Chapter Four

It was Saturday, a week later, and I was sitting in the food court, waiting.

I'd taken a week off from school, and finals were next week, but I wasn't too worried. The only things that I'd have trouble with were history, and literature, but it was middle school, and I'd been able to turn collegiate study skills, along with being able to review Denki's memories at will, on the issue so I'd be able to pass easily. That'd take a week and a half, and, while a pain, I could use the time in class to recover while pushing myself with training as soon as I got out.

Then it was ten days of spring vacation, and off to UA High.

The year-round school cycle was something I was still getting used to, and while I would've liked a solid seven weeks to prepare, I'd work with what I had. And it was already starting to pay dividends.

While I couldn't control electricity once it left my body, that just not being my power, I could control it from within. Whether this was something that Denki could've done all along, or Psychic Talent loosening the limits of my power, which let one "rapidly learn any psychic ability you encounter", I wasn't sure. Quirks counted as a 'Psychic' talent, as opposed to 'Soul' talents, like Ki or literal magic, and thus opened up new doorways. 'Encounter' was similarly vague. I could learn new things on my own, I hoped, but I knew I could learn from people that already had abilities. The learning had a rubber-banding nature to it, where the better they were with their skill than I was, the faster I learned, and my father was a master with his Quirk.

His ability, 'Electrobody', allowed him to turn himself into living lightning, able to move in an instant, and jump into any electrical system, running through and controlling it. Denki had always thought his father had a menial job, not helped by the man's humility in calling himself a 'talented electrician', a joke that had passed right over the boy's head, but nothing was further from the truth.

I'd finally asked him why he hadn't become a hero, and he'd nodded, as if he expected that question. "The pay isn't great, unless you're near the top. The hours are also terrible. You're in danger. You get hurt regularly. And worst, you can never stop working," he'd counted off. "I still help people, making sure everyone has power. I just do it on my terms."

Denki would've scoffed, or argued, having asked this question before only to ask only for his father to answer 'It's not for me', which Denki took as a dismissal. With his father taking him more seriously, the answer was more serious as well.

"And if you were in a position to help? And there were no heroes around?" I'd asked. "Would you help then?"

He'd considered the question, nodding slowly. "Only until they arrived. I'm not trained in that, and I don't know how to fight. Not like you apparently do," he'd teased, though Denki would've taken it as a rebuke for hiding his ability. "But if I could help, I would. I'd probably go get help, but that's helping, in its own way."

We'd worked hard, helping me develop ideas I'd had, and coming up with new ones, taking several trips out to an old quarry Dad had pulled some favors to get us access to, in order to test some of the more destructive concepts once they'd gotten past the 'can you do it with a paperclip' stage.

Then, two days ago, I'd had a breakthrough.

It had been small, but one of my fingers had destabilized, turning into a flickering tongue of solid-yellow lightning, snapping back when I'd yelped in surprise. My father had been similarly surprised, swearing for the first time in years and sparking wildly.

Thankfully, with the variegated nature of powers, this sort of thing was only incredibly rare, instead of outright impossible. From there, though, we'd shifted gears, my dad trying to teach me everything he could do. I was still miles away from even how good he was at my age, which helped sell my idea of 'similar powers, but never as strong as you in your specialization' that I'd pulled directly from my ass, but I was gaining in skill quickly, according to him.

I still had a long way to go, and a full-body transformation was, if I didn't slow down, which I knew I would, still several months away. However we'd made plans to, even with my going to UA, still work on my copy of his skill a few evenings a week. Hopefully that would be enough to get there, before the school locked down and I had to move into the dorms.

However, after seven twelve to sixteen hour days, he needed to go back to his job to relieve the workload that'd been piling up, and I was, finally, un-grounded, waiting for my date.

I'd texted Mina the day after I'd gotten home from the exam, and she'd been friendly, if oddly reserved. She'd eventually admitted that, until they got their results, that she didn't think she'd be fun to be around, which I could empathize with. Then, with my being grounded, which she'd laughed about and said she understood, we'd had to wait, and arranged to meet today.

Spotting the shock of pink hair, I waved a hand, and she waved back, prancing up to where I was sitting. "Sparky!" she smiled. "Glad ta see ya got your brains back!"

"Good to see you too, Pinky," I replied, smiling in return. "And I told you, that was only temporary. Um, I didn't say anything embarrassing, did I? I don't actually remember what happens when I'm like that."

"Oh, no, you were a total sweetie!" she laughed, taking a seat. "You'd look at something, and then look at me, and tell me how my pretty eyes were, then get distracted, look back, and do it all over again. It was totally adorbs."

