot.

"If it isn't the man of the hour," Kayama said, her words slurred. "You really conked out back there, Arisato-kun. Tired much?"

He nodded plainly, taking his seat at the table. The twins Eresa and Erise took the seats just beside them, both manning the portable grill with kitchen tongs and chopsticks in hand. Yet again, the only way he was able to tell the two apart was the fact that they still wore their name tags—despite not being in uniform.

"How did I do?"

"It was a decent run. A solid 'B'; not enough for All Might to show up and do his villain bit, but decent still." At his questioning look, she explained, "They planned this whole thing of having him show up as a villain once you've hit the ten-minute mark. It's an easy way to cut draggy simulations; you were close though."

"I'll have to do better next time."

Kayama tilted her head back, and shouted suddenly, "Sake slave, refill!"

"C-Coming!"

From another table, Aragaki, a mousy boy that looked to be no older than thirteen, rushed over to their table. With jittery hands, he poured a serving into her small porcelain cup and stepped back, as if he were a server.

"How crude, sensei," Eresa said dryly.

"We expect nothing less from you."

"Don't sass me, meat slaves!" Kayama said with narrowed eyes, scowling at the twins. "He's the oldest out of the lot of you. You should be learning from his example."

The sisters turned to him saying:

"Sensei is an—"

"—angry drunk."

"D-Don't fight, please," Aragaki said. "I-I don't mind at all."

"See! This is how an assistant class representative should act! Don't be as brain dead as that one." Kayama motioned to Nejire, who was seated at another table. The girl in question was happily being fed by Yuyu and remained oblivious to her teacher's withering glare. "Girl probably has an invisible brain slug attached to her head."

"In terms of academics, Hado-san is first in our class, Kayama-sensei."

She made a shooing motion with her hands at Aragaki. "You can go back to your dinner, Aragaki-kun. I'll call for you when I need you."

Hurriedly, the smaller boy nodded and rushed back to his table, one which included Mirio and Amajiki; the latter had his head bowed over the grill and was quietly cooking up a storm. As it was, the good-natured chatter of the tables surrounding him perked his ears. Minato looked at his own table and frowned.

"And you wonder why—"

"—you're still unmarr—"

"Finish that sentence," Kayama said, a hiccup escaping her lips. "And you two will be eating the rest of your dinner tonight through a straw."

"Speaking of dinner," Minato cut in.

He was none-too-subtly ignored in favour of their silent staring contest, but cuts of well-done beef were raised from the portable grill with a twitch of Eresa's finger, and pushed forward onto his plate, courtesy of Erise. It was an impressive display of precision and coordination; as one would come to expect from the Telekinetic Sisters.

Just as he split his chopsticks apart, a slender hand reached in from above his shoulder and stole a piece from his plate.

Nejire chewed with full cheeks. "It's not as nice as how Yuyu does it."

"Then stop stealing mine."

Nejire squeezed herself in between Minato and Erise, and planted herself on the edge of the table. "Ne, Arisato, Kayama-sensei told us about your fight today. Is it true? Is it true? Do you finally know what your Quirk is?" She whined mutely, saying, "She won't tell us what it is."

"Yes, it's true."

"Can you give us a demonstration~~?"

He looked down at his food longingly, hoping she would get the hint; it didn't help that he hadn't eaten much for the entire day.

"After dinner maybe?"

"Bah!" someone shouted from the back. "We're asking to see your Quirk! Not your ass! Stop making us work for it and just show us already!"

Spiky black hair, tanned but not overtly so, Shougo Yano didn't so much as stand out of the crowd as he did blend right into one. The only thing that stood out were his eyes. When he blinked, his eyelids closed both vertically and horizontally, almost like a reptile.

"Here!" Shougo stood up and chucked something at him.

It was an instinctive reaction as Minato held out his hand.

The being that came to the fore was a familiar one; a kindred spirit in all but name. Whereas other personas bled memories not of his own, the scenes that came to him were his. It was a life… lived, however short it was.

Orpheus.

