AN: Yo, SeerKing here. It's kinda late, but take this chapter as a Christmas present from me. Keep writing, all you writers, and keep reading, oh wonderful readers. On with the show!
"Attack!" - Regular Speech
'It isn't working!' - Thoughts
{My Noble Master} – Sword Spirit Communication
"Bankai!" - Spiritual Technique Usage
Beta'd by BigCC
Chapter 1: Swordmasters and Swords
Rooftop, Aldera Junior High
"It happened just over two-hundred and fifty years ago. The chaos that engulfed the world in the following years makes determining an exact year, let alone an exact date and location, nearly impossible, but it was in that time-frame when the first Swordmasters began to appear among the population of the world.
People would seemingly fall unconscious at random and remain that way for several hours before they'd suddenly wake up, holding a sword of some kind clenched in their hand. The exact type of sword would change based on where the Swordmaster lived or what they identified themselves as. Arming swords were common across many parts of Europe. Longswords were the norm in North America. Central and South Americans would most commonly awaken clutching machetes. Many Chinese and other East Asians awoke with Dao or Jian sabres. Scottish people would often have Claymores and sabres as well as arming swords.
And of course, many Japanese would awaken with a katana clutched to their chest.
In nearly every country across the world, more and more people would suddenly manifest these strange swords as the months and years passed.
Several things would quickly become evident as the world began to study this strange new phenomenon. First, the bearers of these 'Spirit Swords' (as they quickly began to be called) would need to remain in close contact with their new blades for a period after it initially manifested. They would have to remain within at least a few meters of their blades for the better part of a year, otherwise they would quickly begin to weaken to the point that they couldn't move and long-term separation was almost always fatal. Second, if the swords were damaged in any way, they would repair themselves, although this would leave the bearer tired and lethargic while the process took place. Thirdly, all who had manifested the Spirit Sword also manifested a strange new form of internal energy.
Although it would take years for anyone to realize it, a new age had dawned for humanity. The Age of Swordmasters had begun…"
"Deku! Where the fuck are you hiding!?" a muffled shout drew one Midoriya Izuku out of his reading. The boy in question was a somewhat skinny teenager with green hair and green eyes, a not unusual thing in the modern age.
Sighing slightly to himself, the greenette pulled himself up from where he'd been stretched out across the top of a bench and, after absently sliding a bookmark in to mark his place, returned the book he'd been reading to his school-issue book-bag.
Seconds later, the door leading to the rooftop was violently kicked open, revealing Bakugō Katsuki, his childhood friend-slash-current bully. The boy had spiky blonde hair that would have had many people calling him a delinquent in the distant past, before the unique nature of Spirit Swords had begun to affect the human gene pool. Tucked under one arm was his own book-bag, while a black tube slung over his shoulder made his status clear, he was a Swordmaster.
Izuku pushed down the instinctive twinge of envy that he felt every time that he saw that case. It wasn't like the vast majority of the population born as a Swordmaster; even nowadays, only one in every ten people would manifest a Spirit Sword.
As opposed to the chaos of the start of the modern age, now referred to as the Advent, where people of all ages seemed to awaken their Spirit Swords at random, after only two or three generations, whatever caused the transition from a normal person to a Swordmaster seemed to stabilize and only people within a certain age bracket began to awaken as a swordmaster.
Twelve to sixteen. There were the occasional rare outliers to this, but that was the general consensus for 99% of the population. Bakugō had become a Swordmaster over a year and a half ago when he was twelve.
"Bakugō." Izuku greeted him, doing his best to sound bored.
"Don't you give me that, you bastard!" the blonde boy snarled. "What's with this shit I hear you pulling with going to a gym, huh? You think you can make a Spirit Sword appear if you just stress your body a bit? Get real, Deku!"
One of Izuku's eyebrows twitched in irritation. 'Deku', short for 'Dekunobō', meaning wooden puppet, an insult for someone who can't do or achieve anything, was a nickname given to him by Bakugō back before Elementary School, simply because of an alternate way of reading the kanji for 'Izuku' that the boy had noticed.
"Bakugō, last time I checked, you agreed to not use that term if I agreed not to call you 'Kacchan'." he replied tiredly. "Or have you forgotten about that?"
Katsuki scowled at the rebuke, practically snarling at someone daring to chastise him. "Shut the fuck up, you damned loser! I'm a Swordmaster! A fucking A-Class Swordmaster! That means I'm going to rise right to top while you'll stay right where you belong, with the rest of the fucking masses grovelling at my feet! So learn your damned place already!"