I shook my head. "That's not that bad. When I'm like that I just blurt out the first thing I think, and I wasn't lying, your eyes are enchanting." I gave her a cheesy smile to go with the cheesy line, and she blushed a darker shade of pink. "I can't tell you how much trouble that got me into before I raised my limit and stopped hitting it all the time. Telling a cute girl her eyes are pretty is one thing, telling a guy that his long hair makes him look like a girl? Not so much."

She laughed, nodding. "Was it at least up, like a samurai?"

"Nope, the boy had long, lucious, lavender locks," I said, "And liked to have them waving in the breeze. And what's worse, he obviously took good care of them."

"He didn't," she gasped, devolving into giggles. "So from behind?"

" Yep," I nodded, changing the topic. "So, you know what class you're in?"

She gave me a faux-arch look. "Why do you think I got in? For all you know, I didn't."

"Because I saw you in action," I replied, as if it were obvious. "And with rescue points being a thing, and you and ball-boy saving my ass, I'm sure you got some of those too, even if you didn't help anyone else. So, class?"

She blushed again, for some reason, before grinning broadly. "Class 1-A!" she announced, reading my expression. "You too? That's awesome! Haven't even started and I already have a friend in class!"

I motioned towards the rest of the food court, "Let's grab some grub, I didn't want to get something without you."

"Food court date? I can dig it!" she cheered as she stood, grabbing my hand and dragging me off.

The food was. . . different, but I had Denki's memories so I didn't look like a complete gaijin. "You don't need to pay," she reassured me, but I raised an eyebrow, handing over the cash to the cashier.

"Doesn't the guy pay on dates?" I asked, prompting another blush-and-giggle.

"I was joking," she told me, and my disappointment must've been obvious because she just shook her head. "Oh my god you're like a giant puppy. Fine, but next time I'll pay."

"I'm liking the sound of 'next time'," I smiled, and we grabbed a new table. "So, what've you been up to these past few weeks?"

She shrugged, taking a bite of her meal. "Nuthin' much. Hangin' with friends. School. You?"

" Training," I stated. Denki didn't really have any close friends, just people he hung out with when there was nothing to do. They tried to make a band, but it'd never taken off, only Denki putting forth the effort to get better. Plus side, I know knew how to play the electric guitar!

That got me an incredulous look. "But, you got in. You did get in, right?" she asked. Neither of us had explicitly stated that we had, dancing around the issue. I nodded. "Then. . . why?"

"Because we've gotten in, but that's just the start. Chances are there'll be some sort of test in the first week, and I want to be ready for it," I explained.

"A test in the first week? Lame," she grumbled, though not disagreeing with me outright. "Like, how is that even fair? We took a test to get in! "

I shook my head, "Not a. . . I don't know how to put it. Not a test test, but a diagnostic test. To get a baseline of what we can do, so they know how we're improving. We showed off a bit of what we could do, but there's a ton of difference between 'run around and hit robots' and 'what is your max speed in a fifty meter dash'. Like a fitness test, but with quirks, so you could beat me in a run by sliding to the finish line while I'd have to hoof it."

She blinked, black and gold eyes wide. "Oh. My. God. That makes so much sense!" She practically shouted, getting a few looks, but she didn't seem to notice, or just didn't care. "So you've been working on your Quirk? What is your Quirk? I remember lightning, and explosions, but I don't get how those go together."

"They don't," I replied easily enough. "My quirk is Electrification. Basically I'm a one-man generator, but I have no control of it after I let it go. That means if I don't want to hit my allies I need to get up close and personal. The explosions were from the three-pointer's missiles. Apparently they could explode, they just weren't doing that for the test, but a bit of a charge and it kick-started the detonation sequence. Only problem is that, if I go too hard, too fast with my power, a mental fuse blows and my mind shuts down, and, well, I can't stop remarking on how beautiful your eyes are," I smiled. "Not that I don't do so anyways, I just don't say so aloud."

She smiled, waggling her eyebrows as she stuck out her chest, " Just my eyes?"

If I was myself at this age, I would've doubled down on my comment, that I cared more for who she was, reflected in her eyes, than how she looked, but that would've both not been believed, even if it was true, and been an insult to the pride she took in her physique. Denki would've likely quickly sputtered something about her 'hot bod', making a fool out of himself, though without the stigma of 'obviously lying'.

Instead I slowly looked down her form appreciatively, taking the challenge in the spirit it was given. Just as appreciatively I worked my way back up to her darkened cheeks, dark eyes, and cute horns, "The rest of you is very nice as well, just not quite as eye catching."

"You're not bad yourself, Mr. Muscles," she replied, blatantly staring at my chest, my t-shirt a bit tight as I'd hit yet another growth spurt in the last few months. "Want to go to the arcade?" she suddenly suggested, springing to her feet.

"Sure," I shrugged, following.

The rest of the day we spent popping around from place to place. I was decent at the shooting games, but Mina was so much better than me at the dance games it was actually amazing. She dragged me to the movies, where we flipped a coin on whether to see a romance movie or an action one.