His persona didn't manifest itself into the world, but he felt its presence, its power, coursing through his veins. Although, like with Surt, the power was distilled. Minato couldn't explain the half-state of his summoning, not entirely, especially in a world that existed outside the realm of the Dark Hour.

Was the presence of Death, a being formed from Nyx, residing within him, the key?

Evokers were a medium invented through the manipulation of the shattered fragments of Nyx's physical form. Once, he had always believed—been told, in fact—that they were part and parcel to summoning a persona. As he was now, acting as the literal bridge between his persona and this new reality, Minato had to wonder if that was entirely true.

When he had first arrived, stripped of his irreplaceable bonds and bereft of everything except the clothes on his back, he was impotent, even as the sea of souls laid dormant within him. As he grew into this world, so did his powers. It was limited, possibly because he was an incomplete vessel, but it was there for him—and he had an inkling as to why.

He couldn't help but smile as fire flowed through his fingertips.

It must have made for a strange thing to witness when he was caught smiling at the now burning piece of meat.

"That was—"

"—really creepy."

Even as the twins said it, their expressions sparkled with muted delight.

Nejire didn't say a word. She just leaned over the table and plucked a raw cut of beef with her chopsticks, holding it out to him.

"I am not a human campfire, Hado."

She visibly deflated.

"Endeavor's freaky love child, more like!" someone yelled.

Kayama, who was leaning her chin on the palm of her hand, commented idly, "You know, fire-based Quirks aren't all that uncommon nowadays." She was still flushed, but seemed much more collected than before. "But I'm guessing your Quirk works along a different line? Especially with that flaming sword you sprung on us during your battle simulation?"

"It's a facet of my power," he explained. "You could call it a Persona."

There wasn't a need to lie about his abilities. The only reason why he had was his inability to manifest his personas, which was moot at this point. He didn't need to be seen as an enemy of his minders in UA; his conversation with Nezu was a stark admonition that he was threading a fine line.

Kayama raised an eyebrow. "Persona, huh? Is that what you're calling your Quirk? Well, I guess there's more to you than lets on?" She snorted lightly, adding, "It fits. What with your Pro Hero name and all…"

"What's his name?"

"It's—"

"Watch it, Ono!" Shougo shouted, standing to glare at a sweating, heavy-set teen; his skin was melting off his massive frame and caking goop all over the grill. "You're getting your pudding ass all over the food!"

"Sorree…"

Sky blue eyes locked onto his, wide and unblinking. Kayama's explanation had pulled Nejire back into his orbit, and she wasn't about to pull away any time soon. "More~~?" she breathed, excited. "You can do more~~?"

Kayama cackled into her sake. "You look like a cornered rabbit!"

He leaned back in this seat unconsciously. In truth, it was hard not to feel like one.

0.0

"Mount Lady, please…"

"Hey! Woodsy!" Takeyama Yu half-hissed, sparing the female officer an apologetic look. "I won't go away just because you're ignoring me, you know?!"

It was late, just after midnight, when Yu was tipped off to the conclusion of a raid sanctioned by the NPA's newest special task force. In a decisive show of strength, they had systematically brought down a suspected Trigger ring operating in the waterfront district of Kōtō ward. She didn't need to guess as to why there was wider news coverage, with scores of different media outlets now reporting on the scene.

Her fellow rookie stood just beyond the cordoned-off area, where a slew of officers stood in line behind the police barricade to ward off intruders and prying eyes—and her as well, it seemed. Nishiya had his back to her, head bowed, and conversing with Wash.

Wash, of all people! Wash, the recluse using a hollowed-out washing machine as a costume! Wash, the top-tier Pro Hero who couldn't say anything except for his own name!

As it was, Yu attracted the attention of someone else entirely.

The woman was exotic; a beguiling kind of beauty that made people stop and stare. She had dark skin, and her long white hair, where two equally long fluffy ears peeked out, made her fiery red eyes stand out all the more. Ultimately, it was her skin-tight costume, a leotard that was just a cut below immodest, that gave Yu pause. The woman was shapely, toned—blessed with a physique that could have only been attained through discipline and sheer diligence.

