The audio version of this chapter can be found by searching Weshney Portal Panic on Youtube.
Shout out this week-
Death of Snipers. Thanks, as always! I'll put more thought into the upcoming Ojiro scene with that in mind. You always give good advice. I'd be very happy if you wanted to become a Beta so you could help me with that kind of stuff before I do the audio. Would be nice to catch MHA OOC stuff in the first draft instead of the third. XD
Re-recording audio is not easy because it deletes views and stuff. You can't just switch out the video on youtube. :(
Okami2312- Oh, they're getting places. Just nowhere I expected. LOL. I keep adding more and more stuff in that even I don't know where it's headed.
CRUDEN- Bakugo villain origin story. I don't know if I'm capable of that level of angst. XD (says as I continually put in messed up shit. LOL) Love your reviews. They make me laugh.
Up to 108 favs and 155 follows!
***New Artwork this week***
Search "Weshney deviantart" on google to see Dani, Luke and Gryphon in the Lost Holm! It shows how I've been picturing Dani's ice themed costume.
Also, Sou-chan's letter.
Warning*** Part with Present Mic briefly references domestic abuse.
All scenes with only MHA characters will be written in English, for ease of reading, but the characters are actually speaking Japanese to each other.
Oh wheeere is my hairbrush?
Friday, September 14th
7:18 am
Shell-shocked.
That was the best way to describe Izuku's state of mind. It was like white noise filled every murky corner of his brain when he thought about Kacchan, shutting off any and all intelligible thought. He'd talked to Aguni-sensei yesterday (in a serendipitously pre-scheduled session) and the therapist had assured him it was a natural response to trauma. That the mind could put things on hold that it wasn't quite ready to process.
He'd wanted to protest that this didn't qualify as trauma, per se, but found it hard to argue when his brain just kept…liquefying.
Kacchan was a brash fountain of infinite strength. He couldn't just…fail. Lose everything. All at once.
If only Izuku could hold—comfort, cry with—his friend. He knew Katsuki wouldn't allow it, but anything was better than this.
The greenet risked a bloodshot glance across the communal bathroom's sink well, past Kaminari to where Bakugo listlessly brushed pearly teeth. The boy who normally scrubbed at plaque like it was a mortal insult to his soul was gone, replaced by an automaton. In fact, Kacchan's movements were so sluggish, he could have been mistaken for a cold-climate lizard that had yet to sunbathe.
Izuku's eyes jumped past his rival, taking in Kirishima. The redhead was staring at Kacchan's hand with pinched brows.
Looks like Midoriya hadn't been the only one to notice Bakugo's slowness.
Suddenly, Eijiro's eyes were on Izuku. Pleading.
A cold sweat crept along his back but he found his spine steeling anyway. Antagonizing Bakugo was daunting, but it was a way to actually help. If the nitroglycerin-quirked teen didn't get his blood pressure up, he was going to pass out. Izuku'd never forgive himself if Kacchan slipped into a coma just because he couldn't take a few burns.
"K-kacchan."
Everyone in the bathroom froze, toothbrushes hanging half out of frothy mouths. Katsuki, however, didn't so much as twitch, blue bristles maintaining a circular motion against his teeth as his eyes kept their hundred-yard stare.
Izuku needed something more irritating than Bakugo's childhood nickname to get a rise. Something that wouldn't ultimately make things worse.
Spitting minty foam into the sink, he followed with, "I heard that Baku-chan is going to be moving in. It'll be nice to see her."
When several pops exploded down the way, Izuku knew he'd succeeded in getting Kacchan's attention.
For some reason, now that he had it, an idea popped into his mind.
A good chase might raise Kacchan's spirits.
Turning on the faucet and cupping his hands under the water, Izuku acted like he was going to rinse out his mouth. Halfway to his face, he threw his arms left, arcing the liquid into a projectile.
Denki squawked, hit by crossfire as the provoker pivoted and flashed out of the bathroom.
A split-second later, a smoke of pursuit obscured and smothered an afterimage of green sparks.
Friday, September 14th
7:42 am
Harsh breathing filled the air as Midoriya peeked around a corner. Poking at Kacchan had gone a little too well.
Black scorch marks peppered Izuku's grey jacket, the dark teal of one of his shoulder accents hanging by a thread.
Luckily, he'd lost the other boy when Aizawa had cocooned his pursuer in a capture scarf. But that left a bigger problem.
Aizawa-sensei.