Swordmasters were, broadly speaking, sorted into four main categories. C-Class Swordmasters were the lowest-ranking ones, those that awakened the weakest reservoir of what people had taken to calling 'Spiritual Power', or Reiryoku. B-Class Swordmasters had a large amount of Reiryoku, and unlocked their Spirit Sword's name and transformation. A-Class Swordmasters had overwhelming Reiryoku and had unlocked the second and final transformation of their Spirit Swords.
As for S-Class…only a scarce handful of people ever achieved those lofty heights every generation. Even a Swordmaster Otaku like Izuku only knew of three people in Japan who had ever reached that height in the past two centuries.
"You have the potential to eventually become an A-Class Swordmaster, Bakugō." Izuku countered dryly. "Potential means nothing right now, when you're still under the Swordmaster Restriction and Control Act. And besides, you still don't know your Spirit Sword's name, nor can you transform it once, let alone twice."
The SRCA had been implemented in Japan about thirty years after the Advent, when it became obvious that the Swordmaster Phenomenon wasn't an isolated incident that would just dissipate in time. All Swordmasters were granted a minor exception to the Swords and Firearms Possession Control Law, as they needed to have their weapons nearby. However, that was all they were permitted to do; should they draw their swords in public, for any reason barring one, they would be arrested, and judged harshly by the country.
The only loophole in the Swordmaster Restriction and Control Act, save for the one instance where Swordmasters were required to draw their swords, was to join one of the Swordmaster Guilds located around Japan, and in order to do that, you had to go to one of the affiliated Swordmaster High Schools and Universities, and graduate from them.
"Tch. Whatever." Katsuki snorted, evidently already bored with verbally sparring with his ex-childhood friend. "Just face the facts, nerd. I was born to win and you were born to lose. That ain't ever gonna change, Deku. Once a loser, always a loser."
As the blonde boy turned around and stomped back down the stairs, Izuku sighed in relief. The last time he'd had a confrontation with Bakugō, he'd had to hide a bruise on his abdomen from his mother for a week before it faded away.
Lunch was over, and as the dull, dreary day passed him by, Izuku found himself wondering, not for the first time, exactly how someone was chosen as a Swordmaster. It just boggled the mind that someone like Katsuki, who was arrogant, overconfident and a blowhard, was worthy of being a Swordmaster, while so many other people weren't.
Bakugō Katsuki was the highest-ranked Swordmaster Candidate at Aldera Junior High. The vast majority of other Swordmasters in Aldera were just C-Class potentials, with the rare B-class mixed in, even the few teachers. While Izuku had been technically correct that Bakugō hadn't met the three main qualifiers to be officially called an A-Class Swordmaster, he did possess a simply ludicrous amount of Reiryoku, particularly for someone who hadn't finished maturing. Easily enough to earn him his title as a potential A-Class.
Those who possessed such immense Reiryoku could use it in multiple ways, the most basic being use it as spiritual 'pressure' to intimidate those around them. Bakugō had only done it once while at Aldera, but since he'd used it on the principal on his first week in the school and made the poor man faint, it had left a very large impression on everyone in the school. Now all of Aldera, student and staff alike, walked on eggshells around the explosive temper of the blonde boy, in hopes to avoid getting on the ferocious teen's bad side.
Including treating one Midoriya Izuku as if he had the plague.
That had honestly stopped bothering Izuku a long time ago, his own opinion of Aldera having degraded quite sharply since he'd originally enrolled. Now, he had mostly simply accepted that he'd have to put up with their blatant stupidity until he eventually graduated. Then he'd have the chance to apply to U.A., the premier Swordmaster High School and University in the country.
Yes, training the next generation of warrior Swordmasters was the affluent school's primary purpose, but the school also offered a General Course for regular students and those Swordmasters who didn't want to, or simply didn't have the ability, to follow the Swordmaster Course. If he was lucky, maybe being in close proximity to so many powerful Swordmasters would awaken his own Spirit Sword…if he even had one.
As the bell rang, thankfully relieving him from the tedium of classes, Izuku got up and quickly left the classroom, mostly just to avoid Bakugō. The blonde Swordmaster-aspirant liked to relieve tension after classes by picking on him most days, and he really wasn't in the mood to put up that bullshit right now.
'Why did things end up this way?' he wondered with a sad sigh. He remembered Bakugō and he being good friends, right up until they were nine or so…when his, admittedly aggressive, friend had started to turn into a violent and cruel bully.
Luckily, on this occasion, he was able to evade Bakugō and make it home.
"I'm home!" he called as he entered the apartment where he'd lived his whole life.
"Welcome home, sweetheart!" Midoriya Inko, his mother, called as she padded in to give him a hug. She was a tall woman, with a kind face that was just starting to show a few wrinkles, although her laugh-lines were far more prominent than anything else. She was also where he'd inherited his green hair and eyes from.
"Is Dad home?" Izuku asked as they parted.
