My Hero School Adventure is All Wrong, As Expected

by storybookknight

Hikigaya Hachiman is the last person on earth who should ever apply to U.A. High School. Yet somehow, he gets in anyway. In a world of irrepressible optimism and idealism, these are the adventures of a young man who believes that idealism is a lie.

39. The Celebrity Lifestyle Isn't For Me

A/N: By switching my writing schedule from nights to weekends, the fic lives on! Once again, thanks to everyone for your patience in waiting through the delays, to the many omake writers who have helped fill the gaps during my absence, and to the wonderful Ozlyk for the continued artwork!

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By the time my costume was finally ready it had gotten late enough that my only option for making it to the Hosu Charity Ball on time was to call a taxi. The driver, a pudgy middle-aged man, blinked rapidly behind the square rims of his glasses when he saw that he was picking up a passenger in full hero costume, but that was all. Still, it made me wonder. How many other heroes out there relied on public transportation to get around? Classes at UA had ever-so-subtly impressed upon us that subsisting as a bottom-tier superhero was neither the most lucrative nor prestigious occupation, yet you never saw or heard of heroes taking the subway to arrive at crime scenes. If anything, the media usually showed Heroes arriving in seedy back-alleys in fancy sports cars; miraculously, even after lengthy footchases and tough battles followed by dramatic periods of concussion-induced unconsciousness (that, of course, the heroes never bothered seeking professional treatment for, which would explain why all of the heroes on television were complete idiots) whenever they returned to their cars they would always be in pristine condition, their wheels still attached and unsold on the black market. In retrospect, movies and television were probably less than completely realistic.

Perhaps the lack of explanation of 'how to get around the city as a hero without cash' was a deliberate omission, or maybe it was just something that got covered later in our curriculums, but I had already resigned myself to a career that would involve much more inconspicuous methods of transportation than custom sports cars. Up until now, I hadn't felt the slightest hint of jealousy at that fact. And then my taxi pulled up alongside the parking lot to the Hosu Charity Ball. Everywhere I looked the streets were full of sports cars in cherry red and acid green, limousines in ostentatious white and glossy black, and hovercars accented in neon orange or LED blue. I stepped out of the taxicab awkwardly and paid the driver, silently thanking Komachi, Kawasaki, Yuigahama, and my lucky stars for the fact that I wasn't showing up in a secondhand suit like I had originally planned. After a few seconds of gawking at cars that cost more than my parents' combined annual salary, I started looking around for my blackmailer. Celebrities stood around in packs, cattily denigrating each others' outfits and preening for the benefit of any nearby cameras, but none of them appeared to be the hamster-eared girl I was looking for. Sighing in exasperation, I dug into my jacket's pockets - much more comfortable and easy to access than my cape-pockets - and pulled out my phone to actually call Manaka, because standing around in front of a fancy hotel wasn't exactly inconspicuous and a few of the would-be famous set were already starting to stare in my direction.

Where the Mark One Eyeball failed, modern technology succeeded; going off of her directions over the phone it wasn't long before I found Manaka in the throng and press of the crowds. Like me, she had dressed appropriate to the event; she wore a bright yellow cocktail dress with a brown fur trim that wrapped around her shoulders, short enough that my eyes couldn't help but dip down to her legs for a second before traveling up to her smiling face, and cut low enough that they took an unavoidable detour on the way. All of a sudden, I was feeling way less resentful about the whole 'blackmail' thing. As Manaka saw me in return, her eyes initially lit up, but after a few seconds narrowed into a frown. "Ah, Hachi-kun, you should have warned me that you had a formal costume! I would have worn something different, right now we don't match at all!"

"Uh, um, sorry," I said, suddenly taken aback. "My regular costume was all bloodstained, so I kinda had to figure something out at the last minute."

Manaka's eyes softened at the mention of my injuries, as expected. "Oh. I see," she murmured. I felt guilty for a few seconds at the deliberate manipulation, but in retrospect she had manipulated me into attending this event in the first place so it was only fair play. "Well, hopefully this will help," she said after a few seconds, and rummaged for a few seconds in her purse before pulling out a yellow boutonièrre. She leaned in to put it on me in a move that should probably have been romantic. Unfortunately, I found myself holding my breath more out of self-preservation than out of butterfly-in-the-stomach nerves, because… well. There was nothing wrong with floral perfume, or with green apple shampoo, but as the two scents wafted off of Manaka together the combination was so overpowering that it almost made me choke. Thankfully, Manaka didn't seem to notice; she stepped away from me with a smile, waving her left arm around slightly as if to draw attention to the matching yellow corsage on her wrist. "There we go, much better," she said.

Despite that inconvenience, as I looked down at her hands while they fastened the yellow flower to my buttonhole (I'd wondered at the time why Kawasaki had bothered sewing one when my costume didn't have any buttons, but I suppose this explained it) I couldn't help but feel touched. It was almost like I was on a date. Of course, in the unlikely event that I ever did wind up going to a fancy party with someone I was romantically involved with, the downside was that my 'first time' would be already taken by the mercenary careerist in front of me… but at least my blackmailer was pretty? To cover my consternation I raised my fist to my mouth and coughed to clear my throat. "Uh, thanks," I said. "So, uh… what do we do now?" I asked, looking around at the milling crowds. "Is there somewhere we need to go to line up to get in or something?"

Manaka giggled. "You're lucky you're cute, Hachi-kun," she said. At first, I almost took it as a compliment. "Celebrities don't stand in lines, especially not in public."

Suppressing my urge to cringe at the overly familiar address, I rolled my eyes at the backhanded insult that had come with it. "Okay, fine. So then let's go in, I guess?"

"No way," Manaka said, reaching out and grabbing my arm at the elbow. "Just because we don't all stand around waiting and looking stupid doesn't mean we're allowed to go in whenever we want," she explained. I failed to see how standing around in clumps on the sidewalk looked any less stupid than standing in an orderly line, but I chalked it up to 'celebrity nonsense' and took her at face value for now. "The organizers of the event have a list of what order everybody gets to walk the carpet." She looked at me slyly and wrapped her hand around my arm, turning her grab into linking our arms together. "If it was just me coming by myself, I probably wouldn't have even needed to show up for another half an hour. But when I told them I was coming together with you, they bumped us way up to the front of the queue."

"Oh, I see how it is," I said sarcastically. "At first I couldn't figure out why you were so insistent on getting me to come to this with you, but now it turns out I'm an amusement park fast pass wristband."

Again, Manaka giggled, the sound light and cute but vaguely artificial-sounding, like she had trained herself to sound as charming as possible when she laughed. Hell, she probably had. "Don't be silly, Hachi-kun," she said, "that's not the reason at all." Right, getting the popularity boost from the press by us showing up together is way more important than just getting in the doors sooner. I definitely feel better, knowing that I'm being manipulated and used for more than just an early entrance ticket - not. "It does help, though," she said softly, staring off into the distance with stars in her eyes. "I never expected to be on a red carpet this close to Tsuruga Ren in my life!"

I followed her gaze to where a tall, sophisticated, incredibly handsome man was approaching the red carpet, an elegant, long-haired woman in an evening dress by his side. When they took their first step onto it, it was like a scene out of an anime. Not a romantic comedy, or a show about the film industry, but a space opera. Picture a battleship in the depths of space firing its secret weapon at the enemy fleet. For a second, the screen shows nothing but darkness; then, at first singly, then in clusters, eruptions of light explode in the blackness, their brightness outshining the distant stars until the entire TV screen is full of light. Replace the spaceships with the bulbs of hundreds of reporters' cameras, and you'll get a good idea of the afterimage that suddenly seared itself into my cornea, but despite the fact that even across the street I was putting my hand up to shield my eyes, Tsuruga Ren and his date for the evening continued forward without missing a step.

Honestly, I was almost more intimidated going to a party with Tsuruga Ren than I was being taught personally by… Well, maybe not All Might, but it was at least more nervewracking than having classes with Present Mic. Tsuruga Ren was the Kamui Woods of the entertainment industry, a young up-and-comer taking the televisions of the nation by storm. More to the point, I was a fan of his work - or had been, back when I still had time to watch television anyways - and I had to admit that I got a few butterflies in my stomach at the thought that I might actually get to meet him. As the spots faded from my eyes, my gaze slipped away from Tsuruga to the woman accompanying him. She looked oddly familiar somehow. "Who's that with him?" I asked Manaka, who was still watching them with stars in her eyes.

"Mmm, I'm pretty sure she's the woman who played Mio in Dark Moon with him," Manaka said, still staring wistfully at the actors' backs as they walked in the doors. I was surprised; I hadn't seen Dark Moon yet, but I'd seen promotional pictures, and she looked nothing like the gloomy, scarred girl in the photos. "I think her name was Kyoko? Something like that, anyways." Manaka paused, then sneered, almost imperceptibly. "Honestly, I feel bad for Tsuruga-san. He could be attending this event with anyone he wanted, but he's obviously stuck taking care of a junior from his agency." Suddenly, she giggled, and wrapped her arm around mine even as she looked up at me and fluttered her eyelashes in my direction. "I guess that's one perk to not being super famous yet, I get to go with whoever I want!" She said.

I suppressed the shudder that went down my back at her sudden mood shift. "So, when is our slot?" I asked.

"Mmm, wait a little longer," Manaka said. "Heroes are too busy to show up on time to these things sometimes, so I texted the coordinator that you were here when you showed up," she said, pulling out her phone to check it. "Um, looks like our turn is in about five minutes or so, after Director Ogata," she said, seemingly expecting me to recognize the name.

"Ah, sure," I said vaguely.

Personally, the only difference that I could tell between waiting in the crowd and waiting in line was that being popular let you cut ahead of people. I didn't know what I'd expected from the glamorous celebrity lifestyle, but I definitely hadn't expected it to be so much like middle school. Thankfully, after a minute or two of empty status posturing, during which I stood around awkwardly and Manaka played around on her phone, it was finally our turn to approach the venue. Needless to say, no constellation of photography bulbs appeared as we stepped onto the carpet. I was pretty confident in assuming that I was a nonentity, and while I hadn't bothered researching Manaka's filmography at any point, I wouldn't be surprised if her sub-lead role in a niche movie that not only hadn't been released yet but now might never see the light of day was the biggest role she'd had in her career so far. It was just as well. Slinking into the event like nobody knew me was practically second nature to me.

I got about halfway down the red carpet thinking that way before reality reared its ugly head. "Hey, is that Myriad?" A photographer said.

Suddenly, I was blind. Flashing lights filled my eyes; a hundred shouting voices smothered my ears. I almost recoiled, but Manaka's arm tightened around my elbow, and her other hand came up to squeeze my bicep. I retained enough presence of mind to switch quirks to Shiromeguri's Sleuth, letting me sense the world around me well enough to 'see' where I was going, at least well enough not to fall. It wasn't until the flashes ended and I blinked enough of the spots out of my eyes to see that we'd reached the front door that I realized I probably should have focused on smiling instead. "Omigod, did you see that?" Manaka asked, her voice bubbly with excitement.

