The original work was written by Op Taipan.
火
BOOK TWO:
FIRE
CHAPTER THREE:
Holiday Special
Christmas Eve.
In Japan, this day was one of festivity and joy; when couples roam the streets and friends get together to have the time of their lives. It was a day of romance, a day to have fun and party, a day to goof around to one's content.
But for the Midoriya's, it appeared to be a day to panic.
"Inko!" Hisashi squawked as he hopped through the hallway on one leg, struggling to put on a sock. "Have you seen my belt?!" He screamed into the air, pointedly ignoring how his unfastened pants drooped down halfway across his thighs.
"No! I haven't!" His wife's voice rang out from their bedroom, slightly muffled by the wall between them, "Did you see my purse by any chance?!"
From his vantage point in the middle of the apartment's living room, an older man with a snow-white head watched the couple's crisis with fond green eyes, as if he saw himself in his younger days in them.
Hisashi, now with his socks on and keeping his pants in place with his hand, kept frantically darting around the hallway of his home, darting between rooms like a madman. "We're gonna be late. We're gonna be late. We're gonna be late. We're gonna be late…" The father muttered repeatedly, each repetition becoming even more incoherent than the last.
By the older man's side stood a woman that looked like an older copy of Inko. She rolled her eyes at the sight of her panic-stricken son-in-law, thoroughly underwhelmed by his actions.
From inside the homeowner's bedroom, Inko's voice could be made once again, "Argghhh! Izuku! Come here and get your rabbit! She's in my dresser again!" The woman called for her son, her voice loud and impatient.
"Coming!" Izuku replied, his delivery reminiscent of a soldier addressing his superior. The boy left his position between his grandparents and ran into his parents' room in a hurry, swiftly coming back out with Mimi held in his arms.
Not a second after he returned to their side and Inko burst out of the room herself, dressed hastily to go out; her clothes wrinkled and uneven as she had to haphazardly put them on. "My purse!" She cried out as she eyed her surroundings, "Where is my purse?!"
Inko's older lookalike sighed to herself at her daughter's clumsiness. "It's there by the counter, dear." She said in a matter-of-fact tone, absentmindedly caressing the curls of her grandson.
"Thanks, mom!" Inko said with a relieved smile as she went to get her purse, passing her husband his belt when she walked by him.
Plucking her beige purse from the counter, Inko joined Hisashi at the doorway.
"You got everything?" Both adults asked each other, patting themselves down as if they were frisking themselves.
"You have your phone?" Inko asked as she rummaged her purse.
"Yes. You got your hanky?" Hisashi replied, hands searching his pockets.
"What about your reading glasses?"
"Gloves?"
"Pouch?"
"Your first aid kit?"
"Why would I have a first aid kit in my purse?"
"Oh! Right! Sorry! I got carried away… what about your scarf?"
"My scarf? What about yours?"
The husband and wife continued going back and forth, asking if the other remembered to bring with them one item or the other. Both were excited for tonight, but that excitement also brought with it a sense of anxiousness. Due to Hisashi's being away most of the year and the fact they had a kid to look after, they seldom got the chance to go out like this. They wanted tonight to be perfect, better than perfect even.
On the other side of the hallway, where the living room was, the rest of the family watched the display with various reactions.
Izuku watched on with confusion evident on his face, his head tilted, and his mouth set in a straight line. He didn't understand why his parents made such a big deal of heading out; he did it all the time, he knew it was no biggie.
Inko's father's green eyes shone as he watched his precious daughter with her husband, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears as if today was the day he walked her down the aisle and not a decade ago.
His wife, Inko's mother, huffed to herself, already picturing how her daughter and son-in-law will spend the entire night panicking by the doorway.
"Inko!" The older woman called out, having had enough, "You two are only going out for a couple of hours, not camping! Besides, you made no reservations; you can't be late! So just relax and get out!"
As if struck by a petrification quirk, they both froze in place; faces wincing and burning like two teenagers caught making out.
Inko coughed into her hand, trying to save face before her parents. "R-right, we're heading out, then!".
Hisashi opened the door and went out immediately after Inko was done talking, soon followed by the woman herself. But before the door was closed, the mother pocked her head inside one last time, "Izuku, be a good boy and do as your grandparents say." She instructed her son, smiling brightly when she received a strong nod in return.
She then turned to her parents, her expression gaining a more serious ambiance, "Make sure he's at bed by eight-thirty! And don't stuff him with candy, either! Make sure he eats a proper dinner! There are leftovers in the fridge, and-"
"We get it!" Her mother cut her off, holding up a hand in a 'stop' motion. "We raised a kid once ourselves you know, and I say we did a pretty fine job. You might've met her; she's standing right where you are right now."
Inko flushed. "R-right… I'm gonna head out now. I love you, bye!" She blurted out in a hurry before retracting her head and slamming the door shut.
Both elders waited for ten seconds to see if either of them would burst in screaming they forgot something. Once the time was up, Inko's dad (Or Gramp-Gramp, as Izuku dubbed him) gave out a hearty chuckle, "Sometimes I think that girl will lose her head if it wasn't attached to her neck."
"Reminds me of someone else I know." Gran-Gran gave Gramp-Gramp a look to go with the jab. "She might look like me, but that girl's all you."
Gramp-Gramp didn't stop chuckling, though his shoulders did tighten defensively. "Y-you think?"
Now it was Gran-Gran turn to chuckle. "Too easy." The older woman waved her hand exaggeratedly at her husband as he made his way into the kitchen.
His voice called from the kitchen a few moments later. "She really shouldn't have bothered…" The older man tsked at the prepared food held in plastic containers in the fridge. His daughter called it leftovers, but he could easily tell that they were freshly made; most likely specifically for them. "She even left nothing for me to work with and make something else… That girl's so stubborn sometimes…"
Back in the living room, his wife and grandson couldn't help but hum in agreement, "She thinks we're too old…" The woman grumbled, "She's a good girl but sometimes her kindness is too much."
Her grandson nodded along. "Mom'th just don't wanth to make thure you don't work too hard. " Izuku defended, his voice lisped "Th-he worrieth about you."
Gran-Gran chuckled and ruffled Izuku's fluffy hair; one of the best things he got from his father if anyone asked her. "Well, tell her she doesn't need to. We aren't that old yet."
Gramp-Gramp couldn't agree more. "Good thing I brought my own stuff. Our daughter's good, but she ain't that good." The man proclaimed cheerfully, taking out of one of the drawers the plastics bags of groceries he concealed when he got there.
While Gramp-Gramp began to work, the sound of ruffling plastic bags and ingredients being placed on the counter coming from the kitchen, his wife and grandson situated themselves in the living room. They sat together on the Sofa, Mimi on Izuku's lap as they talked and had grandma and grandson bonding time, waiting for the food to be done.
"Gran-Gran, can you take Mimi from me?" the boy asked once they ran out of conversation material, presenting the older woman with the quirked rabbit.
"Sure, little fir." Gran-Gran cooed and took Mimi from his arms, setting her down on her lap. The rabbit, surprisingly, appeared very content in her new place, chattering her teeth together gently as the dyed greenette stroke her fur.
With his hands and lap now free, Izuku reached a hand and grabbed a notebook from the wooden coffee table in front of him. The notebook was a fire-red, an intentional aesthetic choice; raised bands that were bright yellow decorated the notebook's spine, and at the front, written with a golden marker the title was written: Firebending Analysis for the future vol.1.
"What is that?" Gran-Gran eyed the notebook, not having enough time to read its title as her grandson had already flipped it opened and began to scribble down notes.
