ORBIT
2
The house had been too big of a property for her to maintain on her own, so throughout the remainder of the summer months, Inko boxed up old clothing and textiles and sent them off to the charity shop. She kept the main things in the house that she'd one day need for her own; the kotatsu, spare futons, kitchen utensils and household appliances not usually provided when one moved into a new apartment. These were the sort of items that were costly to buy separately or in a panic when you couldn't locate your own. The rest of the stuff in the house that she wasn't taking with her, Inko either gave away or sold on.
She wouldn't need a lawn mower where she was moving to. She'd have a small balcony and a communal garden area to look at – but the latter was maintained by the landlord or those in the ground floor apartments. She sold her father's car – Inko doubted she'd ever learn to drive – and then she sold their house too. The proceeds of the sale had not garnered as much as the estate agent had anticipated, but there was enough money left after resolving other costs for Inko to live comfortably for a few years, so long as she supplemented her savings with part time work.
With her meagre possessions and a couple of rolls of uncut fabric she'd bought months before, Inko settled into her new – unfamiliar – apartment. She was well and truly alone now.
Since her argument with Mitsuki she'd not see or heard from the blonde teen. Then the funeral and moving and life had taken hold, and Inko was barely keeping her head above high water now – whereas before she'd been going about wading through her days. Inko should have at least told Mitsuki what was going on, and that she would be moving, but she never had mustered up the courage nor any time to do so. Everything had just happened so fast; like a raging torrent had swept her up and had yet to deposit Inko at the shore.
The new apartment's walls were suddenly restricting her, stifling – no, drowning her – and Inko's feet all but flew her to the front entrance. She roughly pulled on her battered sneakers, grabbed her keys, and sprinted out of the door.
Inko didn't stop running until her legs gave out and the world stopped spinning, and then, with her head somewhat clearer, she ran some more.
"You're getting damn fast," one of Inko's neighbours told her. He was an elderly gentleman; he had potted plants sitting by his front door and hanging from his balcony at the back of the apartment complex.
She only knew him as 'Mr Takiyama', but he'd been pleasant enough when they'd first met (when Inko near bowled him over in a desperate attempt to flee the confines of her apartment), and he liked to check in on her every so often. She didn't judge him for the plants, even though the amount Mr Takiyama owned was excessive. The apartments were already grim, so why take away the only splash of colour?
"Thank you," Inko panted, folding over breathlessly as she continued her cool down. For a few weeks, when the world and all her problems became too much to bear, Inko would run. The distance she ran increased, even as her problems slowly began to lift from where they weighted down her shoulders.
"Any reason why you're always running?" Mr Takiyama inquired.
Because I run from my problems. Because I need the space. Because I need to train my body, so I don't get caught and arrested.
Heaving for breath, Inko replied between gasps; "I… just… want to get… into… shape. Let… myself… go recently."
"Understandable," Mr Takiyama returned, and though his expression told Inko that he didn't quite believe her, he still pleasantly bid her good day. It set Inko's nerves on edge; maybe he had some kind of empathy Quirk, or a strain of psychic power? Did he know what she was planning to do?
Mr Takiyama returned a few hours later with his shopping bags in tow, knocking on her door and disturbing Inko while she was trying (and failing) to orderly stack books and other bits and bobs on a bookcase. She was still in the process of unpacking and rearranging things in her apartment even over a month after she'd moved. Her frequent extended runs probably contributed to the delay, but now her nerves were shot, and she couldn't concentrate at all on the task. Still, Mr Takiyama didn't seem to mind the mess when she invited him in. He said he had something for her.
"For when you run," he said, handing over the gift, and Inko nearly collapsed in a relieved heap. He hadn't reported her then.
The gift had been bundled in a plastic bag – one that was marked with the logo from where he'd bought it probably. "Don't worry about paying me back, I don't want your money. Just make sure you get your wear out of it."
Inko untangled the plastic bag, hands delving inside to retrieve Mr Takiyama's gift. What she pulled out resembled a sweatband, except instead of the fluffy towelling material used for the aforementioned this armband was smooth. It was of an obnoxiously bright green colour, with a zip slicing across most of the band an inch away from the top edge.
It has a pocket, her mind supplied as she ran her thumb over the zip's teeth.
"You can put your keys in there, and other bits," Mr Takiyama continued. "Don't want them falling out of your pocket when you run, and they're always safer tucked away from where anyone can reach. My daughter got me something similar a few years ago; don't go anywhere without it now."
"Thank you," Inko breathed, sliding the band up her left arm until it comfortably settled just above her elbow. Somehow, a response to her gratefulness didn't quite register on Mr Takiyama's face. The elderly gentleman looked torn between pride over his gifting choice, and a stomach-curdling display of antipathy.
Mr Takiyama – though altogether pleasant with his neighbours – was a gruff old man, or so had Inko learnt. Nobody had come to visit him in all the weeks Inko had been situated in her apartment, which she found odd. Nevertheless, she made sure she didn't leave the house to run without her armband pouch ever again, and later subtly inquired as to where she could buy more of them. If Mr Takiyama was totally alone (just like her), then it would be best to show her appreciation for his gift.
