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: I'd recommend checking this story out on SpaceBattles solely for the fanart I commissioned for Yu's and Minato's new look :) And hey, do drop a like or a message to support the story there! Plus, the story has underwent some major revisions, especially in earlier chapters centred around Momo's interactions and more! Everything should read and flow better now!
My apologies for leaving it so late to correct these things.
0.0
"Why the change, Mount Lady? I'm sure your fans would love to hear about your new look." The emcee, a man in his mid-thirties, paused. Predictably, a string of raucous cheers met his statement, coupled with the incessant shutter of camera flashes.
"We love the new mask!"
"So pretty!"
"Short hair suits you!"
Arisato Minato, seated at a booth behind a low-lying partition that overlooked the 'stage', frowned as he sipped from his straw. It was the one good thing about Yu holding her fan meet inside a family restaurant—free refillable drinks.
If anyone had asked, he'd say that he wasn't necessarily hiding. However, Yu's fans—the thirty of them crammed inside this family restaurant right now—weren't the most reciprocative bunch. His introduction earlier had been… subdued. Minato gave them the benefit of the doubt, however; maybe him wearing his school uniform instead of his costume made him appear underwhelming. When allowed, he had retreated to this corner―away from where her congregation of fans sat.
Even if it wasn't ideal, it was still a reprieve from their placements with the Trigger Special Task Force…
At least Yu seemed to be enjoying herself.
"Thank God! I was worried that it wouldn't come off well." Yu laughed and brushed her hair over her shoulders; not that it made any difference, seeing that her hair now reached just above her neckline. "Gosh, it feels like a second debut for me. And honestly, it was the right time for one―to go along with the upgrade to my mask. Besides, you wouldn't believe how hard it was drying my hair all this time! It's so much easier now!"
Like a campy sitcom, the crowd erupted into a boisterous peal of canned laughter, to which Yu greeted with gleeful delight. She caught his eye and Minato almost rolled his eyes at her in reply.
It had been three weeks since that fateful conversation atop Hosu General. To say that the dynamics of their relationship had changed drastically would be a lie, but there was a noticeable shift. Yu was more careful around him now; he tried his best to look past that searching gaze whenever he caught her staring.
To be honest, he had done the same to her.
Their relationship had reached a new equilibrium. Even if some semblance of normalcy remained, there was just no going back to the status quo. Rather than ignoring the elephant in the room, both of them were making a point to occasionally serve it tea—him more than her, if he was being honest. That was why he made it a point not to ignore the repercussions of her fight with Kugutsu. Physically, her injuries had healed with no lasting effects, but mentally, he knew the scars of that traumatic episode lingered deep within her psyche. Yu had insisted on treating it as a learning point. It was a step in the right direction, even if she adamantly refused to talk about it.
In the past few weeks, she had gone to great lengths to fix the deficiencies in her costume.
One was a painfully expensive consultation with a world-renowned support company. While the aim of it was simple—to design a mask that would better protect her eyes—the means of it was anything but, given her Quirk. It had been worth the ungodly sum of money. Her sleek new mask kept to the old motif; the horns were shorter but were made out of a translucent, malleable mesh that could be pulled down over her eyes to act as an added layer of protection.
The other significant change was her make-over.
Yu had realised that her hair, which reached down to the small of her back, was a liability in battle. In an effort to correct that, she had started braiding her hair during their recent patrols. Or to be more accurate, he had started braiding her hair for her during their recent patrols…
It turned out that he was horrible at it, or so she claimed—ad nauseum. He could only endure the backhanded comments for so long before he threatened to snip it off. She thought it was a wonderful idea; a new hairstyle to complement her new look as Mount Lady.
He had been pulled into getting one as well. Mostly out of desperation.
The past month had been trying, in every sense of the word. Not only had the videos of him in Odaiba gone viral on SNS, his involvement in the 'Battle of Hosu' had also been well-publicised in the media. Ultimately, it was the memes that did him in—memes of him fighting in colourful hospital pyjamas. His newfound popularity was stifling. It wasn't just within the walls of UA, which was unpleasant by itself, but he was starting to get recognised by people on the street, even outside of his costume.
Some concessions had been made at the salon, which was why his hair was now pulled back to reveal his forehead, bunched loosely in a short ponytail, something he'd do when he was off-duty. Yu had reasoned that it was another way to separate his civilian life and his Pro Hero persona.
It was worth a try at least.
"Ara, ara…" A familiar voice perked his ears, saying, "You actually have a forehead, Arisato-chi. Here I was thinking that your face just started from your eyes." Hoshino Tamaki, his former class representative in 3-C, leaned over and smiled at him. "Howdy, partner," she said, with an exaggerated twang. "Been a while, huh?"
Much like him, Tamaki was wearing her school uniform.
"Hoshino-san?"
She cocked her arm. "Right in one, partner!" She took a seat across from him, miming a microphone with her hand. She held it out to him. "Liking the new 'do, Wild Card-chi. Tell us more about that. I'm sure your fans would love to hear about your new look."
He swatted at her hand lightly. "Stop that."
Tamaki giggled. "I almost didn't recognise you. For real, you look totally different with your hair like that."
"What are you doing here?"
She flashed him a ticket stub for the event. "Hehe, got permission from Snipe-sensei to leave campus for a bit. Gotta offer my support to the bestest female Pro Hero, you know? Besides, I figured you'd be here too." She gave him a knowing look. "It's been hard trying to catch you on campus."
Shame burned in his chest. While he hadn't been outright ignoring his former class representative, his worsening schedule and their agency's recent inclusion in the Trigger Special Task Force had meant that he hadn't seen her since he first transferred to 3-A; she didn't even get the chance to visit him when he was warded at Hosu General.
"That's my fault," he said. "I'm sorry, Hoshino-san."
"Ah, mah… I wasn't trying to guilt trip you. I get that you're busy. You're almost a bona fide Pro Hero now. I mean, teaming up with actual pros like Endeavor and All Might is crazy! The whole class is proud of you—proud and kinda… worried."
"Worried?"
"Couple of weeks ago, you were struggling with World History. Now, you're fighting villains who want to burn down entire cities. That's a really, really big leap, Arisato-chi."
"When you say it like that, I suppose you're right," Minato said. "I can't tell you not to worry about me, but I am being careful."
Tamaki laughed blithely. "Ugh, don't mind me. I'm just being stupid. It's just that… I'm friendly with some of the Heroics students from our year. Mind you, it doesn't mean that we're 'friends' friends." She did a motion with her fingers, scrunching them together. "But whenever I read an article online and I come across their names, I get this really uneasy feeling in my chest. It goes away at the end—when I know they're alright. But lately, I've been seeing your name just about everywhere, and no matter what, that uneasy feeling, it doesn't go away. You're the first real friend I have who's becoming a pro. It kinda makes all of this… more real."
Tamaki pulled her attention to the stage; Yu was now sharing a personal anecdote about one of her fights with a would-be villain. "I keep waiting for things to settle down so I'd feel normal again," she muttered under her breath. "But it won't, right? All the things I've been reading online… It's getting worse out there."
"Don't dwell over something neither of us can control." Minato reached out and patted her hand. "I have some time tonight after my duty ends. We could go grab dinner back on campus—catch up on all the things we missed."
Despite herself, Minato saw a glimpse of a smile reach her lips, one which turned sheepish. "I ah, actually made dinner plans with Shinji later. Maybe you could tag along? I'm sure he wouldn't—"
Tamaki was interrupted when Yu's comms piece beeped in his pocket. Hastily, he gave her an apologetic look and fished out the offending earpiece.
"Wild Card," he said quickly. "Standing in for Mount Lady."
The feminine voice on the other end was curt, saying, "This is Officer Kobayakawa from HN-Despatch. Mount Lady's agency was scheduled to be on standby today in Kita for the TSTF."
"Yes, is this an activation?"
Minato reached for his non-standard UA briefcase that held his attire and weapon. Not for the first time, he was thankful that his costume didn't require a lot of assembly as he pulled his body armour over his head and absently secured it. All the while, Tamaki stared at him—wide-eyed and troubled.
"Activation confirmed," the woman finally said. "There's an active villain near Jujonakahara. We have multiple threats with Quirk-sets currently unknown—possibly 'Trigger-boosted'. We need your agency to take point. Could I confirm your location is at… COCO's Jujo in Kamijujo?"