"Right now I can't see much of anything," I complained, my eyes still watering. If this was the treatment that big stars and famous heroes got, I was perfectly content with the idea of never going past second- or third-rate. Maybe Aizawa-sensei had a good idea with the whole 'underground hero' thing?

Manaka was still beaming from ear to ear. "I knew inviting you was the right move!" She said with self-satisfaction. "It's a good thing I texted my contact in the press ahead of time, though, your costume barely looks like your regular costume at all. They almost didn't recognize you!"

Startled, I looked to the side at Manaka's smug grin. "Wait, that person who shouted?" I asked, but before I could finish the sentence she was already turning her phone to show me a text conversation where she was warning someone named 'Araki' that she and I were coming.

"It pays to be prepared, especially when your date basically shows up in disguise," Manaka said triumphantly.

"Ah, yes. I cleverly disguised myself by revealing my entire face," I said dryly. "How could I have forgotten?"

"Oh, shut up!" She laughed, squeezing my bicep as she leaned into me where our arms were crossed. "You know what I meant."

Any attempts at pretending that no, I did not in fact know what she had meant were interrupted by us walking in through the front door of the gala, at which point I was too stunned by the view to think of a witty reply. I wasn't exactly one to watch Shoujo anime (I definitely hadn't seen both seasons of Sweet Today, and if I had, it was only to indulge Komachi, and certainly had never had to covertly brush tears out of my eyes during the summer festival scene) but if I had been the sort of person who watched that sort of thing, the gala probably would have brought to mind a scene where everything was covered with mysterious glitter, sparkling with the pixie dust of unrealistic dreams. A long arched atrium stretched out before Manaka and me, its floor tiled in elegant black and white marble, illuminated by golden chandeliers. The center of the space was clear to allow mingling and dancing, while around the walls white-tableclothed tables were arranged to let people sit and eat or drink. Yet despite the fact that the venue was clearly luxurious, it was understated in comparison to the ball's participants. Everywhere I looked, people were wearing designer suits and fancy gowns, watches worth as much as most peoples' cars and jewelry probably worth even more.

For all of the gala's awe-inspiring splendor, however, part of it didn't sit well with me. Maybe it was the fact that so many of the smiles I saw plastered on the faces of the people around me were plastic and fake, maybe it was my lingering allergies to all things riajuu-like… or maybe it was the shrieking condemnations of Stain, still echoing in my ears. I wasn't about to start agreeing with the lunatic, of course. Ever since the crazy blood-drinking woman in the staff offices at UA, I had a firm policy of ignoring the bullshit that came out of the mouths of people who wanted to kill me, and I wasn't about to break that policy now. But I couldn't help but recognize the fact that everything that the League of Villains, Stain, and presumably the lunatic who knifed me in the lung all thought was so wrong with society? Everything that they were willing to kill people over? It was right here in this room. I couldn't help but contrast the conspicuous wealth on display with the decrepit back alleys and crumbling buildings in the parts of Hosu where people actually lived. How many of the celebrities here for charity had actually been to the places they expected to be praised for supporting?

It wasn't all actors and pretty faces, though; a significant percentage of the people I saw were older, greyer, fatter, or otherwise too ordinary-looking to be celebrities. Also I didn't recognize any of them, but given my level of media awareness that was only to be expected. "I didn't see any of these people on the red carpet," I muttered under my breath to Manaka. "Who are all these people who are so important that they came in before Tsuruga Ren?"

She rolled her eyes at me. "It's a charity event," she said, so carefully not adding the words 'you idiot' that I heard them anyways. "People here are raising money for things, but they have to have people to raise money from, don't they?"

Ah. So, they were the money. Well, I supposed if I was rich enough that I could casually write off million-yen donations for tax purposes, I would do it in a way that let me ogle famous actresses up close too. "Ah, I see," I said. "So, I guess they just let all the donors walk in before the actors get to go, then?"

"I think most of us prefer to come in by the side entrance," a somewhat nasal tenor answered me. Startled, I turned my head.

The man who had approached us from the side was marginally younger than the majority of patrons at the event; he looked to be in his forties, rather than his fifties, and was still hale and hearty enough that he could evidently keep up physical fitness as a hobby, judging by the muscular way in which he filled out his pinstripe suit. Yet despite his overall level of fitness there was no question of his being a celebrity; his beaklike nose and spotted skin stood out too much to fit within the bounds of conventional attractiveness. For all that he lacked the sort of star power that would sell movies or magazines, however, he had a certain intimidating presence about him. "Yotsubashi Rikiya," he said, extending his hand towards me. "CEO of the Detnerat Corporation. Pleased to meet you, young man."

"I, uh… thanks," I said, taking it and shaking it. "You too." He had a strong grip and… I guess, a very CEO-like quirk? It seemed like it could store up mental stress and release it to enhance physical strength; I felt like it might be hard to charge properly in Stockpile, but it seemed pretty strong so I decided to hold onto it temporarily. "I, um, I think my family owns some Detnerat kitchenware," I offered politely.

Mr. Yotsubashi's eyes widened a fraction. "Oh?" He said with interest, gently swishing a long-necked flute of champagne under his oversized nose. "Do you have someone with a socially challenging meta ability in your household, perhaps?"

A Meta ability was one of those weird labels for quirks people used sometimes, right? "Uh, something like that. My sister's pretty strong, she used to break a lot of cups and things."

"Mmm," Mr. Yotsubashi hummed. "Well I'm glad that your family finds our products useful. Your hero name was Myriad, wasn't it?" He asked rhetorically. "Your work fighting Stain was commendable. At least according to what I hear from the media, isn't that right?" He said with a smile towards one of the people standing with him.

A woman with lavender hair and blue skin, wearing a very business-like skirt suit and a feather boa stepped forward. "Oh, he's quite the talent," she said, sizing me up with a slow smile and licking her lips. For some reason, a chill went down the back of my neck. Was this how all of the starlets being eyed by dirty old men at this event felt? Was I being sexually harassed? "It's not often that a kid still in school makes my front page," she said, her voice a seductive contralto.

Manaka seemed to tighten her grip on my arm at the mention of media attention. "Um, how do you do?" She asked the blue-skinned woman. "I'm Manaka, with the Konoe production company. Um, Hachi-kun, that is, Myriad, saved me during the League of Villains attack the other day, so I invited him to come with me today as thanks."

One of the blue-skinned woman's lavender eyebrows raised curiously. "Kizuki Chitose," she introduced herself, "Shoowaysha Publishing. That's quite the interesting story," she said, leaning in confidentially. "Everyone knows about him taking on Stain, but I hadn't heard about his other heroics just yet."

"He evacuated the whole company while Cyberpunch was fighting that Nomu monster!" Manaka said, bringing one hand up to her chest and looking between me and Kizuki with stars in her eyes. I was reluctantly impressed. If I hadn't known she was trying to create an opportunity for herself to get more media attention, I might even have thought the admiration was real. "But, I was backstage and separated from everyone else and didn't know where to go to escape… Myriad saved me," she said breathlessly.

Inwardly, I applauded. Unexpectedly, despite being attached to a worthless monster movie, my date for the evening actually had some acting talent. Looking at her, I almost forgot that she 'escaped' so far away that she miraculously managed to film my entire fight with Stain and sold it to the media for clout. "It was nothing special," I managed to say with real modesty that would undoubtedly be taken for false modesty, doing my best to keep a straight face.

"I don't suppose you have time for an interview?" Kizuki asked me, her hand reaching into a small purse and pulling out a voice recorder. I must have made some sort of facial expression, because she smiled and shrugged. "Old habits," she explained. "I never leave home without it."

Like hell I wanted to do an interview, so I smiled as politely as I could. "Unfortunately, I'm still recovering from the fight with Stain and don't intend to stay for long tonight," I said. "Maybe another time."

"Recovering?" Kizuki asked, leaning in a little closer, her hand extending the voice recorder towards me in an almost threatening manner, but luckily before she could continue to press Mr. Yotsubashi stepped back in between us.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that," he said with seeming sincerity, "but I'm glad to see you came out tonight, and I very much appreciate your service in bringing Stain to justice. Do you have a charity that you're fundraising for tonight?" He asked, his black eyes half-lidded as he gave me a politician's smile.

I shrugged uncomfortably. "Not really," I said.

"In that case, would you mind if I made a donation to the Society for Meta Ability Awareness in your name?" Mr. Yotsubashi asked. "It's a charity near and dear to my own heart, one that focuses on helping people with complicated meta abilities - such as your family member - get the recognition and support they need to integrate into society." I just stood there for a few seconds, not really knowing what to say. A charity for people like Komachi? That was… pretty cool. "It's the least that I could do for someone willing to step forward and defend the city, even without a proper hero license," he said, meeting my eyes directly.

"I, uh… that'd be great," I said, "thank you so much."

"You're very welcome," he said. "Now, I'm sure you and this lovely young lady have better things to do than stand around and talk with an old man, so I won't keep you."

That was a dismissal if I'd ever heard one, so I bowed slightly and turned away with Manaka. We walked away a few steps before Manaka once again burst into giggles. "Oh my god, Hachi-kun, that was amazing! Is this what being a hero is like all the time?"

Given that nobody was bleeding, exercising until they threw up, or being shell-shocked by the emotional trauma of interacting with the family of people they failed to save… "not really," I said nonchalantly. "At least, I assume not, anyways. I mean, I've literally been in hero school for all of two months; maybe this is what being a famous pro like Campestris is like."

"Hmmm… that's true," Manaka said thoughtfully. "Oh, I know! Let's go ask her!" She said, suddenly tugging on my arm and jolting me into motion. I stumbled forwards, catching my balance just in time to meet the eyes of a surprised-looking Yukinoshita Yukino. Like me, she had elected to wear something other than just her normal hero outfit; unlike my 'hero fashion' cos-tux, however, she was wearing a midnight blue cocktail dress, with a slightly lighter blue sash around her waist that emphasized her figure. I managed to drag my eyes away from her long enough to notice that she wasn't alone; Todoroki stood nearby in a white suit, while a few feet away Yukinoshita Haruno was doing her best to socialize and mingle in a violet dress with a shawl that cleverly concealed what was almost certainly a mass of bandages.

"Hikigaya?" Yukino said with a surprised look on her face. "What are you doing here?"

My eyebrow twitched in irritation. "Oi. Learn to greet people properly," I said with a glare. "Isn't it a little rude to ask what I'm doing somewhere everytime you see me?"

"I would never imply that you were unwelcome," Yukinoshita said with an audible tone of falseness to her voice. "It's just a natural reaction, like when you open a cupboard and see something scurrying back into the darkness. My apologies, Hikicockroach-kun."

"You should be glad that I'm so resistant to nuclear waste," I said with a smirk, "or I'd never have come up to say hello to you."