Izuku half expected the man to come ghosting around the main campus building like an angry ogre, eyes glowing red and aura threatening.
When he didn't, the greenet sighed, but not in relief. That meant the Erasure hero would be more like a funnel spider, lying in wait for Izuku's inevitable return to Homeroom.
The bedraggled teen checked his phone. Forty-five minutes until class.
He couldn't go back to the dorms, for obvious reasons; but he could hardly stick around here. If he walked around campus without a supervisor for that long, there's no telling what Aizawa-sensei would do.
Midoriya's cell phone went off, startling him enough that he almost dropped the device. Checking the screen, he found his lips lifting at a text from Kirishima.
Thanks, Man! You're the best! Bakugo's already dropped six f-bombs in the past four minutes. :)
Thank goodness.
His phone chimed again.
Don't worry about your books and stuff. I'll bring em with to class.
Even better. Now he just needed to figure out what to do about killing ti—
Another ding.
Midoriya-shounen. Are you okay? Aizawa-sensei just called me.
All Might!
The mini-Might nearly scratched his screen with a fingernail in his haste to reply.
Yes! I'm fine! I'm just outside the main building.
Did you want to talk about it? I'm in my office right now.
Midoriya had already typed No, don't worry about it. I'm fine, and was ready to hit send when he paused. Hadn't he just been thinking he needed to find a supervisor? And he really did need to talk to All Might about something else. Holding down the backspace, he rewrote, Be there in a minute.
Stepping out from the corner he'd been hiding behind, Izuku approached one of the H-shaped building's main entrances and ducked inside. As tempting as it was to take the stairs, the athlete ignored them for the elevator, riding the lift up to the ninth floor where the faculty offices were.
It wasn't long before the motion-sensor lights led him down the hallway to the plain brown door of Yagi's office.
Slipping inside, Izuku wasn't expecting the lengthy, frail arms that instantly dragged him into a hug or the fresh tears that spilled down his face before he could stop them.
"I'm so sorry, Midoriya."
Great, ugly gasps rasped from weak lungs as he struggled to breath, throat closing and snot oozing from a red nose. The world faded and his thoughts floated away until a woolly suit jacket roughed his face enough to anchor him, tethering him to his sanity like a kite tied to a windy bluff.
The distraught student opened his mouth, a hissing wheeze escaping instead of the words he'd wished to form. Another shuddering breath and he tried again, this time with marginal success, "Kaccha—" hic "—n needed it. I—" another shaky breath "—had to get him worked up."
Izuku was reminded once again exactly why he loved Toshinori as the adult just gently nudged him toward the office's couch. "You aren't in trouble. Aizawa-san suspected you were trying to help. He called to see if I would check in on you."
For some reason, that brought more tears which Izuku frantically wiped away as he settled onto the green furniture. The cushions dipped next to him and he caught the tail end of his mentor leaning back, one hand still lightly holding Izuku's shoulder even as he coughed to the side.
"Sorry, All Might. I know I need to stop being such a crybaby."
"I think I'll let it go, just this once." The skeletal man raised his free hand, a finger going to thin lips as if to say "shh".
Izuku released a choked laugh, but it was enough to remind him why he was actually here.
All Might-sensei needed to know about Lunch Lady's attack on Kanagawa. The curly-haired boy had promised Ojiro-kun he wouldn't say anything, but seeing his tailed friend come home from the punitive meeting yesterday had changed his mind.
The blonde had never been so still. (Not literally. He'd moved. He'd talked. He'd interacted. But something had gone from the boy that "motion" just didn't cover.) He'd seemed so blank, smile reassuring as a Nopperabo donning a Noh mask.
Still, Izuku had to be smart about telling.
If Ojiro-kun found out he had, the greenet wasn't sure the other teen would ever forgive him. But, if All Might came across the article on his own, through some well-timed hints, well, technically he'd be keeping his promise.
"Thanks. Everything just really caught up to me all at once." Izuku carefully extracted himself out of the taller male's personal space, scooting a couple inches away so that their thighs were no longer touching. "I feel better."
"Can I get you anything? Water? Juice? Tea?" Yagi asked, already turning toward a small mini fridge in the corner of the room and pushing off from the couch.
"No, thank you. I was actually hoping to talk to you about setting up a field trip for the class. Things have been really rough and I think it might be good for everyone to get a day off campus. I hear there are a lot of temples near the Kanagawa shopping mall that would be great to do research on for our upcoming Kamakura project. Maybe we can go there."