"Yes."
"Noted. Our officers will be instructed to stand by for your arrival. I'll relay any new information as it arrives. Please keep this channel open."
In the distance, the sounds of police sirens wailed. Seated right by the entrance, he peered out the large display window and caught the briefest glimpse of a patrol car speeding past.
"Is that…?" Tamaki tried to say.
Standing, Minato undid his hair band and waved at Yu to get her attention. There wasn't a need to. He was suddenly aware that the entire restaurant was now staring at him. The worried mutterings of those around him reached his ears as Yu made her way over, eyes narrowed and features stern.
"Is it bad?" she asked.
"No idea, might be another 'Trigger Rampage', but we're running lead," he told her. "It's at Jujonakahara. That's not far, right?"
"With me? A minute—two tops." Yu looked over at Tamaki and patted her shoulder. "Hey, Tamaki, right? Thanks for dropping by the fan meet." She gave the girl a conspiratorial look and whispered, "You did drop by to see me, yeah? Not just him?"
With trembling hands, Tamaki lifted up the ticket stub. "Course I did!"
"Attagirl!" Yu smiled daintily. "Me and Wild Card got this covered. We'll be back in a bit; so just stay here and wait for us. I'll even treat you to a dessert later—to pay you back for the takoyaki from last time."
Minato wasn't petty enough to point out that it had been his treat and not Tamaki's.
Tamaki seemed hesitant. "Uhm, I—" She shook her head and waved her hands, saying, "A-Ah! Actually, it's nothing. Don't mind me."
"Listen, sweetie. You got absolutely nothing to worry about," Yu said to her gently. "We're not going to let anyone here get hurt, okay?" She turned to him, gesturing with her head towards the entrance. Violet eyes raked over his attire. "You forgot your scarf. Good to go without one?"
Minato followed after her and grimaced. "Lost the old one," he said. "Must have forgotten to load a spare. It doesn't mat—"
"Ari—Wild Card-chi!" he heard Tamaki shout. "Catch!"
Instinctively, his hand caught the soft-knit material, but his heart dropped when he noticed what it was—a scarf with polar bears wearing a variety of seasonal hats adorning its length, all in different shapes and sizes. It was cute. Too cute. And too colourful.
He could only imagine the memes now…
"It's a token of appreciation from the Arctic Wildlife Circle," Tamaki said. "For the donations we made to their Polar Bear Conservation Fund."
Minato struggled to find the words as he put it on. "Thank you, Hoshino-san." he told the girl. "I'll come find you later."
"Be careful," Tamaki said, the lines beneath her eyes creasing in worry. She bit her bottom lip. "A-And…" But in that moment, something else took over—a sense of resolve. She pumped a fist into the air, shouting, "And kick some ass, you two!"
Just like that, the once quiet restaurant erupted in a cacophony of cheers. He still wasn't used to it—the almost feverish support he'd receive from fans and civilians alike, so he only nodded in return. Yu, on the other hand, was a consummate professional.
She put a hand on her hip and posed lightly, winking. "Leave it to us!"
"We believe in you!"
"Yeah, what she said! Show those villains what's what! Kick their asses!"
"Just step on them! Crush those cretins beneath your heel, Mount Lady! B-But do it slow! Slow but forceful! Like—"
Minato blinked.
Right, that was enough of that…
0.0
"Why are we watching this?"
Sitting alone at the counter, Hachisuka Kuin leaned a hand under her chin. Her lone eye peeked from under her fringe, staring up at the television screen mounted adjacent to the ceiling. It was showing one of those twenty-four hour news broadcasts from a Fuji-Q network affiliate based in Tokyo.
"Once more, due to a villain outbreak in the vicinity, we advise our viewers to avoid the areas of: Hommachi, Shibuya ward. Hibiya, Chiyoda ward. Tamagawadai, Setagaya ward. Aldera, Musutafu ward. Jujonakahara, Kita ward. Public services are likely to be affected in these areas. Residents are reminded—"
Her question went unanswered.
She eyed the immaculately-dressed 'person' behind the bar, an inky black mist masquerading as a man. "Hey," she called out to him again. "We're in Yokohama, right? Why are we watching news coming out from Tokyo?"
A pair of yellow 'eyes' bore into her own. "We're in Yokohama," he said. "Nothing ever happens in Yokohama." Just like that, he went back to ignoring her as he methodically wiped down an empty glass.
"Right…"
Kuin sighed and lazily kneaded the back of her head. As she went through the motions, she eyed her surroundings with distaste. The bar wasn't what one would call welcoming; the area it was in was terrible, its decor outdated, and its furniture worn and ratty. She didn't dare to have a look at its restroom, and for that, Toga was a stronger person than she was—considering that she actually went to use it.
As far as first impressions went, it was a bad one.
It didn't bode well that a super secret villainous alliance would use a dingy dive bar as a base of operations. Even if they were trying to subvert suspicions, given their well-publicised achievements, the least they could do was clean the place up a bit…
With nothing else to do but wait for Giran's arrival, she turned her attention back to the news broadcast. There was nothing new. Sure, there had been an uptick in general villainy, but nothing significant to broker the nation's attention. Despite the palpable tension that undercut the city, ever since the 'Battle of Hosu', there had been a strange lull. More so, it had been weeks since her altercation with the Shie Hassaikai enforcer, and none of what happened had made the news—not even her mother's death; the thought of her mother made her chest tighten, but she just as quickly forced it down.
She ground her teeth tightly.
The fact that nothing was reported meant that something larger was at play—a ruse to draw her back in by the police or the Shie Hassaikai themselves. She couldn't discount either of them. As she was, she didn't have the resources to take them head-on, so when Giran baited the offer to join the 'League of Villains', she saw no other choice but to accept.
Toga… Well, Toga tagged along if for no other reason than that she was her friend.
Bless her naively twisted heart…
The girl in question emerged from the restroom, wet hands hanging limply from her wrists. "Does anyone have any paper towels?" she asked. "Toilet's all out."
"Sorry," Kuin said to her. "Got nothing." She looked towards the bartender, and against her better judgement, voiced her ire, "Does anyone ever clean this place? Like seriously?" She took her hands off the counter, and she could feel the mugginess that clung onto her forearms.
As stoic as ever, the bartender simply said, "If you'll excuse me."
His 'head' started to lose coherence, the dark fog meandering sluggishly in the air. It extended to the rest of his body, his clothes being pulled along with it, as it started to spiral—almost hypnotically. Like the depths of a whirlpool, the fog was disappearing into the centre, and soon, winked out of existence.
She blinked with her one good eye. "Well, that just happened."
"Yeah, it's neat," Toga said, not at all sounding impressed. With a grimace, she flicked off the excess moisture and patted her hands against her bare legs. When Kuin shot her a weird look, she just shrugged and took a seat beside her. "What? I don't wanna ruin my uniform."
There was a hasty knock at the door, and the familiar figure of Giran stepped through, with another individual in tow. The other man was taller than Giran, the visible parts of his body and face covered in dry gangrenous burns which had been stitched haphazardly onto his healthy skin. Given how rough it looked, Kuin could only assume that it was self-inflicted.
"What is this?" the dark-haired man asked, his tone aloof. "A daycare for runaway teens?"
Kuin only stared at him through a half-lidded eye in reply.
Giran pulled the cigarette from his lips and grinned, revealing his gap-toothed smile. "Huh, you brats are early. I like th—"
"Giran~~" Toga piped up, interrupting him. "Do you have any pocket tissues?"
"Do I look like a vending machine, kid?"
"What about in your man purse?"
Giran looked like he was about to suffer from an aneurysm as he flailed his man purse around. "M-Man purse?!" he sputtered. "This is a fucking designer clutch! It cost almost a million yen!" He was met with a stony silence. "You brats wouldn't know taste if it slapped you in your faces. Try my patience again and it just might do that."
"So… you don't have any pocket tissues?" Toga huffed and rolled her eyes. "You could just have said that, you know."
Deflated, Giran sighed audibly and turned to Kuin. "Where's Kurogiri?"
Kuin made a face. "No freaking way that's his name. That—"
She was interrupted by the reappearance of the swirling dark fog. However, rather than materialising directly behind the counter, 'Kurogiri' appeared near the front of the bar—where Giran and the mysterious stranger stood. Kurogiri didn't immediately emerge. Instead, she heard heavy plodding footsteps resound from within.