"Sadly, he's doing overtime at the office." Inko sighed. Midoriya Hisashi, her husband and Izuku's father, was caught in the old curse of the Japanese Salaryman. Going to work early, coming home late and was constantly tired as a result. It was a shame, because he and Izuku were actually quite close whenever he did manage to spend time with his family.
"Anyway, off you go and get changed. Dinner's almost ready." she said to her son, who nodded and headed for his room.
After getting changed into his casual clothes, Izuku sat down in the living room while he waited for his mother to finish cooking dinner, absently watching the news. The current story was apparently spotlighting the newest addition to the local Swordmaster Guild, the Musutafu Warriors.
"…you can see, the newest member of the Musutafu Warriors, Takeyama Yū, was able to deal with the monstrous Mask Spirit that started rampaging earlier this afternoon with tremendous ease thanks to the unique abilities of her Spirit Sword, Kyojinhei (Giant Soldier)." the newsreader offered with a professional smile as a recording was started and played out across the news-screen, showing a young woman with long, blonde hair dressed in the blue and black uniform of a professional Swordmaster, with the patch identifying her guild affiliation clearly visible on her shoulder, literally bisecting a black-skinned creature the size of a small bus with a large, snarling wolf mask covering its head using a massive sword with a blade just as long as the monster and as wide as she was tall.
Izuku shivered ever so slightly. Those things were the reason that Swordmasters were so quickly adopted as an important part of modern society. While most referred to them as 'spirits', they were far more akin to demons, particularly since they were born of humans. Every person with a Spirit Sword had the potential to either materialize it and become a Swordmaster, or unconsciously reject it and expel it from their bodies where it would take form and transform into the monsters known as Mask Spirits.
Mask Spirits, or Mask Demons as some still preferred to call them, were the raw power of a Spirit Sword manifested and combined with the lingering negative aspects of the person who had rejected them. While extensively studied, no one was yet sure what caused someone to 'reject' their Spirit Sword; it was just as possible that an upright, honourable and good person could manifest a Mask Spirit as they could awaken a Spirit Sword.
Mask Spirits were, with no exception, dangerous and violent beings that could not be reasoned with; they were the living embodiments of a person's darkest and most negative attributes combined with savage feral instincts. They would instinctively seek out those who had the untapped potential to become a Swordmaster, yet hadn't either manifested their Spirit Sword or rejected it to form a Mask Spirit, in an attempt to devour them and absorb their Reiryoku. Failing to find anyone like that, they would switch their target to their second-favourite prey: awakened Swordmasters.
It was for this reason that the Right To Self-Defence Against Mask Spirits Article was a fundamental part of the Swordmaster Restriction and Control Act. This was made even more important once it was realized that when a Mask Spirt managed to devour a Swordmaster, then the Swordmaster's own Reiryoku would be added to that of the Mask Spirit, greatly increasing its power and sometimes even granting it new abilities. Thus, all Swordmasters had the inherent right, some would even call it a duty, to draw their blades and defend themselves against Mask Spirits if they were ever attacked. To not do so was not only foolish, but could even see a person facing stiff penalties if they somehow survived the experience.
"Kyojinhei, huh? Looks like it just allows her to enhance the size of her sword's blade to a massive scale, but she was still managing to swing it around so easily. Either Takeyama-san's released state greatly increases her own physical strength as well or it might be that she can simply ignore the increased mass and weight of her…" Izuku muttered, writing furiously in a notebook he'd drawn from seemingly nowhere.
He'd known about Takeyama Yū for about a couple of weeks, as the website of the Musutafu Warriors had announced her upcoming induction two weeks ago, but there had been no details about her, other than the fact she was currently a B-Class Swordmaster.
Swordmasters could increase their own classification beyond their initial ranking through strengthening their Reiryoku with training and effort in addition to unlocking their Spirit Sword's transformations, but that kind of training was supposed to be immensely difficult, with very few ever able to rise above B-Class. Most Swordmasters would never rise out of C-Class and even the vast majority of those who joined Swordmaster Guilds never rose above B-class. A-classes were rare and valuable commodities, which was one of the reasons that Katsuki Bakugō was allowed to get away with as much as he did.
As Takeyama Yū had graduated from the Mineyama University of Swordmasters in Kyōtango, Kyoto before transferring to Musutafu, it was unlikely that she would ever become an A-Class Swordmaster without a miracle occurring.
"Izuku, dinner's ready!" his mother called.
"Coming!" he called back as he stood up. Spirit Swords were one thing, but his mother's home-made katsudon was another!
The Next Day, After School
Underpass, Streets of Musutafu
Another day, another annoying grind of boring, repetitive classes, another attempt at evading Bakugō after classes. Such was his life.
