In the wake of the Sports Festival, the news might have focused a little less on the first-year competition than usual, and the public perception on social media was mixed at best, but between his fight with Mei being the most watched clip of the festival by a factor of ten and the pile of internship letters that graced his desk, Izuku felt pleased with the results. Pleased, yet also uncertain. For all that his strategy of lying low worked to keep the HPSC off his back, winning the festival with effectively both arms tied behind his back left a sour taste in his mouth. However, he felt he could do nothing about it, not without compromising his promise to be the greatest hero.
Endeavor offered a terse letter claiming he'd show Izuku how to properly harness his power, to stand on equal footing with himself and All Might atop the rankings. Izuku didn't want to be as good as them. He wanted to be better.
Hawks offered him an in with the HSPC, claiming he'd make top five a year out of high school and number one the moment All Might stepped down. He didn't need Nezu's eyes to read between the lines - the HPSC wanted him to be theirs, and since the stick didn't work, they resorted to a carrot.
Izuku set Hawks' letter aside.
Best Jeanist offered him advice on PR management. He pointed out Izuku's social media woes and possible ways he could cultivate a better public image. Edgeshot offered to show him how to better exercise restraint, to rescue civilians and apprehend villains with the absolute minimum effort required. Ryukyu offered advice on how to minimize collateral damage and civilian casualties, and Gang Orca offered his insight on living and thriving with a poor public image.
Any one of those would have made excellent internships. They each offered a solution to the emotional backlash Izuku had encountered when he first demonstrated the full extent of his abilities. Yet, one offer stood out from the rest. It went against everything the old Izuku would have found comfortable, but it was a siren's call for the weather-worn soul that had sailed another world's oceans.
It read: "You wussed out on the rest of the rounds, but you kicked ass against that giant robot. Give my place a visit, and I'll make you break your limits."
Mirko had an early violent reputation of her own. After a mixed reception of fellow heroes criticizing her professionalism, civilians finding her attitude abrasive, and citations for excessive force, Mirko doubled down on her lone wolf persona and relentlessly hunted villains. Soon, her snark and brunt attitude became its own brand, and her success rate propelled her up the rankings.
Her letter made Izuku realize he had been balancing fitting himself into the tight little box society wanted him in and his personal freedom. After weeks of holding back at school, and after a single taste of almost going all-out, Izuku realized he couldn't make any other choice.
When he followed the provided address, he first wondered if he had somehow messed it up. The building before him might have been a gym once. It was a spacious, squat, brick-walled cube with the automatic doors boarded over with plywood and an extra door shoved into the edifice as an afterthought. The windows were all higher-up, wide flat panes of glass designed to diffuse the light passing through them. A bald patch and rusted metal brackets on the wall suggested there once was a massive neon sign perched over the door.
Feeling foolish, Izuku walked up to the plywood door and knocked. Before his knuckles could rap against the wood a second time, he felt a massive spike of danger. Izuku ducked aside, and the entire door disintegrated in a shower of splinters.
From the single shoe jutting from the ruined doorway, a white and gold facsimile of a rabbit's foot, Izuku knew who had tried kicking him. He was still trying to work out why when Mirko whirled and punted him straight through a brick wall.
Izuku groaned and dusted himself off. A quick glance around showed rows of decrepit treadmills, racks of dumbbells tarnished with layers of dust and grime, gym mats sodden and moldy from a leaky roof, and a pile of construction supplies haphazardly shoved off to one side. In one corner, an old, but serviceable couch and a television set stood in stark contrast to the abandoned aesthetic, as though someone had hollowed out a hangout amidst the corpse of the gymnasium.
A flickering shadow made him bolt away. Mirko's foot slammed into the floor with an earth-shaking boom. Izuku flung a lightning bolt, and to his shock, Mirko contemptuously batted it aside.
"Come on, that all you got?" she bellowed. "Fight me!"
