Beyond ten chapters…
It's weird to think that a little over a decade ago, being able to do this felt like a milestone, like the end of some Herculean task, an unattainable goal to strive for. And now I'm just… here. The story keeps moving.
Come on then, let's get this going!
They hadn't walked far, not by Izuku's estimate, when everything was plunged into darkness. He came to a complete halt, most of their progression following suit. A glance backwards revealed no trace of light to mark their point of entry, putting the greenette further on edge. The boy was quite sure they'd walked a straight line to this point, not even so much as a curve in the corridor.
Midoriya quickly chalked it up to "Aozora bullshit" before resuming the trek. The other standstills followed after the sound of his footsteps, likely coming to the same conclusions.
The three had to hustle a bit to catch up to Minetta and Hagakure, mount and rider having pressed into the shadows with hardly a stumble. Trying to get a move on in this pitch black passage was not easy, Izuku pretty much having to tap his way along the walls to avoid marching into them. It made the sounds of the two ahead, evenly placed footfalls and nary a slap of palms on stone, rather impressive by contrast.
The oppressive darkness lasted only a few seconds in total. Before the group could really adjust, the tight tunnel came alive with light. The familiar spotlight effect from yesterday was back, though the more aware teens quirked their brows at the now marine glow.
The color change was… a little ominous.
As before, while Midoriya, Kurogane, and Uzuma halted, the sugar-crashing cavalry just kept on going. Minetta did let out a chuckle, no doubt amused by the blue glow following his footsteps. A quick tap on the brow from Tooru had her man pony properly refocused.
In spite of the added luminescence, the walls being so tight that the tracking glow basically surrounded the group, it really didn't manage to pierce the gloom ahead. None of them had any read on how far they had to go, Mr. Senki's guidance making their first journey seem much more trivial.
Izuku was starting to have his doubts about all this.
Like clockwork, as soon as second thoughts began creeping in, the passage widened, the rock bound light extending its reach considerably. Haga-Haga and her faithful steed trotted a short way into the open space before stopping. Izuku, knowing of Tooru's phenomenal situational awareness, stopped on a dime. Ikaruga froze mid step a second afterwards, the bottom part of her button up shifting slightly.
Kisuke took a little longer to get the memo, stepping almost in line with Minetta and Hagakure before keying in to the lack of others moving. The spike haired teen spun about, his limp arms swinging about as he wound his sights on his classmates. "Uhh, something up guys?"
The spider girl snapped a finger up against her lips, utterly silent save for sliding fabrics. Midoriya panned his gaze over the surrounding area. The rounded space was about as big as his living room, the blue glow of the walls extending up around a story before vanishing into the shadows. Definitely had that elevator shaft vibe to it. Now if only they could figure out how to work it.
Tooru's right sleeve swung overhead. "Hello," her tired tone affected pleasantry, echoing up into the blackness. Minetta stared ahead, though he also offered a jittery wave to… something in front of them.
The other three students paused at the display before following their line of sight. Uzuma balked at the very human silhouette leaning against the far wall of the chamber. The pitch black figure stood motionless, stark against the navy glow that permeated the space.
How the hell had they missed this person… this thing?
Two white orbs shined out of the shadow's "face," followed shortly by a curved line that formed into a shining grin. Izuku perked up and Kisuke jabbed his pointer out towards the now familiar figure.
"Front desk lady," Kurogane posed, her thin brow quirked.
"Hi," the audible woman raised her hand to mirror Hagakure, "good morning everyone! I'm Ms. Miyabi, by the way."
"Okay Ms. Miyabi, good to meet you."
A period of silence followed after that, Minoru still shaking his palm at the human shaped spot on the wall. Eventually, Izuku worked up the nerve to ask, "Is there a reason why you're… here?"
"To meet you."
That quick response had at least three of the teenagers shaken. They were, after all, in what they assumed to be staff only space, unsupervised. Minetta was still waving and The Great Haga-Haga was completely nonplussed.
"My job is to greet the students, after all," Miyabi continued, eyes crinkling as she presented a toothy smile. Her easygoing tone swiftly deflated the tense atmosphere, Kisuke going so far as to wipe his brow.
The red head, feeling energized now, ventured a quick, "So, can you operate the elevator – or whatever this is?"
"Of course. Not that it will mean anything to you." The living silhouette seemed to straighten, as though standing off of the wall behind her. It was hard to really define Miyabi's "depth" at this distance, not helped by her aesthetic as a shadow person. Hagakure pitched her heel into her mount's left side, the ball haired boy slowly backing away towards the rest of their band.