Izuku looked up from his notebook and flashed his Gran-Gran with one of his smiles, revealing the new gap in the front of his mouth where his baby teeth used to be, "It'th a notebook for my quirk!" He chirped, "I'm taking noteth on how to make it th-tronger!"
Gran-Gran chuckled; can't helping but compare her grandson to Hisashi. The man used to carry around his binders with him no matter where he went back when he and her daughter were in college. It wasn't unusual for him to open them up at random and write something down. "Like father like son." She chuckled to herself as Izuku returned to his notebook.
The young Avatar looked over the few notes he had since he started to write in the notebook yesterday. On the first few pages was what he had learned from Iroh in their first lesson: the theory of Firebendings. It was mainly crude sketches of the stances and forms he learned, as well as what he could remember from Iroh's lecture.
On the next page was something else. An addition he made only this morning.
Earlier that day:
"Can you tell me about your quirk?" Izuku asked his father over the breakfast table, shattering the relative silence of the mealtime.
"My quirk?" Hisashi asked in confusion, not understanding what his son was hoping to get.
"Uh-huh!" Izuku nodded enthusiastically, a high-pitched hum escaping his throat, "I wanted to know more about your quirk, I thought that maybe it will help me figure out mine… I-I mean my bending..." the boy explained, stumbling a bit with his words at the end.
The greenette looked to the side; his cheeks slightly pinker as if he were a bit embarrassed. "I-I mean, t-they both handle fire, they can't be that different, right?"
A smile carved its way up Hisashi's face, "I'll be happy to!"
The father and son began to stand up, but both quickly froze from the sound of Inko clearing her throat. They both slowly turned to face the woman in tandem, dread growing in the pit of their stomachs at the glare directed at them.
Hisashi let out a nervous chuckle, "But first, let's finish breakfast, okay?"
Present:
After they finished their meal (Izuku losing his primary upper central Incisors in the process), they both spent a while in the living room talking quirks. The results of the conversation now written down in surprisingly neat handwriting in his notebook.
Izuku was currently busy going over that information, the explanation his father gave him playing again in his head.
Yesterday:
"So, what did you want to know about my quirk?" Hisashi asked, sitting next to his son on the couch.
Izuku was holding a blank notebook in his arms, words escaping his mouth in rapid-fire as he tried to figure out what he wanted to know first.
After a while of not getting to a decision, Hisashi shook Izuku's shoulder to calm him down, telling him to take it slow.
Nodding his head, the boy took a deep breath and tracked back. He decided to ask his questions based on how badly he wanted them answered and how they would help him.
At the top of his least of desires, was the insight as to how to actually trigger his powers, how to produce a flame on his own.
So, finally, with a coherent question, he spoke "How doeth it feel to uthe your quirk? I mean, how do you activate it?" he lisped, not used to talking with the huge gap in his mouth.
Hisashi held his chin in thought, humming to himself as he thought the question over. "How do I activate my quirk…" He murmured, "Honestly, I'm not sure how to answer that…I guess I just… do it?" He paused, realizing his answer might not be satisfactory, " I-it's like flexing a muscle, I don't really think about it. If I just want to do it, it's just like -BAM! Fire breathing-, get it?"
Judging by how the boy's expression drooped at the explanation, he didn't get it. It appeared his bending didn't work like that, and this difference meant Hisashi's answer gave the curious boy no insight at all.
Afraid of disappointing his son, Hisashi began to scramble to get out something beneficial; spewing out a word vomit only his son had a chance to follow. "A-a-a-as for you other q-q-question… Uhhh… I feel a s-sort of p-pressure building up at the b-a-ack on my throat whenever I charge up my quirk…uhh…k-kind of like how you feel a p-pressure in your head whenever you feel really really mad, only that my pressure feels a bit… hotter…?uhh… Oh! And whenever I get angry or have other strong emotions my quirk tends to be more powerful but sometimes, I can't control it if the emotion is too intense…"
Hisashi kept rambling on with his son copying every note into his notebook with an impressive show of dictation for an eight-year-old.
While it wasn't exactly what he was hoping for, maybe his father's knowledge would prove to be useful. The bit about how emotions empower his quirk seemed the most promising, judging from his past experience with Earthbending.
Present:
'Maybe if I get really mad my Firebending would trigger?'
Izuku continued to scribble down notes and theories, his tongue subconsciously combing over the empty gums where his baby teeth used to be, now replaced with small studs, his secondary teeth.
The familiar sound of sizzling oil soon filled the apartment as his Gramp-Gramp dunked coated and breaded chicken in hot oil. Soon, the smell hit him as well, the pungent smell of fried meat, spices, and oil all mixed and made him drool like a ravenous beast who hadn't had a good meal in years.
No offense to his mother, she was a great cook; but Gramp-Gramp's cooking was divine.
With all the hype centered around Christmas, the celebrations, the food, the pictures of landmarks decorated in festive lights, it was easy to forget not everyone, or everything, got to bask and enjoy it all.
Some people couldn't participate in the celebrations, their mood or circumstance not allowing oneself to be happy and festive. Others couldn't enjoy the food; they couldn't afford it. And much like man, not all land was created equally, either. No sane person would bother decorating every nook and cranny, no matter the occasion, some places were bound to be left out, places deemed unnecessary.
This neighborhood managed to lack all three.
Short, decaying buildings jutted from the ground like rotting teeth, their paint peeling, and bricks crumbling. No matter where you looked, they loomed over, painted a sickly yellow by dated lampposts, blocking any worthwhile view if it even existed. For such a large place, the presence of people was rather scarce. The stores were closed, some even boarded up with wood while others protected by graffiti painted shutters. Barely any windows were alit, whether the owners were out, sleeping or even if there were no owners at all was impossible to tell.
It was almost like a ghost town.
That's not to say life wasn't present, a few people were out on the streets. But something else lurked in the shadows and alleys, though it was most likely just a filthy rat.
Nevertheless, one could never be too careful. There was always a possibility it wasn't a rat.
That's why three people, in particular, found themselves roaming those streets at this very hour. Their heavy combat boots made soft squishy sounds as they stomped over the un-shoveled sidewalk, leaving indents in the snow.
"Man, compared to the area around the agency, this place is like a whole other planet. It's kinda depressing when you think about it." One of the three, the second tallest said. He was a skinny but still muscular man, with slicked-back dark purple hair. His outfit, while grandiose for normal clothing standards, was plain for a hero, even if he was just a sidekick. The only thing that struck out about it was the metallic horned happuri he wore on his head. His hero name was Onima.
On his right, a shorter woman with a light-gray jacket, black knee-high socks, and long, flaming green hair couldn't help but agree, "You said it!" The woman, also known as Burnin, called out with a loud voice, revealing her sharp canines in the process. "This place's no fun! I've been ta garbage dumps that had a more thrill to them!" she tched as they walked past an abandoned crepe vendor, faded pictures of the sweets it once sold mocking her.
Onima felt for her. Out of every patrol route their agency covered today, this one was the least popular amongst the sidekicks. All the other routes cut through downtown, where the Christmas eve celebrations were at full force. Not to mention the fact their boss wasn't in any of those routes to loom over their shoulder if they stopped for a snack break.
Alas, they got the short end of the stick and had to go with their boss to Onima's old neighborhood. He didn't miss the place.
Speaking of the boss, the man himself was a bit dour, Onima could tell by the temperature of his fire.
The man had his back to them, his omnipresent flame kindling as bright as ever and slightly hotter. He pointedly ignored the small conversation between the sidekicks. Instead, he kept at the front, leading the way as they patrolled through the neighborhood, promptly disregarding the few citizens gawking at him as he passed.
