Chapter 4: First fight.
Three years have passed since he started his training, his stamina increased drastically due to his swimming and athletics lessons which also resulted in his legs getting stronger and his shoulders becoming broader. Breakdancing improved his agility alongside his sense of balance, his musculature formed quite well. He felt all the effort he put in his hard work paying off.
But none of that was as important, as his quirk and combat training. Besides Muay Thai, Max taught him some choke techniques which made use of his arms and legs, a couple of jiu-jitsu takedowns, pressure points to hit that would result in a knockout and way to disarm an opponent armed with a knife or a handgun.
His attacks became faster, stronger, more precise. Each sparring he had with Max was more and more exciting, each time he came out with new combinations of punches and kicks, each time he saw Max struggle more and more. It felt good to be able to compete with his mentor, to know that he was getting stronger, that his hard work wasn't in vain. He decided not to use his quirk during sparrings, still feeling guilty for hurting him. From time to time Max called his family to look at their youngest one's progress, they were worried, they were astonished, but more importantly, they were proud.
With the exception of his grandmother, of course.
She still hadn't got over the fact that he has a quirk, still tried to convince the rest to get rid of him. In one of many nights when Jalyn couldn't sleep, he could overhear her arguing with grandpa again. This time she used the accident with Max as an argument to tell him that the boy is dangerous, that he needs to be sent away to the orphanage. She could've been ranting for hours if Karaesim hadn't told her to either shut up or get the hell out of their home.
His training with his quirk was the most productive one. He quickly realized that "Solidification" was indeed a feature, specific only to "Blackfire" and that there were some limits because why the fuck not? First, if he'll harden way too much detached "Blackfire", he'll immediately pass out, second, there's a certain limit to the amount of "Blackfire" that can cover his body without any strain on it whatsoever, if he'll go past that limit and keep the fire hardened for some time, he'll get exhausted really quickly. For example, three years ago the optimal amount of fire on his body that could be solidified would be barely enough to cover his wrist, if he'd go for full-body coverage, he'd lose his consciousness in a couple of seconds. Now his coverage limit was from the elbow to the tips of his fingers.
After a few weeks of training, he was able to light up his body as easily as moving a finger. He also managed to gain some control over his blue flame, it was a bit less of a mess now and he finally can withstand it without getting injured. Further experiments proved that, no, he can't affect fire that isn't his own, but he can control it if a tiny bit of his own flames merge with it.
So, yeah, except for nightmares with Yuri that he had twice already, these three years went very well for him. If only it was the same for the rest of quirked individuals...
The new law he heard about was released two years ago and, according to Max, it was absolute and utter bullshit. Every quirked individual had to receive a document that confirmes them having a quirk and is needed to be presented whenever they're applying for a job, school, or sports section to "prevent possible accidents".
" 'Prevent possible accidents'?! What in the everloving fuck are they thinking about?!", he still remembered Max's less than a happy reaction to this news, "That shit will just place a huge-ass 'Hey, look at me, feel free to shit on me whenever you like' sign on every person with a quirk."
"It can't be that bad, uncle Max," Jalyn looked at his family, their faces full of confusion, fear and anger. "I hope."
"Listen, pal, I don't know what's the situation is in other countries, but here people with quirks have never been adored," he said. "No one will say it out loud, no one will show it in news, but that's true. I've personally witnessed a teenager getting beaten by a group of some punks just because he had fins poking from the sides of his head. Kicking the shit out of them felt good, though," he sighed. "You know what's the worst part? Whenever someone starts some sort of protest to support those poor fellas, absolutely outta-fucking-nowhere some terrorist attack ensues and, oh-so-surprisingly, the terrorist ends up having a quirk, which starts a shitstorm, rendering said protest useless."
"So those terrorist attacks are orchestrated to turn ordinary people on us, huh? But by who?"
"Zero clues, people say that government does it, some say that it's some secret society aiming to end people like you. Lot's of theories, actually," Max shrugged.
"The situation is even worse than I thought," he said.