Hell, she could probably crush steel girders between her thighs.

It wasn't hard to place who she was; well-regarded by the public, a seasoned veteran, undoubtedly one of the strongest female Pro Heroes in all of Japan.

The Rabbit Hero: Mirko.

"Oi!" Mirko called out to the female officer, waving her in. "She's with me! Let her in, will ya?"

Muttering a quick word of gratitude to the officer, Yu made her way over to Mirko, trying but failing to hide the wariness on her face; this was the first time she had even met the other woman.

Yu bowed stiffly to her senior. "Uhm, thanks for that."

"Eh, don't. Did it on a whim," Mirko said, not unkind, just aloof. "Mount Lady, right? I've seen you on the news cuz of that UA Festival bust-up; kinda hard not to, what with your Quirk and all. 'sides, I'm real curious as to why you're nosing around here all of a sudden."

"I heard what went down. I wanted to see what I could do to help."
"Oi, that shit won't fly with a blind man, let alone me. Tell me the real reason why you're here, Mount La—" Shaking her head, Mirko said, "God, saying your name in full sounds so stupid. I ain't gonna bother saying it over and over again."

Yu thinned her lips into a line. "If three syllables is too much for you," she said, her features terse. "Shorten it, Mirko-san."

The other woman grinned, all teeth. "Well, somebody has a backbone. Mount, huh? Now lemme guess, it's part of your surname, isn't it? The kanji for 'yama' written as mountain? Mine's the same." She pointed at herself, thumbs held aloft. "Usagiyama Rumi. Call me whatever you want, but cut the senior-junior bullshit. I ain't one to stand on ceremony."

"Takeyama Yu," she said, nodding. "I appreciate it… Rumi."

"Great, now that we're best friends n' shit." Rumi motioned at the two of them, her eyes flat, as she growled, "Dish."

"Washer!"

"Piss off, Wash!"

Rumi tried to swat a gloved hand at Wash, who responded by retracting his limbs back into his hollow washing machine-like shell. Her misguided attack found nothing but empty air as Wash's turtled form clattered to the ground before her.

"Wash?!" the voice echoing from within was muffled, but the confusion in his voice was unmistakable.

Yu hid a scowl as Nishiya came over to greet them. "Mount Lady, Mirko-san," he said. "We should be mindful of the cameras."

Nishiya crowded them towards a more secluded corner, away from the media crew, and coincidentally where Best Jeanist was. The 'No. 4' Pro Hero was quietly conversing with a small group of non-uniformed officers, with Detective Kaneko, apparently still a junior member, standing near the fringe with his head bowed.

Kaneko saw them—her—first.

"Ta—Mount Lady," he corrected himself. "What are you doing here?"

"I vouched for her," Rumi answered, shrugging. "Noticed she was hanging around the scene even before all those news people started arriving. I figured she had something interesting to share."

While Yu wasn't one to be shy, it did unnerve her to be thrust into the spotlight, especially given the circumstances. She wasn't a part of their operation, so it didn't leave the best impression of her on her peers. There was nothing like someone else coming in half-way and thinking that they could do better.

"Was there," she started, drawing out her words carefully, "a problem with tonight's operation?"

Rumi scoffed. "Not unless you count us seizing a container's worth of dick pills," she said, grinning wildly. "I won't be the only one not seeing any action tonight."

"Mirko…"

"Don't give me that look, Jeanist. I'm bored out of my mind! We've been standing around for God knows how long waiting for everyone to clean up shop!" Rumi looked towards the group of officers. "Just get on with the debriefing so we can scamper off already."

Best Jeanist pressed a hand over the bridge of his nose. "And how did you come into this knowledge, Mount Lady?"

"About three weeks ago, I was following up on a lead—Ryuuji Jin," Yu explained. "He's a mid-level money launderer; owns a string of pachinko parlours up and down Tokyo. From what I hear, he has pretty deep ties with some movers and shakers in the underworld. I uh, got a little creative and managed to clone his phone without his knowledge."