The challenge clicked in Izuku's head. As Mirko's foot whipped towards him, he braced himself and let it land. The kick rattled his bones, and he felt himself slide back half a foot.
His own leg flashed up, his kicking range stretched by his Devil Fruit into a luminous arc. Mirko grunted, hopped back, and rubbed her shoulder.
"Not bad, kid, but nobody outkicks the Rabbit Hero!"
Slipping into his pirate banter, Izuku shot back, "I dunno, I met this cook once that might give you a run for your money."
"Oh really? Could that cook of yours do this?"
Mirko bounced. No other word could properly encapsulate the way her body blurred into a white flash as she bounded to the roof, darted around the rafters, then shot towards the floor like a rocket hard enough to rattle the windows.
"Luna Fall!"
Izuku didn't dare block that time. He Soru'd across the room and nearly stumbled when the entire floor rippled like an ocean wave. He flung more electricity, which Mirko blocked, but he used the sparks as cover for his own attack.
"Thunder Pistol!"
The air cracked like a gunshot. Izuku felt his punch land home, but when the sparks settled, he saw Mirko's foot blocking his fist. He backflipped and felt Mirko's other leg swipe through his hair.
On her hands, Mirko pivoted and swung her legs in a sickle. Recognizing that move from Sanji's repertoire, Izuku knew ducking was a fast way to get his head embedded into the floor. Instead, he darted to the ceiling and raced along the rafters. Thunderbolts formed in his hands, but in that split second he had leapt out of the way, he had lost sight of Mirko.
Haki warned him of an attack from behind. Izuku melted into the metal rafter and zipped away as Mirko's foot crashed through the support beam. He emerged halfway across the roof and threw lightning at her, but Mirko's hand darted up to block the attack.
As Izuku sprinted away from the kicking equivalent of an orbital bombardment, his thoughts flickered through all the times Mirko had blocked his lightning. The mechanism was obvious to him. Her hands were insulated. The question was how she could react quickly enough to block. Did she have Haki of her own, or was there some other way she could tell where Izuku's attacks would land?
On a hunch, he threw and willed the lightning to curve. Mirko's hand rose to swat it, but the electricity dipped below her guard and zapped her in the abdomen.
Izuku surged forward, only to immediately backpedal. If he hadn't stopped, Mirko's heel would've made inventing interdimensional travel from scratch so he could steal milk from the Marines an easier fix for his dental woes than anything Quirks or science could offer.
"Neat trick," Mirko said, "But I've had worse reaching for a door handle. C'mon, Sparky, this is barely even a warmup!"
Izuku landed back on the ground. As he darted around exercise equipment, he had hoped the professional hero would have a harder time working around clutter than someone who could turn incorporeal at will. Yet, like Izuku, Mirko sprinted straight through the equipment. Unlike Izuku, Mirko left a trail of shattered treadmills, upended benches, and bent barbells in her wake.
As the gap between them closed, Izuku overturned a rack of exercise balls. Instead of slowing her down, Mirko used them as ammunition. Izuku yelped as a rubber ball shot past his cheek like a cannonball and embedded itself in the far wall.
Mirko's next shot went wide to the left. Izuku barely had time to wonder why before a line-drive forced him to jump, only for that first ball to ricochet and catch his ankle. A third ball careened towards him like a heat-seeking missile, and every time he dodged, another projectile wasn't far behind.
Panting with exertion, Izuku decided he couldn't play chicken forever. He threw his own projectile to break Mirko's line of sight, darted from ball to bouncing ball, and came around behind Mirko. Charging across the decrepit gym, Izuku coated his hand with Haki and punched at her.
Mirko's ear twitched. She whirled, leg sailing in a graceful arc towards his head. Izuku flung his punch upwards, slamming her thigh with enough force to send her kick wheeling high overhead. Mirko used the extra upwards momentum to leap, then scythe her foot down. The blow clipped Izuku's shoulder, and he winced as he rolled to his feet.
"Luna Rush!"