"Do I really need to remind you that UA is in lockdown?" Toshinori lifted a (mostly hairless) brow ridge and popped open the door to the fridge. Spindly fingers clamped down over a small juice box, drawing it out like an arcade claw before closing the fridge and puncturing the container with a straw.
"We could bring a ton of security! It doesn't have to be unsafe! I've just been seeing a lot of articles lately about how cool the area is. I really think it would help us get our minds off the green Nom—"
"—Midoriya-shounen, you know why we can't do that." Izuku winced as All Might plopped back down on the couch with a sigh, sucking at his sugary drink until the laminated cardboard dimpled.
Izuku took a breath, blowing out frustration. "Can you at least just think about it? Look into the area a bit? I bet if you did some research, Nezu would have to listen to you."
"I'm sorry, Midoriya. You have to understand. There's really nothing I can do to change the staff's mind on this."
Izuku's jaw clenched, then relaxed. This was going to be harder than he thought.
He'd have to try again later. If he kept pushing it'd be suspicious. And if All Might didn't stop being so dense, he was going to say the wrong thing and incriminate himself despite his best efforts.
Friday, September 14th
8:57 am
Carl Johnson's lanky frame shouted up at the auditorium, reminding his students that the assignment on identifying RAM types was due Monday.
Danny slouched, holding a throbbing head as he uncapped his thermos and took a swig of the peppery, nutmeg-lemonade flavor he associated with ectoplasm. A nearby student gave a weird look, nose crinkled, but after Danny's mechanical-pencil-ray misfire last Friday, she refused to comment. Not worth getting involved with a "Fenton", he was sure.
Normally, he'd find that level of shallow behavior mildly annoying, but right now he was just thankful he could nurse his hangover in peace. It was pretty funny watching her endure the scent of "antiseptics and chemotherapy chemicals" in self-imposed silence, though.
"Okay, Class! Enjoy your weekend and I'll see you all Monday!" As per usual, Mr. Johnson was the first one out the door.
Danny rose, grabbed his red bag and started down the aisle. He hadn't bothered unpacking anything today as it had taken all his effort just to listen beyond the pounding in his ears. Pushing by peers that leaned aside to let him pass, the halfa ghosted toward the door.
Huh. That'd been surprisingly easy. Normally there was at least an iota of resistance for anyone trying to leave right away.
Oh. Whoops.
Danny sucked his aura back into himself, removing his "pain" from the air. Several students at the end of the row nearest him visibly sagged and he ducked through the door feeling somewhat guilty.
The second he got to the other side, his two best friends fell into step beside him.
They were here early. Especially Sam.
Danny eyed the goth suspiciously until she queried, "Soooo. How are you feeling?" The words were considerately quiet, barely a murmur, and the pieces clicked into place.
"My head feels like it got hit by a sledgehammer." (He'd know.) "But other than that, I'm good. No more nausea, at least. Things are still a bit bright, but at least the sound sensitivity's gone."
"Oh sweet! That means I don't have to whisper," Tucker called loudly, grinning at the other boy's discomfort.
Sam elbowed the technogeek's side and rolled her eyes as Danny stepped in front, leading the two down the stairwell and outside to a set of empty picnic tables.
Danny felt a hum in his chest as he sat down that caused him to look over at his friends. Their breath frosted the air and there wasn't a speck of winter gear between them. Not even Sam, who normally had an array of fleece-lined, print-covered leggings for Fall. Stealing glances at the bright, formless cloud cover above them, he offered, "We can go inside, if it's too cold."
"Nah, Man. This is fine," Tuck assured, plopping on the other side of the table and pulling out his phone. "You wanted to complain about something ghostly, right?"
"How did you know that?" Danny whined, hiding his head in an arm cradle. "I haven't even said anything yet."
"Oh I don't know. Maybe the fact that you took point on our walk and led us to a place devoid of people?" Sam teased.
Tucker just shook his head, commenting "Clueless," before absentmindedly opening a Digimon emulator and tacking on, "Don't forget a Scrambler."
Scrambler. RIGHT. Danny lifted his head and a sharp jab to his brain reminded him exactly why he'd forgotten to use the power.
Hurrying to flood the area with technopathy, he nudged all nearby machines to "ignore" outside sights and sounds.
"So? What's up?" Sam's arms were already wrapped around herself, but she didn't comment on the chill.