She gestured with her burner phone.

"So on and off, I've been monitoring their communications. Tried, at least. Their messages were in shorthand, and I haven't been able to crack their lingo. Thing is that today… there was more chatter in the last two hours than there have been in the last three weeks."

"They caught wind of our operation?" Kaneko asked.

"I can't say for sure," Yu said. "There weren't any addresses or building names. They communicated the location with actual coordinates—said something about a potential 'stock take' and to 'prop up the display furniture'. It's easy to understand the gist of it, but the specifics are harder to nail down."

One of Kaneko's colleagues, an older man with authority, stepped forward. He had thin grey hair and sharp narrow eyes. When he spoke, it was in a deep monotone voice, "Chief Inspector Taro—I've been tasked to head the Trigger Special Task Force. We will need that phone." There was no pretence to his demand. "And whatever information you've managed to collect thus far."

Her grip on the phone tightened. "Sir, I want to be included in the investigation."

"We appreciate your effort in the matter, Mount Lady." Taro's features were stern, unmoving; it was as if his face had been carved from granite. "Make no mistake, if the situation were not so… untenable, we could have reached an adequate compromise. As it stands now, I cannot concede to your request."

Rumi huffed. "'the hell is that double-speak supposed to mean?"

Taro shared a look with Best Jeanist, who sighed. "The current political climate is volatile," Best Jeanist said. "I'm sure you've all heard of 'Trigger Enforcement Act' legislation being passed in the National Diet. Greater powers have been afforded to the NPA in an effort to combat this epidemic. Our presence here is at their invitation; we cannot be seen circumventing that authority."

Taro continued, "And a Pro Hero performing an unsanctioned act of surveillance on a private citizen… This could be construed as that."

"It wasn't unsanctioned," Yu argued. "I raised my actions up to HN-Despatch. Hell, even All Might was there—towards the end. If no one bothered to follow up with me after I made my report, then that's not on me, is it?"

The man hardly twitched. "Investigations into criminal elements fall under our jurisdiction. We did not sign off on your probe into this… Ryuuji Jin. You took it upon yourself to monitor this individual and merely reported your actions after the fact. Therefore, it is unsanctioned."

Taro motioned for one of his detectives. A nondescript man came up to her, head bowed, as he silently requested for the phone. Peeved, Yu slapped the phone down onto his open palm, with a little more force than necessary.

"That concludes the end of tonight's operation. We thank you for your endeavour and patience, Pro Heroes," Taro said, bowing low at the waist. "Mount Lady, a meeting will be arranged to discuss your handover. One of my detectives will be in touch."

With that, Taro left, together with the rest of his associates; Kaneko surreptitiously gave her an apologetic nod before going after his superiors.

"This is," Yu started, teeth gnashed together, "fucking—"

"Washer!"

"I understand your frustrations, Mount Lady," Nishiya said. "Tonight has not been a fruitful night for us either. I did not expect my first raid to be so anti-climatic."

Rumi smirked, asking, "It's a tough break, ain't it?" Her red eyes narrowed, growing a touch feral. "But what the fuck are you gonna do about it? You gonna roll over and play nice, or are—"

"May I suggest," Best Jeanist cut in, "that we do not antagonise our police counterpart? We are working towards a common goal—to eradicate this Trigger syndicate."

"Did anyone tell them that?!"

Best Jeanist sighed, saying to Yu, "We stand before a crossroad." A lone eye, the only one visible beneath his combed down fringe, glanced upwards. "The villains seek to divide us, but the onus lies with us on how we respond. Will we continue to engender that rift and further alienate our allies, or do we find a middle-ground and compromise so that we can move forward?"

"Sounds a lot like rolling over there, bub," Rumi said, nonchalant.

Best Jeanist eyed her coolly. "We should all retire for the night. Only bad decisions await us should we continue. It has been a pleasure to work with all of you. It is my hope that we can work together again under better circumstances."

Without much fanfare, the 'No. 4' Pro Hero left. Wash and Nishiya did the same, exchanging curt farewells—for Nishiya at least—as they did.