Yukinoshita took a beat to figure out what to say next - ha! Point to me! After a beat, she frowned, her eyes narrowing as she took in my appearance. "So, where did you get that outfit? I wasn't aware that you knew how to look respectable."

"Appearances can be deceiving," I snarked, pointedly looking her up and down in return. "You look nice; did your sister dress you up today too, or was she injured enough that she let you have an original thought for once?"

Yukino's eyes widened in affront before she turned her head to the side, as if to pointedly ignore me. "I refuse to take fashion criticism from someone who picked out his hero costume by sending a bunch of family photos to the design department and calling it a day."

My face burned. "I told you, that was an accident!" I protested.

"There's nothing wrong with Hachi-kun's costume," Manaka suddenly spoke up beside me, cutting into our argument. "I think it looks good on him!" She stared daggers at Yukinoshita, stepping forward to get in her face. "What's wrong with you, anyway? Why are you so mean! Hachi-kun didn't do anything wrong!"

"It's okay, Manaka, Yukino and Hikigaya are friends." Todoroki said, stepping forward as well to try to play peacemaker. "They just like to argue." Maybe he noticed that Manaka's hackles were still up, because he suddenly threw out a distraction. "You look nice tonight," he told her.

"Oh! I, um -" suddenly, Manaka turned a bit pink, breaking eye contact and looking down at her feet in a fluster. "Thanks," she said. "Um, you too."

Turning to me, Todoroki asked, "I'm curious too, where did you get the costume? It looks good."

Damn it, I was bad with actual sincerity! I couldn't help but feel a little abashed by the direct compliment myself, but resisted the urge to stare at my feet the way Manaka did by the slimmest of margins. "There's this girl I went to middle school with in the Support course who's focusing on costume design; she had the idea, but I kind of had to ask Yuigahama to help put it all together since it was so last-minute."

"Yui made that?" Yukinoshita asked, her icy blue eyes wide with astonishment. "I couldn't tell at all, it looks completely professional."

"I'll pass on your compliments to her and Kawasaki," I said.

Todoroki frowned momentarily. "Kawasaki… that name sounds familiar. She was the one who did well in the Sports Festival, wasn't she? The one who came up and asked you to join her team for the cavalry battle?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," I said. I couldn't help but look at Yukinoshita. "You know, Yuigahama really looked like she was having fun working together with Kawasaki," I blurted out. It was stupid, really. If Yukinoshita wanted to join her sister's agency in the future, there was really no reason she shouldn't match costumes with her. But the way she'd reacted to her sister in the back tunnels of the Sports Festival, the subtle slump of her shoulders when I'd stared at her in her costume a few days ago… something told me it wasn't that simple. "I bet she'd love to have you model for her," I suggested.

Predictably, Yukino started to frown, and there was an awkward silence for a few seconds. All of a sudden, Manaka tugged on my arm. "It was good seeing you," she said to Yukinoshita and Todoroki, "but I just saw a few friends that I just have to introduce Hachi-kun to. We'll catch up later, yeah?" Without giving me a chance to argue, she started tugging me away, off towards another knot of young people.

I turned my head back as if to say goodbye, only to see Yukinoshita's smirk. 'Hachi-kun?' she mouthed silently, and I winced, turning my attention back to Manaka. "Didn't you want to talk to Haruno?" I asked her as she pulled me towards her friends.

"Oh. I can just ask her later," Manaka said, turning to me and smiling. "Besides, events like these are about mingling, mingling! If you just stand around and talk to your friends all day, you'll never make any connections!"

'Make connections.' Hah. What was I, a riajuu? If it had been up to me, I would have lurked inconspicuously by the buffet table for the forty-five minutes to an hour that it took for me leaving early to no longer be blatantly obvious, and then disappeared into the night. But Manaka had invited me so she could show off the fact that she was attending with a hero, so I decided to suck it up and let her parade me in front of her friends and classmates like a trophy. A decision I promptly regretted, because for a celebrity event, there were a surprising number of high school students present. I did my best to remember names and faces, but it's a biological fact that humans are only programmed to be able to hold, like, a hundred and fifty people in their head at one time. And not only did I already have a whole bunch of classmates to keep track of, and my family, and my teachers, but I had also memorized the casts of characters in multiple video games, and I didn't see any point in deleting my memories of Ultimate Dragon Adventure to make room for people I would likely never meet again. So while I vaguely remembered meeting teen idols with ridiculous names like 'Ruby' and 'Aquamarine', and a former child star who I had maybe seen in commercials when she was a kid, and someone else who had sprayed her friend with soda in a commercial more recently, it wasn't my fault that I couldn't put any faces to names, or names to faces; it was Dunbar's Number in action. Besides, once you'd seen one generically gorgeous face that looked like it was already airbrushed, you'd seen them all.

I was rescued from the endless torrent of awkward pleasantries and small-talk (okay, maybe it took like thirty minutes, but they were really long minutes) by someone clearing their throat behind me. "You know, when you said you were already busy tonight, I didn't expect it'd be with this." I looked over my shoulder reflexively at Cyberpunch's familiar voice, and had to do a double-take. I'd only ever seen my mentor in full hero regalia, so seeing her looking elegant and refined in a long black dress and a white shawl made my heart skip a beat. Without her usual mirrored sunglasses to conceal them, Cyberpunch's - or maybe I should say, Hiratsuka Shizuka's - eyes were full of wry humor. "How'd you manage to score yourself a ticket?" She asked.

"Uh, Manaka invited me," I said, gesturing towards my date for the night, who was currently staring with surprise at my mentor's sudden appearance. "Hey, can I talk to you for a second?" I asked Hiratsuka, then looked over my shoulder apologetically. "Sorry, hero business," I lied cheerfully. "I'll just be a moment."

"What's up?" Hiratsuka asked, still smirking at me as we stepped across the ballroom floor. Now that the event was in full swing, things had gotten much more crowded, but people moved out of our way obligingly as I led Hiratsuka away from the gaggle of teenage actresses - and toward the buffet table, because why not? "Must be important, if you're interrupting your date. Hey, are you in urgent need of love advice? Come on, lay it on the expert," she teased.

I cringed. "It's not a date," I protested, "Manaka just asked me for a favor so she could show off to her friends that she came here with a superhero. If I'd known she was going to be this bad about it, I'd have canceled and taken you up on that hero work offer," I groused.

HIratsuka laughed at me without sympathy. "Good thing you didn't," she said, patting me on the shoulder. "That could have gotten awkward."

"I didn't expect you were talking about this event," I said, glancing at her out of the corner of my eye. An off-the-books mission, she's out of costume… "and you came alone," I murmured. "Are you here undercover?" I asked, leaning in to say it quietly in her ear without us being overheard.

Cyberpunch coughed suddenly in surprise, before looking over her shoulder, as if embarrassed at something I had said. Surreptitiously checking her surroundings? After a second, she turned back to me, her face a controlled mask. "...Yes," she said stiffly. "Wow, haha, didn't expect you to, uh, realize right away."

"I mean, Haruno's out in public, still injured, and Stain probably didn't write those love letters," I said matter-of-factly. "I figured you were either here watching her back, or it was something totally unrelated, but the first was more likely."

My mentor faked another cough, bringing her non-silver fist up to her mouth to hide her mouth. "She, uh, doesn't know that's what I'm here for," Cyberpunch said, her eyes darting around the room to monitor the situation even as she talked to me, "so keep it quiet. As far as anybody else is concerned, I'm just here to soak up some popularity after the Hosu attack."

"Got it," I said with determination. "So, what can I do to help?"

Again, Cyberpunch faked a cough. I'd have to ask her about that investigative technique later, was it just to prevent lip reading? Or maybe it was to remind herself not to raise her voice over the noise of the crowd? "... There's other people here from the Tragic Marker set," she said after a few seconds. "Can you help me keep an eye on them while I monitor Haruno?" She asked. "Get Manaka to bring you over to talk to them or something," she suggested.

"You can count on me," I told her, and marched off like a man on a mission… but not before stopping for provisions on the way.

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I managed to work my way back through the crowd to Manaka just in time for the lights to dim and for a self-important-looking old guy in a suit to come out and start making announcements about how it was almost time for the ceremonies to begin, so could we all please start to find our seats, et cetera. "Hey, uh, sorry about that," I said as I approached her.

"Oh, don't worry about it," Manaka said, tossing a victorious smirk towards the circle of her friends and acquaintances she was standing near. "It was important, right?"

"Definitely," I agreed - with only a little bit of guilt, since I hadn't known it was important before I left, but in retrospect it turned out I hadn't lied to her after all. "Oh, uh, I stopped by the buffet table on my way back," I said, juggling the decorative bamboo plates I was holding as best as I could. I'd done my best to grab a wide selection of whatever looked tastiest, and so far at least had kept myself from devouring it all before I even got back to the table. "Do you want something?"

Manaka looked from me to the plates with poorly concealed hunger, before shaking her head slowly. "I really shouldn't cheat my diet like that," she said reluctantly. "I have some carrots and celery in my purse I can snack on, I'll be okay."

I did a double take at the plates I was holding. Sure enough, practically everything I had grabbed was fried, barbecued, or otherwise full of delicious, delicious calories. "Sorry," I muttered, "I didn't realize, a few of my quirks take a lot of fuel." After a second of staring at the plates I was holding, I maneuvered a plate of shrimp in her direction. "These shouldn't be too bad," I offered; "shrimp are high protein and low calorie, and the sauce seems like it's pretty light."

Manaka let out a reluctant-sounding sigh, but the speed at which she reached out to take the plate from me made me think it wasn't entirely honest. "Okay, fine, I'll take it just so you don't feel guilty," she said, the corners of her eyes turning up with pleasure as she promptly popped a shrimp into her mouth.

"Thanks for your generosity," I said sarcastically. "So, where are we sitting? Should we find a spot over there by the other people from Tragic Marker?" I gestured with my chin towards a table where Director Konoe and Haruno could just be made out through the crowds.

"Hmph," Manaka pouted, her hamster-like cheeks bulging out momentarily as she filled them with air. "It's not like he gave us our tickets, so why should we go sit with him?" She complained. "Really, the Director is too stingy, he only bothered bringing along the leads. He didn't even invite Cain-sama!"

"He's probably still trying to keep up the marketing strategy of having an unknown actor as the villain," I said pragmatically. "Besides, Hiru-san didn't seem like he was particularly… uh, sociable? Even if he had been invited, he probably wouldn't have come."

Manaka looked scandalized by my statement, her brown eyes flying wide open. "That's not true at all!" She objected. "Cain-sama's just misunderstood, that's all! He's actually a super-duper nice person!"