'I honestly wish I could just graduate early.' Izuku thought wistfully. Japan, in spite of how far society at large had changed with all that had happened in the past two centuries, was still not very supportive of those who differed from the intellectual norm, in either direction. Those who had learning difficulties had to work for their resources, while those who were highly intelligent or capable in a particular area, were often deliberately told to work on other classes, as well as being sneered at and looked down upon by their peers as a nerd/otaku/insert-derogatory-comment-here.
Izuku certainly didn't consider himself a genius or anything similar, at best he'd admit to being a bit smarter than average with a very good memory. No, the issue was that Aldera Junior High was simply a very low-class school with even lower academic standards. The sheer lazy indolence the school seemed to encourage and indulge in was such that even a slightly driven student could easily rise to the top of the class. As it was, Izuku's only rival when it came to academics was Bakugō, who would always blow his top (often violently) whenever the verdette managed to score higher than him.
'Whatever.' Izuku thought, subconsciously clenching his fist as he remembered Bakugō's most recent outburst. 'I refuse to compromise my own prospects just to assuage his fragile ego.'
Suddenly, a shrieking roar sounded behind him. It was a sound Izuku, and nearly everyone alive with a functioning survival instinct, was familiar with and wary of, one he had heard several times over his life but always at a distance, the roar of a Mask Spirit nearby. Izuku whirled on instinct to try and catch sight of the source of the roar and couldn't hold back a gulp as he spotted a massive form already looming over him.
Unlike almost every other Mask Spirit that Izuku had ever heard of or seen on TV, this one seemed to be made of some form of thick, grey-black sludge that was still flowing out of a nearby manhole. Even as more of it continued to emerge, the beast's blob-like form was already several times larger than Izuku himself, and the creature's mask, the only solid-seeming part of its body, was at least three or four times the size of Izuku's own head. The mask itself was oddly humanoid in design but grossly warped and distended, with bulging eyes, no nose and large, tombstone-like teeth that formed a sneering smile, that seemed to loom mockingly over him.
"FReSh mEaT…hoW…NICE!" the Mask Spirit gurgled out, shocking Izuku. It was a common rumour that if a Mask Spirit devoured a Swordmaster, it would regain some of the rationality and intelligence of its former host, but this was the first time he'd heard of one speaking.
Suddenly remembering that he was in imminent danger of being eaten, Izuku spun around started sprinting away as fast as he could. While he wasn't exactly fit, he did still jog fairly regularly and had recently began working out at a local gym, so he wasn't nearly as out of shape as his scrawny frame might suggest and he liked to think he was fairly quick on his feet.
Sadly, all that meant absolutely nothing to a giant mass of sentient sludge. The Mask Spirit surged after him like a living river current and was quickly engulfing him like the world's most disgusting tidal wave. In an instant his entire body was wrapped up in a cocoon of slime, the entire mass squeezing him so tightly it was painful. A tendril of slime branched off the rest, containing the demon's Mask as it carried it over Izuku's entrapped form. The mask's jaws seemed to click open as it loomed over him, its intention obvious.
'No…I won't…I can't…I refuse to die this way!' Izuku thought, struggling with everything he had against his bindings. 'I will not be eaten by some oversized slime! I REFUSE!'
{Finally…you have decided to set your feet firmly…to make your stand…} the soft voice of an old man seemed to whisper directly into his head. {Now that you have shown your convictions…so too shall I, my Noble Master…}
In an instant, a column of bright blue energy seemed to erupt around Izuku, forcefully pushing away the Mask Spirit's viscous body and sending it splattering against the walls and ceiling of the underpass. Once Izuku was fully free, he fell to the ground and a sword suddenly appeared amidst the light enveloping him. It was a katana, which looked fairly standard in terms of length and width. The only major differences it had from a regular one were the tsuka-ito and the tsuba; the wrap around the hilt of the weapon was equal parts cream and emerald green, while the hand guard was hexagonal, and seemed to be inlaid with…he didn't know what to call it.
With a trembling hand, he reached out and almost reverently grasped the hilt of the Spirit Sword…his Spirit Sword…and held it in hand for the first time in his life. It was like a gate had been unlocked within him, pure power rushing through his veins.
For a brief moment he wondered if this was what Bakugō felt like all of the time. If so then maybe his usual sense of superiority might be a bit more understandable.
"WhAt…tHiS…WHaT…iS…HaPpENiNg!?" the Mask Spirit gargled, its splattered body rapidly reforming around its mask. "wHAT…ArE…YOU!?"
Turning to face the Mask Spirit once again, Izuku fell back on the kendo lessons that were required for all students in Japanese Elementary and Middle Schools/Junior Highs until they turned seventeen, and entered the hassō-no-kamae, the most well known and standard kenjutsu stance in the world.
