A/N: Just a quick note before we begin. I have pushed the rating up to M, just to be safe. Although not necessarily violent, things get a little gruesome in the beginning and it doesn't feel right to leave this story as a T rating. Also, I've made some new cover art for those of you on the Desktop Site - it's also up on my Tumblr, so check there!
ORBIT
3
As soon as Usagi opened his mouth, Inko got to work. The rabbit-Quirked child's shrieking cut through the tense warehouse like a sharpened blade.
With her right hand Inko pulled with her Quirk and latched onto the telephone across from their cage. Using just enough power to loosen the phone from the cradle, she pulled the receiver as far away from the wall as she dared. The chance of their captors noticing was high, but the phone needed to be close enough to the cage for their pleas to register.
Inko's right hand – a more dominant and accurate appendage than her left – readied her beads. She would have to push a select few away from her, arcing them just right so that they hit each digit correctly. Inko could not afford to make any mistakes.
"Keep it up, Usagi," she whispered.
Hoping that her aim would be true, and wincing against a sudden wave of pain rippling out from the lump on her head, Inko flung the first bead.
It hit just shy of the number one on the keypad, and slightly cracked the plastic.
Inko grimaced. She bit her lip to try and focus through the pain in her head, readying herself once more and pushing another bead away from her; this one was lighter and made of a softer material than the bead prior. Usagi's shrieks thankfully masked the obnoxious 'blip' resounding from the compressed keypad.
Inko repeated this twice more.
One. One. Zero.
She wheezed in relief. If she could just hit the call button, then everything would be okay. Someone would come and get them out of here – she knew it. Usagi was looking a little red in the face, and the slimy, slick Villain was growing more agitated by the minute, but so far no one had noticed what Inko was doing.
"Just a little longer," Inko murmured close to Usagi's ear. "Just hold on for a little longer, I'm nearly done."
With bated breath, she let the fourth and final bead fly.
The call processed.
A sly little smile curled up the corners of Inko's lips. She'd done it. She'd actually been able to wield her Quirk to her advantage. Sure, she'd been kidnapped in the process, but the rest of her plans had worked so far. She joined in with Usagi, filling her lungs as best as she could before she screamed.
"Shut up!" Bellowed the slimy Villain. His gelatinous coating was growing thicker; the body encapsulated within more distorted and broken as he rose from his seat.
The Villain Inko had secured with a bead-bind whimpered. He did not pose as much of a threat than the slimy Villain, and with no other use for her beads (seeing as they did no significant damage to the slime Villain and it was a waste to keep hold of the other) Inko loosened her hold and called them all towards her. They pooled in her lap like a featureless, formless pet; swirling in anticipation as she ran her hands through them in the same manner an owner rakes their hands through their cat's fur. The glittering mass almost seemed to purr as Inko directed it into her arm pouch.
She and Usagi had switched now from basic screaming to crying out 'Help!'.
"Be quiet!" The Villain cried once more, slipping his way towards them. Inko and Usagi hushed; the former couldn't quite contain her smirk. "What are you smiling for?"
Inko was either shaking with silent laughter, or her injuries were making her vision jump. She bit back a hysterical laugh.
"Help! Help! They're holding us here, please send help!" She cried.
"I said, shut up-" the slime Villain growled, slamming a flaccid arm against the top of the cage. As the Villain moved away, the arm separated from the body it belonged to; resting precariously atop the metal bars.
Gunk oozed from above, and Usagi recoiled in horror – dragging a still unconscious Taka away from where the gloop fell.
"Heh," the Villain scoffed wetly. "Should have expected that."
"Hey…"
It was their wimpy captor – the one Inko had just set free. They had wobbled to their feet, and had, unfortunately, discovered the ongoing phone call. The line was oddly silent; no voices called through, perhaps smartly trying to keep the call open for a long as possible.
The wimpier man's lower lip began to tremble. He slammed the receiver back into the cradle. "We don't know who she could have called."
Inko wished she hadn't unbound the bloke now.
"Well, well," garbled the slime Villain. "Guess we'll have to get moving before someone finds us then. Find the keys and get the boys out. I'm going to need a new… suit… and Missy here has just volunteered."
Something tugged at Inko's memories with the mention of this Villain needing another 'suit'. He'd specified earlier that his current one was rather tight, and Inko had concurred. She had also just thought that this Villain had a Quirk which produced a mucous-type layer over their body, and then he'd gone and dismembered himself.
She felt along her left bicep for the zip of her arm pouch, prepared for the worst.
The slime Villain shed his skin.
Out of the corpses' mouth – for no longer did the body belong to the living – pooled even more slick and viscous liquid. It separated slowly from the body, which wilted to a shrivelled heap on the floor as the slime vacated its rotting shell. The stench from both the mass of near-transparent gunk and the decomposing body of an unknown male, hit the conscious captives directly. Inko cupped a hand over her mouth to keep from heaving.
"Usagi, stay behind me," she said thickly, swallowing down a taste of bile. The rabbit-Quirked child did not move, transfixed with the terror before him. Inko shuffled numbly to block his view with her back.
"That's better," the Villain crowed. The area that Inko presumed was where the Villain's shoulders and neck were situated rippled – almost as though they were stretching out tense muscles. "Meat suits are great for blending in, but they don't last very long. Still, I'm very glad you're here to replace the last one."
The 'last one' now Inko took an (unfortunately) close look at it, was missing one arm. Chunks of once healthy flesh were now pallid and gouged, and whomever this person had been had likely suffered multiple fractures if the mangled legs and ankles were anything to go by. The slime, now dripping away and coiling back towards the reforming Villain, exposed the true pallor of the deceased. A worsened, sickly, veiny colour that Inko wished she'd never have to see again after identifying the cold corpse of her father.
This exacerbated decomposition of the deceased was rousing old demons, and was likely to induce more nightmares. Inko would be running until her legs gave out for a while if she got out of this alive.
"Now then," The Villain slipped towards her, tendrils of their form lunging through the bars and encasing Inko's legs. She was tugged to the edge of the cage, Usagi not able to cling to her back and pull Inko away as the slime travelled up her body.
It wrapped around her neck. Pressed at her chin. She tried not to whimper.
"Open wide," the Villain crooned.
Inko closed her eyes.
The sound of the warehouses' shutters going up made her open them again.
Heroes – Heroes Inko should probably know of but did not – poured into the building. Behind her, Usagi gave a little cheer. Inko slumped in relief.
"Tsukauchi!" Called the Detective stood beside Inko.