Inko had phrased her question as though she was worried about having to constantly wash the sweaty armband, and that having multiple ones would be more efficient. What she was really thinking however, was that in the case of her not wearing complementary coat to her costume – say during summer when a coat was redundant – Inko could easily place her necessary belongings in the zip-up pouch section of the band.
Aside from running, Inko's training was slowly gaining intensity. She had known since her Quirk manifested that she could draw small objects towards her, but outside of using her power for menial tasks or discreetly helping strangers, Inko wasn't sure how much she could actually do with her Quirk beyond simple Telekinesis.
The first stage of her training, aided by the mess she'd made in trying to unpack her things, was discovering the limitations. Would she only be able to pick one larger than normal item up at a time? Could she lift multiple small things? Was it possible to move these objects outside of drawing them towards her? Could she rotate them around her, using her body as the main attracting force– as her Vigilante name implied?
Inko began experimenting soon after these questions bombarded her thoughts. Multiple small objects were the easiest for her control – and by multiple, she meant far too many for the eye to comprehend so long as they were incredibly light. She had learnt this the hard way once when unpacking her sewing equipment. A large tub of beads spilled out of the container they should have been in; the lid having come loose during the move. The weight of them, even when combined, was miniscule, but if directed properly they could cause a lot of damage.
Thousands of beads filled the air around her, pulled into a swirling mass that hovered about Inko's hips like a hula hoop she'd seen on of the neighbour's children playing with earlier that the day. With a flick of her wrist, Inko sent the glittering hoard sharply away from her body – they crashed into a nearby carboard box, tearing through the material from sheer force.
From this alone, Inko had discovered that items she caught with her Quirk, but didn't necessarily pull towards her, would wait in motion. She could direct the beads to come to her, but could not push them away – whenever she tried, they would divert onto a circular track, orbiting her body. This was how the carboard box had been destroyed; caught in the crossfire of Inko pushing the beads away and them righting themselves in return.
Inko bought herself a nice assorted set of glass and metal beads that corresponded to the colours of her costume the next day. She piled them in a small pouch next to the rest of the equipment she'd amassed for her costume.
Slowly, she proceeded to up the weight of the items she attracted with her quirk; creating what had to be the weirdest mundane asteroid field as she pottered about the house, collecting more items as she went. Kitchen utensils, a few cheesy paperback romance novels, pencils, sewing needles, hair pins, a small pot of hand cream, and numerous stray socks made for a floating field of things that gaped more than Inko would have liked. They weren't uniform sizes though unlike the beads, so it was to be expected; but they still helped Inko to refine how she individually worked with different materials. It also taught her that she could pull almost anything towards her within reason.
The exception being anything over the weight of three or so breezeblocks. [1] While that was Inko's limit for the moment, it was reassuring to know that if she came across a child or an incredibly light person who needed help, she would be able to pull them out of harm's way. As she learnt all of this, and worked towards upping her weight limit, she made calculated stitches on her costume. The leather overcoat was nearly ready, with just the jumpsuit and embellishments to focus on next.
For the first time in months, Inko felt as though she was finally getting somewhere. Her runs were extending to the point where she still had energy to spare. She no longer felt as though the world was collapsing around her, or as though she was up to her neck in rushing water. The apartment walls were beginning to feel like home now she'd put her stamp on things – like the slight dimpling in the plasterboard where she'd misfired her quirk. The beads, under her command once more, had been slightly off their mark and flew past the carboard target towards the wall. Inko sorely hoped that the landlord wouldn't notice; she'd done her best to hide the damage by sticking a poster over it and would have to look into a more permanent disguise or some wall-filler.
With every stitch and every running stride she made, Inko kept on pushing forwards. Three months after the big move Inko started to wander through the neighbourhood outside of her running route and trips to the shops. She stopped to chat with a few people she met on the street, pet a few dogs out for their afternoon walks, and scoped out the local community centre.
She was glad she did; there were a few self-defence and martial arts classes starting soon. Inko put her name down for as many as possible – most of the classes opened with two sessions completely free before they required a membership to continue them. She had more than enough money to cover the costs though, and as Orbit any scrap of knowledge and physical conditioning would help her along on her way.
Her jumpsuit was nearly finished. Inko had bought the luminescent spray paint and even a set of glow in the dark star-shaped stickers to place in her pouch which she'd found in the local craft store. She thought that if she ever helped a child – or even an adult, who was Inko to exclude anyone from the joy of glow in the dark stickers? – she'd offer them one, as a reminder that she'd saved them.
Heroes often had phrases, poses, costume-colours and quirks outside of their actual Quirks that made them noticeable. Stars and space would be Inko's calling card. The stickers would shine bright for a time even in the darkest of rooms; it was a reminder that she would be there, even after her deed was done and whomever she had helped was safe.