"I won't sugarcoat thing for you, pal: it'll definitely get even worse. A lot of shit will happen to you and the other "quirkies", especially with that piece of crap law, so you better brace yourself, kiddo, your future won't be bright, I'm sure about that."
"Max, stop scaring my son," Jasyl said.
"Something has to," he said with a smile.
Quirked individuals are still treated like shit and over the last three years, they seemingly started being singled out by criminals way more than normal people do. How many of those guys don't have a strong quirk? How many of them are simply unable to protect themselves? he thought. That's it, in four, five years tops I'll start patrolling the city, there are people that need help out there and I will give it to them, he sighed. School starts tomorrow, huh? I've got a feeling that the next four years won't be the nice ones, he ignited blue flames on his forearm. To think that the thing he was afraid of the most is now one of the few things that can calm him down recently...
"Now I need to find out what your feature is," he mumbled. "I bet it's something really destructive... I wonder, how many more secrets my quirk has. 'Blackfire' is the only mode that can help me save people directly, the rest types are fitting to fighting and harming," he laid silent for some time.
"Wonder if I'll make any friends at school," he chuckled. "Yeah, right, in another life maybe," he extinguished the flame and turned on his side, closing his eyes. "I've got way more chances to pick a fight with someone."
The introduction was as boring as it could get with the principal reading a speech about how "all of the kids are the future of the country" and "how the school will become their second home". That would've been believable if she didn't have the expression of a person that really wanted just to get over with it and go take a shit or something.
He then noticed how some of the teachers were looking at him. I hate that fucking look. She told them about me, didn't she? he looked at the principal again. I already love this school.
He was assigned to class 1-C and joined their teacher with other kids as they've moved towards the classroom.
"Good day, children," she said when everyone took their seats. "You can call me Mr. Asylzhar. Right now I'll read names from my journal and if you hear your name you lift a hand, okay?"
She started reading names from the list and kids lifted their hands. Suddenly, she frowned. I wonder why, he thought sarcastically.
"Jalyn Ushar."
What a surprise.
"It's me," he said, lifting his hand a bit.
"You're the kid with an abnormality, right?" all eyes in the classroom were on him. She really had to bring that up, didn't she?
"Yes," he answered.
"Alright then, next is..." she continued with her list.
What was the purpose of that question?
The moment the introduction was dealt with, a first lesson was already over and kids started to make acquaintances with each other doing their best to ignore him. Not that it was unexpected or something, after all, parents tend to tell their children not to befriend "abnormals". He remembered all the neighbor kids he used to be friends with.
By the end of the school day, there already were small groups formed within the classroom. All of them were talking about what they'll do upon arriving home or deciding whether or not to go to the computer club. Jalyn quickly packed his pens and notebooks and headed towards the door. Luckily, no one noticed him leaving, so he left the school grounds with no problems whatsoever.
Mom said that there probably won't be any homework for the first week, so I can spend it on training without any distractions, his train of thought began its journey. I think I'll work with Blackfire today. Maybe check my theory about hardening tendrils while they're attached to me, wonder how it'll exhaust me: the way it does with body coverage or detached fortification. Some work with shaping up Crematorium won't hur- he heard something. Someone was crying and someone was laughing, he heard some swearing as well. He started looking for the source of the sounds.
They were coming from an alleyway.
An alleyway. Great. Why does all the shit in the world happen in the alleyways? he thought as he entered it, trying to move very slowly and very quietly. He saw three silhouettes rising above one. These fuckers are beating him up! he wanted to jump in really badly, but he had no context of the situation, so he decided to listen for a bit, ready to act the moment shit goes down.
"You sure have some balls to show up in this school again, unicorn," one of the boys with his hands in the pockets said, presumably the leader of the trio. "Especially after we told you not to show your stupid mug in here."
"Yeah, the fuck's that? Are you, like, disrespecting us or something?" the second guy said, judging by the looks he was Russian. "Do you want us to cut your horn off? Maybe that'll show you your place."
The third kid just giggled like a retard.