"...Right," I said, dubious but not willing to argue. I'd gotten a killer vibe off of him, but maybe he was kinder to small animals or something. "Anyways, we should probably find a seat before they're all taken." I led the way, looking for a spot close enough to the Tragic Marker table that I could watch them from afar just in case, and at the same table as some of the random people Manaka had introduced me to so I could keep it from being completely obvious what I was doing. "Why don't we sit here?" I suggested, gesturing at a pair of empty seats next to the guy with one of the ridiculous gemstone names I had met earlier.

"Are these seats taken, Aqua-kun?" Manaka asked, and at the blonde, blue-eyed boy's shrug and headshake of negation we settled in. I brushed his shoulder as I sat down; surprisingly his quirk seemed like it was some kind of DNA analysis ability. It was probably too complicated for me to use, but I kept it just in case so I could fiddle around with it later. For a second I wondered why someone with such a practical quirk was taking up a career as an actor instead of a doctor or a lab tech, but then I took another look at his facial features and understood. Being a handsome bastard was its own kind of superpower, I supposed. As we settled into our seats, small talk erupted, names of production companies and actors and actresses and directors and productions washing over me and leaving me completely lost. I avoided participation in the conversation by the simple expedient of keeping my mouth obviously full of food as much as possible, and making noncommittal grunting noises at appropriate moments. I didn't have that much food, so I couldn't keep it up for long, but luckily for me the actual ceremonies started before I could embarrass myself trying to chat with a group of certified riajuu.

Frankly, the ceremony itself was boring, not that I was surprised. The format was sort of like a reverse auction; one after another, people representing charities that needed money would walk up on stage and present for a few minutes on what they needed money for and why they should be supported, while the people in the audience could write down pledges for how much they were going to donate. Presumably, the organizers of the event would collect the pledge slips later and tally everything up to announce a grand total of how much the event had raised, but I hadn't really planned on sticking around that long - although now that Cyberpunch needed my help, I guessed I was going to have to stay. One after another, people crossed the stage, begging for handouts from the rich and powerful. Wheedling strategies varied; some tugged on heartstrings pleading the righteousness of their cause, while the more capable presenters attempted to show that they were competent stewards and that the money would be well-spent. A few high rollers attempted to get the ball rolling by donating out of their own pockets, or promising to match donations, including the CEO of Detnerat who I had spoken to earlier.

And almost every. Single. One of them attempted to play the Hero card in some form or fashion. Victims were 'looking for heroes to save them.' Problems were 'problems Heroes couldn't solve.' Some charities had Hero spokespersons, and to my surprise I saw both Ingenium and Uwabami making pitches, one after another. Yotsubashi-san used my name to promote the Society for Meta Ability Awareness, and from the crowd's response probably got more of a reaction than he might have otherwise. It left a foul taste in my mouth - even at an event that was supposedly dedicated to people coming together and helping other people in need, it seemed like all of it was only possible with Heroes taking the lead and doing all the dirty work. Why it bothered me, I couldn't say. I was out of my element in this kind of high society soirée, so I couldn't tell if all these people were truly civic-minded people giving back to the community, or overly wealthy people flaunting their privilege and atoning for their guilt in a socially acceptable way. But if they really wanted to help their communities, why did they need a Hero to give them permission first?

As I was thinking that, a familiar figure got up on stage. Director Konoe grasped the microphone nervously, his stocky body stuffed into a tuxedo rather than his habitual jacket and sweater-vest. "Good evening, everyone," he said, smiling confidently out towards the crowd. "Don't worry - unlike most of the people who have stepped on stage tonight, I'm not here to ask you for money," he said with a wry twist of his lips, provoking polite laughter from the audience. "For those of you who don't know me, I am the head of Konoe Productions, currently in the middle of production on the movie Tragic Marker. Our production studio was among the locations attacked by the League of Villains earlier this week, and furthermore was the target of Stain's main attack. " A murmur of sympathy arose. "Thanks to the efforts of Campestris, Cyberpunch, and the students of U.A. interning with them, the League's intentions were foiled, and while production of Tragic Marker will inevitably be delayed for several weeks, our Villainy Insurance should cover our losses." Konoe-san paused for effect. "That's right. Despite being the epicenter of one of the most serious Villain attacks in the last decade, all we lost was a little bit of money and a little bit of time, rather than irreplaceable lives. Therefore, on behalf of the Tragic Marker crew, I would like to take a moment to give thanks. Campestris, Cyberpunch, Shoto, Inverna, and Myriad, thank you. To be frank, even with the aid of our insurance, completing Tragic Marker will be difficult now that so much has been damaged, so our ability to offer financial reward is low, but all of you will be properly acknowledged in the movie credits!"

Predictably, eyes turned in my direction, especially at the table I was at and the others nearby. I did my best not to cringe at the impressionable young actors and actresses applauding me fervently with stars in their eyes, none of whom realized that publicly thanking us probably hadn't been on Director Konoe's agenda at the start of the evening. If not for Cyberpunch arriving undercover and my having shown up with Manaka by coincidence, I had the sneaking suspicion that the Director's congratulations would have been much more precisely targeted at the starlet of his movie. I didn't particularly resent the Director for it; he was going to need all the help he could get to sell tickets to that shitty movie he was making. No, if anything I felt a surge of heroic pride - my showing up and disrupting his marketing plan would save the corneas and brain cells of moviegoers all over Japan!

Reinforced by that happy thought, I endured the embarrassment until the emcee of the event reappeared on stage and tapped the microphone for attention. "And with that, we conclude the presentation phase of the gala," he announced. "Thank you so much to everyone who took the time to come out and speak up for all of those wonderful causes. The night isn't over yet, though; for the rest of the evening, our charity coordinators will be making themselves available on the ballroom floor, ready to answer questions about their charities and accept donations. And of course, the proceeds for the sale of tonight's tickets will be donated to the Hosu Restoration Fund, so we hope that all of you will take the opportunity to eat, drink, dance, and be merry, with light hearts and clean consciences."

A clean conscience, huh? Yeah, right. It'd take way more than a secondhand charity event ticket for that to happen… if it ever did. As people began standing and preparing to mingle and hobnob with each other, I prepared to head for the Tragic Marker table, only to be intercepted by a tug on my elbow. "Come on, Hachi-kun!" Manaka said, her eyes shining with excitement. "Let's go dance!"

I frowned reflexively, ready to reject her, but as her face fell slightly I couldn't help but feel my heart soften. Damn it, even though I knew it was probably all an act, it turned out that I was weak against beautiful women gazing at me hopefully. "...For a little bit," I mumbled, looking away from the piercing stare of her puppy-dog eyes. "I can't do too much, I'm still recovering," I added as an excuse.

"O-oh, okay, right, no problem!" Manaka said. "Then, um, should we wait for a slow dance, maybe?"

For some reason my mind flashed back to Jawa Arcade where I waited for the flashing arrows to fly up the screen on the Hero Dance machine at insultingly slow rates, feeling completely useless compared to Bakugo and Ashido as they kept up with enough flashing arrows to trigger seizures in unwary bystanders. "No, I wouldn't want to make you wait," I said, only to be confused as for a split second she looked even more disappointed.

A split second later, though, and the smile was back on her face, so quickly I almost convinced myself I had been seeing things. "Then, let's go!" She said, and matching words to actions dragged me out into the crowd. At first I was afraid that nobody else would join in and that Manaka and I would be dancing all alone, but I failed to account for the fact that there were photographers inside the venue as well, which made venturing out onto the dance floor the surest way of possibly making it onto the pages of society gossip magazines - which explained why Manaka wanted to dance with me, anyways. It didn't take long, however, before my relief at other people joining us metamorphosed into a whole new type of nervousness.

As the music started in earnest and we started dancing, I came suddenly to a pair of realizations. First, Manaka was a pretty girl my age, and I was about to be dancing with her. My hand felt clammy with sweat as it wrapped around hers and raised it out to the side at roughly shoulder-height, and when I gingerly put my other arm around Manaka, the flesh of Manaka's back felt almost scorching hot underneath my palm. I didn't know where to look - meeting her eyes felt almost too intimate, while if I averted my gaze I couldn't help but notice the smooth expanse of her neck. As for my second realization… Swallowing hard to focus, I tugged gently on Manaka's waist and pulled her closer to me, then leaned forward and spoke quietly in her hamster-like ear. "So, this might be a bad time to mention this," I murmured, "but I don't actually know how to dance."

As my breath tickled her ear, Manaka flushed, and I felt a little shiver go down her back. "I, um -" she stammered for a second. "That, um, that's okay, we can just fake it. It's not like anybody's judging us on our dancing or anything, we're just here to have fun."

"Sorry," I said, awkwardly stepping around in sort of a circle to the time of the beat, trying to at least be on rhythm even if I had no idea what I was doing otherwise. "I know you wanted to show off and stuff tonight." Manaka winced as I put a foot wrong and caught her toes, but I managed to react hastily before I put my full weight down. "Sorry," I said again.

Manaka shook her head. "No, it's not like that at all," she protested, "just you being here is already more than enough. It's like I was telling my friend Rei - oh, that's Asagiri Rei, she's a singer, have you seen her perform? She has a Yaptube channel and…" Unfortunately, while Manaka kept talking, half of my brain was focused on listening to the music, another half was focussed on not stepping on Manaka's half, and a third half (listen, I never said I was any good at math) was still trying to keep an eye on the actors from Tragic Marker, so a lot of what Manaka was saying wound up going in one ear and out the other.

Still, when the music changed and Manaka asked if I wanted a break, I managed to catch enough of what she said that I replied with something other than an 'uh-huh' or an 'mmm.' "Yeah, sure," I said - truly, my skills at small talk and conversation were second to none. "What should we do next?" I asked. "Do you want to go say hi to the people from Tragic Marker?" I subtly suggested.

For some reason, Manaka didn't seem to like that suggestion; as she looked over in their direction in response to my words, I thought I saw a faint expression of distaste on her face. Almost as soon as I saw it, though, it immediately brightened, and she started tugging my hand. "I have a way better idea!" She said excitedly. "We should go say hi to Tsuruga Ren-senpai! I bet you could totally get his autograph!"

Ah, of course. Why would Manaka want to interact with her coworkers, when she has only limited opportunities to leverage my fame for fun and profit? For a second, probably due to the fact that I had been dancing with a pretty girl for the first time, I had forgotten the mercenary nature of this so-called date. Part of me wanted to refuse her just on principle, but … the other part of me wanted his autograph, and anyway he was standing closer to the Tragic Marker crowd than I was at the moment, so my expediency and greed promptly ganged up on my pride and self-respect and shoved them back into the box deep down in the dusty corner of my brain where I usually kept them. "You know what? Sure, let's go!" I said, only partially faking my good cheer.

Here's a question: how do you know when you've become famous? Is it when you show up on television briefly? When strangers on the train recognize you? When you make the news? When photographers take pictures of you just going about your business during your everyday life? Even when I saw camera flashes going off right next to me as Manaka and I circled the edge of the venue towards Tsuruga Ren, I initially assumed that they were taking pictures of someone behind me - at least, right until they called out. "Hey, Myriad! Where did you get the new costume? Did Cyberpunch buy it for you?"