One could hardly blame them for doing so, however, as the flaming visage of Endeavor was nothing short of impressive.
Truth be told, much like his sidekicks, he would rather be someplace else. Winter break started today, and that meant that both his sons had more free time; free time to train. This was only one of few chances he had per year to make real headway in their training, and every second mattered.
Alas, he had other responsibilities, ones he couldn't brush aside as a hero; number two at that. For now, he had to suck it up, do his job, and then do the most he can with the time he had off duty.
So, while to the untrained eye, the pro seemed dismissive and distant, he was anything but. His gaze flickered from left to right, scanning his surroundings with scrutiny and diligence becoming of his title.
Nothing was to get past him. Every worn face, every abandoned car, and every aging building got scoured in the spams of seconds for potential threats, not even the smallest detail escaping his keen eye.
Small details such as the dented snow in the entrance of a nearby alley. The dents were almost covered up, having been filled up rather quickly thanks to the falling snow. Nevertheless, their pattern was unmistakable.
Human footprints; several in fact. A few belonging to mutant types.
The man took a closer look, crouching down before the prints. The sidekicks stopped behind him. The shapes of most footprints were still somewhat intact. All of them were pointed towards the alleys, signaling that whoever it was who went through here is either still around, or had left from another place.
That was enough for him.
"Heads up!" He shouted; his sidekicks immediately were at attention.
He didn't even wait for a 'Yes, sir!' before he starts barking, "Onima! You used to live around here, correct?"
"Yes!" Onima confirmed instantly, "For a few years before I joined the agency!"
Endeavor let out a gruff hum, then pointed at what was irking him, "Are there any points of interest or any reason a large group of people would enter that alley?"
Onima thought it over for a second. From memory, this neighborhood was comprised of large blocks of buildings crammed together tightly. Each block was practically a maze of narrow streets and alleyways, so convoluted people didn't even bother using them as shortcuts; going around them proved more efficient for everybody. All the shops were also built on the outer ridge of the block, better for business to be visible from the main streets than having a sigh pointing at a creepy alley.
"No. There's no reason for someone to waltz in there." he finally said after mulling it over. 'A potential place for villains to be gathering.' It wasn't hard to read between the lines. Endeavor's thought process was easy to follow, and the sidekicks were already mentally preparing themselves for a fight as the hero began to give orders.
"Burnin, you scout out the place while Onima and I stay here. You know the drill. If you spot anything contact me right away for new orders. If not, rendezvous with us at the southern edge of the block."
"You got it, boss!" Burnin gave them both a salute before she began to scale the nearest building. Using the window ledges as rungs on a ladder, the young heroine jumped from one to the other with practiced skill. She grasped the ledges with one hand, swung her lower body to gain momentum, and jumped up to the next even faster.
She landed on the roof with a silent thud, her knees crouched in a pose. Burnin soon disappeared into the snowy night, leaping from rooftop to rooftop as the rest of her team waited for a response from her.
'Forty-one, forty-two, forty-three, forty-four…' Both hero and sidekick counted the seconds ticking away in silence; one adhering to the protocol he had set himself while the other following it.
Two minutes, that's how long Burnin had.
In this line of work, one couldn't waste a second; and that was even more important when you were at the top. That's why every mission only had the minimum amount of time given to accomplish it, no matter how big or small.
This system also served another purpose. If Burnin failed to reply within two minutes, they'd know she's compromised, which in turn, would give them an opportunity to come to her aid.
After all, when saving lives, every second mattered.
Today, however, that was thankfully not the case; for with about fifty seconds to spare their comms vibrated as the sidekick delivered her message.
"It looks like ya'r hunch was on the money, boss." Burnin whispered over the comms, though her rambunctious attitude was still well-intact, "There are villains here, alright."
Endeavor put a finger on the communicator in his ear, "Status report!" he ordered.
"Eight people, three mutants, five with unknown quirks. All but one armed. It appears to be a drug deal of some sort. Three buyers, the rest are suppliers."
The moment the hero heard the word 'drug' a crevice appeared between his brows and the temperature around him spiked, "Can you confirm what is the substance being traded?" He asked urgently.
On the other end of the comms, Burnin shook her head, "Negative, sir."
Endeavor tched. "Burnin, stay in place and wait for Onima, we're going for a pincer attack. Don't let your guard down, we might be dealing with trigger here."
Onima was already gone by the time he gave the orders, already on route to his comrade, as Endeavor himself walked into the alleys, his footsteps surprisingly light and his flames momentarily extinguished.
The hero kept a steady pace as he paced, following the footprints left on the snow-covered ground towards his destination. He kept his silence perfectly as he stalked between the buildings; either a dull gray concrete or a once bright-red brick now turned dirty brown. He noted to himself how the trash cans were full to the brim, so bloated the lids were ajar; letting a horrible stench mix with the cold and moist air.
Endeavor wrinkled his nose in disgust.
The hero began to slow down when he heard faint whispers in the distance. There were multiple voices, but what they said could not be deciphered. He couldn't understand any of it from how far he was. Nevertheless, the fact he heard them at all was a good sign he was in the right direction.
"You're almost there, Endeavor. Take a left and then the second right, and you'll be there." The directions came from Burnin, using his agency-issued GPS signal to track him.
Endeavor didn't respond, determined not to risk giving himself away.
The closer he got the more he could understand the previously garbled conversation the criminals were having. It appeared that the transaction was already done. Right now, the two parties were working out how they would do business in the future; something about how two dealers, a Hina and a Mario Kugustu, would be the ones in charge of supplying them.
Endeavor held back against his urge to scoff. There will be no future transactions happening on his watch.
Finally, he reached the site. Pressing himself against a corner, he peeked around and found what he was looking for. As Burnin said, there were eight of them, three buyers and five sellers.
It appears he was currently behind the buyers, a rowdy-looking bunch that gave off the impression of daytime villains that would attack just for the heck of it. All three sported matching dirty winter coats.
He let his eyes scan over them. The first two didn't appear that impressive. One was a mutant with a light-blue ponytail and an elongated face. The other was a white-haired, voluptuous woman that kept fiddling with her coat in clear annoyance. For whatever reason, she couldn't stop twitching in her place. Her hips bobbed from left to right in swift, irritated, jerks. Her hands, when they weren't used to push away pieces of cloth that hung too close to her body, were crossed together right under her bust, squeezing the breasts upwards in a seductive brandish. If her purpose was to seduce the drug dealers, her affect on most of them was unquestionable.
But it was the third buyer that caught Endeavor's attention. He was by far the largest villains out of them all; with a physique that almost put his own to shame. Atop his head rested the most impressive mane Endeavor has ever seen, resembling a billowing flare in its shape.
'A fire quirk…he might be trouble…' Endeavor noted, noticing how the snow beneath the man's feet was partially melted.
Done with his inspection of the buyers, he shifted his gaze to the suppliers. Except for the one Endeavor assumed to be the boss -a large man with pointed features and blonde spiky hair with a goatee- none of them were of much interest. His sidekicks could handle them on their own.
Quietly tapping his comm, Endeavor relayed a message to his sidekicks using morse code. 'T-minus ten seconds.'
Nine.
Eight.
Onima readjusted his happuri, just to make sure it won't fall off.
Seven.
Six.
One of the villains, a blue-skinned cyclops-minotaur, yawned exaggeratedly in a clear attempt to hide his ogling.
Five.
Four.
The two leaders or the villain parties agreed on their next transaction location, the seller coming closer to shake hands.
Three.
Endeavor squatted down, building up heat inside him but not letting any flame come out.
Two.