Ice-cold energy crept from Danny's core, pouring up his throat and out his eyes in a way that turned their normal blue ethereal. The temperature surrounding his friends skyrocketed fifteen degrees at the same time that fat snowflakes began to fall over the school's baseball fields.
Bile suddenly rose in his gullet and he turned around, vomiting into the grass.
"Danny! We said it was fine! Don't overextend yourself!" Sam scolded, her tone telling him just how exasperating he was to be around even as he felt a slender hand start to rub circles on his back.
"Can I just—?" The ravenet looked pleadingly at the stinking pile of neon-green-oatmeal.
"No!" came at the same time as, "Please, Dude, or I'm gonna hurl too."
Danny spread intangibility through his shoe to the ground and the vomit disappeared into the grass like magic.
"Tucker!" Sam seethed, steadying Danny through another wave of nausea.
"Hey, don't be too mad, Sam. At least my powers actually work today. Yesterday was awful! I had to move to the Ops Center after I burst a pipe just getting water. Thank God the girls were in the lab."
"It's probably just a side effect of the whiskey. You do have one heck of a hangover," Tuck reminded, as if Danny had even a chance of forgetting.
"You don't understand. Yesterday was bad. I lost my pants. And set my shirt on fire. At the same time," the supernatural boy deadpanned.
"Well, have you made any headway on why everyone's powers are acting up?" Sam inquired, grabbing Danny's thermos out of his bag, uncapping it and handing it to him with a no-nonsense expression.
Danny accepted it without a fight, sucking in a gulp of the viscous liquid before responding, "Not yet. But Frostbite said he's looking into some weird radio wave that's been broadcasting in the Zone. He seems to think it might be related. Some kind of discourse thing."
"Ask if it got stronger yesterday or something," Tucker cut in. "That'd give you a pretty good idea if it's the source of the problem.
"True," Danny acknowledged, tipping back the rest of his drink. "But I don't want solutions right now. I want to vent! You should have seen the size of my—"
"EW! No! Gross! There is no way that you can end that sentence that will be okay," Sam cut him off.
"Whaaaat? I was just talking about a ghost shield," Danny responded innocently, blinking big baby blues at his disgusted friend.
"Suuuure you were," Tuck laughed, looking up from his game with a grin as Danny fought his own smile.
"It's true! I sneezed! Blasted a fifty foot ghost shield. Right out of my nose!"
"WOW, would you look at that?" Sam made a show of rubbing her arms. "Goosebumps. I'm officially cold." The goth pushed herself up from the table and extracted herself from the bench. "Time to go inside!"
The boys shared a glance before following Sam's lead, snickers chasing her brisk-paced form all the way to the Arts Center.
Friday, September 14th
10:33 am
Tokyo Central Trauma Center. How may I help you?
"Hi, I'd like to speak to Hoshizora-sensei. Would you be a dear and transfer me to him?"
Are you a patient or family member of his?
"No, I—"
I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you won't be able to speak to him unless you have an appointment or have been admitted to our ER.
Color bloomed in Chiyo's cheeks and she pursed her lips. Now that was just downright rude. Was this how Central hospital treated people these days?
"My name is Shuzenji, Chiyo." The grandma kept her tone even and soft, like she was talking to someone particularly slow. "Also known as Recovery Girl. I am neither a patient, nor a moocher. I need to speak to my colleague about a work related issue." An edge hardened her next words, sharp as an obsidian blade, "If you would be so kind."
Shuzenji-sensei!? An office chair suddenly creaked in the background,the wheels thuddering along something plastic, possibly a floor mat, before the receiver muffled and the person on the other end called out something indistinct. Someone else apparently answered, because a second later the phone returned to clarity and she breathed, He's with a patient right now, but if you leave your number with me I can have him call you—oh wait, he just got out. HOSHIZORA-SENSEI! Chiyo pulled the phone away from her ear at the yell. Oh, sorry! I didn't mean to—I just—here! the receptionist squeaked and clattery static filtered through the line.
Uhm, hello? The words sounded more than a little confused. This is Hoshizora.
"Ryuji-kun! Hello, Dear. This is Shuzenji." Chiyo let warmth into her tone. The reason for her call might be grave, but she wouldn't let it interfere with genuine happiness at talking to an old resident.
Shuzenji-sensei?! the chicken-dinosaur hybrid squawked. How have you been?