With Kisuke looking dumbfounded, Ikaruga pressed forth, "Why won't it matter to us?" The stoic girl turned in place, presenting the strange woman with a side profile.
The shaft's light dimmed. Midoriya's head whipped around as a loud crumbling rang out behind them. The path leading back to the terminal pinched closed as a wall of shifting rocks flowed in from the sides of the corridor. Once the exit was sealed, the ambient light surged back with a vengeance. The towering height of the shaft was mostly revealed in the now scarlet glare radiating off of the smooth stone structure.
The one exception to the almost burning brightness was Miyabi, the human shade a sharp contrast of darkness. Her full grin was still in place, white dot eyes glowing ominously.
"You simply won't have the time."
The chamber quaked, a resonant groan filling the air.
The local vendors and shop owners went into overdrive. While an "incursion" wasn't exactly unheard of at this time of day, they were rare enough that the proprietors were caught flat footed. It was some spectacle watching these grown men scramble to "fortify" their establishments against a most familiar invader.
Ranko was having an absolute blast with this. She went so far as to make a few threatening advances towards the more excitable vendors. Those who were less "entertaining" the girl made sure to press with steady eyes and a fang filled smirk.
Daichi kept moving, eyes solidly forward as he groaned, "Do you really have to antagonize them like that? You're not even shaking them down for anything." The boy had both hands occupied with Taro's ball, the patchy fuzzball inside rapidly scanning the street activity.
Not missing a beat, Ranko's arm sprung up towards the blonde's forehead. One of her little black claws flicked against his brow and Daichi snapped his head back. The tawny furred teen chirped out girlishly, "Come on D, you know I gotta set the tone. Keep up appearances."
The boy sent her a pained grimace. Ranko returned a remarkably innocent smile as Daichi tucked Taro's sphere under his left arm, leaving the one closest to Ranko free to fend her off if necessary. This looked to be enough to satisfy the dog girl, her gaze wandering on to other interests.
Her prime target was the third of "Santa's Little Helpers," the Head Elf himself.
"So what's your deal, Boyd? You got a crush on me or something," the gruff girl teased. Jamie, following a step or two behind the duo, his head pitched down, visibly cringed at the statement. That got a literal bark of laughter out of Ranko.
Daichi glanced back over his shoulder, "Why are you following us, man?" Under his arm, Taro pressed against the side of his ball and looked on at the bespectacled teen.
Jamie glanced up, blinking his disgust away. Once his features looked more neutral, the boy shrugged and said, "Why are you guys out on the streets instead of in the office?"
Ranko let out a sound halfway between a scoff and a laugh. "What, you a junior truant officer or something?" The Head Elf didn't acknowledge her, his stoic stare fixed on Daichi.
Their appointed hamster handler hummed at the boy in glasses. Then he gave his left arm a jolt, shaking Taro's housing a little. "Better things to do than play politics with the principal."
The American nodded at that, pointing quickly at Daichi in that "same for me" sort of way. Basically copping out on an actual explanation of his motives. Ranko rolled her eyes before actually stalking towards a small corner mart, the owner's face notably paling. As the half dog, half girl engaged with the cowering shopkeep, Jamie caught Daichi's sleeve.
Quirking a brow, the blonde teen patiently settled his gaze on the red headed foreigner. But rather than his classmate, Jamie's attention seemed locked on the ball bound mammal resting under his arm. Daichi stood by as the quiet moment lingered into awkwardness. Ranko could be heard in the background, joyously terrorizing her latest victim.
Daichi snapped his sleeve free and then wheeled Taro's ball around, presenting it to the glasses wearing boy. "Did you want to hold him?" He lightly spun the sphere in his grasp, Taro glancing curiously with only a hint of his usual fright. The red head stared hard at the hamster, the little guy's ratio of curiosity/fright rapidly tipping towards the latter.
The three mostly ignored Ranko's antics, the teen holding open the sliding glass door of the store and dodging desperate jabs from a broom handle striking out from the interior. Some passersby were starting to take notice, some fashionable young woman drawing up a cell phone and openly recording.
Jamie stepped back and shook his head, the white/brown hamster noticeably releasing a tense breath. "No," the American said, "not necessary. Just wanted to commit some things to memory. Draw a baseline for further observations."
Daichi sputtered, a messy puff of laughter bursting from his lips. Taro jumped at the sound. The boy really couldn't help himself, Jamie's weirdness always caught him off guard. The fact that the Head Elf showed no response whatsoever to his classmate laughing at him almost reignited Daichi's humor.
