Work today was alright. The company's financial health was still in the green and he got to try out some neat omurice for lunch. No wonder Nakajima kept eyeing him throughout the meeting; if he had discovered a place that served legendary food, he'd want to share it too. Well, maybe not as eager as the intern. Poor Nakajima. Then again, the head of department was always like that even back in school.
A smile crept along his cheeks before a dark thought wiped it off. Passing by the protestors that were still crowding the municipal office, he was reminded of his impromptu 'briefing' with the head of department.
"The mayor is dead," he said. Well wasn't that a shock to hear. Throughout his extensive career of doing Bakugou's job for him, it was not all that uncommon for a VIP or two to end up in the crossfire. However, they were usually the equivalent of small fry in the world of white collars. These included fellow quirk data analysts wanting to shortcut their way into obtaining data, a few insignificant errand boys for the councilmen and what have you. He shared no pity for them for thinking they could make deals with scum and come out scot-free. The ones he did have some sympathy for were the ones that were probably following orders from some politician in office. Japanese law was ultra-strict against blatant acts of crime, hence why none of the killings he committed were outdoors nor in the daylight. If the Americans struck the fear of god into their gangsters with the IRS, the Japanese have their web of laws made specifically to make the lives of criminals harder than ever before. If it weren't for the fact that the citizenry valued their legal freedoms a bit more than their neighbors, there might have been laws on thoughtcrime already. That's what the Council of Heroes was for.
Hence, his utter bafflement at the reveal of the mayor's presence. Why in the love of God was he even there?! If even a single text message got leaked from a subordinate outing him as a collaborator with gangsters, it'd be political suicide! Well he did technically sign his own death warrant for being in the apartment complex that night but that was beside the point.
The bigger question was who was the puppet master? Izuku only knew of the mayor's death through his connections and even then, it took them a week to find out. Whoever they're up against must have had their claws sink deeper into the government that he once thought. Their coverup game was top notch since news outlets have yet to report on this. A quick search on his phone elicited an involuntary snicker. Really? 'Yokohama Mayor gone missing on island vacation'? Come on, be reasonable. Still, credit's where credit was due. The mayor's replacement was handling the crisis far better than anyone could hope to accomplish. 'Who could it be?'
He shrugged. It was not his place to speculate. If the guy was doing the job well, then he's doing the job well. He only wished that the protests would stop soon. They were ruining his peaceful walks to work and home.
They were never peaceful.
The shrill chime of the convenience store jingle calmed him as he made a beeline for the ready-made meals section.
"Hey there, young man!" greeted the old man. "Here to choke your arteries again?"
Izuku ignored him as his gaze fixated on the offending notice on the item rack. In bold letterings, the words 'OUT OF STOCK' mocked him.
The old man noticed this and chuckled. "Well, today's been a good day for business, young lad! I'm so used to having you and a bunch of teenagers walk into my store that I didn't think to order some extra!" He stroked his bushy grey whiskers. "Then again, I should have expected that those protestors would pop in for a bite. Can't fight for systemic reform on fighting spirit alone, after all. Ha hah!"
Izuku, on the other hand, shared none of the cashier's enthusiasm. "I…see…" he muttered with crestfallen eyes. He turned around with a heavy sigh. No more katsudon? What was dinner without katsudon? The greatest end to any day of honest work was always katsudon. No exceptions. He could never understand why Momo insisted on pudding so much. He had nothing against the caramel-topped dessert but it's just not filling. A bowl of rice with crispy cutlet on top? Now that was filling. Alas, everything in the world operated in balance. For every good, there must be bad. This must be his karmic exchange for betraying his favorite dish for that omurice he had earlier with Nakajima. He shook his head. He made his bed and he must sleep in it. With a heart bearing the weight of his utter disappointment, he picked a bowl of instant ramen off the shelf and plopped it on the cashier's counter.
The old man, who had been observing Izuku's actions from the moment he despaired, crossed his arms and huffed, "You really like katsudon, huh?"
With a tired smile, Izuku replied, "Yeah… I guess I do."
The old man glanced at the instant ramen on his counter before pushing it aside.
"Hey, what are you—" said Izuku before he was cut off by two distinct clacks on the counter. His eyes widened in disbelief at the beauties before him as the old man smirked.
On the counter were two large bowls of the most beautiful katsudon he had ever seen. The wafting steam from the freshly cooked rice, the alluring golden-brown cutlet teasing him from under its fluffy omelette blanket sprinkled with chopped scallions. If the omurice Nakajima treated him to earlier was akin to holy matrimony of flavor, this was a gift from God himself.
"O-old man…" Izuku blurted out, not even realizing the tears trickling down his cheeks, "b-but why?"
Ruffling Izuku's hair, the old man replied, "I had a gut feeling that you'd probably be devastated at the lack of stock, but I didn't think it'd be this bad." A look of reminiscence formed in the old man's features. "Heh, to think I'd still be around to see this…"
"Hm?"