Inko smiled confusedly. She was wrapped in a soft blue blanket given to her by the medics that had arrived on scene shortly after the Heroes had busted the trio out of their cage. The Detective noted her bemusement, acknowledging it with a smile of his own.
"My trainee," the Detective clarified.
A teen, only a few years younger than Inko most likely, dressed in a beige coat that swamped his gangly frame and a set of comically large white gloves, loped to his instructor's side.
"Glad you could join us Tsukauchi. Got your pen this time?"
'Tsukauchi', with his bulky white gloves, fumbled through his pockets and nearly dropped the writing implement he'd found in there.
The Detective made to elbow Inko good-naturedly in the side – stopping just shy of her blanket so as to not impose on her personal space. "Trainee Tsukauchi here is new to taking accounts from at the scene, so if you don't mind Miss Midoriya, he'll be taking down your initial statement."
"It's…" This time, Tsakuachi did drop his pen. Hopefully, in a few years he'd grow into his coat and gloves. "It's fine with me?"
"Right then, Trainee. You're on your own. I'm just going to be stood right here."
Tsukauchi eyed his superior worriedly. The notebook and pen he held quivered in his grasp. The teen clenched his fingers, and took a deep, calming breath.
"H-hello Miss Midoriya. I am Trainee Naomasa Tsukauchi – I'll be taking your statement today. My Quirk, if you do not mind, will be able to identify whether or not you have lied during the recount of your story. If you could please explain how you found yourself in this situation…?"
Inko had balked at the mention of identifying lies. How would she spin this one without accidentally revealing she was a Vigilante-wannabe?
"Good evening, Trainee Tsukauchi," she greeted timidly. "I was taking a walk through the area – I've recently move here you see… I'd walked past Usagi and Taka a few minutes before turning back and heard a commotion."
"What prompted you to investigate further?" Tsukauchi inquired, all business. Inko gaped a little as the teen suddenly morphed into more serious mannerisms. His superior beamed proudly.
Inko gulped and clutched the blanket tighter round her shoulders. "It didn't feel right. It gets dark fairly early now, and I remember it didn't feel right to let two young children walk around. The area I was in wasn't the best too. Then I heard a scream and…"
"So, you followed the two children, found they'd been snatched off the street. Then what did you do?"
Inko hung her head while Trainee Tsukauchi scribbled into his notepad. There was no point in lying. She'd be found out by his Quirk is she did, and well, Inko had already been berated by the first responding Heroes for not calling the potential kidnapping in as soon as she'd spotted it.
"I acted impulsively," she admitted, swiping at a stray crocodile tear. "I should have gone back to the main street and called for help, but I didn't. I knew Usagi and I didn't quite think it through; rushed in, got hit on the head."
The Detective coughed. "Yes, the medics did say something about a nasty blow to the head. Are you okay to continue questioning, Miss Midoriya?"
"Perfectly fine," Inko said through gritted teeth.
Tsukauchi stilled. "That was a lie."
Inko – childishly – pouted. "Yes, it was, but I would rather do this now than later."
"If you're sure?" The Detective queried, and Inko bobbed her head. With a nod to his pupil, the police officer lapsed back into merely observing, allowing Tsukauchi to lead once more.
"How, precisely, did you manage to reach the phone?"
Inko patted the pouch on her arm. "I've recently taken up a sewing project." That wasn't a lie. "To make life easier, I've took to keeping a pouch of beads on me at all times." That was not a lie either. "In fact, from now on I don't think I'll take this off!"
Tsukauchi seemed to smile at her feeble attempts of humour but forced his lips into a rigid line. "You may have to look into Japan's weapons laws if you decide to arm yourself."
(That earned a subtle scoff from his superior, but nothing else was said of Inko's beads.)
"My Quirk allows me to draw small objects towards me. With it – and with Usagi distracting the Villains – I lifted the phone away from the wall. I'd dropped a few beads earlier to try and distract the captors just in case there was a key nearby that I could pull towards me. Depending on if I push or pull, sometimes the items latched to my Quirk fling themselves away from me…"
Tsukauchi and his superior looked mystified. "And through sheer dumb luck alone you managed to hit the right buttons."
Inko shrugged. "It was worth a shot."
Never mind that she'd been using carboard cut outs of various sizes as target practice over the last few months.
"Well," said the police officer, clapping his hands. "I think that should be all for now. If we have any further questions, we'll be in touch shortly. Do you have any next of kin that we can contact for you about staying over in the hospital?"
The medics had deemed Inko a stubborn medical miracle. With the smack to her head and the amount of stress she'd endured (through shrieking and panic and trying her best to keep a cool head throughout the duration of her captivity) Inko should have been laid out on the ground fast asleep by now. They'd identified a slight concussion, and advised she stay overnight in the local hospital just to be safe.
"Thank you for your time, Detective, Trainee Tsukauchi," Inko said softly. She tugged the blanket tighter around her shoulders. "But there's no one available."
"Certainly your parents-" Tsukauchi blustered.
"Both of my parents have passed away, Trainee." Inko replied waspishly, and the young trainee flushed with embarrassment. "Though perhaps you may contact one of my neighbours for me, Mr Takiyama?"
"You are a fool." Inko winced. She deserved that, she guessed. "You asked me specifically about the areas to avoid in this area and what do you do?"
Mr Takiyama looked down at Inko expectantly. The latter was propped up in a hospital bed.
A section of her hair had been shorn away so that the nursing staff could get a closer look at the bump on the right side of Inko's head, and to check if there was only mild bruising. She'd been assessed and sent for a scan but had later been told that other than her mild concussion there was nothing else to worry about.
Inko had spent the night being checked on intermittently to make sure she didn't fall into too deep of a sleep. While general checks were conducted anyway – for her blood pressure and to top up a simple dose of pain medication – a concussion, even if only slight, had to be treated with caution.
Mr Takiyama, who had likely been contacted by the police, had travelled to Musutafu General to check on Inko's condition the next morning. He'd been allowed to sit with her for an hour but would eventually be kicked out and told to come back during visiting hours.
"They brought Ametsuchi's kid home last night in bits. Heard him wailing even three apartments away," Inko's elderly neighbour groused.
"He wasn't kept here overnight then, like his friend?"
Taka and Inko had initially been placed on the sane emergency patients ward, but with Inko being close to getting discharged from hospital and Taka's case being more serious in nature than her own, the pair had been separated to different areas of the hospital. Taka had likely been moved in order to be cared for by specialists in the paediatric ward.
Mr Takiyama shook his head. "The police brought him and Ametsuchi back late last night. Didn't stop crying until about three this morning."
Inko's concerned expression pinched. While she had skirted around falling asleep for too long, and even though she was older than Usagi, she would likely have unsettled dreams about this event for a while too. Thankfully Taka had been knocked out for the duration of the horror.