Her breath hitched in her throat when a Nomu lumbered out of the void, stopping dead in the centre of the bar.
"Goddamnit!" Giran shouted, backing away.
The hulking monstrosity was tall enough that one of its 'arms' almost scraped the ceiling. Well… arms were a bit of a misnomer. The six appendages that protruded from its back were just muscular stumps affixed with a variety of massive power tools. She could only assume that they ran out of ideas half-way through; four of those appendages had the same 'copy-and-pasted' chainsaw.
Who knew a mad man could still half-ass his job?
"Hey! It's got paper towels!"
Distracted as Kuin was by its other arms, she missed what it was carrying in its two regular ones—a paper towel and a wet rag. Toga didn't. She bundled forward and plucked it away from the braindead Nomu, not at all fazed by its presence.
"Thanks!"
Another figure emerged behind the Nomu; one that Kuin recognised. The mastermind of the 'Battle of Hosu' wasn't as menacing in person, even if she discounted that deformed-looking hand he was using as a prop-mask. Without the backdrop of a city in ruins, the man's flaws were hard to miss. He looked slovenly—messy, unkempt hair; bad posture; drab, wrinkled clothing. He was more like a hikikomori NEET who hadn't stepped out of his room in days.
He tried to shove the Nomu with a leg, not that it budged an inch. "Kurogiri," he called out. His voice was rough and scratchy, as if he had just recovered from a cold. "What's wrong with it?"
Kurogiri manifested by his side, bowing deeply. "My apologies, Shigaraki-dono. This one is still in its infancy. It requires stimuli. That's why I ordered it here to clean the bar."
Kuin perked up in her seat; Kurogiri had actually been decent enough to listen to them earlier.
However, that sentiment quickly soured.
"Always thinking ahead, aren't you, Kurogiri?" Shigaraki asked. Very deliberately, he tapped his forefinger against his temple and raked his eyes over Kuin, then at the other patrons in the bar; it was a look she could only describe as homicidal mirth. She tried her best not to react to it.
"Go, Chainsaw Man. Clean."
"W-Wait—!" Giran tried to say.
Kuin tensed.
Her hive reacted to her distress, scritching at the inner fold of her eyelid and begging to be freed; they were buzzing loud enough to be heard. She saw the stranger behind Giran smirk in retaliation, blue flames pooling in his hands as they were raised before him. Toga had her knives drawn, the intensity that shone in her eyes practically baying for blood.
The Nomu moved, but its steps were painfully sluggish. Betraying everyone's expectations, it turned away from them and went to a nearby table, where it proceeded to wipe down the surface with a wet cloth.
Kuin blew out a breath she didn't know she was holding.
"Useless bastard," Shigaraki muttered.
Giran shut them all down by laughing. "Gotta admire how quick-witted you are, Shigaraki-san. Almost got us there for a second." Clearing his throat, he spread his arms out wide. "I got what you asked. And as someone who only appreciates the best, I wish but the same for my clients."
"This? This is your best?" Shigaraki asked glibly. "It looks like you drove past a middle school and randomly grabbed two kids and their creepy brother."
"Creepy?" the stranger repeated. "Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?"
"Yeah! We're high schoolers!" Toga piped up. She turned to sniff at the man behind Giran. "Well, me and Kuin are, at least."
Shigaraki scratched at his neck roughly and glared at them both. "You two are fucking annoying." He then shifted his gaze over to Kuin. "At least one of you has manners… Or are you some kind of mute pirate?"
Kuin thinned her lips into a line. "I'm not," she said evenly. "And if the only reason why you won't consider me and her is because of our age, then the League of Villains are missing out." She stood up from her seat. "If you don't mind a small demonstration?"
Shigaraki scoffed quietly and made a motion with his hand. "At least one of you is treating this like a job interview."
"Thank you."
Her hive acted without Kuin having to direct them. A drone skittered out of her eye and she allowed it to prick her forefinger, drawing enough blood to form a small droplet. She walked over to Toga, holding it out to her.
"Seriously?!" Toga said.
The girl squirmed in delight as she lapped it up. Toga's Quirk was near-instantaneous, her entire being seemingly melting into a muddy grey goo. It solidified slowly, the quivering mass compacting to fit Kuin's shorter frame, before a carbon copy of her stood beside her—minus the hair colour.
"Himiko's Quirk allows her to transform into anyone as long as she consumes their blood," Kuin explained. "She'd be invaluable as a scout or for infiltrations. Plus, she's really handy with her knives."
Her doppelgänger punched her arm playfully. "Awww, you're great too, Kuin!" she gushed. "Kuin can control the bees that live in her eye."
"—fucking gross…"
"...shit is gross."
Kuin quirked an eyebrow at the byplay between Shigaraki and the stranger; the former needlessly scowling at the latter for the catch in words. "I'd like to think of them and myself as long-ranged support. They aren't exactly regular bees." She held one up, letting them examine the modified stinger. "Mine are especially handy if you wanna sow a little chaos remotely. Trigger, poisons, explosives—as long as you can get me the liquid compound, I can make it work."
Shigaraki narrowed his eyes. "Trigger?"
Giran stood behind her and clapped her by the shoulders. "Yeah, whip-smart this one. Her criminal record is pretty extensive; her body count too. 'Queen' here is the prime suspect in all the recent 'Mass Trigger Incidents'."
"That was you?!" Shigaraki's tone of voice shifted—from bored to genuine anticipation. He was scratching at his neck even harder. "Ah, fuck… Do you know how many times I fantasised about killing you before? Your Trigger 'BS' was always trying to pull the rug from under me." He shook his head and stepped closer. "Tempting. Oh, so tempting…"
A tiny shiver went up her spine, and she unconsciously took a step back. Her drones fed off her renewed aggravation, and Kuin quickly pressed a palm over her eyepatch, willing them to calm down.
Aw, hell…
"M-Mah," Kuin said, through grit teeth. "Is it really, though?"
There was something to be said—about having her emotions be toyed with like a yo-yo. She had been on the receiving end of two death threats in as many minutes. Was this what she had to look forward to working under Shigaraki?
Kuin felt herself being pulled backwards.
Grey chunks of goop slid off Toga's form, whose features were now a mix of Kuin's and her own. The girl inched forward to shield her from Shigaraki, her knives held low. "Hey! You dream about killing too?"
"All the time," he muttered. "Step aside and I'll tell you all about it."
"Can't do that, Handy-san!" Toga chirped, her grin turning downright vicious. "Kuin's my best friend. If you kill her, I'll be really sad."
"Besides," Kuin said, laughing weakly. "You don't want me. I'm just the… messenger, of sorts. I can do you one better—the ringleader behind all the Trigger incidents. I can get you the Shie—"
"—Hassaikai?" Shigaraki finished for her. "What? You think I've never heard of them?"
Kuin blinked, dumbfounded.
"Please… They're second-rate. Those rats used to be content hiding beneath our notice. Now, they're poking their heads out and scurrying around, stealing our food. What do you think I'm gonna do to one that conveniently drops in my lap?"
She swallowed thickly. "N-Nothing," she said. "Because you're smart enough to know that I can lead you back to all of them."
"What makes you think I need you?"
"B-Because… Because if you know where they are, then you would have done something already—since you hate them so much." She squared her shoulders, looking him straight in his eyes. "I want the same thing. I want to burn their fucking nest to the ground. I want to step on their fucking ashes—spit on their corpses and desecrate their graves," she gnashed out through grit teeth. "You think you hate them? No. You don't even know what that word means. But I fucking do. So trust me when I say that you're not the only one who wants them all dead."
By the end of it, her chest heaved with every breath she took, her throat burning as it did. What she didn't expect was for the stranger to start snickering. She glared at him.
"A girl after my own heart," he said with a tilt of his head. "No wonder you looked familiar. I didn't recognise you without all that blood on your face, but the bee was a dead giveaway."
Toga gasped and grabbed her by the arm. "People recognise you! You're famous!"
Shigaraki raised an eyebrow at Giran. "Famous?"
"These two have some history with the Shie Hassaikai," Giran said plainly, pointing to Kuin. "This one especially." He grimaced. "Long story short, they put a bounty on her head, so she sent them a very violent resignation letter with one of their executive's brains. Posted it online and everything. Shit went viral. I'm surprised you didn't see it."