"I'm sorry Sweetheart, but I don't have time for a social call right now." Chiyo easily pushed regret into her voice. "I wouldn't mind one when I'm less busy, but I'm on a mission right now."
Oh, of course! Sorry! What-What did you need?
"A direct line to reach you in the future would be much appreciated, for starters. Your receptionist is a bit like Shiitake-kun used to be, before I set him straight," the elder chuckled.
Ah…
"Second, I need to do a patient sweep. I'm sure you've heard about the missing students. Hagakure Toru and Kamada Haru."
Yes. I'd heard. My condolences.
Chiyo could have corrected him, reminded him that the girls could still be alive and well. But this was her old student. They both knew the statistics.
A few mouse clicks and keyboard taps later, Hoshizora answered Chiyo's request, No patients have come in under those names. And no invisible Yamada Hanako's.
Hair and eye color of the other student?
"Grey for both."
Any mutations?
"None."
It was a good thing Chiyo was a doctor and a hero. Otherwise bypassing PPC wouldn't have been near so simple.
No one's coming up. But I'll let you know in the future if that changes. My number's—
Chiyo hurried to scribble down the string of digits, glad she'd had a pen and paper nearby for notes.
"Thanks, Ryuji-kun. Sorry to have our first talk in a long time be all business."
No, not at all. I remember how you operate. It was good to hear your voice, at least.
"Yours too. I'll call again another time, but I have to go for now. Lots to do."
Talk to you later, then.
"Bye."
Chiyo sagged in her chair, eyes scrolling over a long list of hospitals in the area.
Placing a check near Central, she exhaled.
Work to do, indeed.
Friday, September 14th
11:17 am
Hizashi Yamada rubbed puffy, dark eyes. He hadn't gotten much sleep last night, knowing what the staff had been forced to decide on. Removing students from the hero course for misconduct was something UA did not do lightly. In fact, the last time it'd happened, Hizashi had been a student.
It also didn't help that the decision came on the heels of two voluntary unenrollments from the hero course.
Yamada took a slow breath, counted to seven and released it.
Dwelling and moping wasn't going to help any of his students, but continuing to go through fanmail might help Hagakure.
The talk show host looked over at a mountain of papers next to him, its jumbled slopes stark white against the forest green of his office couch.
He was in the hour between periods, so he had some time. Best to get to it.
Tying his hair in a ponytail with a black elastic band, he grabbed an envelope at random from the chaotic mess and tore it open. A letter withdrew and green-yellow eyes scanned for a red mark. Seeing scarlet crayon above a sloppy scrawl of hiragana, the hero grimaced, already bracing himself for what news this little listener might have to share.
It was always harder when children used the SOS notation.
Their problems could be as simple as a stray cat not showing up for dinner. But sometimes, sometimes they were much worse. Those letters and voicemails always broke his heart no matter how quickly he could get child protective services involved.
Luckily, this one seemed to be mismarked. He should probably feel annoyed that the kid didn't understand the importance of a red tag, but all he really felt was relief.
Hi Mr Pres൭Nt Mic.
My -m- naMe iss Sou-chan. I found anew fri൭nd that might B coOl -2- TOo HAVe on you're sho-uu-w. No 1 is lice him. He iz licE A NEW aniMle.
PS pleez have HIm on! He is so coOL!
Below the heartfelt note was a drawing that wasn't a stick figure, but may as well have been. Yellow circles framed out a disproportionate body with nine strands of hair and a smile in brown. Beside the figure (labeled with an arrow as "Me") was a lime green circle. Big red eyes looked out from the blob that was aptly named "Watrmellen".
Yamada felt a smile creep onto his face. He might just have to have Sou-chan and his pet watermelon on the show. But not right now.
Standing up and walking to the far wall, the celebrity pinned the letter to a cork board full of favorites before turning back around and eyeing the couch.
He should probably switch to voicemails. They tended to be a lot easier to sort through and had more recent information.
Strolling over to his desk, Hazashi opened a drawer and grabbed out his "tip line" work phone. Swiping the lock screen open, he held the "1" on the device's keypad until the cell started to ring.
Please enter your password.
1365.
You have_twenty-seven_new messages.
There were a lot today. Hopefully, that meant actual news on the missing girls.
Thursday, September thirteenth, 9:02 pm.
"Hi, Present Mic. I wanted to report a possible drug dealer in the Minato ward near block twelve. Petite female with short black hair, pale skin and some kind of toad-controlling quirk. She often meets with—"
Hizashi skipped the message, noting the timestamp and "drug dealer" on a nearby notepad for his secretary. She could go back over the message later, but right now, the Voice hero had bigger fish to fry.