"Whatever floats your boat," the blonde turned forwards, quickly regaining his composure, and continued on their way. He beheld Ranko standing back from the stuck open – certainly not broken – main doors, the snapped shaft of a wooden broom discarded nearby. She was actively dodging an uneven barrage of various snacks and drinks being flung out from within. Of course, she made sure to snatch up any goodies that struck her fancy, her blazer popped open and an internal bandoleer – non compliant with uniform regulation – of bottled sodas and various candies on full display.
The maddened cries from within the convenience store, likely those of the accosted owner, belted forcefully through the urban ambiance. This only served to make Ranko's grin widen, the man clearly too far gone to realize his attempts to ward her off were just giving the girl what she wanted.
Daichi ducked a tin of gummies and hopped through a shotgun blast of packaged pastry goods. He grabbed Ranko's shoulder and dragged the girl out of frame, the smug bitch snatching a sugar coated twist-tie out of the air as her final boon of the day. Daichi didn't bother to comment, focusing on vacating the area before hero patrols started to zero in on the scene.
Jamie followed several steps behind, bending down to pick up a can of juice rolling across the sidewalk. The rather haggard looking proprietor huffed away in his store's entrance, blurry eyes scanning the red head and numerous other pedestrians grabbing up whatever thrown goodies that Ranko had either missed or rejected. When the well dressed girl with the camera phone went skittering off with an arm full of chip bags was when the shop's owner realized what he'd just done.
Ranko passed her friend a chocolate bar when they were about a block away, her latest victim's cries carrying well even at this distance. The teen then turned her teal gaze on their red headed shadow, "So… Jamie," she spoke through chews of peanut butter bar (with actual nuts!) and swigs of clear pop, "you plannin'… to follow us… all the way to the station?"
That seemed to catch Jamie off guard, one of the boy's thick brows vanishing up into his hairline. "You're going to the cops," he posed towards Daichi's back.
Not caring that she wasn't the one being addressed, Ranko supplied a flat, "Well duh. Where else would you go to report a lost pet?"
That was enough for Jamie to actually turn to acknowledge Ranko, "Didn't you just, essentially, rob a convenience store? It wasn't even ten seconds ago."
"Yeah, what's your point?" The tawny furred girl offered the foreigner a look of genuine confusion.
If Jamie were anyone else, he would have been slack jawed, perhaps stuttering in stupefaction. Because it was Jamie, he simply nodded to Ranko's point before taking a sloppy sip of his canned beverage. The girl visibly flinched at the overt slurping.
Daichi snorted as he tore open his candy's wrapper, chuckling around bites of his chocolate as the group paused at the crosswalk. From his perch against the young man's stomach, Taro gazed up at the three story bulk of concrete resting just across the street from them. Its designation as Precinct Twelve was inscribed boldly across a solid, glossy plaque jutting up from the corner of the block, before a wide flight of steps.
The pit in Taro's stomach was a gaping, icy shade pinning him to the rounded base of his housing. He could not be here… but he was too terrified to move.
Elbows on his desk and palms digging into his cheekbones, he bellowed out an exhausted groan. Around him, the usual hustle and bustle of the mid morning precinct persisted.
Well, he supposed there was a greater degree of haste on this particular day. A third box, laden with just as many old files as the first two, was slammed down on his desk by one of the junior detectives. The seasoned officer hardly even blinked, rubbing roughly at his dark stubble.
Nearer to the main lobby of the station, a trio of uniformed cops ferried a large individual through towards the holding areas in the back. The detained man was garbed in dark colors, his thin vest left open and displaying the sculpted front of his broad frame. He stood over two heads above the tallest enforcer, his skull quite large and angular, the shape overall reminiscent of a shark's head. Even through the mess of violet dreads dangling over his brow, his sharp features were clearly drawn into a violent sneer. His hands being cuffed behind his back did little to dissuade his efforts in being uncooperative with his escorts.
The officers handling him quickly lost their patience. While quirk use on duty was frowned upon – not to mention "technically" illegal – it tended to be overlooked in many circumstances. So when the cop holding the detainee's wrists started billowing steam from his suit's collar and cuffs, the various workers rushing about did little more than keep their distance as the policeman shored up his now superhuman grip.
A pained cry tore free of the hulking figure, the man forced to a slight kneel. Before he could collect himself and turn to yell at the officer to his rear, the uniform on his left stepped back to make some space. The stone faced officer drew a retractable baton from his waist, flicking it to full length before driving the steel rod into the back of the captive's skull.