That was a good question, but I don't think the answer 'I sure as fuck hope not' was really what they were looking for. I turned towards the photographer and angled my body so they could get a better look at the outfit. "One of my classmates at UA designed it," I called back, "Kawasaki Saki, from the Support department."

I kept going, happy to have been able to plug Kawasaki's name to the media and get a head start on repaying her for helping me at such short notice, but even then I didn't feel famous-famous. All of the attention I was getting was a clear flash in the pan, soon to die off whenever the next controversial topic came around. And then we walked up to Tsuruga Ren, the most famous up-and-coming actor in Japan, and he brightened and gave me his full attention. "Oh, you're Myriad!" He said, beaming at me with a thousand-watt, totally genuine smile. Frankly, it was absolutely devastating. It was like being beamed at by Totsuka, except if all of the youthful feminine charm was replaced by mature masculinity; I think Manaka actually swooned a little bit on my arm. "Or do you prefer Hikigaya-kun? I was hoping I would get to meet you tonight, you've done just fantastic work lately and I'm just, just, incredibly grateful for your efforts," he said. In other words, arguably the most famous non-hero in Japan knew my name, and had been looking forward to meeting me. That was the point that even I had to admit it - fame had happened to me, and I had no idea what to do about it.

As I panicked, Tsuruga's partner for the evening, Kyoko - the long-haired, mature-looking blonde beauty who I had recognized as his co-star from Dark Moon - approached me just as effusively. "And so am I," she said. "Just the thought of someone only a year or two younger than me doing something as dangerous as fighting those Nomu, or taking on Stain, with only the barest basics of hero training - even if they are a student at UA - that just, it takes real courage."

The mental damage I had taken while being thanked by Tsuruga Ren had been bad, but the damage Kyoko inflicted was even worse. Yes, I had been hanging out with a pretty girl all evening, and she had introduced me to her pretty friends, and I'd bumped into a pretty girl I knew from class along the way, but Manaka was cute, her friends were plastic and shallow, and Yukinoshita was a pain in the ass. Kyoko was Hollywood beautiful, the kind that actually took your breath away a little when you saw it. As she thanked me, I felt my face get hot with embarrassment, and I had to look away awkwardly. "I - uh - I didn't do much really," I stammered. "The media exaggerates all of that crap anyways. I was just in the wrong place at the right time."

"Don't be modest," Tsuruga Ren interjected. "I have a lot of contacts in the industry, and some of them saw what you did that day firsthand." So, in other words, Haruno had been gossiping about me? No, she didn't seem like the type to say anything nice about someone other than herself, so maybe it had been Director Konoe? He seemed like the type to exaggerate, anyway. "Maybe it seems like nothing special to a hero like you," Tsuruga continued, "but what you did that day meant a lot to a lot of people."

My stomach hurt. Trying to figure out how to respond to that level of misguided praise was making me feel literally, physically, ill. To change the subject, I managed to squeeze out a laugh. "Well, I loved you in Dark Moon," I lied, wishing I had seen it so I could say something more intelligent. "If you really want to thank me, do you think I could get an autograph?" Man, Komachi was going to flip when I got home. "From you too," I added to Kyoko as an afterthought.

"Eh?" She said, suddenly shocked. "Oh my gosh, I've never actually had someone ask me for my autograph before! Of course, absolutely!" She reached out and tugged on Tsuruga's sleeve. "You'll sign too, right?"

"Of course," Tsuruga said, smiling down at her affectionately. My eyebrows raised, just a fraction. Something in his face told me that he hadn't come to this ball with Kyoko just because he was 'escorting an actress from his agency.'

"Oh! Me too!" Manaka piped up, having already pulled out a pen and a pink notepad. "Do you have paper with you Hachi-kun?" She asked, leaning into me in a pointed display of affection. "I can lend you some if you need it!"

I nodded and pulled out my investigation notebook. "It's basically required hero gear, at least according to Cyberpunch," I said. "I've been carrying it ever since my internship started."

As I handed my notebook to Kyoko, her face screwed up in concentration as she wrote. It made her look much younger, more like a girl one or two years older than me, instead of a sophisticated woman in her twenties like I had originally assumed from her outfit. "Oh, I hope this is okay," she fretted, and turned it slightly so that Tsuruga could see it. "Does it look weird?" When he shook his head, she turned and handed it over to him, exchanging it with Manaka's notebook, which he had just finished signing. "I knew I should have practiced my signature ahead of time," Kyoko continued.

"Oh, that's a good idea," I said, watching the whole process in bemusement. "It just occurred to me. I'm probably going to be signing these a lot more often myself." And wasn't that a horrific thought.

"Eh? You haven't signed any either?" Kyoko asked in surprise. "Wow, now I don't feel so bad. Then, can you sign one for me too?"

"Wait!" Manaka shouted in shock. "No way! If anybody's going to be Hachi-kun's first, it's going to be me!"

I coughed involuntarily. Oi, be more conscious of your phrasing! To cover my reaction, I reached out towards the pink notebook in Kyoko's hand. "I mean, I already signed one for a friend from school," I said, using the pure image of Totsuka's happy gaze to chase away the lewd thoughts suddenly springing up in my mind. "And for my family. But I haven't done it on a large -"

Out of habit, when I took the notebook from Kyoko, I reached just a little bit too far, enough that I could brush my fingertips against her hand.

I already had her quirk.

Goosebumps went up the back of my neck, my eyes widened, and I actually dropped Manaka's notebook out of sheer shock, because the quirk I had wasn't something I'd picked up from a random commuter on the train, it was the ability to compress strong emotions into semi-autonomous telekinetic sprites. In other words, it was Setsuna Cain's quirk. "Excuse me," I muttered, and bent down to pick up the notebook, then in one smooth motion poked Tsuruga Ren's shoe while it was in reach - or should I say, Hiru Cain's shoe.

Numbly, I signed Manaka's notepad, but I couldn't help but stare back and forth at the two actors. Were they actually siblings? What had they been doing on the Tragic Marker set under false identities? And why the hell would the most famous young actor in Japan and his up-and-coming junior throw their careers away on a project as doomed to fail as this one was? As I stared, Tsuruga and Kyoko exchanged a significant glance; Kyoko with a face full of vague panic, while Tsuruga had a wry smile. After a second, Kyoko seemed to stand up straighter, then looked me in the eye. "Um, excuse me, Myriad… would it be alright if I asked you for a dance?"

"Hachi-kun's too tired," Manaka started to say with a little bit of self-satisfaction, but I raised one hand to contradict her.

"You know what, Kyoko-san?" I said, a smug smirk starting to steal over my face. "I'd love to."

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"How did you find out?" Kyoko asked, once the two of us had danced safely out of earshot of Manaka.

I wasn't about to share the full details of my quirk with a suspect, so I just smiled mysteriously. "I've copied a lot of quirks," I said vaguely. "So, do you prefer Kyoko? Or Setsuna?"

She flushed slightly. "Kyoko," she said, "it's my real name, even. I just write it with different kanji for work."

I hummed in acknowledgement. "So, I'm guessing you already know what I want to ask," I said, staring her directly in the eyes, willing her to answer. "Why were you working undercover?" I asked as we twirled around the dance floor, doing our best to stay around the fringes of the event where we would be less likely to be overheard.

To her credit, she admitted it right away. "It was Director Konoe's idea," Kyoko said. "He asked Tsuruga-san to play someone scary off-screen, as well as on, to help make the rest of the cast's reactions to him more realistic. Especially with Yukinoshita-san being a new actress, he wanted to make sure she reacted appropriately."

So in other words, all of the disguises and sneaking around were just because Haruno was too much of an amateur to be trusted? I could buy it. "That explains why the director hired you too, then," I muttered as I came to a sudden realization. "Your quirk is perfect for spoofing Cyberpunch's psychometry!" I exclaimed quietly, my feet stopping their motion as the thought hit me. "All you have to do is shove a whole bunch of different negative emotions in one of your little sprite things, and then the telepathic residue it leaves behind when it touches things like the fake love letter left behind in Haruno's dressing room will make it feel to Cyberpunch's senses like it came from a crazy person!"

"Um…" Kyoko stammered, her eyes wide, "I don't think the Director even knows my quirk. I went in disguise too because Tsuruga-san needs a manager or he forgets to eat, and his usual manager is too recognizable." She shook her head. "Besides, when they found the first letter in Yukinoshita-san's dressing room, Director Konoe came in to Tsuruga-san's dressing room while I was there and asked Tsuruga-san if he had done it as part of his job to keep the crew scared of him, and then he seemed really concerned when Tsuruga-san said no." Gently, she tugged my hand, pulling us out of the way of another pair of dancers and back into the flow of things.

My face heated up. "Oh," I said, feeling embarrassed. That would teach me to leap to conclusions. It had seemed like such an obvious idea, too…

"I mean, I do shove my negative emotions into my fairies like you said," Kyoko admitted, "but that's just because it's way more convenient than having to deal with them all the time."

For a second, my mind flashed back to Cyberpunch's face of panic as she felt the love letter. What was it she had said? 'Frustration, jealousy, injured pride, admiration, infatuation…' "What about your positive emotions?" I asked, a thought niggling at my brain. "Do you put those into your, uh, fairies too?"

Kyoko blushed, serious embarrassment showing up on her face. "I, um…" She said awkwardly. "I mean, sometimes there are positive emotions that I can't let myself feel, but those fairies, um… I keep them separate from the rest. And I don't, um, let them out or use them for anything." My eyes flickered between Kyoko and Tsuruga Ren. She must have seen it, because her blush glowed like a campfire. "Anyway!" She shouted, half-panicked. "Since you know, now - thank you so much for saving me! I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't pushed me out of the way! And, Tsuruga-san wanted to convey his thanks as well, for getting him and everyone else out of there. Tragic Marker is an important project to him, I think."

The discomfort I felt at being so directly praised evaporated as I heard that ludicrous statement. Why couldn't anyone else see that this movie was going to be terrible? Be that as it may, the absurdity allowed me to catch my bearings and figure out what I wanted to say in reply. Idly, I hoped that at some point U.A.'s curriculum would actually cover what Heroes were supposed to do in situations like this! "I didn't save either of you because I wanted anything from you," I said baldly, "but if you wanted to repay me, I'm sure endorsements from several extremely famous and successful actors when I finally go pro wouldn't go amiss." Wait, I was probably supposed to say something like 'it was my pleasure', wasn't I? Shit.

Luckily, Kyoko's reaction to my crudely mercenary request was what looked like a relieved smile, rather than the disgust it probably deserved. "I'll let Tsuruga-kun know," she said lightly. "I'm sure he'll be glad to help out. I don't think I'll be of quite as much help, myself."

Hah. Like I'd let you escape? Like hell! I'm milking this for all it's worth! "Well, I won't be debuting for another couple years," I said. "Who knows what will change between now and then?"