Friday, September 14th
1:03 pm
A rush of heat and hazy smoke escaped the door that Snipe opened, swirling out into the chill Autumn before drifting away on a breeze.
Today he wore his underground hero attire, standard cowboy threads replaced by a gothic-steampunk bodysuit well suited to a shitty vampire movie. His face was exposed for once, right half displaying a mottling of shiny pink skin. It didn't matter though, he fit right in.
Before even stepping into the seedy establishment, the sharpshooter scanned between grungy bar stools, posters, dartboards and a pool table, spotting no less than three low-level villains each with their own set of scars.
His own contact stayed hunched in the shadow of a booth, full cowl drawn up over a yawning darkness.
Snipe strolled over to the bar, lifting a hand in a casual, two finger salute. Shortly after, a pair of shot glasses clinked down in front of him, filled to the brink with a clear liquid.
"You want that on your tab, Bullet?"
A quick nod before he snagged the drinks and strode purposefully toward his "friend".
Red vinyl creaked under Snipe's weight as he slid into the booth and peered through the shadows of his contact's hood, not at all surprised when a variety of eyes looked back.
"Grave Robber." Snipe inclined his head.
An apt name for someone who accumulated extra body parts from corpses.
A mass, in-tandem blink returned the greeting before a raspy voice replied, "I called in because I found something on one of my 'walks'. It seems I'm in possession of a hot commodity right now. That is…to the right buyer."
The less than law-abiding citizen reached into his cloak.
Beneath the table, Snipe drew and aimed his gun in one smooth motion, posture remaining deceptively lackadaisy.
The dim light of the table lamp caught and highlighted the edge of something distinctly electronic before his informant hastily tucked the item back away.
Snipe found himself leaning forward, curiosity piqued. "Oh, and what leads you to believe I'm the 'right buyer' for this particular piece?"
"Haven't you heard?" Grave Robber's multi-colored eyes twinkled and his voice lowered, "Things have been disappearing lately. Important things. In impossible to reach places."
The underground hero's eyes narrowed, focus intensifying on the person in front of him even as his ears strained for possible eavesdroppers.
Words coming out even lower than his companion's, Snipe demanded, "And what, exactly, does this have to do with your product?"
"Thing's've been going missing…" A tentacle slithered onto the table, tracing a slimy circle on the wood. "But they've also been turning up." Grave Robber's hood tilted back, just enough that a hint of light made its way onto the lumpy flesh of what should have been a chin. "Unnatural things."
A thrill shot up Snipe's spine as a serrated smile bloomed on marred skin, overflowing with entirely too many teeth.
Friday, September 14th
2:00 pm
Jazz Fenton lounged on top of her little brother's bed, the dark purple comforter hiding a set of NASA themed sheets. Hair twirling around a finger, she flipped through The Beginner's Guide to Counseling and Therapy. It'd been a while since she'd read it and she was due for a refresher.
A sharp tug to the scalp pulled her attention away from the book and she glanced over at her hand.
"How the heck did I manage that?" Jazz breathed, mildly cross as she frowned at a tangle of red hair.
The difference between an intentional and compulsive lie would have to wait.
Tucking a bookmark into place, Jazz leaned over a small, white dresser to the side of the bed. Lifting several sheets of paper, she frowned, finding only a bracelet nestled beneath the stack. Putting it on and ignoring the tinkling charms, she opened the top drawer.
Where the heck was her hairbrush?! She knew she left it here.
Ugh.
Maybe someone moved it.
Jumping to check the upstairs bathroom, her lips pursed when the vanity yielded no results either.
She sure had been losing a lot of stuff lately.
Either the girls were hoarding her things, Dad was pilfering again, or there was a ghost involved.
What was her life that she even had to include that last theory?
The front door of the house creaked open before thumping closed and Jazz turned toward the sound.
Must be Danny. Mom and Dad were already on the plane to Switzerland and wouldn't be back until Tuesday. Maybe he'd know who was taking her things. She'd bet good money on Youngblood.
As she headed toward the staircase and past her room where the girls worked on homework, she heard shoes flop to the floor and the fridge open a moment later.
Straight to food and no footsteps. Definitely Danny. A fond smile cracked Jazz's scowl and she crossed the living room. Slowing to a stop at the cased opening to the kitchen, her eyes landed on the ravenet as he rubbed at his temples in the light of the fridge. Her own problems faded to the background.