Before she knew it, she'd bought the rest of the necessary items – boots, and an adult's Hero-themed party mask that she'd dyed black – and had sewn in the last stitch she would ever have to make (unless her costume was destroyed in action). It was now time to think about patrols and schematics. Until Inko had sorted a route and an area she wished to protect, how could she even think about prancing about in her jumpsuit and coat?
Inko hadn't earned that right yet; outside of designing and making everything, the whim of becoming a Hero existed in Inko solely as a method of spiting those who said she could not. It had all been a very elaborate daydream – Inko had mapped out her idea in the same way people designed Manga and Anime characters. She had inserted herself in a role that she wasn't quite fit for nor entitled to, with little thought about the actual logistics.
She'd seen one documentary on TV before now – Hero-obsessed society often liked to further explain proceedings, and frequent shows of the same ilk were presented on prime-time television with the likes of soap operas. Unlike the countless other one's that Inko hadn't taken note of during her high school years, this particular documentary had made her stop and think.
It was part of a campaign to encourage children into Heroics. There had been an unnatural decrease in enrolment into Hero Academies across the country, so television producers and the Central Hero Agency (the governing body for Japan's Heroes that went about overseeing the individual Hero Agencies around the country) had collaborated on an in-depth two-hour long feature that clearly depicted the ins and outs of a Heroes daily life.
Apparently some up-coming Hero-bloke by the codename 'Endeavour' had been plugged for the job, but at the last moment the Hero the cameras had been commanded to follow had changed. Inko couldn't remember the name, or the nuances of the replacement Hero's costume; his kind smile and eyes were all that remained in her mind.
The cameras had led viewers though patrols, paperwork, publicity stunts and even a little bit of action. The Hero had been pushed into a situation where he, with the aid of a Vigilante who had also been working on that particular lead, took down a Villain as an impromptu team. The fight had ended with both the Villain and the Vigilante incarcerated.
Inko had never bothered to check whether the Vigilante was still behind bars to this day, or what the woman's name had been.
She swallowed harshly, shaking her head at the memories. That had been one glaringly obvious thing Inko had overlooked. Vigilantism was considered to be an illegal offence, and anyone caught in the act was liable to be prosecuted and held within a cell for the rest of their days.
Vigilante's were considered to be the busy-bodies of society. Not good enough or even qualified to be Heroes, but somehow considered worse than 'underground' crime fighters – and every now and then Villains. Vigilante's had no moral code to prescribe to; they either ran by their own rules or hadn't been formally taught to ascribe to what was right or wrong in society. That, or they detested the system altogether.
Inko had no such qualms. Sure, the Hero in pursuit of the Villain that had inadvertently killed her mother probably could have done more to stop the offender before they took hold of the building Inko's mother was in and brandished it like a club. Maybe the Hero could have tried a softer approach, or they could have ended the fight before it escalated into further carnage.
But it was over and done with, and there was nothing Inko could do to bring her mother – both of her parents, in fact – back.
Her own views, therefore, were unopinionated nor refined should she have to enter a debate on whether what she was doing was morally wrong. That was the way she hoped it would stay also. In her view, Inko believed that anyone could do a little good in the world; Doctors, Nurses, Police Officers, Fire Fighters, even random Samaritans off the street were capable of doing good deeds every day. Heroes just filled the gulf between what the aforementioned could do and the ridiculously dangerous – sort of like a specialised force who could deal with exemptions the average person could not.
Did that make a Doctor or a good Samaritan any less of an asset when compared to a Hero? No, absolutely not. The Hero just stood in the limelight more often, and society often overlooked those who worked just as hard behind the scenes.
So why was there such an upheaval about Vigilantes?
Weren't the first Quirk users who decided to put their powers to use for good strikingly similar to an individual who decided going it alone instead of undergoing extensive training and obtaining a licence? There had to have been some speculation about mutant forces trying to right the world through skewed interpretations of justice.
But I don't want to change the world, Inko decided. I just want to help.
There would be no grand scheme in the works to collapse Hero Society, nor a message Inko wanted to convey to the masses. She just wanted to be out there, doing something with her life. If that meant aiding others in their time of need – whether the matter was serious or considered trivial by some – she was willing to do just so. She needed to in order to prove her point. To prove that Inko Midoriya would amount to something other than yet one more bland-looking face in the crowd, working nine to five six days a week.
All she needed now was an area to focus on, but Inko had no idea as to which place would be best. She required a section of the surrounding neighbourhood that wasn't already patrolled by a legitimate Hero, nor an area so entrenched in villainous activity that she's be found beaten half to death in an alley at the end of her first patrol. Inko's potential patrol route needed to close enough to home that she could make it there without drawing suspicion, but also far enough away from her apartment block that said suspicion didn't follow her home.
It was mindboggling. Every consecutive thought that occurred shortly after she'd found the solution to the one before it sent Inko spiralling into further disarray and worry.
What would happen if she was caught – well, prison, most likely. But what if it wasn't the authorities who captured her? What if it was the colleagues of a Villain she brought down instead?