"Must have missed it…"
Giran took a long drag from his cigarette and scratched his head. "Also, as your business partner, it behooves me to inform you that your Yakuza 'friends' are on a serious recruitment drive," he said. "I'm not one to make light of my work, but it's a miracle I managed to find you such competent help. Their broker, Nemoto, is a persuasive fella. Any villain who's in it for the money is already on their payroll."
"Troubling," Kurogiri murmured. "Should we be concerned?"
"Not sure, but they're laying low and gearing up for… something. Word on the street is they've drafted some heavy-hitters. Good ones," Giran said. "The most high-profile being Wolfram and his crew." He held his hand out at the stranger. "Dabi here told me that they reached out to him shortly after I did."
"And why didn't he?" Shigaraki asked, sneering at the man beneath his prop-mask. "Go with those rats?"
Dabi looked amused. "A villain who's interested in money isn't a villain; they're mercenaries. My aims are much higher than that. You could say that it's almost in line with yours," he said. "Shigaraki, you seem like a vindictive little shit, but everything that you've done so far tells me that you can follow through. That's why I chose you—for your means, for your ambitions. What was that line of yours that went viral?"
It was Kuin who answered for Shigaraki, "The age of villainy will rise again…"
Dabi nodded his head. "Exactly. It's as simple as that."
Shigaraki was eerily quiet.
Kuin bore witness to the inner conflict that warred in his head. His non-verbal tics got worse; the involuntary fidgeting, his excessive scratching—which had now drawn thin lines of blood on his neck.
The silence stretched on and was only broken by Shigaraki himself.
"Fine," he said. "Take them. They're in."
Kurogiri bowed low at the waist. "As you wish, Shigaraki-dono." Righting himself, the bartender turned to Giran, saying, "Half now for your finder's fee, the rest later once you've delivered on the support items we—"
"They're not enough," Shigaraki cut in suddenly, his voice listless. "I don't care what you have to do. Go find us more recruits—capable ones; the 'mons' with great EVs and IVs."
Kuin held back a sigh.
And there it was. Of course, he had to have a chuuni side to him…
Giran's smile grew impossibly wide. "I have a few more who may interest you, Shigaraki-san. But I'll need time—two weeks max. Like I said, it's a seller's market out there."
"They better be good," Shigaraki said, waving him away. He started walking towards the entrance, speaking over his shoulder, "I'm going out. Kurogiri, go ahead and tell the minions what we need for sensei's request."
He left without much fanfare. Giran did the same not long after, exchanging a few words with Kurogiri before he did. As awkward as it was, the three of them were forced to idle while they wrapped up their conversation—Kuin had dragged Toga along to the counter, well away from the Nomu housemaid, while Dabi had taken the opportunity to rest his eyes in one of the booths with his feet propped up on the table.
It was a few minutes later that Kurogiri stood before them and cleared his throat; she briefly wondered how that was possible.
"My apologies for the wait," Kurogiri said. He held a folder in his hand and passed along its contents accordingly. "As Shigaraki-dono mentioned, our benefactor has assigned us a task to capture a few high-value targets. It is an endeavour that is not to be taken lightly."
Kuin flipped through the documents and started laying it out one by one on the countertop. There were profiles of various individuals—a third-year UA student, one of the Pro Heroes from the Wild Wild Pussycats, and a few civilians of little note.
"So you guys kidnap people to make those things?" She gestured at the Nomu with a thumb.
Toga scrunched her nose in disgust. "Ewww."
"Very astute of you," Kurogiri said. "While we may not have been given a deadline, Shigaraki-dono is anxious for us to complete it soon. I would suggest a time frame of two weeks—in line with our next round of recruitment. We would have the necessary resources to act by then. In the meantime, it would be best if the three of you could gather more information on our targets."
Standing, Dabi slapped the documents back on the table. "Actually, this sounds more like a job for those two, don't you think? Best to call me later when this shit goes down." He smiled down at the two of them, but it wasn't a pleasant smile, given his disfigurement. "Ta-ta, girls. I hope we can work together well in the future."
Kuin bit back a frown. "Yeah, guess we'll see you around."
"Bye bye~~" Toga said airily.
Like the others before him, Dabi left without so much as a glance back.
Kurogiri returned to his station behind the counter. "Should you two require it," he said. "Please do not hesitate to ask me for assistance."
Kuin nodded. "Thanks. We'll make do for now."
Next to her, Toga groaned.
"Ugghhh!" She cupped the top of her brow with both hands and glared down at the profiles spread over the countertop. "This kinda feels like a group project. I hated those." She quirked her head and stared sideways at Kuin. "Or maybe I just hated my classmates. It might be fun working with you, Kuin."
Kuin mustered a smile for the girl. "Yeah, we'll find a way to make it fun." With an inaudible sigh, she picked up one of the profiles at random. "Arisato Minato," she read aloud, holding it out to Toga. "This one's kinda cute, huh? He's older than us by only a year too."
Toga's gaze grew critical. "Maybe… If you'd let me stab him a couple of times."
She laughed aloud. "Sure, Himiko. Anything for you."
0.0
"Once again, I apologise for how long it took to conclude the findings, Nezu-sensei," Enomoto said, over the line. " I'm sure you've surmised just how fascinated my team and I were by Arisato's Quirk."
Sat at his desk, Nezu chuckled into the phone, feigning sincerity. He had never been too fond of men in white coats—an irrational fear that lingered from his days of being an experimental lab rat. He was not, however, above being cordial.
"It's no trouble. I understand; professional curiosity and all."
"Yes, quite so. Well, if you require any further clarifications," Enomoto said. "Please do reach out to me at this number during my office hours."
"Understood. My gratitude to you and your team, Enomoto-sensei."
It had truly been an enlightening call—one that meandered from Arisato Minato's Quirk to fringe sciences; it was rare to find someone else that shared this opinion, at least one with a doctorate in the field. There was just something about Quirk pseudoscience that Nezu found strangely fascinating. There was almost always a cult of personality built around the authors; most of whom were exclusively crackpot recluses with brilliant minds. Their diehard supporters, online conspiracy fiends with too much time on their hands, were eager to prop up isolated incidents as evidence to support their outlandish claims.
Case in point: the Paranormal Singularity Theory. 'Evidence' in question: Arisato Minato.
The theory postulated that there would come a time in the distant future where the evolution of Quirks would outstrip mankind's ability to adapt—something which it had done for the past six million years. Quirks would become impossible to control and faster to gestate, to the point that a fetus may manifest a Quirk during pregnancy, in turn leading to complications and a stillborn birth. It was to be the beginning of the end, and the earliest marker for it would have been the appearance of multi-faceted Quirks.
Very much like Arisato's own…
However, that wasn't necessarily true. Arisato's physical and subsequent counselling for the last three weeks had shed some light on his Quirk, even if the underlying mechanics behind it proved to be largely inconclusive. Persona had been officially classified as a 'matter creation' emitter-type—one that could bring a limited form of the user's cognition into reality.
It was rare for Nezu to be struck speechless, if for a moment.
Even the closest approximation to Arisato's Quirk, Creation, belonging to one of the first-year students, could be explained off as molecular manipulation. But Enomoto's team had claimed that his varied powersets seemed almost 'magical'. To wit, Arisato didn't necessarily generate heat in his body when he called upon his fire, unlike those with a pyrokinetic Quirk; he produced an 'as-of-yet-determined' energy, which then actualised into fire once it was released. It was the first documented case of a Quirk Factor exhibiting such abnormal characteristics.
Persona was the kind of Quirk that many would covet, if not for its potential, then simply for the knowledge of an evolutionary breakthrough.
Enomoto had been keen on tracing his student's lineage, but Nezu had been quick to shut it down, albeit tactfully. It wouldn't do for anyone else to catch wind that Arisato's entire background had been fabricated; a fact Nezu had stumbled upon only when he was doing his own research.
Arisato had help with it, obviously—professional help, be it legitimate or otherwise. On the surface, everything looked clean, but there were red flags when Nezu peered underneath the underneath. Most of his childhood had him shunted around from one foster care institution to another. His stays were never too short that it would seem suspicious, but neither was it long enough that a caregiver would be able to recall him from memory; something which he had personally verified.