He still had a headache?
Danny's eyes suddenly winced shut and Jazz froze halfway through a turn toward the medicine cabinet. A swirl of green had appeared above her little brother's head, just barely missing his hair.
Was that…a portal?!
It vanished.
Taking a breath and cracking his eyes back open, Danny reached into the freezer.
What was a portal doing—
The tall male tugged at some frozen vegetables that someone (probably Dad) had crammed in; only for the bag to rip, sending broccoli and carrots spewing to the floor.
Danny jumped back with a hiss and another little current of ectoplasm formed on the kitchen table at his back, the salt shaker vanishing through.
No WAY.
Starting forward, foot raising to accept her weight, Jazz announced, "Danny! I figured it—"
Her brother startled badly, a much larger portal opening between them.
Jazz's eyes popped wide as her step disappeared into air.
Thank god! Finally! We have the first major reveal/confirmation! And it's not nearly as satisfying as it should be because Danny's in even greater shit. I have been waiting for forever to write this chapter! Really happy with how it turned out, too. Which is a huge relief. Loved the part with Grave Robber. Really like that he follows the theme of "people with scary quirks often end up as villains because of discrimination theme"
*Nick Wilde voice* Did I write this fic exclusively to show a ridiculous origin story for Danny's Portal Ability? Yes, yes I did. Is that the reason I was cagey about having even the most basic of summary descriptions? Fuck yes. Is that the sole reason Danny is the age he is? Absolutely. XD
Dan shows mastery of the ability at age 24. Which means Danny has had it at least a couple years. But because I'm showing reasonable growth, I didn't want him to get it right away. But can you imagine? Having a power like that just start happening? On its own? Until you can figure out how to control it?
Chapter Notes:
-Baku-chan is going to be Izuku's nickname for Bakugo's mom. Inko and Mitsuki are good friends and have been for a long time. I imagine Bakugo might have been hard to pronounce for a young mido, so he shortened it. Ironically, baku is a japanese monster that eats bad dreams. So Mitsuki's personality could be seen as monstrous (because of her aggression), but she's also very sweet. She probably helped soothe him in distressing times when he was little, much like a baku chases away bad dreams.
-Nopperabo is the Japanese monster without a face. They are often depicted stealing and wearing other's faces to feel whole. A noh mask is a human-style mask that is honestly pretty creepy, and is often smiling.
-Kamakura is a period in Japan's history where feudalism and samurai really kicked off.
-antiseptics and chemotherapy chemicals is how Val described ectoplasm smelling in the first chapter. In my HC, ectoplasm smells good to ghosts, but bad to humans. Since Danny is a halfa, it just smells somewhat strange to him.
-Japan has Kanji, Hiragana and Katakana for their writing. Katakana is for foreign words and Hiragana is for domestic ones. But both of those two are relatively simple and have a fixed "48 syllable alphabet". The difficult one to learn is kanji, as there are thousands of characters. As you can imagine, most kids write in a mix of hiragana and katakana, so even without the childish scrawl, Yamada would know he was reading a child's letter.
-Japan doesn't really have street names. They go by wards and prefectures and blocks.
-Hoshizora is a rare Japanese name that means starry sky. Ryuji is a male first name that means dragon child. This is in reference to the fact that Chiyo is calling the doctor from cannon that is based off of Yoshi (that one looks like a chicken hybrid). One, because he is birdlike, it makes sense to have sky in his name. Two, he's a dragon, for obvious reasons. And three, one of the places in super mario world that you were able to get every single color of yoshi was star road, which was above the clouds and backdropped by a starry night sky.
-I have decided the Toad-easter egg doctor will be Shiitake.
-PPC is the equivalent of HIPPA in the states.
-Yamada Hanako is the equivalent of Jane Doe.
-I don't actually know what Snipe's face looks like, btw. Just thought it'd be cool to give him a reason for wearing a full mask. I really like the idea of Snipe having to cover his scars as a hero, because I imagine they'd interfere with putting people at ease in bad situations. Especially children.
-The reason that Grave Robber wants to sell to "Bullet" rather than another villain is because it's safer. He knows Snipe isn't going to leak where he got the item from. So even though he'd get less selling to a "hero", he doesn't have to worry about other people coming after him trying to figure out where he acquired it. (Most villains don't know that Bullet is a hero.)