Inko tugged on the ends of her hair in worry. She was getting nowhere trying to plan this by herself. Did Vigilantes set up a network of trusted people before they went to work? Associates they'd stumbled across who aided people of a similar occupation, or even friends who could be entrusted with another person's life?
Inko had none of those. She had thought about Mitsuki, about extending the metaphorical olive branch and slotting herself back into the blonde's life, but stubbornly Inko wouldn't allow herself to do it. Mitsuki had made it plainly clear – as had she for not running after her so-called best friend like a lost puppy – that there was no need for Inko to be in Mitsuki's life. The feeling was, regrettably, mutual.
With no one else left, Inko turned to the one and only Mr Takiyama for help. Just as with the exterior of the man's home, the inside was crammed to the rafters with plants of various shapes and sizes. The nostalgic smell, one which Inko could only label 'Greenhouse', hit her almost instantly as Mr Takiyama gestured for her to come inside.
"I've been taking some self-defence classes," Inko told him. "This neighbourhood seems pretty safe, but I'm unfamiliar with it and well…"
"Whatever gets you not-mugged," Mr Takiyama huffed, running his gnarled hands over the corduroy fabric of his trousers.
Inko smiled blithely. "Exactly. But, well, is there anywhere in this area that's sketchy at all?"
Mr Takiyama's bushy eyebrows rose questioningly.
"Just so I can know to avoid it!" Inko clarified, waving her hands frantically in front of her.
Mr Takiyama didn't seem convinced at all but relented the information eventually. Inko's elderly neighbour stood from his comfy wing-back armchair, groaning a little as his knees clicked. He shuffled his way to a nearby dresser, rooting though the draws until he found exactly what he was looking for.
"My Quirk means I don't really have to rely on these often," he said, handing Inko a thickly folded scrap of patterned paper. "And technology these days made my job pretty redundant. The trees work as my navigation system, not some jumped-up robotic voice. It was handy when I was driving for a living – never had to stop for directions."
What Mr Takiyama had handed Inko was a map. A severely outdated one, but a map nonetheless. The outer, once-glossy printed casing surrounding it was torn and faded, but Inko could still read the lettering. It contained the layout of the local area and the surrounding prefectures.
"Musutafu is one place I hate to go in. It's all tower blocks and city builds – not enough green if you ask me," Mr Takiyama continued, his tone growing grumpier. "The central bit is better; Villains don't tear it up the same, because the Heroes don't let them get close. Rough around the edges though. Other than that, this place doesn't see any serious action."
"Right," Inko said. "May I keep this?"
Mr Takiyama waved his hand dismissively. "I ain't got no use for it now."
They exchanged pleasantries for a short while until Inko got the impression it was time she left. Before Mr Takiyama closed the door on her, he narrowed his eyes at the teen.
"I don't know what you're up to, with all this unsafe neighbourhood business," he said. "But whatever it is, don't do anything stupid."
"I won't," Inko told him. The lie tasted stale in her mouth even before it had left her tongue.
Mr Takiyama's old map was now proudly splayed across the main wall of her living room – the same wall she'd made heavy dimples in with her Quirk. Held at each corner with a pin she'd had to gently nail into the wall with a heavy hardback book, Inko admired the local geography and her handiwork. Her next action was to take a thick red marker pen and circle the area she was going to conduct her work in as well as her route.
Mr Takiyama had been right, Musutafu was a rough neighbourhood. At least, by the edges of that district which didn't receive the same attention as the centre. The National News didn't report on it quite the same, but local radio stations, Hero feeds, and newspapers indicated a lot of minor disturbances and issues that flew under the radar of better known Pro Heroes.
Underground Heroes – the one's who preferred to just do and not be seen or heard – were the ones to take care of most of these cases, but a lot went unacknowledged. Perfect for Orbit, Inko concluded. A few small fry that would prove a bit of a challenge until she'd cut her teeth on this whole Vigilante scheme. Then she could rise up the threat level; climbing higher the more she improved.
There were no Police stations situated nearby, so Inko would need to knock her opponents out should she wish to detain them. Carrying lengths of rope – for which she wouldn't be reimbursed – was costly and impractical. She'd thought about using zip ties or a spool of gardening wire, but with enough strength behind the action both could be misshapen or snapped through. Handcuffs were niche and expensive, and should authorities turn up before Inko could retrieve the cuffs, her cover would be blown. Plus, the only unsuspicious place Inko could purchase them from would be an 'Adult' store, and she severely doubted they would be of a suitable Villain-detaining grade.
There was also an issue with notifying the Police or Heroes of her recent takedown. A disposable phone would be useful, but it could also be tracked. Inko couldn't depend on leaving it in a random area either – it could be handed in, stolen, lost to the elements, or she could even forget where she had hidden the device.
Spare change would be a necessary thing to carry with her in her pouches then, so that she could use public phones. Or she would have to rely on a passing member of the public or businesses that were still open in the dead of night to call in someone to collect the Villains.