Izuku had to fold his body like an origami crane to avoid the barrage of kicks lashing out at him. When she switched legs, Izuku braced himself and tanked a blow, then closed in with a barrage of his own. Mirko ducked and bobbed around his punches, letting her legs do most of the work for her, until Izuku overstepped by just a fraction. She planted a kick in his shin to throw him further off balance. Izuku flipped onto his hands and used Mirko's own move against her, slamming a foot into her jaw.
Rubbing her jaw, Mirko said, "Hey, that's stealing, you pipsqueak!"
"That's not one of your copyrighted hero moves, Mirko. It's fair game."
"Well, if you're going to copy me, then I should return the favor!"
Izuku ducked under her next kick, only to get a fist planted in his face. Stumbling back, Izuku hopped over a low sweep and kept hopping when Mirko scythed her legs higher. Mirko watched attentively as Izuku hopped on air solely off the strength of his legs.
"Damn. Wish I could do that."
"Want to learn how? I bet you have just enough strength in your legs for it."
Mirko scoffed. "Watch it, brat. I'm the one that's supposed to be teaching you here."
"I'll start learning the moment you show me something I don't already know."
"That's it, you asked for it."
Mirko couldn't hop on air, but she made a passable impression by bouncing off the walls. The whole building rattled as Mirko zipped across the room. Izuku ducked, twirled, and even split himself apart a few times as Mirko sped up into a tan and purple blur.
As fast as the pro hero moved, Izuku stayed a step ahead of her. His punch forced her to twist in midair, making her land awkwardly on the far wall. Izuku followed it up with lightning, forcing her to hop away from him. Now Izuku went on the hunt, hurling spears while Mirko rabbited out of the line of fire. He tried leading the shot, and even curving his throws, but Mirko dodged every throw with uncanny instincts. Izuku could have almost mistaken it for Haki.
Without warning, Mirko shot towards a rafter in the center of the room. Izuku threw, and Mirko used the rafter like a gymnast's pole, swinging up and around the bolt, then hurtled towards Izuku like a meteor. Izuku slammed into the ground and plowed through several broken treadmills. He felt Mirko descending towards him and leapt away just as she came crashing down.
Rising from the strewn wreckage like a fallen angel of war, Mirko rolled her neck until it popped and cracked her knuckles. "Hey, kid. When are you going to stop holding back on me?"
Izuku flinched. "I… I can't. I mean, you're one of the best pros in the country, but I don't know if you can take it."
"I've sparred with All Might. Do you really think you're stronger than the Number One? Or am I going to have to punt you through half the city before you quit treating me with the kiddie gloves?"
"I've killed people by accident before," Izuku admitted. "I don't want to kill you."
Mirko snorted. "Kid, I've done the same. Kicked a man in the ribs so hard he pissed out his kidneys. Holding back is great and all, don't want to get blood splatters all over that bright, shiny hero image Japan loves wanking off to, but in this line of work, lives are on the line. You need to go all out, and hesitating for even a split second can cost someone their life. The more practice you have with it, the easier it'll be."
Izuku sighed. "Alright. I hope you're ready."
Izuku didn't use Soru this time. He flew like lightning, flickering forward in a flash of sparks directly into Mirko's guard. The hero moved like molasses to his eyes, legs tensing, body flexing, preparing to absorb the blow she knew she had no hope of dodging.
His fist rammed into her gut. She folded like a lawn chair and slammed through a wall. Izuku winced, ran to the hole, and looked outside for her. The light pole across the street was bent oddly, but no sign of her remained.
Izuku heard a window shatter. Mirko planted her feet on the window's edge and kicked hard enough to rip the building apart. She slammed into him with a concussive thump that rocked the building's foundations and planted Izuku firmly in the concrete beneath the wooden floors.
Grunting, Izuku pulled himself free and dusted himself off while keeping a wary eye on Mirko. Seeing that he still had some fight left in him, Mirko held up a hand. "I think that's enough for today. Don't want to get yelled at for bringing the whole block down."