It left only Yu and Rumi alone.

"This is why I hate these placements from the PSC." Rumi held her arms behind her head, walking ahead. "There's always a pacifist who thinks that holding hands will magically make things better." She paused in her steps, glancing at Yu out of the corner of her eyes. "By the way, you never answered my question."

"I didn't?"

"It wasn't rhetorical, ya bimbo," she said, rolling her eyes, "when I asked 'what the fuck are you gonna do about it?'."

Yu wasn't sure if it was false bravado to impress the woman before her, or simply her tired mind, but as that one simple truth left her lips, she found herself standing straighter, fists clenched tight:

"I'll do what I have to."

Rumi smirked. "You're not as hopeless as you look, Mount. Maybe you're not such a lost cause, after all."

Minor Arcana: Knight of Wands…

Side Note(s): I've migrated over to Spacebattles. Updates will still be cross-posted between the two sites, but if you want a bigger hand in trying to shape the story, come over and say hey. There are additional side-stories that help to flesh out the world and side characters.

Regardless, feedback and comments are always appreciated.

Extra (A): And so, Aizawa Shota agrees to let his student have his cake…

Aizawa Shota palmed his hand over his face, slowly bringing it down to massage the bridge of his nose. Before him, seated at seiza on the floor, was his errant student—well, one of them anyway. "Let me get this straight, Mineta," Shota said slowly. "Despite receiving zero nominations during the Sports Festival, you've went out of your way not to reach out to the forty or so participating agencies we've short-listed, but instead chose to search for your own?"

"Sensei, none of those agencies related the kind of experience I wanted to have for my internship. Given the specialisation of their agencies and the difference in synergy between our Quirks, I came to the conclusion that—"

Shota slapped down one of the applications Mineta had sent out, intoning blankly:

"Mount Lady."

And another.

"Mirko."

And another.

"Ryukyu."

And another.

"Uwabami."

And another.

"And the Wild, Wild Pussycats."

Mineta ducked his head down, shakily raising a fist up. "P-Plus Ultra?"

Kayama whistled from her desk, saying, "You're a regular ol' horndog, aren't you kid?"

Inui snorted, standing so sharply that he knocked back his chair. He angled his face up, his nose held high, as if he was tasting the air. "My name!" he barked gruffly. "Did someone say my name?!"

"I said horndog, Inui! Not Hound Dog!"

The man shook in place. "Grrg—Enunciate, Kayama! You must—grghh enunciate!"

"I don't think you understand just how serious this is, Mineta." Against the backdrop of the now squabbling pair, Shota turned to Ectoplasm, who was hidden behind a copy of today's newspaper, asking, "Do you think he's taking this learning opportunity for granted?"

Ectoplasm didn't break stride. "I do believe so, Aizawa."

"W-What are you gonna do to me, sensei?"

"Me?" Shota grinned viciously, saying, "I'm not going to do anything to you, Mineta. In fact, I asked you here to share some good news. The Wild, Wild Pussycats have approved your application."

"What?!" Mineta exclaimed, standing. "Seriously?! That's frigging awesome!"

"Oh yes… Although the only problem is that most of their team are on break right now, so that means that Pixie-Bob, Mandalay, and Ragdoll," Shota ticked off their names with a finger to which his student flinched each time he did so, "won't be around for your internship. It's a shame, isn't it Ectoplasm?"

"A damn shame, Aizawa."

To his student's growing confusion, he said, "Tiger, however, is more than happy to take you in. He was so moved by your admiration for their team that he's decided to forego his vacation days to help you with your internship. Isn't that great, Ectoplasm?"

"Just great, Aizawa."

"W-Wait!" Mineta stammered. "That's not what—"

Shota cut him off, "You should jump at the chance, Mineta. This could be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. After all, if you should refuse… I'm not quite sure how you'll take to the alternative. Isn't that right, Ectoplasm?"

Ectoplasm lowered the newspaper in his hands, looking at Mineta fully with a wide, unsettling smile.

"You'd best start praying, boy…"