On the roof, Burnin cracked her knuckles and grinned maniacally. 'It's showtime!'
One.
'Flashfire fist…' All at once, Enji released his stored energy. Fire billowed to life across his back like exhaust flames on a rocket. The heat pushed back the winter chill, the snow, and ice, and rippled the air as the roar of a jet engine rang out across the block.
The sound alerted the villains, but it was already too late.
'…Turbojet Burn!'
Flying around the corner like a heat-guided, fire-covered, missile, Endeavor rammed his body against the maned villain and tackled him into the ground. The tackle also got the leader of the sellers, the kinetic force pushing him away towards his underlings.
The hero flicked his hand, sending a wave of fire behind him hitting the two other buyers. The two villains were pushed back into the wall, gasping out in pain of the impact as well as the new burns that appeared on their arms and torso.
"E-E-Endeav-vor?" One of the villains, a bald man with an elongated head and eyes spaced outwards and connected by stalks, gawked as took a step back in fear, the claws of his pure-iron hands clanked against each other as he shook in fear. "W-what t-the hell? This ain't his turf!"
"Well, he's here now!" The large-bodied villain, who was previously sent flying by Endeavor, barked out. "Let's get out of here!"
They needn't be told twice.
All five villains turned tail and made a run for it; each determined to get as far away from the still struggling Endeavor as soon as possible.
They didn't get far.
The villains didn't even make three strides towards freedom before a literal wall of fire ignited in front of them, aptly accentuating their yellow faces with its light.
From atop the roof, two figures jumped down and landed gently, using both of their fire quirks to slow their descent.
Burnin cackled like a lunatic, "Booooy… am I gonna enjoy this."
The villains were trapped.
Back with Endeavor, the fire villain proved to be more trouble than he was worth. The man flexed and struggled against the hero's grip, writhing on the ground and pushing with all his might to break free of his hold.
The hero silently swore. He wanted to go for a chokehold -incapacitate the villain quickly and move on to the other, lesser threats – but the villain managed to get an arm in between Endeavor's and his own neck, preventing any pressure from being applied to his throat.
"Buzz off! Ya flamin' trash can!" The villain cursed at Endeavor, his voice strained from effort and muffled by the metallic mask he wore. Hot, thick, red liquid began to ooze through the villain's pores. The liquid slowly traveled down the man's body, kindling the man's clothing on contact, and hissing as it touched the snow-covered ground, solidifying into black rock amidst a bath of steam.
Lava.
Every other man would have immediately let go and jump away in a shocked fright, but not Endeavor. The man was used to these temperatures, and while the lava was uncomfortably hot; it was far from the worst heat the hero had to endure.
The villain growled when instead of letting go, Endeavor's grip only tightened.
From the corner of his eye, Endeavor saw how the two other buyers began to rise with pained groans.
They locked their gaze with their leader.
"Volcano!" They yelled out, enraged and worried. One of them stepped in front of the other. It was the villain with the bill-like face. He extended one of his hands forward, revealing how each finger was a slick orange, a bit flat in shape, like a blade.
With the humming thrum of turbine coming to life, the man's wrist began to swivel in three-sixties, each rotation only getting faster and faster. The man's hand was the biological equivalent of a high-power industrial fan, generating a vertex aimed at the hero.
Endeavor could feel how the gale struggled against him and added force that tried to push him away from the villain -or Volcano as his comrades referred to him as- "You'll have to try harder than that!" He snarled, before shoving a flaming fist into the ground. The heat evaporated the snow in an instant, sending a blast of steam into the air. The asphalt below quickly grew soft and mushy, pliable like playdough. The hero shoved his hand into the bubbling tar, killing the heat in his arm and watching as the gale and temperature re-solidified the semi-liquid.
The vortex persisted, though now it only became a secondary concern for the hero thanks to his new anchor. With one arm now out of commission, he angled himself and stepped harshly on Volcano's unprotected hand. The villains yowled as his fingers got crushed and lowered his guard, giving Endeavor the opportunity to wrap his forearm around the villain's neck.
The wind began to die down.
"Grrr!" The villain growled as he stopped his quirk, the sound of a sputtering engine coming from his wrist as it began to inflate, "Damn Tenosynovitis!"
Instead of attacking with his quirk again using the other arm, the villain shoved his hand into his coat's pocket and took out a knife. The female villain -Who until now stayed behind the fan villain- did the same but took out a collapsible club.
Endeavor had to stop himself from rolling his eyes.
The two villains just charged at him blindly, no attempted feints, no targeting vitals, nothing. It didn't take much from Endeavor to counterattack, even without the use of his hands. The hero put the entirety of his weight on his arms as he lifted his torso and feet into the air, delivering a devastating flaming spin-hook kick using his anchored arm as the pivot, straight to the collarbone.
"Gah!" With a loud yowl, his eye rolling to the back of his head, the villain was sent backward. Her rammed his comrade, and both stumbled and flopped to the floor.
The female villain with the white hair, the one who didn't suffer the brunt of Endeavor's attack, sat up with a groan; pushing aside fan-villain's unconscious body.
She took a moment to evaluate her situation.
The fan-villain was down, and Volcano was on the brink of being done in by Endeavor. Behind her, the villains they met to have the purchase were struggling against the sidekicks. Both Hina and Mario -The dealers that were supposed to be their future way of buying drugs from the seller- were already down. The seller's goons, two mutants were currently fighting the flaming sidekicks. They were badly losing.
At the back, the group's leader, a man that goes by Joi Irinaka, was doing the same as her, coming to the same grim conclusion.
Staying here was a lost cause.
'Sorry guys.' The villainess put on a respirator from her pocket, rolled up her sleeves and exposed her bare forearms to the winter cold. White, skin-like flakes began to come off of her body, and waft in the cold wind. The flakes soon gained more mass and volume, becoming a cloud of dust that swallowed all the heroes and villains whole.
The dust was by far one of the most annoying things Endeavor, or any of his sidekicks, ever had to deal with. It stung in their eyes, itched in their nostrils, and made them cough when it got in their mouths. The heroes' eyes, brimming with tears, were forced shut. Their noses became clogged up, as their mouths grew dry with what felt like a million microscopic daggers running amok inside their gullets.
Nevertheless, none of them faltered, keeping to their jobs despite the hazard. All of them pushed through, bearing and suffering, but still enduring as they waited for the dust cloud out.
When the dust cleared it was all over. Volcano was out cold, and the sidekicks have defeated the last of the seller's goons. Yet, two of the villains were missing. The Ash girl and the seller both were nowhere to be found.
"Here you go." An exhausted-looking, but nonetheless cheery, cashier in her early twenties said as she handed the Midoriya couple a red & white paper bucket full of golden, crispy, fried chicken. "Enjoy your food."
Hisashi had to resist the urge to give out a huge sigh of relief. The wait in line was horrendous solely on the basis it took more than an hour from start to finish. Add to that the fact most of the line was in the outdoors and he was famished the entire time and you got yourself a recipe for a bad time.
Pointing out the man was a bit out of it would be an understatement. He was cold, he felt sluggish, and his stomach rumbled so loud it was on the Richter scale. His mind was so elsewhere, that the words, "You too," were blurted out his mouth without him thinking.
As soon as Hisashi's brain caught up with his mouth, he took a sharp intake of air and let out a loud and slow groan. Around him, the cashier and other customers winced and cringed in either sympathy or exasperation.
Inko put a hand to her mouth and struggled to suppress her laughter.
"I know…" Hisashi moaned as he took the bucket in hand and headed out the restaurant with his wife. They couldn't stay, they didn't have a reservation. They'll need to find someplace else to enjoy their food."…Don't say it."