He pitched forward, only held off from face planting onto the slate grey tiles by the policeman holding his arms. The shock of the blow had cut off the man's pained whines, his senses thoroughly rattled. Then the cop with the baton railed him again with the reinforced bludgeon. Once, twice, three times…
On the third hit, the officer holding the detainee let him flop to the cold floor. He collapsed right in front of a young woman charging through with a handful of papers clutched against her chest. Almost casually, the pixie like wings on her back began to flutter, lifting her shortly over the battered man's head. Her black heels clicked against the floor as she landed and swiftly went on her way. Indeed, the brazen bout of violence appeared hardly worthy of interest to the rushing traffic of the precinct.
Det. Ikezawa, his stubbled chin still perched in his palm, rolled his dark eyes as the three street cops hefted the half conscious perp between them. As they shuffled their way towards the back, the seated detective reached for his already cooled cup of coffee.
That same rookie from earlier returned, unceremoniously plopping a fourth tote of files onto the detective's desk. The rumble of impact tremored up the man's elbow, splashing a bit of his morning brew from its paper container. This time the aging veteran fixed the young man with a particular look.
With a mousy little yelp, the light haired junior popped back, palms held up in jittery surrender. A few panicked approximations of speech fled his lips before the young man decided to simply retreat from the situation entirely. Ikezawa made sure to glare after the fleeing rookie until the blonde was out of sight.
A palm slapped down on the corner of his cluttered workspace, just to the detective's right. A dramatic groan had already been primed and was summarily loosed at the now familiar greeting. Ikezawa's half lidded gaze swept up to the distinctive verdant and black pantsuit that signified the chief.
"Do you really have to be so belligerent? Especially today?" Her smooth voice held its typical steel, causing the detective to hold back his eye roll. His superior shook her head in short, impatient motions, her chestnut curls bouncing across her shoulders. Ikezawa's dark orbs met the woman's light browns.
"I didn't say a single word to the kid, Rino."
Rino Fusaki's table topped hand came back, slapping against her creased brow. "Yeah, you do enough damage without saying anything." As if to prove her point, Ikezawa allowed a face splitting grin to cross his features. He truly had a smile like a knife, sharp and cutting. The superior officer was not impressed.
The detective relented, taking a long draw of his room temperature beverage. Rino suffered his obnoxious slurping for another seven seconds before sweeping her arm across the counter. One of the four boxes of paperwork invading the workspace was pushed in front of Ikezawa, knocking around a few pens and setting his Present Mike bobblehead a wobblin'.
"Keep busy. Today, tomorrow, the rest of the week if it's needed," the chief's words were not a suggestion. She was stabbing her finger into the stack of files with every syllable, her forest green nails catching the reflection from the fluorescent lights above.
Now the man's already weathered features soured. "How many times are you gonna try to bench me, put me out to pastu-"
He froze as Chief Fusaki laid her hand atop his shoulder. The man knew immediately that it wasn't a gesture of placation or comfort. Her long nails were beginning to dig through his light blue dress shirt, her grip tight enough that her arm shivered slightly. Ikezawa hastily cut off his tirade, a bit of apprehension flashing over his face as he wondered whether she intended to break his skin.
Rino leaned in close, "Keep your ego and your temper down." Her words were hushed, even, and delivered with a seething lack of patience. "No one gives a shit about the hot shot you used to be, the only thing they care about out there is here and now. And right now, you need to fly straight and let us deal with this."
The detective eyed a progression of stockier men – and a remarkably masculine woman – marching through the chaotic precinct. The harried staff seemed to unconsciously flow around them, as they did for the trio of aggressive officers from before. The difference here was that people actively avoided so much as glancing in their direction as they passed. The six plain clothed officers carved a speedy path across the building, moving towards the side entrance leading to the parking access.
Ikezawa took special notice of the man leading the "squad," a man built like a mountain with a thick beard and stache adorning his face. His most defining feature was his eyewear, the rounded specs like a slightly downscaled pair of welding goggles, completely hiding his eyes with their dark tint.
Even with Rino clamped onto his shoulder, he couldn't hold back a click of the tongue. She gave his arm a jolt in return.
"I don't like sitting here," he growled.
"I don't care what you like. I care what you look like." The chief released him with a light shove, spilling a few more drops of his cold coffee. "Head down, we'll handle this. Don't. Fucking. Deviate."
Her piece said, Fusaki backed off, striding into her closed cube of an office in the back. Det. Ikezawa sat with his head down, staring at the paper pile placed in front of him. He kept that posture for a full minute, tuning out the busy noise of those around him.