It was all for plausible deniability.
Everything about Arisato was suspect, from his background, his proficiency with his Quirk, the incidental vigilantism, and even the timing in which he transferred to UA. However, despite having his communications, internet and movement on campus monitored, Nezu could find nothing damning in them to suggest that Arisato was nothing more than a regular student.
His grades were excellent, bar a few middling results in World History. He was well-regarded by his schoolmates and faculty alike. His mentor for his work-studies programme had nothing but glowing reviews for his performance and attitude. His meteoric accomplishments as a Pro Hero-in-Training had even cast a favourable light upon his tenure as the principal of UA.
So it all begged the question: Why was Arisato Minato really here?
It was a tough one to answer, given how open-ended it was.
Nezu smiled.
Perhaps he was looking at the issue in the wrong light. It was far too easy to fall into the common pitfalls that plagued the fringe sciences, where one would look for evidence to support a claim. In his days spent in the laboratory, one key principle had been imprinted upon his psyche; to rely on the scientific method.
Establish a hypothesis and look for evidence to test it.
Was Arisato Minato a traitor?
He was clearly suspicious, but it wouldn't do to jump to conclusions on mere suspicion alone. All alternative viable hypotheses must be eliminated before reaching that conclusion. For that, Nezu needed evidence. Everything could be traced back to one single event—when Mount Lady showed up at their doorstep and asked to sign an unproven third-year General Education student to her agency.
And Nezu knew exactly how to bring the two subjects under his microscope.
With deft fingers, he picked up his phone and dialled the extension to Kan's desk. His subordinate picked up the call not three rings later.
"It's late," Kan said. "Do you need something, sir?"
"This will be quick. Kan, do you remember that proposal you floated by us in the last teachers' conference? About adding those special guest lecturers for the first-years' summer camp?"
"Yes."
"We'll be going ahead with it. My apologies for the late notice. Will you be needing any assistance to revise the training plan for your students?"
"No, it's been done. Aizawa and I… prepared for that eventuality," Kan said, his tone stiff. "If you don't mind me asking, sir. How did you get them to agree? It isn't anything like the clause the Pussycats had in their contract, is it? Because Maijima lucked out on finding that hot spring well in the for—"
Nezu chortled. "I haven't asked them yet!"
He heard a slap resound from the other line. "I see…"
"Now, now. I'm sure it won't be an issue, Kan. Endeavor's an old boy of UA. He'll see the benefits of it, especially with his son in attendance. We also have a strong tie to Mount Lady's agency given that she's already taken two of our students as her interns. Both of whom are participating, are they not?"
"Hmm," Kan rumbled. "And Mirko?"
"We'll… see what happens."
0.0
With an efficiency borne out of muscle memory, Takeyama Yu breezed through her paperwork, signing and applying her personal seal wherever it was required. The bureaucratic red tape that was 'tenko' was the Great Filter for any and all burgeoning Pro Hero agency.
Thank God, she was clearing her last remaining stack.
In the back office of the National Police Agency Headquarters, Yu spied other pros doing the same; almost all of them were from 'small or low-tiered' agencies like hers. More established agencies were afforded their own liaison team, one that would be stationed in-house. Those that could field an actual roster of Pro Heroes usually had a comprehensive support structure; even the lowest-ranked member wouldn't see a lick of paperwork.
It was one of the perks that came with being a top agency.
Which they decidedly weren't…
After resolving the villain incident earlier in the day, they had been ferried here to settle all the 'legalese' from their sudden activation. What would have been a thirty-minute process became a six-hour long ordeal when it was found out that she had some outstanding items—three months worth of it. In her defence, it was a clerical error on their side, but she may have, knowingly, not brought it up all this while.
Karma was a bitch.
They couldn't return to her fan meet because of it, and she had missed the most important part of any fan meet—shilling out her merch. The loss of income pained her, but not as much as Minato having to cancel on his friend. Even after she had asked him to go, he was annoyingly pig-headed about not leaving her to her fate.
Which she loved him for.
She intended to make it up to him during their vacation. Speaking of, her wandering gaze landed square on Minato as she asked, "So what do you think?"
He was seated adjacent to her, his hanko stamp held aloft, as he stared at her, blinking in disbelief. "A vacation to Hokkaido? For free?" he repeated, far too much like a broken record. "Did another agency make an offer for me again?"
"No, dummy." Yu rolled her eyes at him. "I told you before that my parents run a small ryokan near Furano; we can totally spring room and board." She reached for her phone and searched for their ryokan online. "Here, pictures. We're actually kinda well-known. Papa likes to lean in on the 'old school charm', so don't expect anything extravagant."
Minato nodded blithely as he scrolled through her phone. "It's a bit sudden," he said. "What about the task force? Things haven't exactly been stable ever since—oh, you have an outdoor onsen?"
"Yeah, we do," she said, laughing lightly. "Anyway, I've been asked to clear my two weeks of mandatory leave by next month, so it's not like I have a choice." When Minato made a face, she promptly explained, "It's one of the precautionary things. The PSC doesn't want Pro Heroes to overwork themselves, and you know," she mimed an explosion with her hands over her head, "have a psychotic break. Not that I'm gonna have one soon, but a 'break' break would definitely be nice."
"I'm not sure…"
"C'mon, we could both use some down-time. I'm starting to hate Tokyo a lil' with all the shit we're doing for the task force. Besides, papa and mama want to meet you—and not just have you wave at them through a video call."
"Hn," he murmured, looking pensive. "What are we going to do there for five days?"
"Wild Card, it's summer fun-time on an island. That means fresh seafood, stunning views, and pretty locals not bundled up in winter clothing. Trust me, you'll love it." She winked, gesturing to herself. "Plus, I can bring you to all the nice places that tourists wouldn't know. Hell, I'll even brave the crowds if you wanna look at the lavender fields."
She knew she got him then and there when he acted far too nonchalant with his replies. All it took was a bit more prodding for him to agree. He had a few hang-ups; his summer camp, needing permission from his school and caseworker, their ryokan's onsen schedule—nothing that would spell disaster for their trip. It didn't take long after to wrap up the last of their paperwork. With it being as late as it was, and their stomachs empty for the better half of the day, they headed down to the staff cafeteria within the building. She had excused herself then—to change out of her costume.
In the empty restroom, she found herself staring at her reflection as she methodically removed her makeup with a cleansing wipe. Even doing something so perfunctory, she couldn't help but think about Minato.
Yu sighed.
She had to remind herself that she wasn't obsessing. "Uggghhh," she whispered. "Stop sliding into the DMs of my brain, Minatoooo."
It would have been a lie to say that his revelation atop Hosu General hadn't weighed heavy on her mind; he had been the cause of many a fitful night's sleep. She tried her best to maintain some sense of normalcy, but the distance didn't help, given they spent almost every waking minute together in close proximity. But what did was time. It got progressively easier over the last three weeks—enough that she wouldn't bat an eye going on a vacation together in her hometown.
A part of her wondered if she was just wilfully ignoring the crux of the matter, much like the clerical error that made them spend the last six hours here in that back office.
The thought of it gave her pause.
To be fair, Minato had needled her a lot more about her 'issues' than she did him—and she had been forced to act on it.
Her hand lingered over her left eye, the one that had been damaged during her fight against Kugutsu. It didn't tremble this time; it hadn't for a while. Gradually, she pressed her palm into her eye, letting it rest there.
She breathed out through her nose slowly.
Yu continued the motion, brushing her hair aside, the half that wasn't done up in a trio of reverse braids, and idly toyed with a loose strand. Her eyes trailed down to the overhang that extended out to the sink, where her new mask was; something else Minato had pushed her about.
All she did in return for him was just as he asked—to not treat him any differently. And it obviously wasn't enough.
"Fuck…"
Distracted as she was, she didn't hear the door to the restroom opening. It wasn't until a feminine voice perked her ears that she turned to face the speaker:
"Well, excuse you. That's a bit rude."
The one who came in was an attractive woman; one that gave off the air of a rich socialite. She was dressed like one too. Her long blonde hair was styled primly; folded curls, expensive-looking accessories, a three-headed multi-coloured serpent—which hissed at her.