"It wasn't pleasant. The Detective who was first to the scene last night and his Trainee told me that they're holding the three on child trafficking charges. Apparently, there's a chance that they're connected to a larger ring of traffickers around the country."
"Well I still say you're a fool," snapped Mr Takiyama. "Who goes rushing in instead of calling the police. I told you not to do anything stupid, kid."
Inko wasn't going to apologise. She nodded to Mr Takiyama, but she would not apologise. In her own mind, she had done the foolish thing – but at the time it had been the right thing. Heroes were trained to cast away their hesitancy and to launch themselves into battle; Inko had, regretfully, done the same with no Heroic training whatsoever and only her beads for backup.
While she knew that she had gone about her vigilantism in the wrong manner, Inko wasn't dissuaded from her plans at all. Their capture had revealed a lot of things to her: For one, that she was feistier and more willing to fight than she had imagined, which perhaps stemmed from Mitsuki constantly being the one to throw the first punch, much to Inko's loathing.
Secondly, Inko had been able to engineer a plan on the fly and had worked out a solution with limited resources at her disposal. That both Trainee Tsukauchi and his superior were completely baffled with how well Inko had found a solution to her problem was an added boon. It meant that as Orbit, Inko would be able to find an escape route no matter the odds.
There was one slight issue though. Orbit – and Inko – had no combat experience. Inko had the stamina and the staying power; she could run and run and run, and she was young and flexible still. Women were slightly more flexible than men, and with her constant barrelling around the city Inko had shorn away her baby fat for good. Muscle was beginning to build in taught, lean shapes across her thighs and arms.
Inko was learning all she could at her self defence and martial arts classes, but it wouldn't always be enough. Her jumpsuit was elastic and strong, but it was not infallible. Her beads were also only useful when applicable to the Villain Inko encountered; they'd had no effect on the slime Villain – except for maybe obliterating him into tiny jellied chunks.
Orbit was going to need a weapon. Something with a little strength behind it, yet still light enough for her to carry and wield through the duration of a patrol.
"You've got that look on your mug again," Mr Takiyama said, startling Inko a little.
"I'm sorry, but what 'look'?"
"The one that says, 'I'm planning on getting myself killed.'"
"Oh."
A hammer could work. Inko decided to check through the local hardware store as soon as she was released from the hospital. Throwing and recalling a hammer sounded like a good way to not get herself killed.
The bathroom sink was littered with small offcuts of green-tinted hair. Inko surveyed the freshly trimmed strands of her fringe and made one slight snip to correct an odd length she had missed.
Through the weeks after she'd been discharged from hospital, and trying to put the ghastly event behind her, Inko had taken to pulling her hair back behind her head; using long strands from in front of her ears to mask the bald spot she'd acquired. Mirroring this gathering of hair on the other side of her head, she would join the two sections in a messy bun at the crown of her head.
Today though, she was neatening herself up. She felt ready to go for a gentle walk around the neighbourhood.
Contrary to her thoughts in the hospital, Inko hadn't felt comfortable enough to leave her home straight away after being discharged to go and look for a suitable hammer. She allowed herself to rest, tried to read a book, and soon relented and made herself a set of lightweight gloves out of the same material she'd crafted her jumpsuit from. Just an easy sewing project to pass the time.
A fortnight had passed since Usagi and Taka had been snatched off of the street, and Inko was entering her third week of delaying weapons-hunting. Inko had entertained Ms. Ametsuchi and her son soon after they'd realised she'd been allowed to return home; the former thanking her profusely and the latter only there to eat Inko out of house and home. They said nothing of the large map spread across the wall, much to Inko's relief.
Mr Takiyama had stopped by with a few essential groceries after realising Inko wasn't about to emerge from her apartment anytime soon.
"When I said don't do anything stupid, I didn't mean don't do anything at all," he'd grouched, handing Inko a loaf of bread, some snacks, and a tin of loose tea leaves.
However, the time had come for Inko to leave the confines of her apartment again, no matter how daunting that thought might be.
She'd suffered more than she'd anticipated (and more than Usagi, seeing as the child had bounced around her home like a force of nature the other week). Sleep would elude her at times, and Inko often flinched if she heard movement coming from her neighbour's apartments. Having to leave the door open after her if she entered her home's tiny bathroom had become second nature to her somehow. She felt a little silly, but with no one there to overhear or catch a glimpse of her accidentally, Inko preferred leaving the door open. She couldn't be trapped again if it was open.
Inko never wanted to feel trapped again if she could help it.
Neither Inko nor the Ametsuchi family had heard of anything from Taka or his kin up until the end of her week of self-confinement. The slamming at her door in the early morning had shaken her, and Inko had peered through the peep hole of her apartment's front door until she'd deemed whoever it was knocking wasn't a threat.
Usagi had darted past her after only opening the door a fraction, declaring he had a letter from Taka.
Taka Tsubame had been lawfully separated from his mother by the Japanese Child Protection Services. She had been judged unworthy to care for her child and questioned under suspicion of negligence. In Taka's letter, which was mostly Hirigana and Katakana scribbles and the odd doodle that had been translated into a neat script below by and older hand, the child explained that he was now living with his father and stepmother halfway across the country. He was happy, and hale, and looking forward to the birth of his step-sibling later this year.
Usagi, thought a little perturbed at the thought of his best friend no longer living close to him, had announced that he was happy for Taka. Inko agreed. After what he had been through, Taka deserved some good fortune in his life.
(She was also secretly glad that she'd played a part in that joyous reunion and the forging of a family, because if not for intervention, Taka Tsubame could have well been dead by this point in time.)
Usagi was actually transforming into a bit of a problem for Inko. The young boy knew that Inko was at home and feeling a twinge of loneliness from Taka's absence had made Usagi clingy. If he became even more so before the time Inko was due to start Vigilante work, she'd have to find a method to keep Usagi in the dark. She could not afford, and most importantly did not wish, to move on from where she had settled just yet. Inko was saving her moving away emergency funds for if she was nearly unmasked as Orbit.
Sighing and placing her scissors on the edge of the sink, Inko wiped up the mess of chopped hair. She touched up the dark circles under her eyes and one stubborn pimple on her jaw with a dab of concealer – wrapping the strands of her hair into the familiar updo she'd adopted. Pleased with her appearance now, she readied herself to leave the apartment.
"Would a sledgehammer be too heavy?" Inko wondered aloud, slipping on her shoes and reaching for her keys.
"Ma says I'm not aloud to play with hammers until I'm grown up."