She won, and I was forced to watch a sappy chick flick about a guy with a mutation quirk that he thought made him monstrous, while the shy girl who could turn to smoke a disappear watched him from afar, before he finally noticed her watching him and they started to dance around each other, both telling themselves they could settle with 'just being friend', finally ending up together, 'love conquering all' and all that jazz.

The fact that the guy was rich and his 'monstrous' form was a beef-cake Minotaur likely didn't hurt.

"I'm just saying," I proposed after dinner, the sun almost set. "That, like, half the movie and most of the drama could've been skipped if one of them had just said something! It's not terribly difficult!"

"They were just worried the other wouldn't like them back," Mina argued. "They didn't think anyone would like them, so they didn't want to ruin it!"

I sighed, "I get that, but. . . what if they were wrong?" At her confused look, I tried again. "What if only only one liked the other, and the other really saw the first as a friend? The first still would've confessed, but only after a ton of worry, and stress, and all of that, only for it to go nowhere after they'd worked themselves up into thinking it was some stupid do-or-die thing. If you like a person, say so. The worst they can do is say no, which usually has more to do with them then you, and then you know, so you can find someone who does like you."

"What, just announce that you love them out of nowhere? That's kinda weird, my dude," she disagreed.

"Not love," I replied, shaking my head, trying to put words to the knowledge of two combined lives. "Love is. . . love is deep. Love isn't heady infatuation, it's a soul-deep knowledge that the person you're with is someone you always want to be with, not a feeling that you might want to be. They didn't love each other, at least, as far as I could tell. They liked each other, a lot, and they could love each other, but they spent so long worrying they barely spent any time together. We've spent more time together than they had by the end, if you don't count all of that one sided staring, that would've been stalking if they weren't attractive, which I don't."

"Tell me how ya really feel," Mina joked, elbowing me. "So then, what about love at first sight? Are you sayin' that's not real."

"Yes," I declared. " Like at first sight, absolutely, exhibit A," I said, waving to her. "Lust at first sight is a thing too, but Love? No. That takes time, and communication, and. . . not commitment, not in that way, and investment makes it sound clinical. Caring is a bit too general, but yeah, you need to care about what the other person wants, not just what you think they want."

Which was one of the issues with the Stamp, which I'd found in my pocket at the movies. With her attention on the film, it would've been stupidly easy to 'capture' her, but it also would've been wrong. The stamp created something very close to love in its victims, but it was artificial, warping their personalities until they fit the user's, with added bits on top to make stamping others that much easier.

And, in doing so, never allow actual love to form.

I stopped, realizing Mina wasn't walking beside me, and turned, seeing her staring at me, several steps away. "What?" I asked, a worry I'd said the wrong thing, running up my spine. This was why I wanted to buy Social Talent, because I had no idea what I was doing. Combat? I had some experience with that before I'd come here, though nothing that serious, thankfully. Dating? No, that was bad experiences all 'round.

Maybe that was why I'd signed up for this entire thing, a guarantee that I would have someone that cared for me, a heartfelt wish warped into a foul mockery of what I'd wanted. It'd fit the infernal contract I'd woken up holding.

"Exhibit A?" she echoed as she walked up to me. "What d'ya mean 'Exhibit A'?"

I blinked, mentally rewinding what I'd just said. "Oh, I like you. I thought that was obvious. My apologies," I offered, unable to repress the small smile that sprung to my lips. She seemed surprised, but not upset, which was a good sign. If she didn't like me, that was okay. And if she did? That was okay too.

"I, you, so you weren't saying I liked you at first sight?" she asked, recovering quickly, putting a little sway in her hips as she took the last few steps up to me.

"I mean, I'd prefer if you did, as it's always nicer if both people liked each other," I grinned.

She stepped closer, until we were inches apart. "I could be convinced."

Going for it, I casually lifted my hand to her chin, tilting her face upwards, and went in for the kill. Or, more specifically, the kiss.

She was soft, and warm, and oddly sweet. It's a gentle kiss, a prelude, and a moment to give her another chance to say no. As I pull away, she lifts up to chase me, and I meet her again, tongue gently pressing on her lips, which open without hesitation.

She's sweet, and with the faintest tingle of something else, like pineapple juice. Her tongue slides against mine in a moment of pleasure, a hum of enjoyment coming from one of us, and reverberating through the other as the world seems to fall away for a few seconds that feel much, much longer.

An old woman clears her throat in irritation and disapproval. Pulling back, I locked eyes with the old biddy as she walked around us, giving us the stink-eye.

"Karaoke?" Mina asked, a little breathless, and I looked back to her, smiling, and nodded, not knowing what that had to do anything, Denki's memories all but shouting at me ' Say! Yes!'