Kyoko's sudden smile was blinding in its intensity. "Right!" She said cheerfully. "In that case, by the time you become a Pro Hero, I'll be so famous my endorsement sends you straight to the top!"

Huh, I guess that probably did come across as encouragement, didn't it? Ah well, as long as she's happy with it. As the song ended, I stepped back from Kyoko, looking at her evaluatingly. Actress or no, she spoke with a sincerity that seemed hard to fake, and the look of incomprehension in her eyes when I started talking about Cyberpunch definitely had seemed real. But that love letter had been left by somebody, and if Kyoko had somehow tainted the telepathic impressions on it, that meant the fact that Cyberpunch hadn't read anything similar off of Tragic Marker's actors didn't necessarily exclude them from the list of potential culprits. But how could that have happened? "So, just out of curiosity," I said, looking her straight in the eyes, "how often do you use your 'fairies' for mundane chores? Picking things up, carrying them, that sort of thing?"

"Not that often," Kyoko said, "except at home. Public quirk use is bad, you know? Oh, but I used them a lot when I was playing Setsuna, they really suited her character setting." Carefully, she held her hand out in front of her, allowing a wicked-looking, yet somehow cute, devil-sprite to come into being perched atop her open palm. "It was kind of nice to have an excuse to let them out, actually, if I don't they tend to … build up."

"I see," I said, a surge of hope beating in my chest. "Did people ask about your sprites, on set? Did you let people know what they were?"

The elegant actress frowned, tilting her head to one side and putting her finger to the side of her pursed lips. "I vaguely recall people asking, but Setsuna is supposed to be pretty standoffish, so I don't think I explained in much detail, but I suppose I could have? Why are you asking?"

"Just a theory," I said distractedly, my mind racing. So, it was possible. Take a fake love letter, adulter it with a sprite full of negative emotions, and presto - instant death threat. Let's assume that Kyoko was telling the truth, and she hadn't contrived the love letter herself, nor was she involved in someone else's scheme. That didn't rule out someone else having faked that letter using her as an unwitting tool. I could have done it, for instance - drop a piece of paper, have her pick it up for me, then use the now-tainted paper to write the letter. But there was no reason to do something like that unless you not only knew exactly how Cyberpunch's quirk worked - information not publicly available on her Hero Profile - and could be sure that she would be the investigator that got called in.

In other words, I needed to speak to Yukinoshita Haruno.

After making a few repeated promises that I wouldn't reveal either her secret or Tsuruga Ren's, I managed to disentangle myself from Kyoko and made a beeline towards the older Yukinoshita sister. Even in the crowded ballroom full of dazzling celebrities and would-be debutantes, Haruno stood out. Somehow, despite the fact that Todoroki, Yukino and I had done all the work, both the media and the numerous socialites hanging around the event were hovering around Campestris, 'the Heroine of Hosu,' like flies surrounding rotten meat. It only made sense; the powers that be had a vested interest in not encouraging impressionable teenagers and would-be vigilantes to go fight supervillains, so the official story was always going to do their best to imply that a Pro Hero was the one who had done the bulk of the work, and circumstances aligned such that Haruno was their only possible option. Meanwhile, not only were Yukino and Todoroki interning with the beneficiary of the Hero Commission's largesse, but they were her family members; they had a vested interest in not contradicting the official story. Personally, I didn't care much about not getting full credit for Stain's takedown; I'd been absurdly lucky, relied heavily on Yukino and Todoroki, and was mildly allergic to fame and public attention. I just wished the acclaim I was abandoning had found its way to a worthier target, especially if my suspicions turned out to be true.

I stepped forward, trying to approach Haruno, but found my path intercepted by her younger sister. "You know, Hikigaya, for a while now I've been wondering why you were so interested in being a hero," Yukino said archly. "Who knew you were the sort of man to chase after groupies?"

My jaw dropped at the unfair accusation. "Groupies? Me? Are you serious?"

Yukino brushed one hand through her hair, tossing it behind her dramatically. "If you're trying to claim that Manaka's affection for you is genuine, rather than the star-struck adoration of an impressionable idiot, do recall that I've actually met her and worked with her for most of a week. Trust me, she has all the emotional depth of a puddle in the middle of a sunny day."

Given that Yukino thought Tsuruga Ren was a barely restrained psychopath, thought Kyoko was an edgy bro-con punk rather than an aspiring actress, and thought that I was an actual hero, I took her comments in the spirit that they were intended. Specifically, petty judgmentalism. "She's a mercenary careerist with all the warmth and empathy of your sister," I half-disagreed, not attempting to defend Manaka but not agreeing with Yukino either. "Not to denigrate your entire half-week of hard-earned experience, but - and this may come as a shock to you - but the young actress' boy-crazy persona is, in fact, an act."

Yukino looked vaguely discomfited by this revelation, but did her best to hide it. "Is that so? Forgive me for remaining skeptical, but I imagine it would take an incredible amount of naïvité to assume that you, Hikigaya Hachiman, would be a socially acceptable plus one in any sort of circumstance."

"Ah! Hikigaya-kun! I was hoping I would see you here tonight!" The overly friendly voice of Yukinoshita Haruno rang out as all of a sudden I found myself enveloped in an overly familiar hug from Yukino's older, and, uh, more developed sister. "Come on, dance with me, I insist."

"If you're sure it's socially acceptable for you to be seen with me," I snarked, smirking victoriously at Yukino. "I would hate for someone to call you naive."

Out of habit, I almost stuck around to hear Yukino's response, but Haruno was a trained Pro Hero who made grappling a significant part of her arsenal; I had barely enough time to see the indignation on Yukino's face before her sister dragged me on to the dance floor. Looking up demurely through thick violet eyelashes, Haruno clicked her tongue at me in disapproval. "It's very unkind of you to keep a lady waiting, Hikigaya-kun," she purred. "I thought I'd never get a chance to make sure the press got a picture of us together."

A few months ago ago, an innuendo-laced statement coming from a woman like that would have devolved me into a blushing, stuttering mess. The sheer novelty of talking to a girl would have discombobulated me by itself, never mind the vaguely flirtatious tone that Haruno affected. So the fact that I only vaguely blushed and turned my head to the side in response to Haruno's approach? It might not look like much, but it was progress. "I'm surprised you were interested in something like that," I said, doing my best to sound bored, rather than flustered. "The Hero Commission is already giving you the majority of the credit for taking down Stain," I said. "Wouldn't it be better for your notoriety if you did your best to keep the three of us interns who rescued you out of the spotlight?"

"I'm hurt! I would never do something like that," Haruno said with an aggrieved pout, before her face smoothed into a much more smug expression. "Because it never would have worked. Sure, it would have been easy to arrange for Yukino to stay quiet, and you don't have the kind of influence yet to shift a media narrative like that, but Shoto-kun?" she said, glancing meaningfully in Todoroki's direction as he awkwardly stood around doing his best to interact with the members of the film crew. "Uncle Enji would never stand for Shoto-kun getting any less than his 'full due'."

I rolled my eyes at her. "Well, not that I'm ungrateful for receiving the credit - wait, actually, I am, it's a pain in the ass and I wish you'd taken it all," I said deadpan, earning a giggle from Haruno in response, "but I've actually been meaning to ask you something."

Haruno took in my serious face and batted her long violet eyelashes at me prettily. "I'm sorry, Hikigaya-kun, but I'm not really ready for a relationship right now," she said with laughter in her voice.

For once in my life, the fact that I had been rejected so many times actually came in handy. Rather than sputtering at her insinuation or being crushed by rejection, I just rolled my eyes even harder. "Wrong," I said dully. "I wanted to ask - what made you call Cyberpunch to help you, the other day?"

Haruno tilted her head slightly, the playful grin she had been wearing slowly shifting into a mysterious smile. "Is there something strange about my calling in backup, when a killer like Stain was on the loose?"

"Maybe I have the wrong impression of you, but if you'd actually thought that letter was from Stain? There's no way you would have called someone else in to share the credit," I said bluntly. "And if you had, it would have been someone you disliked less than Cyberpunch."

"Who says I don't like Cyberpunch?" Haruno replied, a look of surprise crossing her face. "I like to bicker with Shizuka-sensei, because it's fun, but that doesn't mean I don't like her or respect her as a hero."

Huh, apparently the Yukinoshita contrariness is genetic… or maybe Haruno was just putting on an act for the sake of eavesdroppers. "Alright, fine. But still, if you had really wanted backup, I can't help but think you would have pulled in someone marketable like Ingenium than a nearly underground hero like Cyberpunch."

Haruno hummed thoughtfully. "Well, there are disadvantages to teaming up with more famous heroes, too. Team up with someone like Uncle Enji or All Might, and unless you're in the Top Ten yourself, most people will assume they did the majority of the work." She shrugged, the motion doing interesting things to her decolletage, and gave me a sly smile. "You're right, though. I did have an ulterior motive." Haruno paused for effect. My heart raced. This was it! I'd solved the case, and even though it had turned out to be a prank played by Haruno, just the fact that I'd figured it out would impress Cyber- "I was really hoping Shizuka-sensei would bring Meguri-chan with her," Haruno admitted, derailing my train of thought entirely.

My jaw dropped slightly. "Shiromeguri-senpai?" I said numbly.

"Yeah, Shizuka and I have been fighting over who's going to get her after graduation. Meguri's talents would be wasted at a tiny agency like that, so I was planning on showing her what she was missing out on." Seeing my dumbstruck appearance, Haruno snickered. "What, don't tell me you thought it was because of you? I mean, no offense, I did think you had potential, I made you an offer after all, but before Wednesday there's no way I would have gone to that kind of trouble over you." Was that a backhanded compliment or an insult? I couldn't tell. "Besides, I'm pretty sure you can't read peoples' fingerprints from across the room like Meguri-chan can."

I shook my head in denial. "That wasn't what I was thinking at all!" I yelped, then cringed as a few couples dancing nearby cast curious glances in our direction. I waited a few seconds for them to lose interest, then in a much lower voice, I said, "I thought the letters were some kind of publicity stunt you worked up together with Director Konoe."

Surprised laughter rang out as Haruno stared at me with amusement and pity. "Wait, let me get this straight," Haruno said in disbelief. "You think I. Would try to get publicity. By trying to fool a woman who I know to be a trained detective. That reads minds."

I flinched under the withering sarcasm, but pressed forward gamely. "You know how her quirk works, because you interned with her. In fact, you're one of the only people on that set who could have come up with a method to fake evidence that would fool her senses. All you needed was someone else with a telepathic quirk who could implant emotions onto a piece of paper that didn't belong there. And it just so happened that there was someone like that on set."

"There was?" Haruno said, seemingly confused. "Wait, who…?" She shook her head, as if to clear it. "Well, anyway. I'm curious as to how you came to that conclusion, but it doesn't actually matter. Even if I could have figured out a way to come up with a fake stalker letter that would fool Shizuka, the second she touched me, or the Director, or whoever I got to help me fake it, the game would have been over." Suddenly, she affixed me with a steely stare. "And it doesn't matter, because Stain left that letter."