"Midoriya Izuku, Swordmaster!" he declared, and attacked, unaware of the shocked pair of blue eyes staring at him.
With All Might
Yagi Toshinori, Battle Commander of the United Alliance Swordmaster Guild, Number One Ranked Swordmaster in Japan and honoured with the Code Name 'All Might', had been a Swordmaster for over forty years. He had fought against more Mask Spirits than he could ever care to count and he had personally had a hand in taking down more rogue Swordmasters than any other three Swordmasters in the country combined.
With all that taken into account, he thought it was pretty fair to say that a bit of shock on seeing a newly awakened Swordmaster turn around and face off against a Mask Spirt just moments after awakening was fairly forgivable. The mere fact that his jaw wasn't hanging down to his knees at the moment should have been impressive given the circumstances.
"A Battle Awoken…" he whispered in shock. It was, if not unheard of, then extremely rare for a Swordmaster to awaken their Spirit Sword when they were in a crisis. Most of the time people would awaken their powers naturally while they slept or when they were hovering on the edge of sleeping and waking. That was how it worked for approximately 99% of all Swordmasters, but that remaining 1% were the Battle Awoken, those who had to face some form of jeopardy or trouble in order to reach that final push and awaken their Spirit Swords.
There were multiple meanings behind the name 'Spirit Sword' that most of the world used to describe the blades of Swordmasters. The most obvious, and generally accepted, explanation was that the swords themselves were born from the user's spirit or soul, but it was just as true that the swords themselves held a spirit all their own, a unique entity that was both a part of and separate from the wielder and with its own thoughts, personality and ideals. Swordmasters could clash with their Spirit Sword as easily as any other and sometimes the actions of a potential Swordmaster would create enough disharmony with the Sword Spirt that they would refuse to Awaken until their other half managed to meet some sort of goal or requirement.
The most common reasons behind this were things like cowardice or bullying, but with how diverse Spirit Swords could be there really was no way for Toshinori to know what had caused the disharmony that had kept this boy from awakening.
Shaking away such thoughts for now, Toshinori quickly refocused on the fight in front of him. The boy was valiantly attempting to fight against the Mask Spirit, and doing a fairly good job of chopping away any tentacles or limbs of sludge that the creature tried to use to entangle him again. Unfortunately, the slime grime kept returning to the creature's main body moments after it was separated. Realizing that it was only a matter of time before the newly awoken child was overwhelmed by the aggressive beast, Toshinori quickly moved to intercede.
Drawing his own Spirit Sword from across his back, a nodachi with a red, white and blue tsuka-ito and no tsuba, the old Swordmaster stepped into the underpass, focused his Reiryoku and released it as a wave of pressure, commonly called Reiatsu, or Spiritual Pressure, that forced both the newly awoken Swordmaster and the Mask Spirit to freeze.
The boy (who was already facing his general direction) instantly locked onto him and his eyes instantly widened in recognition and awe.
"YOU!?" the mass of vile sludge roared/gargled out as it rounded on him. "ALl MIghT!?"
"Monster, step away from the boy and I will give you a quick and decisive end." Toshinori stated evenly. To its credit, whether it realized it or not, the beast's instincts were sharp enough that it took the bribe and instantly pulled away from the boy, twisting its viscous, liquid-like body around to surge towards Toshinori. The aged Swordmaster responded instantly, the blade of his nodachi blurring through the air as he reduced the attacking tendrils and pseudopods of sludge into bits and pieces with an ease that spoke of immense skill and experience. More than that, each bit of slime was diced into pieces so small that it was taking far longer for the Mask Spirit to reintegrate them into its form, but that was just a temporary measure to give Toshinori his opening.
'Time to shake the rust off, old friend.' he thought, an agreeing rumble echoing soundlessly in his ears a moment later.
Holding his blade horizontally parallel to his face, blade facing up, the Swordmaster grinned. "Shin'en kara tachiagare, Ryūjinmaru! (Rise from the abyss, Dragon Man Circle!)"
The blade of his sword shone a blue light before flashing blindingly bright. By the time the boy and the Mask Spirit could look again, the shape of the sword had changed greatly. Rather than a Japanese nodachi, it was a large western greatsword, the type known as a flamberge. The distinctively wave-shaped blade was also covered in a bright blue aura as several thin streams of water seemed to dance and flicker along the blade's length.
"SHiKaI?!" the monster squelched out in a vague approximation of a scream.
"Yes. This is the true form of my Ryūjinmaru." Toshinori said, easily wielding the large sword with only one hand. "Choose; die fleeing, or die attacking."