"N-no, I-I'm not, Aslan, I swear, I d-didn't mean to i-insult you or anything. My p-parents just couldn't afford to transfer me to another school," the boy with horn said, looking down.
"I don't give a fuck, you freak," the first asshole, Aslan, spoke, "you didn't listen to us, now you receive your punishment," he pulled his arm out off of his pocket, ready to punch him.
Oh, no you're not!
"Hey!" Jalyn raised his voice, getting their attention. "Stay away from him."
"Well-well, what have we here? A fucking hero," The leader said, with his asslickers cackling on his sides. "Listen here, brat-"
"Aslan, please, don't touch him," the boy on the ground pleaded.
"Shut the fuck up and wait for your turn," he hissed, turning back to Jalyn. "Listen here, brat. I'm letting you off the hook for now. Get the hell outta here and let the grown-ups do their business."
"Grown-ups, huh?" he dropped his backpack on the ground. "All I see here is a bunch of good-for-nothing pussies that are only capable to pick on those who can't fight back," he said, taking a step forward, preparing to fight.
"Don't think that we won't whoop your ass just because you're a kid," one of the asslickers, the Russian boy, said.
"What makes you think you can?" he kept provoking them. "You fuckers won't be able even to scratch me, I can say that for sure. Especially that prick in the middle."
"The fuck did you just call me?" Aslan said, anger in his voice.
"I called you a little, worthless prick that won't be able to hurt a seven-year-old," he said, his still face irritating Aslan even more.
"Beat that little bastard," he said to the giggling retard.
He obeyed, and slowly walked towards him, cracking his knuckles, "Congrats, kid, you've earned yourself an ass-kicking of your life."
"Didn't know you could talk, thought you only can laugh like a fucking hyaena, guess you're a bit smarter than you look," he took a stance. "A bit."
That pissed the Moron off, he ran at him and threw his fist forward. Jalyn easily dodged it. That's nothing compared to Max, he thought and then grabbed his forearm, pulling him closer and elbowing him in solar plexus. The older boy fell on his knees, gasping for air that just left his lungs, and then took a knee to the face just for a good measure. With blood spilling from his nose, he hit the ground face-first.
His friends' mouths were agape.
"Sending your bitch instead of fighting yourself? You really are pathetic, aren't you?" he mocked, angering Aslan even more.
"Kirill, get that fucker!" he snarled.
Kirill, unlike the previous guy, approached him carefully. He was waiting for Jalyn to hit first, so he could grab him by his hand and beat the little shit to a pulp. He did not expect said little shit to jump at him, locking his legs at his waist and pull him forward, successfully dropping him on the ground. Next thing he knew, he was hit in the eye, nose, cheek and chin in quick succession, and got knocked out immediately.
Aslan was looking at him, eyes wide, "Don't fuck with me you brat!" he screamed. "I've been boxing for five years, come closer and I'll beat the everloving shit out of you."
"That bullshit might work on your fuckbuddies over here," he started walking towards him. "But not on me. Besides, do you really think it'd help you after what you've just seen?"
"Do you know who my parents are?" he tried to threaten him.
"I don't have enough fucks to give," he kept walking. "Are we doing this or what?"
"Why?!" he screamed. "Why are you protecting that freak?" he pointed at the kid they've been beating up. Said kid was looking at Jalyn with awe.
"Well," he picked an aluminum can off the ground, held it with five fingers, and activated Crematorium under his skin, showing off his 'quirk', "you know, I'm something of a freak myself," he said, melting said can, looking at Aslan, whose eyes were filling up with horror.
"No, NO!" he screeched. "Stay away! Please, don't hurt me!" he started crying.
"So much for grown-ups, huh?" he dropped melted pieces of what used to be a can and grabbed Aslan by the collar. "You touch him again, and I'll melt. Your. Fucking. Balls," he said with the cold voice, his irises getting slightly red. He then dropped him on the ground. "Now, pick up those jackasses and get the fuck out of my face."
He had never seen someone run so fast.