The girl all but dragged me to a nearby store, which was a lobby with two hallways leading back, lined with doors made of frosted glass. She had a quick discussion with the receptionist, and all I could pick out was "One, no two hours please," as I looked around. A menu was pushed into my hands, I picked a drink, and in seconds we're in a small room with a television, a microphone, a wide table, and bench seating.

Part of me was still wondering how we jumped from a very nice kiss to sitting in this private. . . room. Right. Japanese cultural norms. PDA is a no-go. I wasn't exactly sure what we were doing here, but a picture started to form as she kept glancing between me (as I looked at her with a waiting smile), the tablet computer built into the table, and the door.

Grabbing the microphone, she selected a song and went for it without saying a word to me. It was a song that Denki had heard of, and she did a good job of singing it. As she wrapped it up, our drinks were dropped off, the attendant giving Mina a pointed look before leaving.

The girl waited, picking another song, something with a slower beat, this one with a vocal track playing. She put down the mic, and approached me, trying for sultry but obviously nervous.

Our height differences are reversed as our lips meet again, and its an interesting experience, just as enjoyable as the kiss we shared outside, and a good bit longer.

She pulls away first, breathing hard, eyes a little glazed. "I. . . does this seem fast? Because this seems fast."

"Better question: Do you care?" I reply.

Her response is to lean in again, arms wrapping around my shoulders, as the world not as much falls away, as much as it just becomes of secondary importance.

The song ends, and she pulls back again, catching her breath. "I mean, I just met you," she says, "And you're cute, and were super badass, but I'm-" she starts to babble, silenced with a finger to her lips.

"So, you do care, which is perfectly alright," I reassure her. "We won't go any further than this, at least not this time."

Her expression is torn, and I lean past her to pick a different song. "And by this, I mean this," I tell her, one hand at her shoulder while I sweep the back of her knees with the other. This move comes as easily as if I'd practiced it a hundred times, twisting and catching her as she squeaks in surprise.

Depositing her in my lap, I lean in for another kiss, which she happily returns, twisting in fun and interesting ways in my arms. My hands remain on her back and legs, holding her in place to make sure she doesn't fall, not sliding towards her middle, no matter how much a baser part of me wants to.

The song ends, and she leans back, eyes half-lidded. "I like this," she announces, twisting to select another song, then back to me, half pulling me down, half pulling herself up.

We got the warning call that our time's almost up, and I paused the song I was singing, the two of us had actually used the karaoke machine as something other than background music after the first half-hour or so, though with frequent 'breaks'. Mina looked like she was considering it until I sat down and pointed out that I wasn't sure what time she needed to get back home.

Checking the time, she did some mental math, then her eyes went wide. Telling them we'd be out in a few, she pulled out her own phone, and called her parents, telling them that she'd lost track of time with her friend singing, and she was on her way home.

"Sorry," she apologized. "I need to g-!" was as far as she got before I pulled her down into another warm, pleasurable kiss.

"Today was great," I told her with complete honesty as I pulled back, "And you have nothing to apologize for. Want to do this again next weekend?"

"This?" she asked looking up at me from my lap with lidded eyes and sly smile, looking sexy as fuck. "Or, this."

I smiled, my mouth feeling a bit raw, but I didn't care. "Preferably both. All of it was fun."

Giving a moue of disappointment, she mock-whined, "But next weeked is so far away."

I stared stoically into the middle distance. "Tis true, but as heroes one must learn to deal with the hardships of this cruel world to better defend it from the pernicious perils that plague it."

She laughed so hard she snorted, grabbing my shirt to help her sit up. "You're such a dork," she teased.

"Ah, you've found my greatest secret!" I gasped in mock horror. "One that I will do anything to keep hidden. Name your price, foul temptress."

She laughed again, making sure to drain the last of her drink. "You're lucky you're cute," she informed me with a grin.

We left the karaoke box, and walked together over to the train station. Hers arrived first, and she turned to me, making a beckoning gesture. I leaned over, and she kissed me on the cheek, promising "Next week" before joyfully bounding over to the train, turning and giving me the biggest smile of the night and cheerfully waving as it slide away.

My own train arrived, and I got home, the train seeming faster than normal. Walking inside, my parents glanced up from where they were watching television.

"Have fun?" my father asked, his voice in it's normal, understated tone, and I smiled.

"Good. Seeing her again?" he asked, and I nodded.

"Good. Want to skip training?"

I considered that, shaking my head.

"Good. See you tomorrow."

I started to head upstairs to take a shower, stumbling as my mom called after me, "And use protection! I don't want any grand-kids until you've graduated!"

Quickly retreating, I reddened in embarrassment as I tried to ignore my parents laughter. Heading into the shower, I found my lips red, and a little chapped. Acid, or overuse? I wondered, but it didn't matter.

As I headed to bed, there was only one feeling I had about that minor, very specific injury:

Worth it.