"Did he?" I asked, meeting her eyes challengingly.

"Stain had fans. Followers. People who thought murdering heroes was somehow justfied," Haruno said seriously. "Ever since that letter came out and revealed that Stain's so-called manifesto was just a cover for sexual perversion, that support has declined by significant margins."

"That's a very… pragmatic approach to the truth," I said, trying not to show my distaste.

I must have been unsuccessful, because Haruno smirked. "I didn't take you for an idealist, Hikigaya-kun."

"The hell I am," I said reflexively. "I'm about as far from an idealist as you can get."

Haruno laughed. "Then, what's wrong with how things ended up? As long as Stain is the one who left that letter, social malcontents are denied their antihero, I'm a strong woman who turned the tables on a serial assaulter instead of a 'false hero' that was rescued by UA students, Tragic Marker gets tons of free publicity… everyone wins."

Except for the people who get tricked into watching the movie by media hype, I snarked to myself, but let's be real. Anyone dumb enough to get bilked into paying for movie tickets to a trainwreck deserves what they get. No, that wasn't the source of my objection in the slightest. What, exactly, did I have against this ending? "What's wrong is…" I sighed in sudden realization. "What's wrong is that I don't know who did it," I admitted.

"Like I said," Haruno said brightly, "it was Stain." She released my outstretched hand and stepped in a pivot so that suddenly both of us were facing a photographer. The camera flashed, and as I blinked the afterimage out of my eyes, she stepped away. "Thank you for the dance, Hikigaya-kun," she said, a teasing lilt to her voice. "It was more fun than I expected."

She knew something. She knew something, the witch! I almost stepped after her to follow her, reaching out to try and grab her by the hand to pull her back, but the path between us was interrupted by a waltzing couple. I dropped my hand in defeat. I was missing something important, I could feel it - the fact that Kyoko was on set and capable of generating false psychic impressions, the fact that Haruno was unconcerned about who really sent the letter, it was all connected somehow, but the closer I got to figuring it out the less certain of things I got. Was Haruno lying? She could be defending her reputation in public, unwilling to admit the truth where a passing journalist might be able to overhear her. Or maybe she wasn't involved at all, and Director Konoe had arranged things secretly with Tsuruga Ren and Kyoko; it didn't seem to make sense that Kyoko would continue to lie about that after I exposed the truth about Setsuna Heel, but it was always possible… Maybe it didn't matter if I figured this out. Even if I learned the truth, letting Stain take the fall for the letter was probably still the best solution in the long run. Or was it? I wasn't the only person still interested in this case after everything was supposedly all said and done. There was at least one more person here who wanted to know the truth.

I had to talk to Cyberpunch. Luckily, my mentor wasn't far away; my dance with Haruno had ended fairly close to where she stood. At the moment, she was talking with a tall, good-looking man in familiar-looking silver-white armor and an attractive blonde woman in an evening dress with snakes in her hair, Pro Heroes Ingenium and Uwabami. Even if I hadn't already known who Ingenium was, the armor and the facial features I could see thanks to the fact he wasn't wearing his helmet would both have been enough to identify him as Iida Tenya's relative, but unlike Iida he seemed to have a more laid-back personality, judging by the fact that he wasn't awkwardly karate-chopping the air while he talked to Cyberpunch. I didn't see Iida nearby; a quick glance around discovered him dancing with the orange-haired girl from class 1-B he had been sitting with earlier. Just as well; it was probably rude of me not to go say hi to my classmate, but it wasn't like Iida and I were friends, and I'd had more than enough awkward conversations so far tonight already. With my social obligations justifiably avoided, I stepped up to the trio of Pro Heroes, nodding politely to the ones I wasn't well acquainted with. "Sorry to interrupt," I said, "but do you mind if I steal Cyberpunch for a dance?"

Uwabami's eyes widened in slight surprise as I interrupted, but she quickly gave me a polished, professional smile. "Why, of course not!" She said, "In fact, I was just thinking about getting back onto the dance floor myself. You'll join me, of course, right Tensei?"

Ingenium swiveled back and forth between Cyberpunch and Uwabami, waiting just a fraction of a second too long before replying. Wait, had I interrupted something? Come on, there's no way that Pro Heroes would be engaging in the kind of 'which one of the two of us will you choose' bullshit you'd see in a highschool rom-com, right? I had to be imagining things. "Sure, why not," Ingenium said casually, nodding at me as he did so. "It looks like the young man here has something important to discuss with Shizuka. You're Hikigaya, right?" He asked. "I've heard good things about you from Tenya."

Silently, I retracted half of the bad things I'd ever thought about Iida. "That's me," I said awkwardly. "Uh, nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, and good work out there this week," he said, extending a hand to shake mine. "Feel free to come back after you're done talking with Shizuka, I'd love to get to know you a little better."

"I, uh, thanks," I stammered, slightly star-struck despite myself. As he and Uwabami left, I turned towards Cyberpunch, only to see a complex expression on her face.

"So, did you actually want to dance with me?" She said, folding her arms across her chest. "Or did you just need to talk to me?"

I paused. Technically, I was only here because I had some questions for her. But something about the way her metal finger was tapping repeatedly on her bicep, and the hint of tension in her jaw, had the hair raising on the back of my neck. My mind raced. There was no way my earlier theory was accurate - but if it had been, and I had accidentally given my teacher's romantic rival a boost, then answering the question honestly would be a terrible idea. And it wasn't like talking on the dance floor hadn't worked out the first few times. Now that I'd gotten a couple of dances in, I was even more or less able to avoid tripping over my partner's feet - as long as I used Shiromeguri-senpai's quirk to pay attention to where they were, anyways. "Both," I answered. "I mean, I do have something to talk about, but if it's all the same to you, I'd rather dance while we do it?"

Cyberpunch's expression softened, and she actually blushed a little before shaking her head and extending a gloved hand to me. "Sure, kid. Let's dance." The music shifted to a slower, more romantic number as we walked out onto the dance floor, which was both good and bad - on the one hand, I was getting better at the whole dancing thing, but I had a lot to discuss with Cyberpunch, and anything that made it easier not to step on her feet was fine by me. On the other hand, slow dancing with an attractive woman was distracting, even despite the fact that she was twice my age. For the first few seconds, I couldn't help but stare at my mentor's face in a desperate effort to avoid looking elsewhere, but even that was only mildly less dangerous. Makeup and jewelry had softened the angular, no-nonsense lines of Cyberpunch's face, so much so that it was hard to reconcile her with the mirrorshaded hero I had spent the past week working for. Then she cleared her throat, and the faint roughness to her voice snapped me back to reality. "So, what's so important that you had to talk to me about?" She asked.

I filled her in, occasionally leaning in close and whispering into her ear to avoid being overheard by nearby dancers when it came to subjects like Tsuruga Ren and Kyoko, but otherwise told her everything. By the time I finished, she seemed almost bemused at the sheer volume of information I had collected. "At this point, I'm at a dead end," I finished. "It's clear something is going on, and somebody must be lying, but I really can't tell whether the director hired Cain and Setsuna to fake the stalker letter, or whether Haruno set it up herself, or if there was maybe someone else on the set who knew enough about how your quirk worked to pull it off… and at this point, I don't even know if it matters. I mean, if the current outcome really is discrediting Stain, isn't that more important than figuring out who really sent it?"

Cyberpunch smiled at me fondly, but it felt like a teacher's smile, rather than one filled with pity or mockery. "My rule of thumb, as a hero and a detective, is that a secret only matters if someone is going to be hurt by it staying secret. Is there anyone who would be hurt by not figuring out who really sent that letter?"

I exhaled through my nose in amusement. "Stain, but I don't think we care about him, right?"

"What if the note had been sent to Haruno by a disturbed fan, like we originally assumed?" Cyberpunch countered, and my eyes opened wide in realization.

"Wait, yeah, that'd be dangerous." I said, stunned at the sudden realization. "I can't believe I forgot that was still a possibility. As soon as I figured out how Setsuna's quirk would interact with yours, I guess I just dismissed it as an option."

Cyberpunch chuckled. "I don't blame you, because it's an important puzzle piece. If not for you figuring that out, I would be a lot more concerned about Haruno."

I tilted my head quizzically. "How so?"

"Here's the thing," she said. "I'm not surprised at you for not knowing this, because it's the sort of thing that trips up the majority of novice investigation heroes and police detectives. But the fact is, nine times out of ten, most mysteries… aren't." I blinked in surprise. "Nine times out of ten, the culprit of a murder is whoever was married to the woman the deceased was sleeping with, the person behind the theft is whoever worked for the store and had gambling debts, and so on. But simple stories don't make for good television, so…"

"So, complicated scenarios where mysterious plotters manipulate detectives from behind the scenes aren't exactly realistic," I groaned.

"It's not, um, completely unknown," Cyberpunch offered, doing her best not to smirk at my expense, "but… no, not particularly. Usually I try not to jump to really, hmmm, complicated solutions to problems unless I've eliminated all the simple solutions first."

I turned my head away from her in defeat, unable to make eye contact due to my embarrassment. "So what simple solutions am I overlooking?" I grumbled.

Cyberpunch cleared her throat. "So, let's take a step back and look at the problem. Campestris received a threatening letter that had telepathic residue on it as if it came from a crazy stalker, but when we investigated the other actors who had immediate access to her dressing room, none of them had psychological profiles or emotional resonances that matched that residue. That suggested a break-in, and we actually found signs of a break-in, with even more dangerous psychic residue on all of the broken locks - specifically the locks on the back door and the medical office. Soon after, Stain attacked and tried to murder Haruno. One simple solution, and the one that the police investigators decided to go with, is that it was all committed by Stain."

"But neither of us believes that," I pointed out. "What's the second simple solution?"

"The emotions on both the back door and the medical office were different from the ones on the love letter," Cyberpunch pointed out. "And while breaking in to leave a threatening letter is out of character for Stain, breaking in to gain access to Haruno's medical files isn't."

"Because his quirk works differently on people with different blood types, right," I agreed. "So if we eliminate the broken locks as red herrings, that means the letter was mostly likely left by someone with access to the area after all," I said, "and given potential interference from Setsuna's quirk, the people who we thought were ruled out because of not being crazy are actually still potential culprits. So, then, the simple solution is… it was just a prank after all?" I asked, slightly disappointed.

Cyberpunch shook her head. "From what you told me of your conversation with her, Setsuna could have faked the jealousy, injured pride, and frustration - but how would she have faked the admiration and infatuation? Didn't it sound like she was specifically keeping any, uh, romantic feelings separate from the rest?"

"I mean, yeah, but…" My eyes bulged as I followed that thought to its ultimate conclusion. "You're saying you think… that… threat… was actually a love letter?" I said with a strangled voice, barely able to contain myself from yelling.