Inko chuckled as she opened the door for her husband, the winter cold hitting against their still red faces, having had no chance to thaw out yet. "S-sorry, sorry. It's just…" Inko rubbed her hands together for warmth before finding the effort vain and instead interlocked her fingers with Hisashi's.
They ignored the envious looks they got from the lot waiting in line for some food as they passed by. Both hungry couples and lonely bachelors/bachelorettes glared at either them or the still steaming bucket of empty calories, in the end, it didn't matter to them.
"How long do I know you? And you still do this every time we go out."
"Like you were any better!" Hisashi sputtered the counterargument, but he couldn't help a nostalgic smile from creeping its way up his face. He remembered their first-ever date, how they both said 'You too' to the waiter at the same time; and how they both became mumbling, jumbling, messes afterward. Coincidently, that was exactly what they needed to break the ice, and the previous stressful silence they maintained up until then was broken.
It was one of his happiest memories, and the most embarrassing.
Inko rolled her eyes at Hisashi, "At least I stopped…" She paused, "…Eventually."
The two fell into a comfortable silence, enjoying and appreciating how pretty the decorated streets were; their shoulders pressed against each other.
The entire city was bathed in light, not living a single spot to be engulfed in darkness. The street posts were decorated using tangled luminescent wires, glowing a soft blue and pink in the arrangement of blooming flowers. Buildings, tall and proud, shined brightly with red, yellow, white, and blue like massive beacons reaching for the starless skies. The trees planted to the length of the streets, now bare of leaves, were covered in silver fairy lights from trunk to treetop, each light like a sparkling crystal of ice.
It was almost magical.
Spotting the entrance to Gahenn mall further down the road, Inko tapped her husband on the shoulder and began to lead him there. The two heaved a sigh of relief when they escaped the cold and entered the building, though their hands didn't separate.
Thankfully, the food court wasn't full, and it wasn't hard for them to find a table and finally dig in into the now slightly warm chicken.
They took their first bite together; the resulted crunch was audible from afar. They tasted Paprika, Chili, Garlic, some oregano, and a hint of onion. The crust was gold, crispy, and crunchy, a bit spicy, and it had a slight shimmer thanks to lingering droplets of oil that would mix with the Chicken's juices whenever one of them would take an extra-large bite.
It was definitely good; but it wasn't great, either.
Neither of them minded, though. If they wanted exceptional food, they would've stayed at home. After all, Inko's father was cooking tonight (They knew he sneaked in groceries for cooking). But it wasn't about that.
It was about the moment. The chance of two parents of an eight-year-old – One of which was constantly abroad – to have an evening all to themselves. No work, no kid, nothing to ruin the moment.
Sure, they didn't have the best food. They might have been freezing for almost the entire evening. And they were dying from heat wearing their coats in the climate-controlled building.
But they didn't care, they were too busy savoring the rare moment.
Inko took the last drumstick, slowly nibbling on it as her husband took the last bite of his own chicken. The man wiped his hands on his pants -He was the one who was going to wash them, so he didn't mind-, and reached for his pocket.
"Merry Christmas, Inko." Inko turned to him, answering the call, and revealing puffed cheeks full of chicken. In his hand, Hisashi held a small jewelry box. He brought the box forward, silently asking of Inko to take it.
She complied, taking the box with greasy fingers, and opened it.
Inside were a pair of earrings, bead-sized and appeared to be made of platinum. On each one, there was a six-petalled flowed carved into the metal and a small emerald was embedded in the middle.
It was beautiful, Inko had to admit. And it even matched her style; despite the expensive-looking material the earnings were made of, there was still a humble feel to it; just like she liked.
And yet, a small frown appeared on her face as she inspected the jewelry. "You shouldn't have, Hisashi." She said with a resigned tone.
Hisashi's small smile disappeared. That wasn't the good 'You shouldn't have' he normally got.
"We both know now is not the time to splurge." Inko scolded, and Hisashi's face fell further.
So, they were doing this.
"I appreciate that you don't want me to worry but that doesn't mean you should put up a front and pretend everything is fine. We both it's not."
Hisashi averted his gaze, now focusing on a random electronics shop. The shop's display window boasted an array of different flat-screen TV's, all set on a random news channel. The image on the screens was one he was familiar with; it was his old CEO, standing proud with all his bold and fat glory in the lobby of one of his buildings; he should know, he walked through that foyer every day.
The camera zoomed in on the man's face, that smug, multi-chinned, face mocking Hisashi through the screen.
Inko reached out with her hands and cupped Hisashi's face. The grease on her hands smeared itself on the man's face, and Hisashi found his gaze being locked on his wife. There wasn't an escape.
"You shouldn't have come back, Hisashi." The words left her mouth; a stab wound would've been less painful for them both. "I know you missed us, we missed you too, but right now is not the time. We can't handle you losing your job, you can't lose it, no matter what. Taking two weeks off like this is exactly what you should avoid… it makes you look like a liability, a burden; especially now."
Hisashi couldn't see the image of his old boss, anymore. But he didn't need to, to know that the man was grinning in the picture flashing on those screens. That same, annoying, infuriating, condescending smirk that the man always flashed whenever someone's fate took an unfortunate turn. As if he was enjoying the misery like a fine wine.
"You're right." Hisashi admitted with a sigh, "I'm being stupid and reckless. It's just… I couldn't take another second there."
"I know how it sounds; like I'm running away. And maybe I am, but the environment became so toxic after Mr. Fisk was arrested. Everyone started pointing fingers and becoming suspicious of each other… someone would accuse someone else of being in cahoots with Fisk's criminal activity, and then they would shoot back… other people would get involve and the yelling and cursing will start to pick up volume…" A shudder went through Hisashi's spine, and the man had to urge his stomach from tying itself in knots," …it was all so tense and nerve-wracking… I could barely get any work done; no one would talk with me, or anyone for that matter… just stepping foot in that building would sap away any positive emotion I had. I was miserable. I was depressed. I needed to get out of there, even if for just a few days."
Inko didn't respond. Neither of them were known for their mental fortitude; she doubted she would've been able to do much better in such an environment. She couldn't blame him; at least not without feeling like a hypocrite.
Hisashi let out a loud groan, "When did our lives get so complicated?" the man lamented, gripping his curls, and resting his elbows on the table.
The question was rhetorical, and the answer wasn't just about the job.
"The problems with my work are bad enough, but what happened with Izuku is just ridiculous. I almost had a heart attack after the villain thing, but after yesterday, I don't know what to think anymore."
Yesterday:
"That's… a lot to take in." Inko chocked out with wide eyes and a broken voice, putting the predominating silence that hung in the room previously to rest.
Next to her on the couch, Hisashi continued to gawk in silence at the man (Spirit!) who stood in front of them, clearly having a much harder time processing everything he was told.
Iroh's explanation was a hard pill to swallow, even for her. The entire thing took hours from start to finish; the time for Izuku to go to bed came before the man was halfway done! Luckily, the boy went to sleep on his own; having been sufficiently exhausted from his first day of training.
"H-h-hold on!" Hisashi finally found his voice, though it came out in a bit of a stammer. "Inko, you can't really believe this, can you?! This is madness!"
Inko had to somewhat agree. Everything that came out of Iroh's mouth sounded like it came straight out of a fairytale. Then again, Iroh himself was a character that seemingly came from fantasy, and he was very much real. to mention the fact Inko was way past the point she would scoff at even that; being around Izuku all day every day would do that.