"Rrrrraaagghhh!" the Mask Spirit let out a final, wordless shriek of fury and charged forwards, its body coming together to form a large wave of sludge that threatened to envelop All Might.
Not that the beast stood a chance.
"Suiryū Sensatsugiri. (Water Dragon, Thousand Flying Needles Cut.)" Toshinori said, almost casually, before he executed a form-perfect kesa-giri, unleashing a wave made-up of thousands of water needles from his blade that crashed against the Mask Spirit in an unrelenting barrage of attacks. As each needle sank into the sludge-like flesh of the creature, the area around it was just…erased, eroded from existence.
"NOOooOoOOOooOO!" the Mask Spirt let out another squelching shriek as over half of its body mass was completely destroyed, with more vanishing by the second. "WHaT…iSSsSSSss…ThISSssSS?!"
"Ryūjinmaru is a Flowing Water-type Spirit Sword. To be precise, it is a rare subtype that also possesses the concept of erosion to it." the Swordmaster offered gravely, a final gesture of respect to his opponent. "As water will eventually erode and wear away even the largest boulder, so too does the water generated by my spiritual attacks wear away at anything it strikes, weakening and then wiping them from existence. Your fate was sealed when you dared to attempt to harm an innocent soul in front of me. Farewell, beast of the inner Mask. I pray you will return as a true Sword Spirit when you are born again."
With another wordless shriek, the entirety of the Mask Spirit dissolved into nothing, a pair of white orbs flying up and out of sight.
Reverting his Spirit Sword back into its sealed state and sheathing it, Toshinori turned to regard the boy and…yup, he was already starting to fall unconscious. Now that the danger had passed and the adrenaline starting to fade, the expenditure of spiritual power in manifesting his Spirit Sword was catching up with him. He sped forwards and caught the boy before he could face-plant into concrete and possibly break his nose.
"Well kid, looks as if-" he started to say before another surge of Spiritual Energy came from the boy and wrapped around the blade of his Spirit Sword, which he still held onto with a death grip, forming into a sheath, which was…unusual. It normally took a focused effort from the Swordmaster, after resting for a while, in order to condense their Reiryoku into a sheath for their Spirit Sword.
Looking at the unconscious face of the boy, Toshinori let out a bone-weary sigh. "Well, I really have no choice now. I hope Chiyo doesn't smack my shins for this…"
Later
Infirmary, United Alliance Guild Musutafu Chapter House
"YOU IDIOT!"
*WHACK!* *THWHACK!* *BAM!*
Toshinori bit back a yelp as the cane of Shūzenji Chiyo, his guild's chief healer, smacked painfully into his shins. "Chiyo..."
"Don't you 'Chiyo' me, you damned meathead!" the old woman cut him off angrily. "You just stood there like a slack-jawed idiot and watched as a newly emerged Battle Awoken fought for his life against a Class 2 Mask Spirit! What in the world were you thinking!?"
Mask Spirits were classified numerically based on their age, history, and threat rating. Class-1's were the newly formed Mask Spirits that had recently been rejected by their holder. They were by far the most common of Mask Spirits encountered, and it was one of the main duties of Swordmaster Guilds to hunt them down and prevent them from growing in strength. Freshly awoken Class-1 Mask Spirits could be handled by a single highschool graduate Swordmaster, while one on the verge of 'classing up' would require a ten man squad of University graduate Swordmasters of C-Rank, or a single B-Rank Swordmaster, to defeat.
Class-2's were Mask Spirits that had managed to devour at least one or two Swordmasters or a large number of normal humans, allowing them to develop greater strength, intelligence and abilities. Most were at least partially intelligent and were extremely dangerous. Normally it would take a squad of at least two-to-three B-Class Swordmasters to take down a Class-2 (and older and more dangerous examples could require far more), but being able to take one down their own was a mark of pride for any B-Class Swordmaster and many considered it a sign that they might have the potential to grow to A-Class eventually.
The emergence of a Class-3 Mask Spirit was a nightmare. Monsters that had eaten over a dozen Swordmasters and hundreds of innocents, each one was an individual threat that was capable of destroying an entire city if allowed to rampage. Entire Swordmaster Guilds were deployed to counter them should they appear, and that was sometimes only enough to act as a holding action to allows civilians to be evacuated and await until as many A-Class Swordmasters as possible could be brought in to deal with the threat.
Class-4's were nothing less than living natural disasters that could threaten entire nations. One emerging in any country was enough to call for immediate evacuations of large swathes of the surrounding area and an immediate call to the UN for the mobilization of the Mask Elimination Unit, a collection of A- and even S-Class Swordmasters recruited from the UN's member nations specifically to counter particularly powerful, dangerous or simply evasive Mask Spirits. No one knew what allowed Mask Spirits to reach this rank and most were too afraid to even contemplate it.