"U-Usagi?!"
The rabbit-Quirked child stood on Inko's doormat, rubbing at his ears. The action held the same energy as an ignorant child picking out their ears or nose, though from Usagi's appearance alone it should have been considered 'cute'.
Inko felt her eye begin to twitch. He was here again.
"Why d'ya need a hammer, Miss Inko?" Usagi grinned, two little buck teeth revealed by his smile.
"I'm going to be…" 'Smacking criminals around the head with it'? "… hanging some pictures."
Usagi's nose crinkled. "You hesitated."
"I never said they were good pictures," Inko retorted quickly. She looked dolefully at the child. "What kind of books does your mother make you read. You're eight, you shouldn't be using words like 'hesitated' for a few years yet."
Ignoring her, Usagi bounced from foot to foot as he followed Inko down the balcony walkway. "Are you going to buy it now? Can I come with you? My Ma says she trusts you to look after me!"
Great, Inko thought. Thanks a lot Ms. Ametsuchi.
"Yes, I'm going now, but I don't know whether you can come along." Inko paused. "Shouldn't you ask your mother before going anywhere?"
Usagi cocked his head to the side. "Ma!" He cried. "Ma! Can I go with Miss Inko to buy a hammer?"
Inko had never been so mortified in her life.
A cry of 'Yes – be good!' resounded from the Ametsuchi's apartment, and Inko barely resisted placing her head into her hands and weeping. So much for discretely smuggling a weapon into her home. Now she'd actually have to find some pictures to hang to cover her back. The only one she currently owned, a family portrait with everyone present taken shortly before her mother died, Inko had yet to unpack even months after moving in.
Allowing a still-bouncing Usagi to grab hold of her hand, and leading the way to the DIY store, Inko wondered how this had become her life. She was currently debating on the best type of hammer the market had to offer with an eight-year-old:
"Ma would use this little one, but it's kinda lame right? So get this one-"
"Usagi please don't drop that on your foot."
The child looked up at her quizzically, a heavy sledgehammer resting in the grip of both hands. "But it doesn't weigh that much."
His arms were clearly shaking. Inko narrowed her eyes.
"Well," she began, feeling very confident in her child-wrangling abilities. "I don't think I'll need one that big – and I don't need one with a metal head. It might damage the wall more than a rubber one if I mess up."
"Oh." Usagi dropped the hammer much to Inko's dismay. "Why didn't you just say so?"
Certain that her hair would turn grey prematurely if she continued living in the same apartment block as Usagi Ametsuchi, Inko purchased not a hammer, but a decently sized rubber mallet. It was light enough in her hand to be thrown, and the rubber block of the mallet's head– used generally by campers to tap tent pegs into the ground – would dole out non-lethal damage.
Managing to foist Usagi back onto his mother before he could follow Inko back to her home, Inko locked her door behind her and set to work.
Taking a couple of garbage bags and splitting them open along the long seems, she lined her bathtub; sticking the impromptu protective sheets she had made down with masking tape. Inko paused, deftly walked back to the kitchen and brought a few more bags to line the tiled wall behind the bath. She didn't fancy having to re-grout around the tiles or trying to find a corrosive enough cleaner to remove spray paint from the wall.
Laying her freshly bought mallet down into the bath near the tap end (the rubber mallet coated in the same masking tape holding down the sheets to prevent paint coating the stiff rubber. A can of spray paint, which Inko had been saving for spraying her mask a darker shade of black, was used to coat the wooden handle of Inko's new weapon.
Waiting for the first side she'd sprayed to dry was agonising – more so than it should have been. Inko ripped open the package of snacks Mr Takiyama had given to her a few days before, crunching down aimlessly as she waited for the paint to fully set. Only when it had fully dried did Inko dare move the mallet to the other end of the bath; flipping it to the non-painted side and coating said side in rich, glossy black.
She repeated this process fully once more; flipping, spraying, snacking, flipping, spraying, snacking. Inko licked the crumbs from her fingertips the last time feeling very ashamed of herself to munching her way through a sharing packet of snacks all by herself. Nonetheless, she couldn't quite bring herself to care; they'd tasted wonderful, even if she was sure to feel bloated for the rest of the night.
Waiting for the sickly, greasy feeling in her stomach to settle, Inko wondered whether she should customise the mallet further. She'd planned to take scraps of leather left over from her coat and wrap them around the handle as a softer grip, but she was unsure whether adding glow in the dark spray paint to the exposed – now blackened – wood left would be overkill.
After playing with the impromptu leather grip until she'd positioned it just right, Inko stuck it down with the strongest glue she owned. Then she masked off the leather and dusted the rest of the handle with a spattering of glow in the dark paint. Unlike her leather coat, which had bold printed stars along the tails, the mallet handle glowed like a nebula. Stars upon stars to make them see stars.
Inko – no, Orbit – was happy.
She would take to patrolling the streets after making sure everything she had spray painted had been granted a thorough time to dry.
Over the years, applying her costume became almost like breathing.
Orbit patrolled three to four times a week – the days keeping a randomised rotation to stop other Heroes or the police picking up on her trail. On those days, Inko Midoriya would be masked away under a swathe of black fabrics, dramatism, and a brand of lipstick she doubted was available for sale anymore.
Folding her clothes – a comfy jumper and a calf-length skirt – over the back of the desk chair in her bedroom, Inko would withdraw from her wardrobe a pristine, waterproof case from the hanging rail.
Rolling her jumpsuit up over the socks she wore, anchoring the latter in place, and wiggling the fabrics up to her hips was a practiced art. It was only up until recently that Inko had switched out her normal underwear for something more supportive; her brassier, while comfortable, didn't allow her jumpsuit to sit flush against her skin. Yet, tracking down the perfect sports bra had been worth the nightmare.
Switching to the aforementioned garment, Inko tugged the jumpsuit higher – slipping her arms into the sleeves and adjusting them to her liking. Then she pulled the zipper up the front of the suit to the base of her throat.
Next came her hair. The bald spot had filled in by this point, but Inko rather liked her hair pulled back. Sectioning the upper parts of her hair from the lower, and splitting that section into two, she fashioned two identical buns on either side of her head and secured them with pins. The rest of her tinted hair hung loose and brushed against her shoulder blades.
Lacing up her boots and checking her equipment took the longest out of transformation process. The boots had to be tight enough not to allow her feet to slop about, nor too tight that they cut off her circulation partway through patrol. Inko's equipment checks usually consisted of setting aside any beads which appeared to be cracked or sharpened before setting the rest in her arm pouch.