With her plan of action somewhat decided, Inko believed her next step to walk around the area she was going to patrol during the day when it was somewhat safer. She slipped on her shoes, made sure to slide a few of her armband pouches up her arm – disguised by the sleeve of her jumper – and set off.
The nights were growing shorter and darker more quickly now, as late summer faded in Autumn. The earth and the buildings surrounding Inko as she walked still retained some of the sun's warmth, so it wasn't as chilly as it could have been. It was, all in all, still safe to be walking around so late into the evening.
Mr Takiyama's map was unlikely to move from where Inko had pinned it to the wall, so it wasn't as though she could have took it with her on her walk. The signs that she was bordering on the edges of Musutafu Ward were clear to see – even after thirty minutes of brusque walking.
Gone were the neatly trimmed hedges of the Inko's neighbourhood, the well-kept lawns, and pleasant smiling faces of passers-by. The paved streets were becoming increasingly dirtier – mottled with hairline cracks, patch jobs in the concrete and tarmac, and the odd scorch mark.
She waved to one of the neighbour's children – a low voice in the back of her head wondering whether it was too late and not safe to let a child of his age play so far away from home – and the child's friend. They waved back, flinging the small plastic carrier bags they held in the air as they did. Perhaps Usagi's mother had sent both boys on an errand, or the other child's parents. It was plausible, but Inko couldn't help but feel a little uneasy even though Usagi was on his way back.
If she ever had a child, Inko decided, she'd never let them out of her sight. She wouldn't want any harm to come to them at all. Then again, if her own child developed a Quirk like Usagi's – the boy looked like someone had spliced a rabbit's head onto his body – then maybe she wouldn't have to worry so much. Even in today's society where almost everything was accepted, some Quirks were looked down upon. Usagi's was unnerving, to say the least; the construct of his body really didn't mesh with his fluffy ears and snout.
(Inko suspected he had a little cotton tail too.)
The further Inko walked, the worse Musutafu got. Then, suddenly, the road evened out, the buildings and establishments appeared less tired and dingy (the shutters kept open for longer, because it was safer for these store owners to have them just so while Heroes patrolled overhead). Inko had walked too far then.
She began to double back on herself to the last dodgy alleyway she had seen close to where she'd seen Usagi and his cohort. Maybe it would cut through to even grottier areas at the edge of Musutafu that Orbit could work her interstellar-themed magic on?
Following the alley as closely as possible, Inko felt her pace quicken as a child's yell filled the air. Usagi. She knew that scream anywhere – the boy was often overexuberant and she could hear his cries outside whenever he played.
She burst around the corner, expecting the worst. It wasn't as bad as Inko had been expecting, but still, she'd found herself in quite the predicament. Young Usagi and his friend were clamped in the grips of two burly men; Usagi seemed to be putting up a fight, but his friend hung limply in his accoster's meaty fists. A third, weedier looking individual was fiddling with the lowered shuttered entrance to some sort of backstreet garage or warehouse.
The building was nondescript; no signage, recognisable markings, or other trades surrounding it. If not for Inko's own intention of walking through the alleyway and her uncanny timing she'd most likely have never noticed it.
That would have to change. What use was there trying to by a pseudo-Hero if you couldn't notice anything was wrong? Yes, her danger senses had pinged at the thought of two grade school children wandering round shortly before their bedtime, but that was common sense surely and not the mythical Hero-instinct.
Many Heroes were reported to have done the same thing before their debut; they had to act when something felt or went wrong before them. It was an impulsive, an obsessive need to save someone or something. It was also highly foolish, but of course, the general public didn't see it that way.
Maybe it was because Inko hadn't sat through three years of Hero training, or because Orbit wouldn't operate in the same manner as a Pro Hero, but she couldn't see herself barging blindly into action. She had to plan every move, place down her steps as carefully as she had the stitches sewn into the fabric of her jumpsuit. While her beads would move in tandem – like a summer swarm of bees – individual movement was something she would have to focus on intently in order to direct them.
The man holding Usagi stiffened, turning his neck as well as he could with thick cords of muscle restricting the movement to look over his shoulder. Thankfully, his stilted movement gave Inko enough time to dive behind a conveniently placed dumpster. Strength and muscle augmentation Quirks could have their downsides. After a few quiet, collective breaths, she peaked her head around the edge of her hiding spot.
"Hurry up already," the man – well, at the time Inko had assumed it was the man. Unlike his beefy cohort, the persona holding onto Usagi's friend wobbled about like the pudding cups you could buy at convenience stores. There was an unhealthy tint to their skin – sickly yellows and green – and a near translucence through which Inko could see beyond what their body was blocking.
Could she assume they were Villains then? They looked the part… kind of. Honestly, if Inko was being frank, they looked unorganised and mismatched as group; like the small-time, poorly acted thugs you saw making appearances on high school themed dramas. Someone had forced the Villain holding Usagi's friend into a suit; the bloated, sickly skin of their body had begun to leak.