"You should know the type of stress even a normal Awakening can put on someone's Reiryoku, let alone a Battle Awakening!" Chiyo continued to rant angrily. "Add to that that the boy was forced into a fight for his life a moment later and…!"
"Now, now…" the ever-chipper voice of Nezu came as the small mammal of indeterminate species walked through the door. "I'm sure that Toshinori-kun was merely dumbstruck by witnessing a Battle Awakening first-hand. Most can go through their entire lives without even meeting a Battle Awoken, let alone seeing one emerge. Why, there hasn't been a confirmed Battle Awakening in Japan in at least three decades by my memory, if not more. I certainly know I'd have been stunned at witnessing such a sight!"
It was extremely rare, but not unheard of, for some mammals in modern times to awaken their own Spirit Swords. This always caused a…transformation in the animal's physiology, granting them a far more humanoid form capable of successfully wielding their new blade, although the head would always remain as their original species. Nezu himself had been an experimental guinea pig at an illegal laboratory when he awoke his Spirit Sword. No one, not even Nezu himself, knew what he had originally been.
"So, just who is our newest comrade?" the leader of the United Alliance Guild, Principal of U.A. High and Dean of U.A. University asked as he looked towards the unconscious teen curiously.
"Midoriya Izuku-kun, fourteen years old and a student at Aldera Middle School." Toshinori replied as he waved Izuku's student ID. "I took the liberty of calling his mother, Midoriya Inko-san, when I got in. Chiyo at least waited for me to get off the phone with her before taking out her frustrations on my shins."
"The boy's Reiryoku levels are just a hair over red-lining." the healer stated crossly. "All of the records I've been able to access state that Battle Awakening puts an immense strain on the newly-awakened Swordmaster's Reiryoku levels, and everything I'm seeing supports that. I'm going to have to use my Shikai to get him topped off and awake before the end of the night, otherwise he'd likely be out for at least a few days, and I'll need parental permission to do that."
"Well, doubtlessly she'll be here before too long." Nezu offered reassuringly. "Now, Toshinori, how was it that this particular Mask Spirit was able to give you the slip?"
"Because the blasted thing was even able to turn its own mask into sludge, allowing it to slip through the storm drains and escape into the sewer system before I could pursue." Toshinori stated with a shake of his head. "Honestly, I've been on the front-lines for forty years, and even now the abilities that a Mask Spirit can develop continue to surprise me. I'm just glad I was able to keep track of it from aboveground by following the twisted Reiryoku that thing was emitting, but moving through the sewers allowed it move far faster than I anticipated. By the time I got there, Young Midoriya had already started to awaken."
"Tsk. Damn these Mask Demons." Chiyo clicked her tongue in distaste. "I swear that they only get more and more dangerous with each new generation. Most of the ones back when I was a student were little more than beasts, but even the newly emerged ones are starting to show some dangerous levels of feral cunning these days."
"The Mask Spirit Toshinori was pursuing had already managed to devour one C-Class civilian Swordmaster, a middle-aged salaryman who, by all accounts, was both quite weak spiritually and extremely lackadaisical in maintaining even the most basic of training." Nezu stated with a frown. "Past examples have shown that devouring a single C-Class should have only granted a Mask Spirit a minor boost to either intelligence or its innate abilities, not both as your reports seem to have indicated."
"Sir, you don't think that…HE…was involved with this, do you?" Toshinori asked, one hand clenching tightly at the mere thought.
"No." Nezu stated with a shake of his head. "At least not directly. The Mask Spirit you encountered might be a remnant of his experiments, but the creature wasn't nearly dangerous enough to even warrant concerns of HIS involvement." the mammal paused for a moment looking thoughtful before shaking his head again. "Besides, you managed to remove both of his arms in your final battle, there would be no way for him to wield his accursed Spirit Sword with anything close to his previous ability. Even the latest prosthetics, or even a direct transplant, would not respond well to that particular blade given its…idiosyncratic nature."
"True enough…" Toshinori agreed, though he still looked wary. He was about to speak again, when a green-haired blur suddenly burst through the door.
"MY BABY!" Midoriya Inko cried as she set eyes on her comatose son.
"Midoriya-san, please calm down." Chiyo offered soothingly, having dealt with enough distraught parents to battle emotional distress with cold, clear facts. "I've already fully examined your son and he's physically fine, barring some minor bruising from his initial encounter with the Mask Spirit. The problem is that his awakening has completely depleted his available supply of Reiryoku."
"Rei…ryoku…he's a Swordmaster now?!" the green-haired woman looked terrified, but not of her son; she was terrified on behalf of her son.