"You'll fucking pay for this!" Aslan screamed as he ran out of the alleyway.
"Don't piss your pants on a way home," he yelled back.
He then came closer to the boy with a horn. "Hey there, you're alright?" he tilted his head.
"Y-yes," he answered. "Thanks."
He took a better look at him. He was wearing his school's uniform. A black jacket and pants with a white line on its right sleeve. "Which class you're in?"
"I-it's 4-A," he answered meekly, not looking him in the eye.
"Relax, pal, I'm not going to hurt you," he gave him reassuring smile. I hope it's reassuring.
"Why-" he sniffed. "Why did you help me?"
"You looked like you needed help, so I just couldn't leave you all by yourself," he said. "Why were these morons picking on you anyway? Because of your quirk?"
"What's quirk?" he asked.
"That's how I call abnormalities," he clarified. "Sounds way better in my opinion."
"Yes, because of my quirk," looks like they've had the same opinion on the matter.
"For how long?"
"Since the very first day."
"And you didn't fight back once?"
"I'd end up beaten up anyway," he said. "So what's the point?"
"At least you would've shown them that you should not be fucked with."
"Even if I fought back and won, everyone would just say that I was the one who started the fight, so my parents would be in trouble as well. It's just ain't worth it."
"So you'd rather prefer to be some douche's punching bag instead?" his voice became slightly harsher. "Is that what you want?"
"When I'll go to the middle school things might get diff-"
"No. No, they won't," he interrupted him. "Assholes like these," he pointed at the duo on the ground, "they're everywhere. If you won't fight back, they'll surely make you their personal bitch."
"I can't do anything, I've told you, I'll end up guilty anyway."
"Then just beat them up so badly that no one would even think approaching you in the future," he offered. "A seven-year-old managed to beat the crap out of two jerks older and heavier than him and scare the shit out of a third one. If you'll train with enough dedication, you'll be able to do way better than that. People that are actually willing to interfere might not be nearby when you'll get beaten again, so just think about it, okay?"
He turned around, ready to leave.
"What's your name?" the other boy said.
"Jalyn," he looked at him over his shoulder after picking up his backpack. "Ushar Jalyn."
"Thanks, Jalyn," he scratched his cheek. "W-what fighting s-style you would r-recommend?" he asked.
"Anything that doesn't involve headbutts. Boxing maybe," he shrugged. "See ya around.."
And thus, he left. That was the first real fight he had and the second person he helped. That went pretty well. Should think of a better name than "Crematorium", though, it sounds kinda lame... That "Pendulum sweep" was more effective than I thought, I'm gotta use it more, he massaged his knuckles on the right hand. It'd be better to cover my arms with armor when I'll fight some serious folks.
"How's your first day at school?" Karaesim asked him during dinner.
"It went better than I expected," he said, poking his spaghetti with a fork.
"Made any friends?" he asked.
"Nope," he scratched the back of his head, "But I've protected my upperclassman from bullies."
"Oh?" he sounded interested. "Now that's a story I want to hear."
He told them everything -except the swearing part- about the fight, about how he heard someone crying, how he found the trio that's been picking on a quirked kid, how he's got their attention and provoked them into fighting, how he scared their leader using his "quirk", how he gave a bit of advice to that kid.
"You shouldn't have fought them, you know," his dad said. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that you've helped the kid, but you could've got hurt."
"I don't think so," he was now chewing on a candy. "These guys were nothing like Max, not by a longshot."
"Well, congrats then," his dad smiled, "You're a hero."
"No..." he sounded sad. "No, I'm not."
His father was about to say something, but he was elbowed on his side by Victoria.
"Okay, anyway, how's your teacher? Your classmates?" he changed the subject.
"For some reason, my teacher mentioned that I have a quirk, so I didn't get a chance to get to know my classmates since they were ignoring me," he picked another candy. "Good riddance, I guess."
He looked at his parents, they looked a bit mad.
"What?" he asked.
"She told everyone in the classroom about you having a quirk?" Victoria sounded pissed.
"That's what I said."