Then the smartphone resting on his desk lit up, the alarm function running although the sound was muted. The tired looking man tapped the phone off. Then, the motion smooth and practiced, he reached for a drawer down by his right leg. Pulling it open, he reached in awkwardly for something along the top of the storage space. In short order he drew a second, rather archaic flip phone from the drawer.
Reaching for his shirt's breast pocket, he pulled out a slim set of white ear buds, jacking them into a port on top of the old phone before flipping it open. The screen was a buzzing mess of static that he could hear through the headphones. The detective waited a few seconds before the static drone rose in pitch, forming into a light humm.
"You're active," a modified voice robotically declared, "that means there's trouble."
Det. Ikezawa sneered pointedly at the phone screen. Through the pixelated blizzard, the man could make out the dark, angular silhouette of a snarling canine. The still symbol was remarkably high resolution for such an ancient piece of tech.
"Careful. Your face will end up stuck that way."
Yeah, the detective figured his "acquaintance' could see him, even though the old device had no camera lens he could see. Damned tech monkey.
Ikezawa sighed, "Listen, something big happened. Something just this morning."
He could feel the other's curiosity through the phone, the silence stretching for a moment. "How big of a screw-up?"
"Enough to cash in a favor."
That caused the speaker on the other end to whistle lowly. "Now ain't that a predicament."
The detective rolled his eyes at the almost mocking tone. Of course the fucking scab would lock onto that first.
"Can you give me details now," the modded voice continued, "or do we need a more 'intimate' setting?"
Just as Ikezawa was about to reply, a familiar burst of blonde hair swung into view. He was primed to shout down his underling when the rookie not-so-subtly jabbed his arm towards the front counter and main entrance. His permanently soured features instantly bloomed with vitality as he beheld the trio walking through the main lobby.
More specifically, the violet ball they carried and the little rodent held inside.
The detective reached for the flip phone. "Something crucial just came up. I'll ping you back in one hour with an update." And then he clapped the phone shut.
Izuku and party continue their efforts to be "not tardy." Their attempts at being clever, though, have landed them in some hot water. Miyabi's job is to greet the students, how she does that is up to her discretion.
Daichi's group, now "officially" including Jamie, elect to forgo their meeting with the principal to get underway with helping Taro. You know, I'm only just now noticing the through-line theme of "breaking rules and getting in over your head" that's going on here. It's an interesting comparison between the two groups: the hero hopefuls being tense and wary of their actions whilst the middle schoolers barely give a shit beyond avoiding/mitigating consequences for their actions. It's almost like the lack of respect for authority becomes more prominent with every scene change…
Precinct Twelve is where I'll focus most of this post chapter commentary. To begin with something minor, the name is meant to be a quick nod to Assault on Precinct 13, a movie (and remake) primarily concerned with the actions of a very corrupt police force…
You might recognize the guy who gets manhandled by the (literal) beat cops as the purse snatcher from the first episode of the series. I needed a "thug" style character and figured I'd use someone from canon, maybe establish him somewhat so I might use him down the line.
Det. Ikezawa is presented pretty much as that archetype of the tired, over-the-hill veteran who's seen more as a relic than an asset. He's got the rough personality, playful disrespect for his superiors (right up until she loses her patience), and hates the thought of complacency. The name Ikezawa does have some extreme significance… that I'm not gonna reveal just yet. Spoilers.
Rino Fusaki, the chief, was a late addition to the scene. I wanted to have someone with a more "heated antagonism" to Ikezawa whilst also having some familiarity to him. She's critical of his actions and pretty much threatens him outright, but there is this underlying level of actual concern for his career/reputation. The wholesomeness of it is kind of marred by the fact that his fuck ups tie into her own career/reputation, but that is ultimately the heart of her character. She's unscrupulous and domineering first and foremost, but she's not entirely devoid of redeeming qualities – however minor they may be.
Ikezawa and his "outside contact" have a modded means of communication, a specific time to establish contact, and they overall operate more like partners than either one being superior to the other. They're a bit of a public secret in the precinct with the detective having their conversation right out in the open, albeit using headphones and with the contact masking his voice. They have a long established relationship that others (like Rino, who emphasizes Ikezawa not going rogue) are aware of, but don't have exact details of. The most we get for the contact's personal details are that they clearly try to stay under the radar and they have a penchant for technology.
Next time: three truant students meet a cranky old cop, some sketchier circumstances come to light, and our hero hopefuls run the gauntlet.