The old man waved it off. "Ah, it's nothing. Just an old timer thinking aloud. Anyways, don't even think about paying for this."
"But—"
"The same trick won't work again," he declared with a wag of his finger. "So if it helps you sleep better at night, think of it as giving the change back to you."
Izuku let out a sheepish laugh, his cheeks a bit red. "You found out, huh?"
"Of course I'd find out!" he exclaimed. "Anyone would find out if a fat stack of 50,000 yen just happened to be on their countertop!" Then, with a huff of hot air through his whiskers, he said, "Now you have no excuse to reject my generosity."
"But old man," Izuku protested, "you run a convenience store! People don't give handouts in convenience stores!"
"And youngsters should be happy to receive free meals!" he shot back.
Izuku wanted to point out the hypocrisy in him also rejecting free money but put his hands up in defeat. "Fine, fine, I won't pay. But only until the remainder of the change is gone!"
"I hear ya, I hear ya, young man. See? Listen to your elders and you get free stuff."
Izuku rolled his eyes and proceeded to pick up the bowls of lovely katsudon. "Does free stuff also include an extra bowl?"
The old man simply chuckled at him. "Oh no, no. The other bowl is for your lady friend. Such a sweetheart, that girl. Bless her heart. You can also think of those homemade katsudon as a congrats from me to you. Glad to see you're finding happiness in your life."
The convenience store had 24/7 air-conditioning but the heat from Izuku's face threatened to give off steam. "I don't…we're not… I mean… uh…"
"Just take the food and go already."
o-o
The walk back to his apartment was nothing out of the ordinary but the red from his face never went away.
"Stupid old man…" he grumbled, "Momo and I aren't like that…"
Aren't you already, though?
No, he wasn't. He saved his friend from a hellhole and he's letting her stay at his place to recover. He even arranged for Chiyo to check up on her. See? Nothing out of the ordinary. The fact that they were living under one roof did not count if they were sleeping in separate rooms.
As he unlocked the door to his apartment, he called out, "I'm home!"
"Welcome back!" replied a familiar voice.
Looking up to see Momo handing him a cup of tea, he raised a brow but smiled anyway. Even though a week had passed, he still can't get over the fact that now there was someone that can reply to him. It made his humble apartment feel more homely. However, what he was not expecting was the attire she wore.
"H-H-Hi Momo! W-What are you d-d-doing?" he stammered.
"Hm? Me?" she asked, tilting her head. "I was just done making us tea and making caramel pudding to stock up for the week," she replied. Indeed, Izuku could see that. Wearing his pink apron over the oversized All Might shirt she wore, he could see that she had been busy though he could not help noticing that his apron may not have had someone of Momo's stature in mind.
Shaking his head and coughing into his hand, he decided to switch the topic at hand. Sipping the green tea she made for him, he made his way into his living room and sat on his couch. "I see. By the way, the old man down by the store said hi," he said as he gingerly placed the plastic bag containing two large bowls of katsudon down on the table in front of him.
"How nice," she replied as she swung past him to sit beside him. Izuku gulped on something and he wasn't sure it was tea or spit.
"So, uhm, how did the check-up go?" he asked, mustering his will to keep looking at his tea.
"It was alright," she said, turning to him, "Chiyo seems to be a bit… interesting but aside from that everything is fine. My ribs' recovering at a normal pace and no other ailments detected."
"Oh, that's great!" he said, facing her. "I knew I can count on Chiyo to help! Well, she can be a bit off-kilter at times but never let it be said that she's a terrible doctor."
"You're quite right," she replied with a chuckle. "Though I can't help but be curious when she mentioned a few things about you-"
"It's only normal for people to collect things they like!"
"What?"
"It's all a lie! Shinsou and I never danced in cosplay! It didn't happen!"
"Izu—" "Oh god, she told you about it, didn't she? Damn it, she'll never let me live it down!"
"Izuku!"
He then appeared to be snapped out of whatever outburst he had. "Huh?"
"She didn't tell me anything like that," she said as she clasped his hand in hers. "Although…" she continued with a smirk, "I'm now curious to know what that was all about."
"Ah, well, you see…"
BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!
The shrill ringing of the only landed phone in the apartment cut them off.
BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIING!
As soon as he heard the phone, he shot up and picked it up.
"Hey there, it's Carla. Listen, I'll be coming home late today so could you be a pal and help take care of the kids for me? I've dropped them off at 47 H ōsu since they're having a party there. Thanks! Don't hesitate to discipline them if they get a bit too rowdy."
He put the phone down with a click, fixed his tie and marched out of his apartment.
"Izuku, wait!" Momo called out but only the slamming of the door answered back. Just when she thought she was about to get through his walls, all she found were more questions than answers.