"Leaving extremely poorly thought-out love letters in someone else's room isn't - well, no, it's probably a crime of one kind or another," my mentor said with a moue of distaste, "not to mention incredibly creepy, but it's not exactly a threat to Haruno's safety. And given that the last set of letters were publicly mistaken by the police and are being spread all across the media as death threats, I somehow doubt the culprit will be inclined to send any more."

"That's -" I shook my head in utter disbelief. "That can't possibly be what happened. There's got to be more to it than that." I refused to believe that someone could send a letter that cringe and think it was a good idea! Especially more than once, and leaving it anonymously inside Haruno's locked dressing room! Okay, I mean, some people thought the 'mysterious admirer' shtick was a good idea, and if you looked at the letter in the right way it almost sounded romantic, but…

Suddenly, I heard a nasal voice shouting, close by. "Cyberpunch! Casanova! Any comment on the rumors of you being in a mentor-student relationship?" Shocked, I turned towards the voice, only to be blinded by the glare of a close-up camera flash.

"Agh! What?" I stammered, putting my hand over my face to try and protect my vision. I blinked several times, my vision eventually clearing in time to see a greasy-looking man in a cheap suit slipping away through the crowd.

"Ugh. Who let the paparazzi in?" Cyberpunch growled, stepping away from our dance and cracking her knuckles ominously. "Excuse me for a moment, Hikigaya. I'm going to go have some words with that gentleman. And maybe the security detail who let him get in here," she growled. Without waiting for my response, she stormed off in hot pursuit, leaving me reeling from the revelations - not to mention the photographer's accusations.

Yet somehow I didn't mind the interruption. If Cyberpunch was right, this whole affair was one giant example of extremely poorly timed romantic cringe. And if there was anyone at this party with the expertise to handle utterly horrific attempts at love confessions, I hated to say it, but it was probably me… a fact which, as I walked towards the small knot of people from the Tragic Marker set, wound up rearing its ugly head a little earlier than I had expected.

"There you are, Hachi-kun," Manaka pouted, breaking away from the Tragic Marker folks slightly as she saw me coming. "What happened to you being 'still in recovery'?"

"Sorry, what?" I blurted. My brain, which had been going a mile a minute trying to decide just who best fit the profile of the letter's author, suddenly found all of its trains of thought completely derailed. Of course, being mine, said trains of thought were probably transporting toxic waste that was now spilling out of the cargo units and contaminating the nearby countryside. "In recovery?" I repeated, momentarily lost.

If anything, Manaka frowned harder, her arms crossing in front of her in disapproval. "You know, the reason you said you couldn't do too much dancing," she said sarcastically. "I guess I shouldn't be too surprised you don't remember, because apparently that was just an excuse?"

At another time, in another situation, I might have responded a little more wisely. If I hadn't been preoccupied with solving the mystery right in front of me, I might have even put a little bit of thought into my response. Instead, I rolled my eyes and said, "what do you care?"

It generally isn't considered polite to point out other people's heteromorphic traits… but by the way Manaka's hair suddenly poofed out, and her jaw trembled for a second in a rodent-like fashion before she got it under control, I could tell she was legitimately upset. "Hmm, I don't know, let me think," Manaka said sarcastically. "Why would I care if my date for the evening is spending the whole night ignoring me and dancing with other women? Or if he lied to me in the first place? Hmm. I wonder."

Briefly, I considered trying to explain the fact that Cyberpunch had asked me for help with her investigation; that I had been busy trying to figure out who Stain had inadvertently taken the fall for. But given that Manaka had managed to turn a momentary slip of the tongue on my part into a way to blackmail me into this whole event in the first place, I was just a little leery of blurting out more secrets where anyone could hear. Instead I just shrugged uncomfortably. "I mean, it's not like this was a real date or anything," I said. "I mean, a couple of people did take pictures of me dancing with other people, but I don't think that's really going to mess up your PR strategy or anything."

"You think I'm worried about… about PR?" Manaka said, her eyes starting to mist up slightly with unshed tears.

"I mean… that was why you invited me, right?" I said, a sinking pit in my stomach doing its best to tell me that I was saying something incredibly stupid even as I said it. "Because your agent was yelling at you to do stuff to get yourself in the papers?"

Manaka's jaw firmed. "You know what?" She said, a dangerous edge entering her voice. "You're right, he did."

All of a sudden, the side of my face erupted in blinding pain as Manaka slapped me out of nowhere. The loud clap of flesh against flesh was like a thunderclap in my ear, and must have been loud enough to be heard over the nearby music because as my hearing came back I heard murmurs and whispers slowly rising from the crowds nearby. In disbelief, I brought my hand up to my cheek, feeling it practically glowing red with heat. "...ow." I said, stunned.

"Jerk!" Manaka yelled, her voice pitched to carry above the noise of the party. To my dismay, I saw cameras start to flash. Manaka turned on her heel and stomped away, while I just stood there, staring in disbelief.

By the time my conscious thoughts caught up to what the hell had just happened, I found myself sitting down at a nearby table, my right hand held up to my face with Todoroki's quirk active to cool down the tender flesh. Suddenly, I found an arm being draped across my back as someone sat down next to me. "Women, right?" A masculine voice said commiseratingly. "You know, I used to think that I didn't understand them because I went to an all-boys' high school, but I've been in the acting industry for a whole year now, and you know what? At this point I'm pretty sure they're all just crazy."

I turned my head and looked up into the face of Murasame Taira, co-star of Tragic Marker. His breath stank of booze, and his eyes were slightly glassy. I shifted away awkwardly, trying to disentangle myself from him without seeming too rude. "Maybe it's just actresses?" I suggested. "Most of the girls at UA seem pretty nice."

Murasame laughed, slapping me on the back, hard enough that I winced. "You'd think so, wouldn't you! Man, you'd think hero chicks would be less crazy than normal girls, but women are women everywhere!"

One of my eyebrows rose at the casual misogyny, but I held my tongue for the moment. "Have a lot of experience with crazy women, do you?"

With a wink, Murasame said "of course, man, of course. Don't you know? I'm a regular ladies' man! That makes two of us, am I right? Getting slapped every once in a while, it's just part of the price to play the game, you know?"

I rolled my eyes, but as I did a certain suspicion crystallized into certainty. "Maybe you're right," I lied. "I mean, it could be worse. Sure, I may have gotten slapped tonight, and there may even be pictures in the tabloids… but at least I'm not Stain, and having my love letters made fun of all over the media." As I expected, in the arm draped around my shoulders, I felt a poorly concealed flinch.

"Ha ha ha yeah," Murasame said, shrugging his arm off my shoulders and starting to stand up. "Man, that'd suck, wouldn't it?"

"Well, I'm sure he won't be writing any more, now that he's in jail," I continued. "Still, I wouldn't blame Haruno for having a complex over love letters now - I pity the next guy who tries to ask her out in a love letter, she'd probably think they were a Stain copycat."

This time, Murasame didn't flinch, instead rolling his eyes and running one hand through his hair with an air of superiority. If he hadn't been drunk, I probably couldn't have picked out that the movement was artificial. "Please. Only an idiot would try something like that," he said, sounding supremely unconcerned. "Anyways, speaking of crazy women, I've got some more babes to talk to before this party ends. Catch you later, Casanova." And with that, he walked away, leaving me still sitting there, one icy hand up against my cheek.

There it was. I'd solved my first case. The culprit was identified and the love letter problem was resolved, without any unwanted scandal falling on the production.

Hooray for me.

All of a sudden, I felt exhausted. For a few minutes I just sat there, zoning out and thinking about nothing in particular, idly wondering why it felt like my legs were suddenly full of lead. Even if I had, maybe, been exaggerating the truth slightly when talking to Manaka, the fact that I had just gotten out of the hospital two days ago wasn't a lie. Physically, I was fine; there was nothing wrong with my legs, not after little more than some sedate dancing and standing around at a party. But mentally? Emotionally? I had thoroughly overestimated how much energy I had left for dealing with bullshit. After tonight, I was overdrafted for the week. Possibly for the month. Reluctantly, I placed my palms on my thighs and pushed myself to my feet. I needed to go home and collapse on my bed for approximately a million years… but before I left, I needed to find Cyberpunch, just so she knew everything was resolved.

Iida Tenya found me first. "Hikigaya-san!" He called out. Like me, Iida had come in costume, although like his brother earlier he wasn't wearing his helmet. "Do you wish to press charges against the young lady? I was too far away to determine the nature of the altercation or whether you provoked that reaction somehow, but it was very clear that she struck first, and physical assault is against the law!"

Never change, Iida. "No, it's fine," I said, smiling wryly despite myself, then instantly regretting it as the motion pulled at my cheek. "No need to make a fuss." Especially when I still had no idea whether Manaka had kept a copy of that video. "How's your night been?" I asked to change the subject. "Better than mine, I hope?"

"I, er, yes," Iida said hesitantly, a hint of embarrassment appearing on his normally stoic face. He glanced over his shoulder, and I followed his gaze to where Miura Yumiko stood talking with the girl from class 1-B I had seen him dancing with earlier. "It's been quite pleasant." Oh really? Good for you, buddy. "I've been learning quite a bit from my brother," Iida continued hurriedly, as if noticing what I was thinking.

Unfortunately for Iida, as he pointed out his brother, I finally caught sight of Cyberpunch. She was dancing with Ingenium, and even as I watched she seemed to blush, bringing her less metallic hand up to her hair in order to curl a lock of it around one finger as they talked. Well, good for them. "Huh, I see," I said teasingly. "He's pretty smooth. Maybe if I learned a few things from him too I'd get slapped less often."

"I- wha- that isn't the sort of things I've been learning from him at all!" Iida sputtered, chopping at the air in denial. "I was speaking of- of- diplomatic relations with other heroes, and PR management, and-"

A laugh bubbled up from inside my throat. "Right, well, don't let me keep you from your 'diplomatic relations'," I said, casting a significant glance at Miura and the other girl, to which Iida flushed in response. "I'm actually on my way out." Rather than interrupting Cyberpunch and her 'diplomatic relations' - a second time - I decided to just text her the details later. At least one of us should get something good out of tonight, after all. "Tell everyone else I said goodbye for me if you run into them, would you?"

Iida stood ramrod straight, like he was coming to attention. "You can count on me, Hikigaya-san!"

And with that, I left, absconding through a side door so as to avoid paparazzi, Yukinoshitas, and other creatures likely to deplete the already perilously low supply of fucks I had left to give for the evening. Luckily, there were quite a few taxi cabs waiting outside of the event, and I was able to catch one and start heading home before anything else could happen to me. Numbly, I stared out the window of the cab, watching the lights of Tokyo glide by. In my exhaustion, I found myself muttering out loud.

"When I get home, I'm going to sleep for a week."

"...I have school on Monday."

"...I have a date tomorrow."

"...Shit."