Inko kept multiple pouches on her, because over the years she had learnt that you could never be too careful when it came to preparing for the worst; more weaponry in your arsenal was for the best.
Hair pinned in place and laces tightly tied, Inko reached for a small case no bigger than one a student might keep their stationary in, which contained her makeup. Off brand products she'd picked up from second-hand stores, and packages she'd kept from when she was thirteen and just learning about makeup were what helped to craft Orbit's notable appearance.
Pale foundation and a healthy dusting of translucent powder across Inko's skin gave the impression of a flawless moonlight-bathed complexion. She fixed her mask into place with a little dab of eyelash glue, then dusted below the edges resting along her cheeks with a pigmented eyeshadow – flecked through with tiny particles of glitter.
Across her lips, Inko applied a murky green lipstick; during her final checks before she left for patrol, she would bare her teeth in the mirror to ensure none of the lip colour had caught against her teeth.
Since she'd turned eighteen, lost her father, moved, and set up her Vigilante patrol, Inko had not once encountered any problems. Other than those she was hunting down, of course.
She'd been instrumental in stopping a slew of sexual assaults throughout the Musutafu area, purse muggings, and other petty crimes that Pro Heroes would overlook simply because they only pursued larger rewards. Not once had Inko encountered any trouble from the law; Orbit was a prominent figure in Musutafu and her neighbourhood, but no one had every been close enough to thank the mysterious Vigilante for their hard work.
Instead, the victims Orbit rescued were given a glow in the dark star-shaped sticker. Confused, they would keep the gift. But they would remember, even though their Hero blended too well with the night.
The only time Inko could say she had felt cornered was possibly a couple of years into patrolling. Her foe was triple her size due to a mutation in his Quirk that allowed him to expand and reinforce his body as he liked, and she'd been tracked him down from where he'd fled from the scene of his crime – a mugging – into an alley.
Inko should have known really, because nothing ever good happened in alleyways. The last time she'd sprinted in unawares, she'd been smacked around the head and locked inside a cage with two children.
The alleyway had been set between two separate apartment blocks with small balconies on either side of the building. The Villain was trapped, as both apartment blocks backed onto a large corporate building that had walled off it's property from the general public.
"Come quietly," Orbit had asked of the Villain.
They threw a trash can at her in retaliation.
With her Quirk, Inko pushed the flying object away from her; it circled harmlessly behind her back until she latched onto it once more returned the favour – pushing and pulling with her Quirk as appropriate. The Villain wasn't expecting to get hit in the face at all.
Inko had just about finished securing him with zip ties and placing the items he had stolen some distance away from where he lay, crushed by the trashcan, when several lights from the apartment blocks flicked on. Sirens wailed in the distance, drawing closer to the mouth of the alley.
"Uh oh…" Inko whirled around in a panic. There was nowhere for her to run.
The wall was too high for her to scale and traipsing up the fire escapes attached to the apartment blocks would take her too close to homeowners – who could put forth an accurate description of her face. Neither could Inko run out into the street; she'd be hunted down by the police before she could ditch them, and her stint as Orbit would well and truly be over.
Could her Quirk rescue Orbit in her time of need?
The answer was yes.
As a general rule, Inko usually left nothing but necessary collateral damage behind on her patrols; the kind of things that really couldn't be helped, such as a Villain lashing out and damaging half of the city's infrastructure, or a yob breaking a window in a fit of anger before she could whack them over the head. Nothing was broken as a result of her own actions, apart from maybe one poor chimney pot that had been the casualty of her mallet being flung carelessly across the rooftops.
Noting that one apartment had a few flower pots hanging over the side of narrow balcony, Inko reached with her Quirk and wrenched them down towards her – breaking her general rule just this once. Leaping into the air as high as she could, one plant pot reached her just in time to take her weight before she launched herself skywards again. The second pot arced around just in time to see Inko step carefully up onto the top of the wall.
The threatening glow red and blue glow of a police cruiser's lights drawing closer had the blood in Inko's vein's rushing; her ears were drowned in the consuming thrum of her rising heartbeat. Nearly slipping from the top of the wall, Inko tried to push down her panic.
She ran off into the night and never looked back, hearing a horrific crash as two plant pots were released from her Quirk's hold and plummeted straight onto the unsuspecting mugger.
Luckily, Orbit had not ended up in a situation like that for some time.
A quiet night on patrol rounded off to an even more listless end. Not one criminal had tried to disturb the peace on Inko's route, but she continued to watch vigilantly until the end of her self-imposed night shift.
It was drawing close to four in the morning now, and while the sunrise was due to appear very soon on this brand-new summer's day, the night had been rather chilly. An intermittent rain shower had Inko wishing she'd worn her overcoat before starting patrol, but once the showers subsided then came the muggy heat. Inko was resolved to head straight for a relaxing bath once she returned home.
Inko had her routine sorted now. In the four years that had passed, no one had ever tracked her down – she'd also been fortunate enough to be able to memorise the schedules, patterns, and habits of her neighbours to ensure they never caught her returning to her apartment in full costume.
Her routine, for the most part, was fool-proof.
Up until Mr Takiyama was stood on his back balcony watering his plants at half four that morning, instead of being fast asleep in bed. He sprayed Inko with his hose as soon as her swung herself onto her own balcony.
"Who are you?!"
Inko spat out a mouthful of water. "Mr Takiyama-"
"Clear off! I'll spray you again cretin-"
"Mr Takiyama it's only me," Inko slapped her gloved hands over her mouth in horror.
The dousing from the hosepipe ceased. Water, still trickling from the nozzle, took upon the role of noisy crickets often used for comedic effect and punctuating the lull between awkward conversation in cartoons.
"When I said not to do anything stupid at all, I didn't extend that to you stopping others from doing anything stupid too!" With that, Inko was splashed once more.
"You're a fool!" Mr Takiyama's voice hadn't quite reached screeching levels as of yet, but if Inko didn't calm him down soon half the neighbourhood would know of her secret identity.
Her elderly neighbour had granted her the luxury of changing and wiping away her makeup before the lecture began; she'd knelt prostrate in her living room while the elder paced back and to for a good forty minutes now.
"What if you'd been killed out there – no one would notice!" Inko winced at that. Was it her fault entirely that she was all alone in the world? "We care about you, you stupid child. I can't lose someone else-"
Mr Takiyama's mouth clamped shut.
"'someone else'?" Inko echoed, raising her head and lifting herself into a less strenuous kneeled position.
Mr Takiyama pulled a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his knitted cardigan, mopping at the sweat beading on the bald patch atop his head and across the back of his neck. The elder sighed and lowered himself onto Inko's couch.