7:45p.m, 31st March
The city of Hōsu, dense in rows upon rows of train tracks and buildings. Several spires tower over the multitudinous hotels and apartment blocks, each belonging to a major news network. Being in close proximity to Tokyo, such complex transportation routes and mega broadcast towers were a necessity to ensure optimal interconnectivity with the capital. One of these broadcast towers, however, stood taller than the rest with its bright blue beacon shining above the Christmas tree landscape. At 580 meters in height, it was just roughly a hundred meters short of toppling the world-famous Tokyo Skytree in being Japan's tallest freestanding structure.
The company that it belonged to was JNN, a government-owned news broadcast agency that paled when compared to the long-established NHK. Their headquarters in this bustling city of lights was pretty much the same when compared to the broadcast tower they owned. A bland five-storey building that blended in with the rest of the architecture belonging to firms of less significant business. Even their entrance plaque fit in with nothing more than a plate of sheet metal embossed with their logo and address: 47 Hōsu.
Due to all of the above, CEO Keicho Harada found it odd that there were so many men from the Heaven's Chosen Ones occupying his building. Save for the reception area on the ground floor, each of building's floors had at least ten people standing by. This made his stomach churn. He could feel the stress clogging up his arteries. It was just the monthly 'payment' collection, after all. They split the profit between him and them and in return he would turn a blind eye towards their business in the area. Easy.
They got to do as they please and he got to back up his financial claims that the company wasn't about to go under despite poor viewership.
No, it wasn't the stress from bearing the guilt of profiting off the suffering of others. He'd thrown that away a long time ago when he leaked the plans for the Pro-Hero and police joint operation in the infamous Musutafu apartment complex tragedy two years prior. No, this stress was something else.
He asked one of the white suits what was going on. The response he got was simply, "Safety precautions, don't worry about it."
Glaring at the AK in the suit's hands, he doubted that. "I thought you louts were harping on and on about 'the superiority of the Quirked' and 'the will of the strong'," he sneered.
"What did you say?" the suit replied, his tattooed left eye beginning to shimmer yellow.
"I said, I thought you people were all about the Quirk ubermench!" Harada snapped, pointing an accusing finger. "If you really were all that confident in yourselves then there's no need for all of you to crowd my building! And what's with the all the guns? Are Russian firearms the new and hip 'Quirk' these days, hm? Did the spooky scary boogieman make you piss and shit your pants standing to the point where you can't even trust your own powers?"
It was worth noting that the other suit in the room had been signaling to him to quit his line of thinking from the moment he furrowed his brows. With his windpipe now being threatened to crumple as his entire being was lifted out of his seat by an invisible force, he regretted ignoring that signal. Judging by how the other guy sighed and shrugged, he probably shouldn't have done that.
"Oh, don't get me wrong, Mr Harada, we are very much firm in our beliefs," the suit said, his tattooed eye now a glowing bright yellow as he approached the flailing CEO. "As the man responsible for overseeing operations like these, it is my job to make sure your security is ensured."
Harada, beginning to look a little blue in the face, choked out a 'yes'.
"As for the gun in my hands and for those in the arms of my men," he continued, inspecting his rifle in favor of letting up his invisible grip, "they are there to help compensate the range limits of our Quirks and you, honorable Chairman, happen to be very much in range for my telekinesis." He then plopped the CEO back into his seat as he leaned into his desk. "If it weren't for the fact that weak insects like you run the institutions that control the most powerful Quirk users alive, we would be running the show right now. Hell, people like you disgust me. At least our issue is with the Quirkless and the weak, not the poor."
"Okay, okay," said the CEO between coughs while rubbing his throat, "but you can't be serious about needing this much muscle for a simple transaction. This boogieman of yours is only a rumor, right? There's no way one guy in a mask is able to kill more than fifty people in a single night."
The telekinetic suit let out a mirthful snicker. Turning his back to Harada, he said, "You're right, there's no way it was done in a single night." Then, he swung back to face him with the barrel pointed at his face. "It was done in thirty minutes."
"Hey, boss!" came a muffled shout as the rapping on the door broke the tension. "The guys watching the cameras saw someone entering the building!"
He looked at the time. It was 8:00pm.
"Are they carrying?" he shouted.
"Hold on… he's bare handed! Only has a regular two-piece suit on him."
Remembering the report they 'borrowed' from the Minato Mirai police station, he furrowed his brows. "Where is he now? Have someone check up on him."
"You got it, boss."
As he heard the footsteps become faint, he could only hope that it was an employee that forgot their stuff.
Author's Note: Hello there, everyone. As promised, new chapter came on schedule. Sort of. However, I regret to take this opportunity to announce that I will be going on a short hiatus. I will be flying off to Japan this Thursday to start my third year of study so it might take a while for me to get back into the rhythm of things to ease back into writing. Until then, I'll be getting ready for the long haul.
Have a nice day,
KobeNiku