"She shouldn't do that, other kids might pick on you because of that," she said with worry.
"And I'll follow the advice I gave that kid."
"Just promise that you won't start the fight yourself," his grandfather put a hand on his shoulder.
"Promise," he said.
He was laying on his bed, looking at the ceiling. I forgot to ask his name. Well, I hope he'll be alright, he ignited his flames. Aw, crap, I've forgotten to test my tendrils theory. Well, I still have a lot of time, so it's okay, he turned the flames off. I should try to make my flames even hotter in a couple of years, it might be really useful against tough enemies, He closed his eyes, a soft smile appearing on his lips at memories of the boy with horn thanking him. Who knew a simple word can bring so much warmth? It took him a couple of minutes to fall asleep.
He'll wish that he stayed awake that night the next morning.
Oh no, not again... he thought, as terror slowly spread inside of him. Please, please, anything but this.
The smell of burnt flesh stroke his nose, he was back in there, the alleyway.
"Well, well, motherfucking well..." Yuri's gurgling voice reached to his ears. "My favorite fucking walking flamethrower."
Jalyn slowly turned around, shaking in fear, his yellow eyes looking at that. The person he hated and feared the most.
"What? Not even a 'hello?'" it put its sticky, stinky, disgusting hand on his shoulder " 'Relax, pal, I'm not gonna hurt you' was it? It's not like I can anyway, aren't I? You were soooo fucking brave and badass back there. Where's all of that bravado now, huh? I guess you can be brave when you're fighting some brats that didn't have three-fucking-year training in martial arts, isn't it? You must be thinking that you're hot shit now, huh? That you're better cuz you know how to fight, huh?! THAT KILLING ME IS FUCKING OKAY NOW, HUH?!"
The boy was petrified with fear yet again. Say something, you've changed over three years, SAY SOMETHING! It's not real, it's just a nightmare, it can't hurt you.
"Even if you will become something more than a piece of shit in your fucking future, if you will become someone important, if you will be able to change the society that's treating you and the shitstains like you the way IT FUCKING SHOULD," it raised its voice once again, "YOU'LL STILL BE A PIECE OF MURDEROUS TRASH THAT KILLED ME, TOOK ME AWAY FROM MY WIFE, FROM MY BROTHER, THAT MANGLED MY CORPSE SO BADLY, THEY HAD TO BURY ME IN A FUCKING CLOSED-CASKET!"
He was just staring at it, unable to speak.
"You really got cockier, huh, kid?" it shook with rage. "LAST TIME YOU AT LEAST HAD SOME FUCKING DECENCY TO APOLOGIZE! YOU THINK YOU'RE BETTER NOW AFTER SAVING ONE PIECE OF TRASH SUCH AS YOURSELF? WELL GUESS WHAT?! YOU ARE DEAD FUCKING WRONG! NO MATTER HOW HARD YOU'LL TRY, NO MATTER HOW MANY PEOPLE YOU'll SAVE, NO MATTER HOW PURE YOUR FUCKING INTENTIONS ARE, YOU'LL NEVER BE A FUCKING HERO!"
He was breathing heavily as he fell on his knees, bawling his eyes out.
"Are you listening to me? ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?!" it screamed once again "It's just a matter of time until you'll snap, until you'll kill again..." Jalyn felt something pulling him away, he sighed with relief "... and when you will, someone will put you down," the scent of burnt meat left his nose "And I'll be waiting for you."
He shot up, panting heavily.
He hated that dream.
He hated it with all the fibers of his body. The first time in three years, he cried, a cry of fear, a cry of relief. All he could do is hope that he'll never see that dream again. He activated his flames yet again. They calmed him down somewhat. The beauty of the chaotic dance of blue flame entranced him, helped him forget about Yuri, about the guilt he felt for killing him, at least for now. It was still dark outside, so he lied down again, spending the last few hours before the school looking at his flame, calming himself down.
A/N: There's a reference for Sam Raimi's "Spider-Man" in this chapter, whoever finds it gets a cookie.