Of course, she recognised the woman. Even if the Snake Hero: Uwabami was more celebrity than Pro Hero, her longevity in the industry was something that commanded respect; she was one of the few female Pro Heroes who Yu looked up to when she first started out.
"I'm sorry, Uwabami-san. That wasn't directed at you," Yu said, bowing slightly. She smiled. "I'm a really big fan of yours. I can't believe it took me this long to finally meet you—in a restroom of all places."
Uwabami did a double-take as she took the adjacent sink, squinting at Yu. The woman unclasped her clutch and withdrew a small makeup kit. "Ohhh, I thought your hair looked familiar. You're the new 'IT' girl about town. Mount Lady, right?" Uwabami gave her an appreciative nod through the mirror. "Smart play with the image change. It came just at the right time too. Made people take notice with the whole 'grrr' female empowerment trend. Besides, the ditzy airhead persona was so last decade."
Yu blinked owlishly. "Eh?"
"Who's repping you? Kyodo? Dentsu? It can't be Hoffman; they got burned by Mister Blaster's scandal."
"Excuse me?"
Uwabami rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Don't play dumb. That's not your schtick anymore, right?" she asked. "I've been in the industry long enough to see the signs—you're building a 'narrative'. A PR firm must be repping you; the timely make-over, the high-profile placements, getting that unknown UA kid to suddenly burst onto the scene with you… You even poached one of my interns."
"Whoa," Yu held up a hand, "I didn't poach anyone from you."
"Forgot her name. The cute one. A first-year from UA with ginger hair. Does any of that ring a bell? My agency was the only one that sent that girl a recommendation for her internship. Imagine my surprise when she ended up at yours."
Yu scrunched her nose. "Battle Fist?"
"That's the one!"
"She reached out to me! How was I supposed to know you approached her?!" Yu said, indignant. "And I don't know who's been feeding you all this bullshit, but no one is pulling my strings for some goddamn 'narrative'."
Uwabami leaned back and tilted her head at Yu. "Really?"
"Really!" With a huff, Yu slammed her cosmetic items back into her toiletries bag, only for it to topple over, spilling the contents all over the floor. As incensed as she was, she wasn't about to walk off and leave it all behind. She knelt down and glared up at the older woman. "I can't believe I looked up to you." She clenched her jaw at the unintended pun, but too lost in her tirade, she grit out, "I even copied your ringlets as an homage. Did you know that? Do you know how stupid that makes me feel now?"
Uwabami knelt down beside her, grabbing her concealer. The woman held it out to her, the snakes atop her head hissing—in a manner she would almost describe as soothingly. "It's not like I didn't notice. I trademarked that look. If I was even the slightest bit petty, I would have gotten my lawyer to send you a 'cease-and-desist' letter."
Yu gawked at her, aghast. "What?!"
"I didn't go through with it, did I? Besides, you got this whole new look going for you now, so the point is moot." Even when Uwabami was backpedalling her words, she made it look so effortlessly chic. She stood up and checked her reflection, adjusting herself in the mirror. "Listen, it's not enough to just be a Pro Hero if you want to actually be somebody in this industry. You have to play the game. You have to play it smart. There will always be upstarts who are willing to pull you down just so they could prop themselves up. It happens. I may have… misjudged you for one of them."
"So is that how you apologise without actually saying it?"
"To admit fault is to invite weakness, and a Pro Hero must never be seen as weak." Uwabami smacked her lips, evening out the colour of her lipstick. "Not everyone will remember all the good deeds you've done, but one slip up and no one will ever forget it. A good PR firm will teach you that." She glanced at Yu out of the corner of her eyes. "Don't think of this as unsolicited advice; you really should engage someone now. Your stock is rising, and you'd be a fool not to capitalise on it. The last thing you want to be is a has-been, dear."
Stuffing all the loose items back into her bag, Yu stood up and gathered the rest of her things. She turned to leave. "I'll be sure to remember that," she said, unable to keep the scorn from her voice.
"Hm, sure you will," Uwabami said, flippantly. "Just a word of caution: sidekicks aren't meant to overshadow their pros. I think you've noticed it too, haven't you? People are more interested in him than they are you."
Yu paused in her steps, right by the doorway. "Wild Card and I are going to be partners." She kept her words flat, like her expression, "Thank you for looking out for my best interest, Uwabami-san. But it's not necessary."
Uwabami raised an immaculately drawn eyebrow. "Just another woman beholden to a man. That's not a great look if you're pushing the female empowerment angle," she said, shrugging lightly. "Ah, well. Toodles, dear." The woman didn't even give Yu a second glance, and resumed touching up her make-up; oblivious to her surroundings.
Yu breathed out her nose, wanting to say something then, but that retort died on her lips the moment her phone rang. She bit down on her tongue and pulled out her phone—a quick glance told her it was an unknown number. Going with her better judgement, Yu left the restroom to answer the call.
"Yes?" she whispered out in the hallway, her tone curt, "who is this?"
Yu heard a prim cough from the other line. "Good evening, Mount Lady. Principal Nezu here; UA's lovable furry mascot. I apologise for calling so late at night, but is this a convenient time to speak?"
Unconsciously, she straightened her back. Minato's homeroom teacher had called her on occasion, but that was during office hours, and she had always been notified beforehand. Not once had his school called her out of the blue like this.
"Uh, yeah. Is this about Minato? I know it's past his curfew, but we're just about done here. I could have him back on campus within the hour."
Nezu chortled. "Oh, it's quite all right. I'm well aware how unpredictable hero work can be. Although, I'm immensely grateful for your concern over our precious student. Actually, the reason why I called was to enquire upon your availability. You see, over the summer vacation period, UA will hold its annual training camp for its first and second year students."
"Right, Minato's homeroom teacher told me about it? I already cleared him for that whole week," she said uncertainly. "But what does that have to do with me?"
When he spoke, she got the sense that he was smiling, "Have you ever considered a profession in teaching?"
Minor Arcana: Wands (VI)…
Side Note(s): We're moving on to the next arc! Any idea what will crop up for the upcoming training camp? Neither do I!
XIII Extra (A): And so, Sato Rikido is forced to conspire…
The moment his feet touched the fourth floor stairwell of the girl's half of the dorm, Sato Rikido exhaled loudly through his nose. His footsteps were heavy, like leaden weight, and despite his size and physique, the handle of the doorway that led out to dorm rooms felt heavy in his grip. He couldn't quite keep his hands from shaking, so much so that he almost dropped the pastry box he was carrying.
It was normal, wasn't it? For a girl to invite a guy back to her room this late at night?
Okay, fine…
It was only just after eight. But that was still pretty late by his standards.
Not for the first time that night, he was cursing the ambiguity of Ashido's texts. With Ashido being how she was, he was likely overthinking things. But what wasn't normal, however, was the fact that Ashido had asked him to: (1) make sure he wasn't followed, (2) be inconspicuous and wear sunglasses, and (3) bring 'us' something sweet.
Was this it? Had his win in the 'Once-In-A-Lifetime Class-1A's Room King' competition been the turnaround his teenage love life so desperately needed? Was this finally his popular phase?!
He was aware that he was smiling a bit too hard.
Rikido took a deep breath, adjusted his sunglasses, then walked out onto the empty hallway. As he made his way past Uraraka's room, he was suddenly shoved in the back.
"Eh?!"
"Were you followed?" It was impossible not to recognise Hagakure's voice; even if she tried to mask it with undertones that could only be described as gruff. He turned to find the invisible girl, dressed comfortably in her casual clothes, with a pair of browline sunglasses. "Damnit, man! I asked whether you were followed?!" she whispered harshly.
"H-Huh? Ha-Hagakure? What's wrong with your voice?"
Hagakure tsked under her breath. "It's supposed to be 'hard-boiled'," she said, in her normal voice, as if it explained everything. She pushed him towards Ashido's door roughly. "Never mind! Just get inside! Quickly!"
The first thing Rikido noted about Ashido's room upon entering was that it was dark. The only source of light, a projector shining a blank image upon a bare wall, illuminated the occupants in an eerie glow. As one, their heads turned to him.
"Erk—"
Rikido flinched back, wilting under their bespectacled gazes.
He recognised Ashido immediately, in a very fashionable teashade sunglasses; she was laid down on her stomach atop her bed, next to Jiro. "Hey, Sat—" The girl suddenly cleared her throat, and her voice was lowered down an octave, in a poor attempt to sound mysterious. "I mean," she said, sitting up from her place on her bed. "Welcome to the 'League of Extraordinary Ladies'."