Izuku nodded and joined Mirko on the ragged couch that remained virtually untouched amidst the strewn wreckage of the gym. Mirko took a long swig from a water bottle and said, "Be straight with me, kid. You were still holding back, weren't you?"
Guiltily, Izuku nodded. Mirko snorted and said, "Don't blame you. Heard making that giant fist laid you up for half a day. We'll work on that, maybe start smaller and practice more."
Izuku nodded eagerly and said, "I had another idea I wanted to work on too. I've been trying to absorb ambient electricity and boost myself with it, but I have a hard time holding onto the extra power."
Mirko grinned. "Sounds like fun. I'll see if I can drag a power generator in here. We could also mooch off the power grid, but something tells me the HPSC would have a few words with me if we caused a blackout."
Izuku's mood soured at the mention of the HPSC, but he shook it off. Instead, he asked, "You really think I should get stronger?"
"Of course. Wouldn't be much fun if you didn't, right?"
Izuku took a deep breath. He could almost taste the salt, feel the weathered wood beneath his feet and a sea breeze rushing past his face. It was as though he had forgotten how to breathe, and suddenly came back up for air. For weeks, he had bottled himself up, holding back all but the tiniest fraction of his strength, even as he felt rivers of power coursing all across the city, begging him to let loose and drink deeply of them. He had wondered if he was alone in his strength, marooned on an entire universe that would shatter at the lightest touch.
Even the Nomu, for all its monstrous strength, couldn't withstand his full might. But Mirko? He might not have gone Gear Second, but that punch he threw had everything he could pack into it, and she still came back to kick his ass. His classmates were afraid of him, even the ones that tried to hide it, and the teachers all watched him like hawks. Even Nezu, for all that his unflinching gaze gave no hint of unease, cautioned him against displaying his power.
Mirko took one look at what he could accomplish and wanted to see if he could do more.
"So, when do we get started?"
"Tomorrow, brat. I need a shower, and you need to run back home before your bedtime. I got a patrol over in another city, something about the asshole running around killing heroes, and once we bag him, we'll work on that kick of yours." Mirko smirked and slammed her foot on the ground. "No student of mine's becoming a hero without learning how to kick through a brick wall."
Sparks jumped from his clenched fingers, and his face lit up in a feral grin as he walked home.
Hawks landed in front of the gaping hole in the gym's wall. One look inside told him everything he needed to know. Scorch marks littered the walls, splintered scraps of plastic and metal lay scattered across the floor, and the air still carried the faint scent of ozone and burnt rubber.
Scattering his feathers about, Hawks felt for any sign of Midoriya and found none. Still watching for trouble, Hawks tiptoed over the wreckage and approached the ratty couch. Mirko sat on a pile of cushions, one leg stretched out over a case of beers, eating a bowl of orange mush while an old martial arts flick played.
"I thought I told you to knock," Mirko said.
Hawks sat and helped himself to a warm beer. "You left the door wide open. I figured you were inviting me in."
"Bullshit, I made sure that I-" Mirko craned her neck and saw the hole in the wall. "Very funny, Chicken Little. Didn't you have your own brat to drag around?"
"Not my fault the little birdie couldn't keep up with me."
Mirko snorted. "Like anyone's supposed to keep up with you when you break the sound barrier."
"Eh, getting ditched builds character. Just look at how I turned out."
"Not sure you're the best role model, mister government stooge."
"Some of us actually understand what teamwork is, miss lone rabbit."
For a moment, they sat in silence and watched the movie. Hawks rolled his eyes at the clumsy, over-the-top wire-fu, with actors flailing around in the air like badly designed puppets. Mirko snorted when one finally landed a glancing blow and spooned more orange mash into her mouth.
Hawks looked closer at the jar's label. "Are you eating baby food?"
"It's cheaper than buying a blender," Mirko said. "Tastes like crap." She scraped out the bottom of the jar and cracked open a second one.