If Hisashi's outburst phased Iroh -unlikely as that may be- he didn't show it. Instead, he raised his hands gently in a placating fashion, "I understand this is hard to digest." He said, his voice still calm and leveled, "Considering your situation, skepticism is expected; but I guarantee you everything I told you is the truth."
"Really?" Hisashi challenged, arms crossed and face stern. "Then if Izuku is the Avatar- No. If the Avatar even exists and is everything you claimed it to be, how come this is the first time I have ever heard of them?"
Iroh's tender smile slumped, a cheerless wistfulness replacing it. "Unfortunately, the Avatar hasn't been reborn for a very long time. Your son is the first Avatar in thousands of years."
Hisashi scoffed, "Isn't that convenient."
"Hisashi, please." Inko chided.
The scowl didn't fade from Hisashi's face, but he kept his mouth shut. The man still didn't believe Iroh, but Inko did. He couldn't deny Inko was more knowledgeable on the situation, not to mention she was the better judge of character. That's not to say Inko wished everything was false any less than Hisashi, mind you; she would've loved nothing more for it to be so. Inko always thought and hoped her life would be peaceful and carefree, only her, Hisashi and Izuku quietly living a modest life.
The mother sunk into the couch's upholstery, resting her head against the backrest and letting out all her air through her nose. The ceiling wasn't at all interesting, so Inko let her eyes flicker around the living room, making sure to pass over Iroh whenever he got too close to her focus. It didn't take long for her gaze to lock with a tall, wooden cabinet that rested against the far wall. She knew that piece of furniture well, it was perhaps her favorite in their home. But not because of the fixture itself, rather, what it held.
Photos, all meticulously framed and arranged on shelves stared back at Inko through the glass doors of the cabinet. An immortalization of the family's happiest memories.
Most of them were of Inko and Izuku, with Hisashi making a cameo in every third photo. From the upmost shelf downwards, they all went in chronological order.
A twenty-something Hisashi dressed in a black suit with a red tie, holding the hand of a younger Inko; adorned with a white dress. Her veil was pulled back over her hair, revealing her face, decorated by the slightest bit of rouge over her cheeks.
Inko, Hisashi, and all their parents, pressed shoulder to shoulder together. The youngest couple was at the middle, holding together a baby in a bundle that one day will grow up to be the Izuku she knew and loved.
A five-year-old Izuku grinning at the camera, dressed in a red tank-top and green shorts, was holding a large boulder over his head with his right hand, his left poised over waist like a superhero.
The most recent, taken the last time Hisashi was here. It was a family photo. All three Midoriya's were riding on Chima's head while he pounced, Izuku at the front, Hisashi at the back, and Inko sandwiched between them. Out of all of them, only Izuku seemed remotely excited, with a smile stretched wide forever frozen in a shout of glee. On the other hand, both Inko and Hisashi were pale-faced and struggling not to scream, their eyes were wide as saucers, and their hair was batted mercilessly by the rushing wind. Mimi was there as well, perched on Hisashi's shoulder and looking at the two adults completely unimpressed; as if she were calling them pansies.
There was still place for more photos. Inko had already cleared a spot for the newest one she planned on taking tomorrow. She could already imagine it, her and Hisashi, crouched down by Izuku's sides, all smiling brightly at the camera, Izuku showcasing the new gap in his teeth, and wearing Santa hats. Mimi would be held in Izuku's arms, wearing a matching hat, with Chima resting his head above them so he could be in the frame.
But now, as she looked at it, Inko couldn't help but feel her fantasies beginning to fail the test of reality. 'There's barely any room left…' She thought, despondent. The shelf and change that was clear of photos suddenly felt a lot smaller than she remembered.
Inko closed her lashes and leaned forward, straightening her back and holding her hands over her thighs, closed in fists. When she opened her eyes, Iroh was in the middle of her vision, waiting for her to say something, patient as ever.
"Look." She sighed, her voice leveled and stern. "This is a lot to take in, it will take Hisashi and I some time to come to terms with this. There is too much information; too many things going on. I need you to tell me something, and I want nothing but the honest truth. In the grand scheme of things, what does this Avatar thing really all mean for us? As a family. For Izuku?"
Much to her internal relief (And Hisashi's), Iroh did not lose his calm and collected demeanor. "You have no reason to worry," The old spirit reassured them.
"It is true that some changes are expected to come in the near future for you, but none of them will have a lasting impact on your family or you. For the most part, your lives will stay as they are."
The weight that burdened Inko's shoulders' since she met Iroh, its burden only increasing the more she knew, finally began to feel lighter. "That's a relief…" The woman heaved a sigh filled with alleviation, not missing how Hisashi did the same. Though, more quietly.
Sure, it may not have put all her concerns to rest; but it was a start. Realistically speaking, she knew she will always be worried for Izuku, Avatar or not. It was just a mother's job, but having less to worry about was always welcomed.
A chuckled came out of Iroh's mouth, seeing the young parents wiping sweat of their brows like they just emerged from a life and death situation.
"Izuku may be the Avatar, but he still is just a boy. All the Avatar stuff will come much later in his life. For now, he needs a healthy environment and loving parents supporting him to grow up into a proper man. I might be his instructor, but you are his parents. He needs you with him more than he will ever need me."
Present:
"Weren't you in complete denial about all of it, though?" Inko pointed out, licking off the last traces of grease from her fingers.
"Uhh…" Hisashi flushed, though it was hidden behind the napkin he was using to wipe his face. "I admit that after I let everything set in during the night and my head cooled off, I was able to see how you could believe him…" The man admitted, "Besides, it would follow the trend Izuku set for himself of getting into progressively more outrageous situations…" He added as an afterthought.
"True." Inko agreed as she and Hisashi got up from their table, Hisashi taking with him the empty bucket for disposal. "Either way, our circumstances are still complicated. So, no more being reckless and stupid, got it?" She tapped Hisashi on the head with the jewelry box.
With a soft thud, the empty bucket was thrown in the garbage bin as the couple left the food court. "Your still on about that?" Hisashi asked, deliberately making a show of rubbing the spot where Inko 'whacked' him on the head. "The emeralds' fake. I know a guy who makes fake jewelry for cheap that looks just like the real thing."
Inko gasped, holding a hand over her face. "Don't tell you gave me fake jewelry in the past…Oh god, is my wedding ring fake too?!" Inko tried to sound scandalized, looking at the ring on her finger like it was an eldritch artifact, before a smile broke the façade and the woman burst into laughter.
Hisashi joined in, and the two laughed together all the way out of the mall. "We can talk more about our problems…" Hisashi said, his tone turning serious for just one moment before it was held back.
The automatic doors opened with a soft ding, letting the cold wind come in and sucker-punch them both in the face for daring to hide from it in the first place; not that they cared.
"…For now…" The man gestured to the illuminated city, "We have an entire night to enjoy."
"Happy Birthday, mom!" Touya cheered with a toothy grin, presenting Rei Todoroki with the birthday present he labored all week on making. It was a crude crayon drawing he made of her, holding Touya's hand in one hand and a light purple flower in the other.
"Thank you, sweetie. It's beautiful." The white-haired mother said, taking the drawing in hand and putting it on the fridge. "Now who wants some cake?" She asked, taking the dessert out of the fridge to the sound of her three cheering children.
"Oh! Mom! Mom! Mom!" Touya yapped excitedly, standing on his chair and leaning on the table. "Can I light your birthday candles with my quirk? Please? Please? Pleeeaaaase?"
Rei froze stiff.
"S-sure, honey." She stammered out, her back facing the three children.
After a few seconds of standing still she turned back to them, her smile bright and cake in hand. It was a rosemary lavender cake, covered by a thick layer of vanilla frosting and topped with fresh blackberries. Finding leftover candles from Fuyumi's birthday was easy enough, and Touya had no problem lighting them up using a flaming finger.