"My daughter was a Hero. I never told you, but she was. Her Quirk took more after my wife's, but the trees were there to guide her too."
"Mr Takiyama – you don't-"
"You will listen, and you will listen well," the elderly man commanded. "My daughter was a Hero, and she died a Hero. Do you know what that means?"
The obvious answer was either 'She went out in a blaze of glory', 'She died doing what she loved', or 'She sacrificed herself.' The look on Mr Takiyama's face told Inko that the correct answer was otherwise.
"She rushed in, not thinking straight, outclassed and all alone with nothing the strength of her Quirk could use to her advantage. Died instantly." Mr Takiyama crumpled his handkerchief between his fists. "They couldn't recover her body because there was nothing to recover."
Inko swallowed painfully, and Mr Takiyama turned to look the young woman in the eye. "Don't make her mistakes, especially unlicensed ones."
"I'm not going to stop," Inko told him flatly, and protested at the affronted look on her neighbour's face. "I need to do this, I think. I want to do this. But I could always use some help?"
Mr Takiyama scoffed. He wrestled with his emotions for a while - Inko could see them all, clearly defined, as they cycled across his face. Eventually the elderly man sighed. "Thought it had gone quiet around here for the past few years. That your doing?"
Inko smiled faintly. She shook her head. "Oh no. It's Orbit's."
Mr Takiyama's reprimand, and the truth behind the loss of his only child had left her feeling dizzied. Inko had wondered why no one ever came to visit, but with their child lost the elderly man's wife had soon followed suit. He'd been alone, just like her, ever since. But if the fate of a Vigilante was no better in terms of odds than a legitimate Hero, why bother to become the latter in the first place? There were laws for these kinds of things, yes, but Inko couldn't see why one should care if you were ultimately going to end up dead in the line of duty.
In a strange move for her – and for Orbit – Inko called off her patrols for the rest of the week. She had much to consider; whether to continue, to resume patrols after gaining a licensee, or if she should hang up her jumpsuit forever. Mr Takiyama had been right in saying that things were quiet in the neighbourhood, and since Orbit had debuted the dirtied fringes of Musutafu Ward had been scoured for any Villainous activity she could stamp out. She had been responsible for that. Inko Midoriya, Orbit, had been responsible for the change.
By no means was the city 'safe', but it was 'safer' and Inko had played a key part in that tiny slither of progression. Could she simply give that all up after so many years of hard work?
For the remainder of the week, Inko moved listlessly around her apartment. She cleaned each room until she could see her face in every surface. Finally got around to unpacking a few more boxes left over from four years ago. She meticulously inspected every handsewn seam on her gear, polished her boots, and made sure she'd restocked one arm pouch with glow in the dark stickers before finally snapping.
Inko snatched up her keys, feeling ever so itchy and restless. Over the years she'd invested in running shoes she could just slip on instead of lacing up; tripping over fastenings when all she wanted to do was run could no longer become an issue.
Inko locked her door with haste and all but bolted down onto the street below her apartment. She allowed her legs to carry her aimlessly; they knew her running route better than she by this point, and it no longer took a conscious effort to navigate her way around the suburban streets.
She cut through a nearby park, allowing her loping stride to loosen and extend along the open pathways. Inko scrunched her eyes shut, a toothy grin barely retaining her whoop of joy as she picked up speed.
Said speed disappeared when she collided with something. Or rather, someone.
"I'm so sorry are you alright-"
"I could-"
"And your coffee's all over your papers! I'm really sorry I should have been looking where I was going-"
"Please calm – calm down," the stranger insisted, brushing stray drops of lukewarm coffee from his suit trousers. His briefcase lay open to the side of where the pair had collided; papers now a murky brown from the spilt hot drink.
Inko jumped to her feet, extending a hand to the man. "I'm really sorry. Truly, I am-"
"As I said, it's fine," replied the man. Inko would swear that the air around him sparkled as he flashed her a charming grin. Light reflected off a tousled coif of inky black curls. He had a smattering of faint freckles across his nose. The coffee had seeped through his shirt, and Inko caught herself staring.
Not that she was drawn to the hint of muscles temptingly displayed beneath the sopping wet fabric, of course not… ha… it was, it was the eventual dry-cleaning bill that Inko was staring at the clothes fervently for – nothing else!
The man was wearing rather expensive clothing, Inko assessed from rather attentive glances. The coffee stain was spreading from the front of his torso and round to his back. Inko noticed these things because she was a very vigilant Vigilante (between the hours of eight in the evening until four in the morning) and not because this man – whoever he was – was literally dripping with good looks.
"It's not every day I get bowled over by a pretty young thing, after all."
Was this love? Inko wasn't sure.
Her tongue hung limp and useless in her mouth, too stunned to even retort about her being 'pretty'. No one had ever called her pretty. Actually, no one outside of Mr Takiyama and the Ametsuchi family really spoke to her at all. She was so busy patrolling as Orbit that Inko Midoriya had simply forgotten what it was to socialise and to have inane things like crushes.
She was nearly twenty-three, how had she dismissed having a social life so casually? [1]
Biting her lip, Inko bowed and introduced herself.
"'Inko'?"
"Yes."
"A pleasure," the man smiled, and her heart almost leapt out of her chest. "I'm Hisashi."
Their moment, stood there suspended in time amongst a puddle of coffee and scattered papers, ended with the sound of Hisashi's phone ringing.
"I'm sorry, I need to take this," Hisashi said, and waved Inko off when she asked whether he wanted to be reimbursed for his coffee and dry cleaning.
'No, I'm fine. Should I be worried?' she heard him say to whoever it was on the other end of the call, and Inko felt a sting of disappointment. Of course, there would be something blocking her way to a good thing; though there was no binding ring on his finger, it was probably someone important to him. Maybe someone he loved.
Regretfully, Inko continued her run. It was hard to move her feet away, and she longed to turn back and wait for Hisashi to finish whatever business he had so that she could stare at him some more. That's what people did when they were enamoured right?
(It wasn't. Inko had been re-watching too many idealistic dramas again and had inadvertently picked up some strange ideas about courtship.)
Still, being found out as a Vigilante by her neighbour maybe hadn't been a bad thing. Inko may have found her future husband that morning, and things were looking up. It would be easy as Orbit to track him down should she need to, and if she didn't get caught doing so then it would be her little secret. She would just be looking out for citizen in need, right? No harm no foul, as the saying went.
What else could top her day off?
Deciding that running wasn't really interesting her anymore – her heart was no longer in the moment, it was back in the park with Hisashi – Inko slowed her pace to a walk. She meandered through the bustling streets in search of a small café she could sulk in and drown her love-struck sorrows with coffee.