"If your fights with that Midoriya kid keep ending up like this, that blender might be a good investment."
Mirko muted the movie. "You know I hate all that HPSC politics bullshit."
"It might have come up once or twice."
Mirko slapped him with the spoon. Hawks scrubbed it off his shirt and winced at the orange stain it left.
"Consider it a mark of how batshit crazy I think they've gone when I say that the stunt they pulled with the festival was a load of crap."
"Yeah, not one of their finer moments. The guy who suggested pitting him against Hatsume got fired."
"Oh great, it's even worse than I imagined. They fixed the randomized fights?"
"They're always randomized, or do you really think the rat would leave something so important to chance? The HPSC simply decided they wanted a turn at the wheel this year."
"Yeah, because they felt like murdering that kid's career in the cradle."
"The kid's dangerous."
Mirko kicked down. Beer cans went skittering across the floor, and the table shattered with a loud crash. "I'm dangerous. You're dangerous. That sweet old lady who asked me for baby pictures at the checkout aisle could twist people into a pretzel with her mind for all I know. News flash, chicken little, we're all fucking dangerous. If the HPSC's gonna freak out over everyone who could possibly be 'dangerous', then they don't have any business running this country."
"Midoriya's a bit more dangerous than some old granny, Mirko. And worse, Nezu's making the HPSC antsy with how he's been hiding it. He already has more power than he should, and less oversight."
"Probably he knows goddamn well the HPSC would either throw Izuku in Tartarus or give him a job. Hard to say which would be worse."
"Look, I'm not happy with this either. But either I give them the information they want, or they'll have to resort to… other methods."
"They don't 'have' to do anything. In fact, if they could stop doing anything and mind their own fucking business, that would be great."
Hawks gave her a flat look. "Rumi."
Mirko gave him an ugly glare, but Hawks refused to look away. He needed her to realize how serious the situation was, especially since any of the HPSC's more drastic methods would most likely happen under her watch. Last thing they needed was a top ten hero pulling a Nagant.
Whatever Mirko read on her face made her shake her head. "That bad, huh? Alright, you win. Just realize I had to push the kid into doing this much."
Before Hawks could ask what she meant, she rolled up her shirt. Her entire abdomen was a giant purple bruise, with a fist printed in burnt skin right above her left kidney.
"Mirko, you need a hospital."
"Relax, I've had worse stubbing my toe. Nothing's broken and I'm not pissing blood."
"You realize that does nothing to calm me down, right?"
"I know. And this was after I tried to block it with my leg." She rolled back her tights, exposing more bruised skin all along her knee. That made a chill run down Hawks' spine. She had deflected the equivalent of an artillery shell with her leg. Midoriya doing that kind of damage put him near All Might's level.
Or maybe even on it.
"Mirko. I need to hear you tell me right now that you're planning to teach the kid to put a tight leash on his strength."
"Kid's already got that. There'd be a lot of dead kids at that school if he didn't."
"Then at least tell me you're just showing him boring hero stuff. Patrol routes, paperwork, news cameras, the old smile and wave routine."
Mirko looked away from him. "Yeah, sure, whatever. Not like the kid needs to get stronger."
Which meant she was absolutely going to make him stronger. Hawks felt a migraine brewing behind his eyes.
"I'll take your word for it."
Mirko nodded and turned the volume back on. As the cheesy post-fight dialogue warbled out of antiquated speakers, Hawks said, "Mind passing me a jar?"
Mirko raised an eyebrow at him, cracked one open with her toes, and flung it at him. Hawks caught it with a feather and sniffed. Dipping a finger into it, he licked, shrugged, and dumped the rest into his mouth.
"You should get a blender. You could even add things besides carrots to it."
"Never."
"Apples, oranges, mangoes."
"Blasphemy."
"You realize carrots are unhealthy for rabbits, right?"
"Do I look like a rabbit to you?"
"Yes."