"And one guy," Hagakure added.
"— 'And One Guy'," Ashido said promptly. She swept her hands towards the low wooden table. "Please take a seat at the round table."
"Heh?!"
Rikido was aware he wasn't making the best impression, and when Jiro, wearing a sleek-looking wayfarer, sniggered, he lowered his head down to hide his reddening cheeks. Hagakure walked past him, patting him on the arm comfortingly, and went over to Ashido, exchanging hushed whispers.
Damn…
He really should have known better than to believe his hyperactive imagination.
"Sato-san, over here."
Uraraka waved at him and scooched over, making room for him in between her and Asui. He gladly took the offer and placed his pastry box atop the table. Uraraka immediately pounced on it, swivelling it in place, her brown eyes shining in delight through her party shutter shades.
"Ouuuhhh, what's this?" she asked. "What'd you bring?"
Asui's oversized aviators spilled down the bridge of her nose, and she absently pushed the loose frame back over her eyes. She waved politely to him. "I see they managed to rope you in too, kero."
"W-What's going on exactly?"
"No clue," Asui said. "Mina-chan just told us to come to her room and said there was going to be cake. Next thing we knew, she gave us all these sunglasses to wear, and asked us to 'sit tight and wait for her presentation'." She put a finger to her chin, saying, "I think it has something to do with Yaomomo—since she's the only girl from our class who isn't here, kero."
Rikido furrowed his brow. "Didn't she and Iida leave with that 1-B prez? To finalise the names for the trip to the mall tomorrow?"
She nodded. "Hmm, Mina-chan and Toru-chan are sneakier than I imagined."
By now, Uraraka had foregone the need to act polite and opened the lid of his pastry box. It was hard to mistake her disappointment as she blinked down at the neatly stacked rows of toasted goodness. "Eh?" she said, sounding too much like him earlier. "No cake?"
"Yo," Hagakure half-shouted, still in her gruff 'hard-boiled' persona. She rushed down to sit at the table, joined only by Ashido and Jiro. "We were promised cake, son!"
She probably didn't get what 'hard-boiled' meant…
"Don't blame me! I didn't have time to bake anything! I was in the middle of training when Ashido-san asked me, and that was less than an hour ago!"
"Ah heh." Ashido scratched the back of her head. "My bad, Sato-kun."
"Besides, this is kaya butter toast; it's super popular in other Asian countries. I even handmade all the ingredients myself." His confidence swelled back into him like a riptide, and he folded his arms over his chest. "Try it. I dare you to stop at one."
Of course, Uraraka had been the first, seeing that her hand was already hovering over the box. "Oh wow," she said, as she bit into one, chewing with full cheeks. "Oh wow!"
More hands joined in, and Uraraka's infectious reaction was one that spread around the room. He took it as his first real victory of the night.
"You know," Jiro said, staring down at the box longingly. There was just enough left for each of them to have another slice. "We should probably leave some for Yaomomo. She's gonna be pissed off at all of us." She turned to Hagakure and Ashido. "Well, you two, in particular. I'm telling her I had no part in any of this."
"Tch, you think I want to do this?" Hagakure asked. Even if Rikido couldn't see it, he got the sense that she was saying that with narrowed eyes. "We're doing this for her sake."
Uraraka's eyes were wide, unblinking. "Wait, what evil things are we gonna do to Yaomomo again?"
"Chill," Ashido said. "It's nothing bad—nothing evil." She stressed this, pulling her teashades down to level a hard look at Jiro. "Look, we all love our Yaomomo ojou-sama, right?"
There were consenting nods around the table, one which Rikido mirrored. Far be it for him to disagree. In the lead-up to their midterms, Yaomomo had organised a nightly study session for the whole class. It wasn't a stretch to say that it was because of her that everyone passed the written exams portion of their midterms.
"Great! We're in agreement! Me and Toru just wanna help give her a lil' push in the right direction. That's all!"
Asui raised her hand. "Does this have anything to do with the rumours of her and that upperclassman?"
"Yep! We're gonna help get them, like 'together' together, you know?" Ashido clasped her hands together, interlocking the fingers. "Like that! Hehe, we got a great plan for tomorrow's outing to the mall! Hagakure managed to figure out that a couple of third-years are going to be our minders. He's going to be one of them."
"It wasn't much," Hagakure gruffed.
"I outlined everything in a powerpoint presentation. Lemme see if I can find—"
Asui raised her hand again, interrupting Ashido, "Why are you doing this, Mina-chan?"
It was fleeting, but Rikido caught the anxious knot of annoyance unravelling in Ashido's eyes. "Because we're friends, Tsu. She—"
"But you're not acting like her friend. Is this what you think Yaomomo wants? To have all of her friends secretly gang up on her and push her towards her crush? I don't think you've ever considered her feelings—not once. I can't imagine anyone ever doing that to me. If they did, I probably wouldn't call them a friend." Asui placed her sunglasses on the table, making the motion to stand. "You can have my share, kero. I'm leaving."
There was a big commotion that came to head with Asui's words. Ashido looked absolutely crushed, her features stricken with grief—to the point that Rikido could see that she was tearing up a little. Hagakure had abandoned the pretence of her 'hard-boiled' persona, as she and Jiro tried, in vain, to stop Asui from leaving. In the middle of it all, he shared a look with Uraraka, who appeared every bit as uncomfortable as he was feeling right now, as she sought to appease everyone.
It sucked.
It sucked that they were fighting. It sucked that the only reason why they brought him here was because he could bake. It sucked that he was forced to sit here, unable to breathe a word.
And that was exactly when he found his voice.
"You know," Rikido said slowly. "Back in middle school, I had this big crush on this girl in my class. She was super tiny, if you compared her to me—about this height." He laughed to himself, aware that all the eyes in the room were on him. Even Asui had sat back down, giving him her rapt attention. "And she had this great smile, and really pretty eyes. She was nice; the kind of person you could easily talk to about anything.
"I never really tried to hide my feelings for her; a lot of people in my class knew. She knew it too, indirectly. But I never once told her myself. I know it sounds stupid, but I liked it when my friends teased me about her when she was around. It was a rush—knowing that she was thinking of me in that way that very second. And I always thought that was enough. Like to want anything more was just… foolish. A part of me knew that she was way out of my league, but I was also never brave enough to try."
He laughed again, but hated how hollow it sounded in his ears. "It's weird, right? I always knew I wanted to be a Pro Hero, knowing that I had to risk life and limb to achieve my dreams. But I couldn't even risk having my heart broken by the girl I liked. Guess I was just scared—scared to ruin the one bright spot I had in school. In the end, she moved away in my second year, and I haven't heard from her since."
He fell silent after that. Too lost in the memories that once were, he never noticed Uraraka place a hand over his forearm, until she squeezed it gently. He looked up to find everyone staring at him—not a single one out of pity.
And that was when he got extremely self-conscious.
Rikido cleared his throat and shook his head. "S-So, I don't think that Ashido-san's wrong. If you do nothing, then you're going to get nothing but regrets. She's trying to get Yaomomo to see that—in her own way. But Asui-san's right too. You need to consider Yaomomo's feelings in all this. She isn't an idiot like me. She's hesitating for a reason. Maybe she doesn't want to ruin their friendship. Maybe she knows he likes someone else. Maybe there's a whole buttload of reasons we haven't even considered! So the question is why…" He dug his fingers into his hair and shouted, "Why are you guys letting me talk for so long?! It's—It's so exhausting!"
Ashido was smiling. "That was really bittersweet. I didn't expect that from you at all, Sugarman." She choked back a laugh, and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "And I'm sorry, everyone. I was being obnoxious and made an ass of myself. Tsu's right. I wasn't thinking about Yaomomo's feelings. I got caught up in trying to make it about me having fun at her expense." She sniffed, bowing where she sat. "Please forgive me."
"Uh, yeah… I'm sorry too," Hagakure said, clapping her gloves together and placing it before her 'head'. "It just got very exciting all of a sudden, and I got a bit boy-crazy. Yaomomo's like the first of us girls who actually has a crush. I just thought we were helping her."