"What's taking so long," the same Villain complained. "I'm dying to take this suit off."
It did look rather tight.
Finally, the wimpier of the three ceased his dithering and managed to raise the shutters wide enough for them to duck inside. Inko was moving before the last captive was dragged underneath the shutters – pelting down the alley like a woman possessed.
As she flung herself under the shutters stomach first, all she could think was 'Is this what Heroes feel? Because I absolutely hate it.'
There was a brief sense of relief within her at not being trapped by the lowering shutter, surprise at how quickly she'd moved, a little elation at how Usagi's face lit up when he saw her, and then nothing.
The next time Inko came to she found herself within a cage.
"Miss Inko," came a quiet hiss. "Miss Inko are you awake?"
"What happened," she whimpered, hands idly reaching to an extremely sore spot on her head.
"They smacked you one, Miss Inko," Usagi explained, miming the action as best he could in the cage's cramped confines. "I was sorta happy you'd come after us but passing out was really lame."
Inko snorted, wincing at the way it jolted her head. "I'll try not to next time then."
Would there even be a next time? Who knew what was going to happen next, or if Inko could so anything about it. She had her pouches, but her mind felt fuzzy – her eyes coming in and out of focus like a camera lens. Could she even take on three unknown assailants by herself?
No. She couldn't. Not yet anyway. The varied self-defence classes she'd taken had taught their students how to get oneself out of trouble and away from it, not how to instigate a battle. So, if Inko couldn't pick a fight could she distract them?
It was a long shot, but if she could occupy their attention with something to the point when the three Villains turned on themselves, maybe she could push for an escape? Or for time for an escape. She'd spied a landline phone attached to the wall adjacent to where the cage was situated. The cage itself only had a simple padlock, and Inko made a mental note to look into lockpicking for future emergencies; she'd now have to try and locate and levitate a single key towards her.
"Usagi, are you alright?" She asked, feeling her attention sharper slightly through the pain. "Did they do anything to you? Is your friend hurt?"
"I'm okay, Miss Inko. Taka doesn't look too good though," the rabbit-boy replied, worrying at his long ears.
Inko sat further upright from where she had been slumped in the corner of the cage, leaning around Usagi to take a look at the other child trapped alongside them. Taka's downy black hair and razor sharp beak were nothing out of the ordinary – you saw all sorts of transformative Quirks on the streets these days – but the clammy pallor of his skin and beadings sweat were a cause for concern.
"Did they give Taka anything?"
Usagi's long rabbit ears dropped; the tips brushing the slender slope of his shoulders. "They tried to give him some candy, but he bit one of those guys' hands and then they just gave him a shot-"
Inko intervened before the child could spiral into a panic, "Okay, that's great. Thank you for letting me know Usagi, it was very brave of you!"
Both children had animalistic mutant Quirks then, and Inko was trapped with them purely due to her own stupidity. Why hadn't she just doubled back to the street and borrowed someone's phone? She only had limited bits of equipment on her, no Hero suit, and apparently a subliminal burning desire to get herself killed before she could make a difference.
If her head wasn't splitting from pain, then Inko would have slammed it, repeatedly, against the cage's bars.
"Okay," she muttered. "Okay, think. Think Inko."
"Be quiet!" One of the Villains bellowed. It was the sound of the shout that made both Usagi and herself startle; there was no malice within it.
The trio of crooks were squatting around a makeshift table, sat atop anything that could pass for a chair. Another thing that irritated her slightly was the fact that the trio had pilfered their captives plastic bags; the weedy one was nibbling on whatever snack Usagi and Taka had bought shortly before they'd been snatched off the street.
Inko blinked. They'd just kidnapped two children and added a woman into the mix, so how on earth could they calmly be playing cards and snacking at a time like this? Sure, waiting for whatever stage came next in your evil masterplan might have been boring, but if Inko was new to this whole Vigilante thing they had to be one of the most inexperienced Villain trio's in Musutafu she had the misfortune to cross.
That could work in my favour, she thought slyly.
"Usagi," she whispered. "Usagi I need you to be really brave-"
"Like Endeavor?"
"Um…" Not the example she would have chosen, but sure, why not? "Yes, just like Endeavor. I need you to be really brave and look after Taka – he looks really poorly yes?"
Usagi nodded. "I can do that."
"Now, does anyone know that you were out?" She inquired. Surely someone had to worried about two missing children? Inko couldn't be sure what time it was now, but she'd been wandering around Musutafu in the late evening. The temperature had dropped quite a bit at this point, indicating that it was far later now than she'd anticipated.
"Taka's Ma does. I was sleeping over at his house, and we were out playing in the park. S'posed to be back at half seven, but Taka said we should go exploring instead of sleeping," Usagi informed her, facial fur flushing as pink as the curling tips of his hair (really, it was a dual toned patch of floof between his ears) at being caught doing something parents would consider naughty. Curfew's were there for a reason when you were young, but obviously Taka had no qualms for rules.