Mirko flung an empty jar at him. "So says the plucked chicken. I bet some Greek philosopher used you to make a point. Behold, a man."
"And here I thought you were fast asleep during history class. Greek philosophy?"
"Try the internet sometime. Might help you break out of that HPSC echo chamber you've been incubating inside."
"Maybe when I'm not busy keeping this country afloat."
"Bailing water don't mean shit if nobody's patching the holes."
"It does if it gets you to a safe harbor." Hawks rose and stretched his wings. "Watch your back in Hosu. The Hero Killer's been taking on stronger and stronger heroes. No one's really sure how strong he is, or how he's doing it."
"He wouldn't be hiding if he was any good."
Hawks thought about repeating himself, to emphasize keeping an eye out, but decided against it. She had enough warning about the HPSC.
Once he was outside and well out of Mirko's earshot, he called up his boss and said, "It's worse than you thought, sir. And frankly, I don't think we can do anything about it."
The answer he got wasn't the one he had hoped for.
A/N: you have no idea how important salt is for your sense of taste until you spend two weeks being unable to taste it. Cheeses and cured meats taste awful, butter tastes like it's unsalted, and even sprinkling salt straight on your tongue feels like you might've caught a whiff of an ocean breeze. About the only things that tasted right were fruits and raw vegetables.
Such is the magic of prescription mouthwash. Would've been nice hearing about that caveat up-front, but I guess me complaining about my broken sense of taste is how they know I actually used the stuff. Went two years without visiting a dentist because the one I went to closed its doors without me noticing, and that was the price I paid. No cavities though. :)
Reviews are always appreciated – I'd like to know what you think of the fight scene, Mirko and Hawks' character and interplay, and anything else that comes to mind. Feedback is how I improve as a writer.
VincentFS: "Damn, this was a fast-paced chapter. Who were you racing when writing this up? Fuckin' Speed Racer?"
Bardothren: So many fanfics have done the sports festival to death that I felt no need to waste time with it, especially since it's meaningless for Izuku. Brushing through it quickly is rather the point.
ProjectIceMan: "Yeah they goofed putting Izuku and Mei in the first round LOL"
Bardothren: in their defense, it probably seemed like the perfect way to vilify Izuku. Not their fault Mei hid a mecha in her purse.
AJTheGreat332: "Great chapter though you did have a typo after dark shadow stole a headband as Izuku gives the headband back to Mineta not Shinso. "Izuku met the Quirk's eyes as he passed the million-point headband back to *Mineta*, and he winked.""
Bardothren: there are no typos in Ba Sing Se. Yeah, that was due to Mineta eventually getting the fourth slot in the first draft, and I felt unhappy with how it went. Not perfectly happy with how Shinso fit in either, but I couldn't think of any better ideas.
Caspian123: "But alas, this is your story, I guess we will have to wait for the marines and the pirates to reach Izuku for him to get a good fight."
Bardothren: if this chapter didn't prove you wrong, the next one might ;)
Naruto30: "Why is the world against Izuku here? Granted he's a pirate in another world and the HPSC is a load of dung, but still, it's sad to see his classmates not liking him.
Also did shoto not get therapy here due to Izuku being OP? And it's kinda good that the pros atleast like him.
And isn't the announcer booth used by Mic and Aizawa? Why is some random nobody manning it here? Waiting for your next update"
Bardothren: the world being against him and the random announcers are both the HPSC's fault. The HPSC, seeing Izuku as someone way too strong for his age and with Nezu quickly snagging him into his school and covering his tracks at the police station, felt the circumstances were very suspicious and want to sabotage what they think is Nezu's next attempt to sequester more power for U.A. They used the villain deaths Izuku accidentally made an excuse to run a press campaign slandering him, and used the USJ attack as an excuse to take control of the sports festival and put their own announcers in. As for Shoto's therapy, yep. Another casualty of canon flying off the rails.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to lick a stick of butter, eat an entire wheel of cheese, and otherwise enjoy my newfound gustatory freedom.