"He is." the healer nodded, projecting a professional manner to help keep the obviously worried woman as calm as possible. "He is what we Swordmasters refer to as a Battle Awoken, someone who awoke his Spirit Sword during a traumatic incident. As is almost always the case with Battle Awoken, nearly all of his Reiryoku was used to form his blade and he will remain unconscious until it has fully regenerated. Normally, this would take two to three days but I am able to use my own Spirit Sword's abilities to hasten the process, with your permission of course, given your son's age."
"You have it, of course, just please help my baby boy!" Inko quickly agreed.
Nodding, Chiyo gently ushered the woman a few steps back to give herself a bit of room before moving back to Izuku's bedside and raising her cane. The wooden walking stick glowed briefly before transforming into the sheathed form of a wakizashi. With a practised motion, Chiyo drew it and then gently held it flat against the side of her sheath.
"Chūnyū suru, Jihi no Otome! (Inject, Maiden of Mercy!)"
In a flash of pure white light, both wakizashi and sheath were transformed into an almost comically large syringe, full of a gently glowing green liquid.
"This is my Shikai, Jihi no Otome. The liquid inside her is pure Reiryoku concentrated into a liquid form." Chiyo explained for Inko's benefit. "By simply injecting it into him, I can quickly refill his reserves and, as a bonus, hasten his own healing so that he should awaken in perfect health. Toshinori, you're the only one who's seen him at peak condition. Did you manage to get a sense of just how much Reiryoku the boy has?"
"I can't be completely sure, since the Mask Spirit was all over him when it started, but I'd say at least a high B-Class, possibly even an A-class." Toshinori thought back, trying to clearly remember the strength of the boy's Reiryoku when it had first emerged. "Yes, he was right at the cusp of growing from B to A. I'd say that with a couple of weeks of training and mastering his abilities and he'd likely fully emerge as an A-Class."
"Good to know." the healer agreed. "Midoriya-san, please remain where you are until I give you the okay. I don't want to risk how his Reiryoku might affect you in its current state."
Nodding uncertainly, Inko remained where she was, hands wringing nervously as she watched Chiyo raise her syringe and gently stabbed it into her son's arm before slowly starting to press the plunger down and inject the liquid Reiryoku into his system.
A green glow seemed to spread over Izuku's form before it began to slowly sink into his body and vanish completely. Now that he had some Reiryoku back in his system, the other Swordmasters in the room were able to start gauging his strength for themselves.
"Seems Toshi was right, High B-rank, just teetering on the cusp of becoming A-rank." Chiyo nodded as she continued to slowly inject more and more Reiryoku until she reached a point she was comfortable with stopping at. Gently pulling her Shikai from his arm, and leaving no wound behind, she reverted it back to the sheathed form of her sealed state, before a light tap on the ground reverted it back to a cane. "I'd say I managed to restore his reserves to just over nine-tenths their maximum. Give him a couple of hours to rest and he should wake up no worse for wear."
"Oh, thank goodness…" Inko sagged in relief.
"Am I a dog, bear or a mouse? It doesn't matter! I am the Principal of U.A.! I am Nezu!" the Principal announced himself as he stepped up to the woman. "Now Midoriya-san, I am sorry to say this, but your son is now a Swordmaster, so he needs to have paperwork submitted to allow him to carry his Spirit Sword openly."
"O-Oh…right, I had forgotten that…" the mother sighed. "My Great-Grandfather was a Swordmaster himself, and I vaguely remember that he always carried his Spirit Sword around, even though he was long retired as an active Swordmaster. That always puzzled me, because I thought that it was only necessary for the first year or so…"
"You are correct that it is only medically necessary for Swordmasters to keep their swords at hand during that time, but even after the initial period being separated from our blades is…a decidedly unpleasant experience." Nezu informed her. "Some have compared it to the idea of phantom limb syndrome; we are aware it still exists, but it is confusing, almost painful, to have it separated from us. Most can endure the sensation well enough for at least a few hours, but most simply prefer to never have to."
"I-I see." Inko nodded along, her normal calm slowly reasserting itself now that she knew her baby boy was safe and would be recovering soon. "I'll have to ask my husband to come in as well, as he should be here when something so important about our son is being determined. I just hope that his company lets him leave early, they push him very hard…"
"Ma'am, if need be I shall fetch him myself." Toshinori stated. "It was my duty to slay the Mask Spirit which assailed your son, so this is the least I can do to make up for my failure."
"Oh…thank you very much." she said with a blink. She gave the man (who looked familiar for some reason) her husband's work address, and he took his leave.
"Now then, we should probably talk about the paperwork you'll need to fill out." Nezu said as he sat down in a nearby chair. "Oh, and would you like some tea?"
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Next Chapter: So You Want To Be A Swordmaster?
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