"Come on, Mom!" The boy urged, practically jumping in his seat, "Make a wish!"
With a soft, almost icy, blow, the candles were extinguished, and the cake was cut up and distributed to all the children.
It was good, though Touya and his siblings would've preferred it sweeter. Rei seemed to be enjoying herself, though, gorging herself on the cake in a way her children became accustomed to ever since the woman announced she was pregnant with their fourth sibling.
Simple, green tea was also served with the cake; each diner given a ceramic cup to drink from. Touya brought his empty cup forward, silently asking for a re-fill. Cup now full, Touya brought it closer to his mouth. The hot steam brushed against his face, opening his pores as the hot liquid entered his mouth in short sips.
Touya swallowed, bracing and planning on embracing the comfortable heat that was about to spread throughout his body.
But it didn't come.
Instead, his entire body was hit with a strong chill that forced his eyes open with a start.
He was met with a bright, white light; his lids were forced shut in an instant. Touya blinked a couple of times, his pupils slowly acclimating before he could properly see again.
The pre-teen was no longer in the dining room. He was at his room, on his bed, wearing his pajamas. His blanket was thrown aside, slumped on the floor like a rug at the feet of his father.
"Get up." The man demanded before he turned around and left the room. "Be at the training room, dressed, in five minutes."
And with the door shut behind him, he was gone.
Begrudgingly, Touya flopped off his bed and almost fell face-first to the floor. His legs felt like lead, and his eyelids weren't in a better shape. The pre-teen wobbled to his window, spreading the drapes to reveal that it was still dark out.
Somewhere in the dark recess of his mind, he knew he should've felt scandalized at being woken up this early in the morning. Problem is, he couldn't really be appalled when he saw this coming a mile away.
Putting on a loose-fitting T-shirt and a pair of sweats, Touya left the room whilst stifling a yawn.
With bags under his eyes, his stomach screaming for nutrients, and his legs filling like professional weights, he trudged his way to the training room.
This was beginning to look like a 'great' start for Christmas.
With a sharp intake of breath, Izuku jolted from his bed into a sitting position, his wrinkly blanket draping off his shoulders. Clutching his plushy tighter and closer to his chest, the boy slowly heaved in and out as beads of sweat rolled down his tingling back.
A nightmare. It's been a while since he had one, though this one wasn't that bad. He actually managed to sleep through the night this time, judging by the light that peeked through the gap in his binds.
Rubbing his eyes of any traces of gunk, Izuku blinked a couple of times until his vision came into focus. Mimi wasn't here with him; so that meant he overslept. She probably left the room to get his mom to feed her.
Kicking off the bed, he didn't even bother with changing out of his All-Might pajamas before he left the room and made his way to the kitchen.
His parents and grandparents were already there, dressed, his Gran-Gran with her back to him with Hisashi across from her. Each was sipping on a mug of coffee, it's bitter scent mixing with the fruity scent of strawberries and a fragrant vanilla; getting the boy excited over it. The sounds of clattering dishes came from the kitchen, and Izuku knew his mother and grandfather were busy working on breakfast.
Hisashi was the first to notice him, "Good morning, sleeping beauty." He chuckled as his son groaned at the nickname, climbing on the chair to the left of his father and sitting there.
From his perch on the chair, he could see the source of the pleasant smell, resting on the counter like a crown on a monarch's head. A strawberry shortcake, most likely with two lairs of light sponge, with whipped cream in the middle. The entire cake was covered with white frosting and whipped cream, a couple of red strawberries arranged like flowers cut through the white monotony. Little pieces of Wagashi, shaped like strawberries and raspberries, also decorated the cake, forming a ring around the cake's rim.
His grandfather's work, no doubt.
The way the boy drooled over the confectionary did not go unnoticed by his grandmother, "You have to wait a bit more for the cake, Izuku." She chided with mirth, waving her index finger up and down. "You still need to eat a proper breakfast."
"I know…" Izuku grumbled, his tone betraying his words.
Both the adults at the table chuckled at the pout, and Izuku concealed his face in the hem of his shirt to hide the blush. "I'm going to set up the table." The boy proclaimed, partly because he genuinely wanted to help and partly because he knew that when Gran-Gran and his dad get together they loved to tease him.
"Thanks, sweetie!" Inko, who was looking over the pan, called over her shoulder as Izuku entered the kitchen.
The sound of clanking silverware came from the kitchen for a couple of seconds before Izuku came back holding enough utensils for all the expected diners. He set them all on the table, before going back and bringing some plates. Then came the glasses. And after that, he began to put the food on the table.
On each trip, Izuku sneaked a glance at the cake perched on the counter like a holy grail. The prize awaiting him after breakfast with his family.
This was beginning to look like a great start for Christmas.
The coin was thrown. The bell was rung. Izuku bowed twice; clapped his hands twice before clasping them, and finally, closed his eyes.
As he thought of what to pray for, a stray notion crossed his mind. Iroh told him the deities believed to be connected to shrines such as this were actually spirits. Long ago, the spirits used to judge every person who came into their territory, and, if they were fond of said person, they would often help them.
With time, as more and more instances like that popped up, people began to worship those spirits as deities, constructing shrines and temples in their honor and beginning to build a religion around them and the folklore they inspired.
In fact, according to Iroh, most myths and other religious folklore was often the result of spirit mingling with humans.
That or a couple of people high on cactus juice; whatever that meant.
That being said, there was no guarantee a spirit was connected to this shrine anymore; if it ever was. Nevertheless, Izuku had nothing better to do. And if a spirit really was hanging around here, he might as well get its attention now rather than later.
'Hello…spirit…Ughh… if you hear me, thank you for taking the time, I appreciate it. Ughh… I guess I should introduce myself… My name is Izuku, and…Ughh… I'm the Avatar…You know… the bridge between humans and spirits?'
Discreetly, Izuku opened one eye and peered at the shrine, half expectant to see a multi-tailed fox or a frog with two heads materialize from thin air or something.
He saw nothing.
'A-anyway… I just wanted to say hello; to let you know I'm back… and… Ughh… maybe ask a few questions…? Ugh! Only if you feel like answering any!'
Still, no reply.
Izuku sighed, '…Thank you for listening.'
Bowing one last time, Izuku turned away from the shrine, heaving a sigh and joining his awaiting parents, dressed (Like him) in full Kimono's.
Putting a hand on Izuku's shoulder, her other in Hisashi's, Inko began to lead the small family through the sea of other worshippers, some of whom glared at Izuku for hogging the shrine for so long.
It was absolutely packed, as per expected for a popular shrine on new year's. Thousands of men, women, and children, pressed shoulder to shoulder like fish in the world's largest sardine box.
All were dressed in Kimonos.
The men's were black, dark blues, and greens. Most were matte, but a few, like Izuku's dark green, had subtle patterns like the outlines of blooming flowers or argyle.
The women, on the other hand, wore colorful, vibrant Kimonos. Greens, pinks, blues, reds, purples, and yellows; all mixed together to make each garment a portrait of its own. The patterns and prints were bold, depicting various scenes and symbols from Japanese folklore, landscape, and even popular heroes and anime character. Cherry blossoms, dragons, flowers, and even abstract art; were all embroiled onto the Kimono's fabric, making each garb a hypnotic display as its wearer mingled with other Kimono wearers.
Inko crouched and talked into her son's ear, "Everything all right, sweetie? You took your time with the prayer."