Finding one establishment (it looked fancy, and for once Inko was glad she'd stuffed a few more notes into her arm pouch the other day just in case she ran into monetary troubles while, well, running) Inko ordered something frivolous off the menu and was about to find a discreet table to sit at when-
"Inko? Ko… is that you?"
Inko stilled. She tucked a disarrayed chunk of her hair behind her ear; it had come loose in the crash earlier, and Inko hadn't thought to tidy herself up afterwards – too star struck for anything other than ogling Hisashi.
Inko gulped. "Mitsuki."
Sat beside a gentleman with faint stubble on his chin, was Inko's estranged friend. A prominent wedding band sat on his finger, with a slender circle of white-gold – adorned with gems, naturally – encircled Mitsuki's own ring finger.
"Masaru, this is Inko – she's my best friend."
'Was,' Inko corrected. I was your best friend.
Mitsuki struggled to her feet; the form fitting dress she wore bulged a little around the abdomen. Nothing notable unless you knew what you were looking for and it could easily be mistaken for weight gain. The blonde noticed the protuberance that had drawn Inko's attention, resting her hands across the small bump.
"Inko, this is Masaru Bakugou: My husband."
She sounded so proud of herself, stood there in that café with her cushy life and her husband, her enviously slim – if pregnant – figure, and her naïve belief that after all these years Inko was still going to doggedly be her friend. Yet at the same time, Inko felt a traitorous warmth bloom within her at the thought of still holding a part of Mitsuki's heart for her own; that their fight oh so long ago had been meaningless and had simply grown out of proportion.
The belief that if Mitsuki was here again and that Inko wouldn't be alone, filled her mind. Inko stomped down all of these petty hopes with a wave of jealousy and a strained smile. "Nice to meet you, Mr Bakugou."
"Call me Masaru, please. Tsuki's told me all about you – how you were the one to design that fabulous velvet piece years back."
Well, Inko thought smarmily. I'm glad it was at least something good you'd heard.
There was something deeper about Masaru's gaze though. Something that said he knew exactly about the green-eyed monster Inko was only just keeping at bay inside of her. It made Inko feel uncomfortable – and unwelcome. Clearly Mitsuki would soon pick up on Inko's discomfort and hopefully the latter would bid them goodbye and never run into the Bakugou's ever again.
Today was a day full of coincidences and surprises, though not all of them had been as unwelcome as the one sat right across from Inko now in this upmarket café.
"I'm due in April next year," Mitsuki chattered, expression missing its usual volatile fire. Whether the burning embers of her maternal behaviour was part of Masaru's influence, or if Mitsuki had merely changed over the last four years, Inko did not know. The transformation was a little disconcerting. "What about you though – how's your old Pa doing?"
Inko thanked the waitress as they set down her coffee at Mitsuki and Masaru's table. She took a composed sip. "He's dead."
"Ko, I'm so sorry –"
"They came and told me right after you left that night. It couldn't be helped." Inko debated on whether a set of burns were worth it should she down her hot coffee in one go and flee. Mitsuki's face was a picture of abject horror. "I ended up moving because I couldn't afford to run the house."
Mitsuki rubbed her hands worriedly over her small baby-bump. Masaru squeezed his wife's arm reassuringly.
"Why didn't you say anything? I would have helped you."
Anger nipped at Inko's features, but she schooled a mocking smile into one that was more amiable. Mitsuki – eighteen-year-old, hot-headed Mitsuki – would not have helped her back then. Though the blonde's temper had supposedly cooled now, Inko couldn't bring herself to forget how easily the woman she once called a friend had tossed her aside.
Inko wisely took another sip of coffee. She shrugged; "Well, it's dealt with now. What of yourselves?"
The chatting drudged onwards, and Inko wished she'd downed her coffee and just left.
"We're thinking 'Katsuki' if it's a boy," Masaru told her.
"'if'? It is a boy, I tell you," Mitsuki protested. "I just know it."
Mentally, Inko shuddered at the thought of a mini-Mitsuki wreaking havoc across Japan.
"So," Masaru said, wisely changing the subject. "What is it that you do Inko?"
"Oh, you know," Inko returned blithely. "This and that."
Before her patrol the following day Mr Takiyama invited himself into her home.
"Here," he said gruffly. A handheld device was placed on Inko's lap.
"What-"
"Portable radio. Had it left over from my driving days. Use it if you need to," Mr Takiyama clarified. He tapped his hip, revealing another radio attached to his belt. "You run into any trouble out there, you call it in."
Inko raised her eyebrows. "Okay-"
"Also, I'm staying here until you get back."
"That's…" Inko sighed, knowing there was no other way around this. "That's fine."
She reached into her one of her arm pouches, selecting two star-shaped stickers and placing one on each of the radios. Mr Takiyama sniffed at the faintly glowing sticker on his radio but did not object to its presence. He wished her a safe patrol, and with that, Inko was out of her balcony door and blending in with the night.
The streets were quiet, but she could tell that Orbit's presence in the world had been missed. While she meandered down back alleys and dodgy neighbourhoods, Inko often cleaned as she went; acquiring litter from the floor in a plastic bag until she could find the nearest recycling point. This night she was inundated with trash every way she turned.
An hour and a half now remained of her shift, and Inko decided to patrol a little further afield.
Call her sentimental, but she returned to the park where she had met Hisashi that afternoon. She was glad to be such a sentimental fool.
"I don't want any trouble," Hisashi said, his back to Orbit while he tried to placate the Villain confronting him.
"Maybe Mummy and Daddy should have handed over the money then instead of ignoring the Boss' demands," the Villain sneered, hands stretching for his target. "Then I wouldn't have been sent to beat your scrawny arse-"
Before she knew what exactly she was doing, Inko let her mallet fly. It zoomed past both men's heads before she latched onto it again – halting the weapon in its tracks. The hammer shifted slightly in its suspended position; Inko used her method of push and pull to line it up just right.
"Like hell you will," she seethed, before calling the mallet back. It collided with a resounding smack against the Villain's head.
Hisashi whirled around and was met with the sight of a five-foot four diminutive mass of black leather and spite. The stars spray-painted onto Inko's coat twinkled menacingly.
"Are you alright sir?" Hisashi's eyes widened in recognition at her voice. He opened his mouth, but Inko shook her head gently. "Can you call this in for me please, I'm not exactly legitimate."
Orbit recalled her mallet. She'd left a sizeable bump on the back of the Villain's head, but no lasting damage other than a nasty headache later.
"Did he harm you at all sir?"