"Okay. Okay," Inko repeated to herself. Her mind was racing, and the repetition of simple words helped to ground her a little. "Someone's got be out looking for you then. That's good."
There was the possibility that Taka's mother wasn't all that fussed over her son going missing; either Taka was a handful of a child, or his mother wasn't great at enforcing rules. Therefore Inko couldn't rely on someone – a Hero or the Police – coming to rescue them. She had no idea what the Villain's next moves would be, or when they would happen.
Inko had no choice but to act. Waiting could be disastrous for all of them.
"Usagi, I think I'm going to have to try and get rid of those guys with my Quirk," Inko told the boy.
"But you can't do that!" Usagi yelped, and the Villains shushed them once more. Quietly, Usagi added, "You're not a Hero, it's too dangerous Miss Inko."
"I know that Usagi, but we can't wait for Pros to turn up," Inko returned. They'd been waiting for far too long now, if Inko's gut feeling and the hours she had lost while unconscious were anything to go by.
These Villains weren't the best, but they'd organised an attempt to traffic animalistic Quirks before – perhaps not in Musutafu, but another region of Japan. They had smartened themselves up in matching cheap suits, worked together in a unit, and had anaesthetics to inject into unwilling targets. Someone had to be orchestrating a much larger project, or supplying the trio sat around the table. Plus, the cage Inko was in was battered; scratch marks lined the inside and several bars were dinted. Inko had wondered if she could exploit those weaknesses – try and tug the bars towards her and make a wider gap – but she'd likely end up pulling the whole cage backwards instead.
Reaching up her sleeve slowly and trying her best not to attract the Villain trio's attention, Inko felt up her arm for the zip on her armband pouch. She tugged on the fixing slowly, thankful for the way her jumper muffled most of the unzipping noise. She jiggled her arm gently, and out from the pouch spilled a wave of beads. Small beads, large beads, sharp beads, metal beads.
Usagi looked positively affronted. His ears had pricked up at the sound of the tinkling beads hitting the floor, but now the rabbit-boy's snout had crumpled sullenly. "What are you going to do with them? Make em' friendship bracelets until they die?"
"You're mouthy for a grade schooler," Inko returned waspishly, her patience (something she'd prided herself for before her spat with Mitsuki) running thin. From previous interactions she'd learnt the boy was the hyper sort – he never seemed to put down his hula hoop – but Inko hadn't expected the sass. Sass from a child with a bunny rabbit Quirk of all things. "Just watch."
With a flick of her fingers, the beads were away, just skimming the floor as they sped across the floor in a wide arc. Inko worked her fingers as though she was conducting an orchestra consisting solely of craft materials, letting them down gently on the ground once they'd totally surrounded the Villains.
"Now," Inko smiled, "We make some noise."
"But what if they–"
"Just trust me, okay? We need to get Taka out of here so the Doctors can figure out what they've given him." The beaked child was looking paler by the minute; daubs of sweat lining his brow had morphed into a thick, liquid, sheen across the exposed sections of his skin.
Usagi gulped. He looked to his friend, resting his hand (weirdly, Usagi only had the rabbit ears, snout, and eerily red eyes from the effects of his Quirk – no paws in sight) on Taka's shoulder before recoiling in horror as the sweat transferred to Usagi's finger tips.
"Gross," Usagi muttered. He nodded to Inko. "I can make lots of noise. Ma says she couldn't get me to shut up as a baby."
"Think you could show me how it's done?" Inko prompted.
Usagi, who really should have been quaking in his boots over being kidnapped, took Inko's prompt as a challenge. "Just watch me," he told her smugly, before opening his mouth and screaming.
"Shut up!" The thickly-necked Villain cried, pushing himself away from their makeshift table; the crate he'd been using as a chair scraping against the concrete floor.
Inko waited for him to plant his feet firmly – right on top of her beads, which, due to his thickly soled boots, the Villain didn't feel – then tugged at the beads once more; pulling them out from under the Villain the same way one would tug a rug out from underneath someone's feet. The result was instantaneous. The Villain toppled over comically, hands and arms wafting like the blades on a windmill as he tried to regain his balance. There was only one way it could end though, and down he fell, cracking the back of his head against the crate he had been sitting on only moments before.
Inko almost winced in sympathy, her own head still throbbing from where the Villains had hit her before. Usagi continued to scream, and Inko felt the headache she'd already gained progressively get more intense. The weedier Villain must have shared the same sentiment, as he clamped his hands over his ears.
Inko mustered up control of her beads once more, making them gather in a thin whip-like line and wrap around the aforementioned Villain; they circled his skin, tighter and tighter, the more she tried to push that section of orbiting beads away. He writhed upon discovering his arms and legs were clamped; the beads could be plenty uncomfortable to stand on (Inko had learnt that the hard way,) and had to be chafing his skin. Inko had forced the beads to wind tighter, not taking the chance of him escaping should she loose focus for a second and the beads loosening.
Usagi halted his ear-piercing cries momentarily. "Okay, that's kind of cool Miss Inko."