"Y-yeah," Izuku replied, cupping his mouth so his mom could hear him over the crowd. "I remembered what Iroh told me and tried to contact a spirit…" Izuku's shoulders slumped, "I got nothing, though…"
"D-don't mind it too much, Izuku." Inko tried to reassure, squeezing his shoulder and putting on a forced smile, "Maybe there isn't one here… Or maybe it just didn't hear you…"
Izuku hummed in reply, but otherwise made no action that implied he followed the advice.
The family continued to shuffle its way in the crowd, brushing shoulders with worshippers and apologizing to each of them, only to ram into a different person and starting the process all over. Inko and Izuku alone bumped into and apologized to twenty people each.
Though Hisashi was in a league of his own.
It was all a bit overwhelming, especially for the socially anxious family. The crowds of families all talked with each other, one over the other, creating together a persistent roar that hung in the air and seemed to not stop even to breathe.
The roar of the crowd was just the beginning. Vendors, burly men and woman who had cloths tied around their foreheads, occupied colorful stalls, banners raised high and mighty; advertising products and goodies the Midoriya's had to pass over this year.
Amulets, lucky charms, Yakisoba, Takoyaki, Taiyaki, Mochi and countless other stuff were all pumped out of the stalls like it was an assembly line. The goods kept on switching hands from vendor to customer, replaced by cold hard cash, the process repeating all over.
The savory scents of battered octopus, grilled squid, pork, beef, and fried chicken, mixed together with the smell of rice dumplings in sweet soy sauce, the bean paste of Taiyaki, and the gentle scent of strawberry and matcha. All the food looked amazing. The smell of each, which was purposefully fanned at the worshippers by the vendors, was mouthwatering and inviting. But the scents also clashed with each other, making the lingering stench of cooking oil the predominant smell.
Everything was so chaotic and out of control. The colors, the scents, the noise, they were all haywire and all over the place. If a spirit really did hang out around here often, Izuku couldn't blame it for wanting to avoid this cacophony.
Thankfully, the area around the Torii gate at the entrance was much less packed. It was in no small part thanks to the lack of stalls in the area. They were banned from being sat up there to allow a better flow of people in the chokepoint; their lack a contribution in the dimming of the background noise.
The number of people also dwindled down considerably. No longer they were pressed shoulder to shoulder with at least four people. Instead, the people were arranged into two lines, one flowing into the shrine and the other leaving it.
The Midoriya's were on the line heading out, slowly moving and mindful of others. They were on the left side of the line, so they had a nice view of the line streaming into the shrine; all dressed just as traditionally as everyone already there.
A new family, dressed in matching purple Kimonos, marched in that line. The gazes of the two families met, each catching the attention of the other.
"Oh! If it isn't the Midoriya's!" Kyotoku Jirou exclaimed, waving at the family before his eyes rested on the wild-haired adult. "I see you got the whole roster this time."
Hisashi chuckled sheepishly, extending a hand for the fellow father to shake. "Been a while, Kyotoku. How are you?"
The blonde man grinned broadly and put his hands on his hips, "We're doing mighty fine! Business is booming, we just got a contract to help with the soundtrack of an upcoming movie; We got done with the renovation to our music room; and little Kyoka just started learning the bass! Can't really complain about anything!"
His wife disagreed." We could be better." She huffed, rolling her eyes accusatorily at Kyotoku, "Especially if someone wasn't a tard and made us all late. Look at this!" She gestured to the massive crowd in front of them, knowing full well how long it would take to get to the shrine.
Kyoka hid her chuckle behind a closed fist as her father sputtered at being called out. Seeing no point in continuing to listen to the adults talking, she instead initiated a conversation with Izuku.
Unfortunately, their converse could not last for long. The flow of people held no regard for their wishes, and the two families begin to drift apart in the streaming crowd.
The inventible did not stall itself. The distance between the Midoriya's and Jirou's grew too large to continue. Both parties had to be satisfied with simple waves and calls to meet again as goodbyes.
But Kyoka had one more thing to say. Though she could barely see the matching green Kimono's of the Midoriya's in the crowd, she raised her hand high and shouted anyways, "Good luck with the firebending thing, Mr. Avatar!"
Safe to say, anyone who paid attention to her words did not understand what she meant, not even her parents. But three people did, and while she couldn't see it, Jirou knew all three tried to transmit to her their grateful smiles.
And she was right. They were grateful for her show of support, none more than Izuku himself.
The boy cast one final look at the shrine as he passed bellow to Torii gate at the entrance; and for a moment, despite the winter chill, he could've sworn he felt a warm, fresh spring breeze brush against his face.
The days flew by too quickly for Izuku's taste. Every second was joyful and fun; filled with another exciting activity or just resting, basking in the familial atmosphere. He was not ready for it to end, but life moved on.
He still had a week or so to winter break, that much was true. But Hisashi's time off was over. And now, suitcases at his side and a plane ticket in his pocket, it was time to say goodbye.
The family ignored the hustle and bustle, the usual chaos, of the airport, too busy holding the tears back as they made the final check to see if Hisashi had everything.
He did.
"Well, I guess that's everything," Hisashi said, his reluctance evident as he looked at his wife and son in longing; there was nothing he wanted more than to stay with them. He kissed Inko on the lips, both refusing to part until the need for air overwhelmed them. "Goodbye, Inko."
"Goodbye, Hisashi. For now." Inko stepped aside, allowing Izuku to say his goodbye as well. As hard as it was on her, she knew it was worse for him.
Izuku wasted no time and burst at his father. Hisashi scooped him up with a loud grown, hugging him tightly as Izuku wrapped his arms around his neck. "When have you gotten so big!" He chuckled, 'Next time I see you I might not be able to hold you like this anymore…'
"I'm going to miss you, dad." He choked out, tears pulling in his eyes. "Please…" he whispered, "…don't go." The boy buried his face in his father's shoulder, leaving a wet stain on the man's jacket.
"I'm going to miss you too, Izuku," Hisashi said, pointedly not responding to the last part, he knew it would make things worse. This was always hard on him, no reason to make it harder.
He put Izuku down unwillingly, having to resist every urge he had to keep holding him. He knew this wasn't a final goodbye, he would be back. But it still hurt.
Izuku Midoriya.
The Avatar (In-training)
Description: The current reincarnation of the Avatar, Izuku has the potential to wield all four elements. Right now, though, he is only proficient in Earthbending, having a few years of practice with it.
He now works to trigger his Firebending.
Appearance:
Short and scrawny-looking due to his preference for baggy clothing, at first glance, Izuku might appear a bit under-whelming of an eight-year-old. However, there is more than meets the eye when concerning the boy. Years of practice and activity had made him the most athletic kid in school, though that might not be visible since he still lacks any muscle mass due to his age. While his face is somewhat plain, he still has distinguishable features like his big round eyes and his freckles that cover his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.
Izuku has several scars on his body, most of which are almost unnoticeable like the one on his left shoulder-blade. However, he has a severe scar on his left forearm, which is most of the time covered by a black compression sleeve.
Affiliation: Aldera Primary school student, The world.
Age: 8.
Birthday: July 15th.
Height: 124.6 cm.
Likes: Chima and Mimi.
Dislike: Wearing shoes. (They dampen his seismic sense).
Tidbit:
He can't sleep unless he hugs something, usually Mimi. When Mimi isn't in the mood for cuddles, he'll use one of the homemade plushies his grandparents give him; his favorite is the one that looks like Chima.
And yes, his parents find this absolutely adorable.
Before you read the next chapter.
Within the Original work of Op Taipain. He made the character of Toya Todoroki as the second child. Rather the first-born child.
Fuyumi Todoroki is the eldest among the siblings within this series.