Hisashi, a little dazed from his revelation, shook his head. His fingers fumbled over the buttons of his phone, and he stammered as he spoke to the operator about to dispatch the police to their location. Inko gazed back and smiled at his floundering.
Hisashi ended the call. "Ink-"
"I didn't have the chance to hurt him," the Villain suddenly growled, stumbling to his feet and rubbing at the spot on the back of his head. "But I'll be happy to rip the pair of you to shreds. Boss never said anything about collateral…"
"Get back!" Inko cried, grabbing hold of Hisashi's still-stained shirt and dragging him to safety before the Villain could lunge. She nearly ripped open the pouch of beads she wore around her upper left arm, letting the glittering horde swarm around them.
The Villain scoffed. "And what is that going to do?"
Inko's eyes narrowed. She flicked her fingers tauntingly. "This."
Like a man possessed, the Villain launched himself out of the way of the swarm; from a distance, you could almost mistake Orbit's beads for a hive of bees up in arms.
"What are you doing?" Hisashi exclaimed, gripping Inko's shoulders. "You don't know how what he's got in store for me. He'll kill us both-"
"Not if I can help it," she replied determinedly. "Stay behind me."
"No-"
"Stay there-"
"No, I'm not going to let you put yourself in harm's way for my troubles." Hisashi's chin jutted out stubbornly as he set his jaw.
Inko wrestled with her beads, trying to form a thick enough barrier around the Villain to keep him occupied and Hisashi and herself far away from potential attacks. "I'm only doing my job. Just because you've met me before – wait, what are you doing? Stop!"
But it was too late. Hisashi had puffed up his chest and expelled a raging blaze of fire from between his lips. Inko normally would have no qualms about this; what was a little third degree burn to a career criminal after all? However pretty she found Hisashi's curls to be, or how enticing she found his body, and how she wondered if he'd taste smoky if she kissed him now, she would not so easily forgive him for melting all her beads in one well aimed, blistering expulsion.
"What have you done?" Inko cried, watching as the smoke cleared and her beads lay melted into a muddle of mixed material on the park grounds. The Villain who'd accosted Hisashi groaned weakly. His burns had turned his brutish face lobster red and slightly charred. Extensive blisters were already beginning to form.
Sirens sounded in the distance, and Inko swore. "I've got to go."
"Wait-"
"I'm a Vigilante, Hisashi. I can't be found here," she told him sharply.
"I know that," he said, grabbing her arm. "Take me with you."
[1] I'm going off the assumption that Inko was in the same year group as Mitsuki – making her 38 at the time of canon BnHA, rather 40-odd. Meeting Hisashi at 23, with the birth of Izuku looming soon, brings Inko to 24; fourteen years later we hit canon, so the ages check out. Inko is canonically older, so it's been a pain to fiddle with timings. As with Tsukauchi, he's canonically 36 – two years younger than Inko (in this fic anyway); so him acting as a trainee works if he'd begun his internship then.
A/N [7/9/2018] :
Oh my gosh, am I sorry (not sorry) for how long it's taken me to update this. Up until a week ago, I had about one hundred words written down for this and a lot of scenarios playing out in my head. A lot happens in this chapter – although for me it doesn't feel like enough, and I've been forced to leave quite a bout for Chapter Four rather than including it here. Otherwise this chapter would have carried on for another 10,000 words if I hadn't drawn the line where I have. Apart from the 40,000 words I'd produced this year for Uni, I'd calculated a further 200,000 for fanfiction this year. There's no wonder I'm so tired; I haven't produced this much content in years. Heartbreaker? Pfffsh... was... an experience. I cried a lot for forcing myself to do daily updates, but I managed somehow. And now we've got Late Hero Academia, just lurking there.
That being said, thank you all for waiting patiently, and for your favourites, follows, and reviews. I'm looking at you, RandomDude. You have no idea how excited I get about long, critical reviews. (They're my favourite kind of reviews~!)
So, RandomDude (pleaaase, pleeeease log in or make an account so I can speak with you easier, and so I can thank you better than in random-update-instalments), here's what I have to say to you:
AaaaAArgh- ahem, I'm quite flattered. We've covered this before, but I have an idea of Vigilante!Inko in my head, but nothing nefarious or meticulously planned for her. I'm just sort of going with the flow…? I know that sounds wishy-washy, but it's the truth, I swear.
I would have thought that if she could pull things towards her, she needed to be some kind of anchoring force. I've read fics before where Inko can basically do all her household chores (dish washing and the like) simply by directing objects with her Quirk. But the aforementioned breaks the rule of push-and-pull, because the object Inko is interacting with has a whole range of movement and not just to and away from her body – it's specified by some authors to be more of a levitation-based or almightily mundane telekinetic Quirk. So, if she's attracting 'small' objects towards her, but actively fighting against that at the same time, the objects are going to try and find any way possible with which they can be pulled towards her again – hence Orbit.
I love Hero Notebook Hour. Never change. I'm not going to comment on weaponry, because most of it has been explained in this Chapter, and I don't exactly science well. At all. Apologies.
Plot-wise, I see what you mean. I wanted to build to the last few scenes in Chapter Two, but that meant taking it slowly. This chapter is probably the same, but again, it's how I write. I prefer to work in tiny mundane scenes, which is usually why I stick to comedy, slice of life, and romance/fluffiness. I do mundane well. I do flowery descriptions well. Action and long-term plots…? Not so much. Personally, for me, this story is less about the technicalities and politics of BnHA, but the interpersonal side. I want to focus on Inko's feelings, and her little tragedies, and her attempts at trying to ignore how isolated she feels. Orbit was never about grand battles or her trying to change the world like Canon-Izuku. She's eighteen (now twenty-three) and alone, and I wondered, if you were that suffocated and volatile, and had never acted out before, what kind of punishment/expectation(s)/madcap scheme would you place upon yourself?
It's also a bit of wish fulfilment, I guess. Inko deliberates quite a bit, both in Orbit and in Canon. Though, once she sets her mind to something, she's immovable. I feel that myself. I have ideas of doing things but am not brave enough to do them sometimes. Though I am much the same as she, once I take the irrevocable plunge into the unknown.
Who's to say she won't declare herself, or get caught in the future? Maybe Orbit will never be caught, or become a legitimate Hero? Even I do not know for certain, and unfortunately, an authoress must keep her secrets.
As always though, thank you. I really enjoyed reading your review.
To everyone else, why not check out my Tumblr for more content? My handle is yuilhan-writes-things, so come and natter with me! I've got a few Orbit-y bits and bobs on there, and I'm hoping to have a link to a playlist for this fic up on my Bio before this is posted – so make sure to check for that too!