Then the screaming resumed.
Unlike her father, who's vision was blurred continuously through reluctance of going to see the Optometrist and his own drinking habits, Inko's own eyesight was for the most part fine. She was having trouble locating the key to their cage however – the blow to her head had made everything fuzzy.
The third Villain – the one who looked as though he was spilling out of his own skin – wobbled precariously over to Usagi and Inko. He'd noticed her eyes skimming over her surroundings, his hands delving inside the layer of gunk outlining his body.
"Looking for this?" He grinned, holding aloft a slime-slicked key. He kicked the cage, ankle bending back on itself from the force.
Usagi's screaming died into a whimper. The Villain's body, now that Inko took a closer look, appeared to be severely broken already. Joints and major bones didn't sit they way there were intended to underneath his flesh, and an itinerary of mottle bruises that Inko hadn't noticed before littered his skin. The slime acted as a convincing coating to the Villain's damaged body.
Hollow unseeing eyes and a mouth that resembled that of a felt puppet's – exaggerated wide actions and mis-matched lip movements to what was being expressed vocally – watched and laughed as Usagi shuffled closer to Inko. The boy's hand latched on to his friend also, wishing to drag him closer to Inko's comforting side but lacking the strength to do so.
"Nice try," the Villain commended snidely. "But let's see what you'll do after this."
Then he swallowed the key, gunk spilling from his gaping mouth as he forced the cut metal down his gullet. Inko thought momentarily whether it was worth traumatising young Usagi and simply pulling the key straight through the Villain's bloated flesh with her Quirk.
A quick glance to the quaking boy made her shoulders slump. Usagi had been putting a brave face on for her, and she was sure that most of his screaming had stemmed from his terror – not him simply being a brat. Inko sighed, knowing that she couldn't put Usagi through any more upset.
It was concerning her how easily she'd thought of tearing a Villain apart to get what she wanted. Inko Midoriya wasn't sure if she liked the person she was becoming, or whether she had always been this violent. Years upon years of being an afterthought, of walking in Mitsuki's shadows (even though the blonde had assured Inko she was not), had been repressed. Ever so slowly, these hidden depths of her personality were emerging into the light.
All it had taken was her having nothing worth caring about anymore to unleash what lay within.
The more she contemplated on this, with the Villain smirking at her triumphantly, brokenly toeing the limp beads at his feet, Inko knew she wouldn't escape from this situation with violence as her intention. It would be too messy. Self defence would earn her a slap on the wrist but tearing a Villain apart before two children was for a start going to be incredibly messy for everyone involved, and secondly very illegal even for a Pro Hero.
The Villain staggered back to his seat, eying his still bound cohort. Whenever his sludge-coated hands attempted to tear Inko's beads away, they would slip straight off. The Villain tutted, shrugging to the one still bound in defeat. Her gaze fell upon the larger beads she kept in her set. Roughly larger than the size of a fingernail, with a little bit of weight behind them and some force from her Quirk, these beads could be launched to and from things rather well.
Like mini canon balls.
If she could differentiate the force and the trajectory the orbiting curve the beads would take, then her on-the-fly plan might just work.
"Okay," Inko muttered to Usagi, suddenly wishing she'd paid more attention in Maths. "New plan."
Usagi's gulp was audible; he warily watched the slimy Villain from the corner of his eye. "Hit me with it," he told her, parroting a cheesy line from some form of buddy-cop movie or drama that Inko wasn't familiar with but definitely knew Usagi shouldn't be watching at his age.
Maybe that's where he'd got his sass from? His mother had seemed like a nice person when Inko had introduced herself to the neighbours surrounding her apartment, if a little ditzy. Though 'rabbit brained' might have been a more appropriate term to use considering Usagi had her exact features and fur colouring.
"We don't need a key when we have a phone and my quirk," Inko informed him, leaning close his fluffy ears to whisper her plan. "I need you to start screaming again while I use my Quirk. We're all getting out of here one way or another."
[1] 1 breeze block = 28lb / 2st so 6st – equivalent to a light woman or a child, I guess.
A/N [19/07/2018]: This was as far as I'd written back in May, and all I've done is clean up this chapter before publication. Have got no idea when Chapter Three will be out, because I'm yet to write it. (I'm graduating Uni tomorrow!)
Thank you to everyone who has left a review so far - especially you RandomDude, your review was really excitable! (I feel like you're giving me too much credit for the parallels-thing, because it hadn't actually crossed my mind to write it that way. Inko's father and her backstory just sort of wrote themselves, and I can honestly say the concept definitely wasn't intentional... It was just me wondering how evil I could get with Inko's unknown childhood.). I think You Only Tell The Truth was a stopgap between me writing this fic. It was my first really foray into BnHA; I've had a bit of a meddle with canon there, and now I'm going to do it here too. It could also be that the writing is more abstract in YOTTT, whereas in Orbit I'm making myself slow down and smell the exposition. Still, thank you for reading both stories!