Asui nodded. "Then, I should apologise as well, kero. I know I can be blunt, but we're all friends here. I should have been more mindful of how much my words can hurt the feelings of those I care about."
"Mah," Uraraka said, clutching a hand against her chest. She shot him a grateful look. "It's great that we could let all our feelings out in the open. Everyone makes mistakes. And we're all just trying—"
"I once had a crush on my middle school teacher," Jiro suddenly blurted out.
Rikido could hear a pin drop in the ensuing silence.
Jiro toyed with one of her earlobe jacks. Despite the fact that she was blushing something fierce, she didn't shy away from their gaze. "He wasn't, like, super old or anything. He was only in his twenties when he started teaching at my middle school." She looked around as the silence lingered. "I thought we were sharing stories about our first crush?" She slapped her hand against Uraraka's arm. "You next."
Uraraka froze. "Eh?" Then, she shook her head and tried again. "Ehhhh?!"
There was a knock at the door.
"Ashido? Girls?" Yaoyorozu's voice was muffled as it came through, "Is anyone inside? Why isn't anyone answering their phones?"
"Yaomomo, get your butt in here!" Hagakure hollered. She jabbed a gloved finger at Jiro. "And you! You don't get to run away that easily! We want details!"
"And photos," Ashido stage-whispered to Hagakure.
"And photos!" That finger swivelled over to him. "You too, Sato! I wanna see what you think is cute!"
Despite the sheer absurdity of it all, Rikido found himself laughing. "Sure, let me go back to my room and get my phone," he said, standing up. "I'll be sure to stock up on some more toast too."
If this really was his popular phase, then maybe it wasn't so bad…
XIII Extra (B): And so, Aiba Manami is determined to prove her love…
Aiba Manami bit her bottom lip.
Sat in front of her laptop in the dimly-lit room, she absently scrolled through UwU Analytics, her personalised script scrapping the relevant data of all their past videos in the background. This was the third time this week that their main channel had been terminated, and it was a pain, not only to collate and track their overall viewership across the terminated accounts, but to reupload all their videos again onto a new channel.
With the updated terms of service that UwUTube issued at the start of this week, the platform had started to crack down on videos or channels centred around illegal Quirk usage. The alarming trend of users uploading distressing videos of Trigger consumption, their reception to it, and even the newly-coined 'Trigger Rampage' was on the rise. Even if most of those videos got deleted within a day, the view count numbered in the hundreds of thousands.
Everything about Trigger was trending, and that was not even factoring the buzz that came out of Hosu—from the mastermind's monologue to the amateur footage of the destruction him and his Nomus had wrought upon the ward. In comparison, Gentle's videos used to average barely a few thousand views over a month, with a poor engagement rate and watch-time.
It pained her. Manami couldn't understand why no one else apart from her could see Gentle for who he was; a dashing rogue, a man of the people, the modern-day Arsene Lupin ever willing to expose the injustices of this corrupt world.
He had done the same for her.
When she was younger, she had been a mess, trapped in a never-ending spiral where her deep-rooted insecurities beget a depressive malaise. It was like being mired in quicksand—one that reached up to her neck. No matter how hard she struggled, it was inevitable that she would sink deeper. If she did nothing, then there was no escape. Back then, it felt like her conscious mind had betrayed her, leaving her in a situation where every action felt futile.
And so she rejected the world, just like how the love of her life had rejected her then. It was strange how she could barely remember the name of that boy from high school now, but in the end, he was inconsequential. Because when she was lost in that meandering void, she finally saw him.
The light that illuminated her world—Gentle Criminal.
It was love at first sight.
His presence was like the sun, and she, the tiny planet pulled into his orbit. Those two years had felt like a lifetime ago; being with him had breathed new life into her. She could hardly recognise her past self in the mirror had she tried—the old Manami had been a caricature of the person she was now.
It was a love that filled her with hope.
She owed it all to him. His dreams gave her purpose. He wanted to inspire the world; to etch his name down in history. She needed the world to bear witness; by setting the stage he so clearly deserved.
She loved him, but her love wasn't enough.
Manami had given him everything—her mind, body and spirit; she had been relentless in the pursuit of his goals. But with all the data laid out before her, dashboards upon dashboards of failed metrics and dwindling viewership, the truth of the matter finally dawned on her.
She wasn't fit to stand at his side.
She loved him, but she didn't deserve him.
Her mounting frustration finally came to a boil, and Manami choked back an anguished sob. She balled her hand into a fist and pushed it against her mouth, unbidden tears falling freely down her cheeks. She didn't make a peep.
She couldn't disturb Gentle.
The walls of their apartment were thin, and it was his afternoon tea break; an hour-long affair where he indulged in his favourite 'Imperial Golden Tips' tea. It was the first time Manami had ever declined his invitation, feigning sickness.
In reality…
The syringe that sat on her desk was plain and unassuming; it was ingenious how it had been faked to resemble an ordinary insulin pen. Of course, it was anything but. The liquid that was held within had a clear amber hue, not too dissimilar to that of apple juice.
Trigger.
She had been at her wits' end, and it was the only thing she could think of—the only way she could prove her unwavering love for him. She had been the inadequate one. She had been the one to fail him. Therefore, she couldn't let the purity of his light be tainted by something so foul.
She loved him.
If only her Quirk wasn't a one-time use last resort; if only she could harness it at will. Then, the world could finally bear witness to the Gentle she saw with her own eyes—indescribably bright, unquestionably warm, and peerlessly passionate.
Manami would not be dissuaded from helping him achieve his dream.
She loved him.
With trembling hands, she jabbed the needle into the crook of her arm and pressed down on the cap.
A dull jolt of electricity ran up her arms, down her legs, and curled around her torso; a burning sensation soon took root in her chest. Manami ignored it. She was aware that she was breathing aloud, but for the first time in her life, she felt strong.
There was no other word to describe it.
Love.
Manami closed her eyes and imagined Gentle's face, and she felt her Quirk activate without her intending it to. She didn't fight it. Instead, she poured every bead of emotion within her tiny being into that connection.
Distantly, she heard a crash of shattering glass come from beyond her room.
"Manami!"
In that instance, that sudden burst of strength left her completely. A sharp pain jabbed at her chest. Manami gasped and clutched the front of her shirt. She couldn't breathe—to the point that her breaths laboured in short but sharp gasps. That burning sensation had spread from her chest; it felt like every nerve in her body had been lit aflame. When she tried to scream, all that came out was a strangled whimper. She finally lost control then, sliding bodily to the floor, her body seizing in a violent fit of convulsions.
Love.
"
Manami!"
Like a whirlwind, Gentle appeared in her room, almost tearing the door off its hinges. He was glowing in the warmth of her love, the pink miasma radiating off his form and fluttering his hair and clothes back like a gentle breeze.
He rushed by her side, cradling her in his strong arms. His soft, kind eyes twisted in despair. "My love," he said, his voice stricken with grief. "M-My love, what have you done to yourself?"
She knew…
She knew deep down what awaited her.
Manami wanted to apologise—wanted to tell him that everything would be okay. In the back of her mind, she knew it to be a lie, but anything would have been better than to see him suffer in that moment.
And it hurt so much…
Her regret wrung her heart in its vice-like grip. She tried to speak, tried to reach a hand out to wipe the tears pooling in the corner of his eyes, but her body failed her. Just like she had failed him.
Love.
Her vision started to dim.
"No. No, no, no, no, no." Manami felt the warmth of his hand leave her face; she would have protested, had she been able. "I'm calling the ambulance." That warmth returned, now supporting her side as she was lifted from the floor and carried away. "No, I'll rush you to the hospital. I'll find you the nearest hospital or c-clinic! There has to be one nearby! I-I need my phone!"
When Manami felt her eyes flutter shut, she imagined a life that never was—a simpler one, with just the two of them. It was a dream she alone had wished for, but one that conflicted with his. It was a life where they would fade into obscurity together, save for memories they had built up like a glass house.
In that dream, she imagined them growing old, hand-in-hand. She imagined his lips pressing against hers. And as she stared deep into his ocean blue eyes, she couldn't help but notice the sliver of resentment that lingered in them, even as he smiled.
Love.
Manami felt him nestle his head against hers. "Manami, open your eyes. Manami, please. Don't go. Don't go. Stay with me."
I'm sorry, my love.
"I need you to stay—"