Chapter 21: Shatter
Ingenium bid his sidekicks a good night as he left the agency. Activating his quirk, he sped down the street, following the same route he always did. Flipping up walls, and using his arm engines to propel himself into the air, Tensei let his thoughts wander, muscle memory taking over for conscious thought, as his mind went to the Sports Festival.
The finale had been…disturbing, to say the least. He couldn't get that image out of his mind. The green haired boy with the metal arm, writhing on the ground, clutching his singed face. It was horrifying.
Tensei tried to push his mind to something more personal. He recalled his brother's match against that pink haired girl from the support course. Personally, seeing his uptight little brother bumbling around the arena in what appeared to be a scoliosis brace on steroids? Hilarious.
However, he knew that his parents would have other opinions…
That was why he had to beat them to the punch. Perhaps he could soften the blow when he got home for dinner? Maybe bring up his recent incident where he had mistimed his leap and soared straight into a dumpster? Sure, he might be opening a can of worms by doing this, but he knew just how…critical…his parents could be.
If he could spare Tenya from that? That would be worth it.
As he leapt from rooftop to rooftop, Tensei found himself thinking about his recent conversation with his mother, and more specifically, her opinions on his relationship status. It wasn't necessarily that he didn't want to get married, he just was in no rush to settle down. But, still, his mothers words rung in his head.
"It is better to secure your lineage sooner rather than later, Tensei. I have set up a meeting with a suitable partner, and I expect you to at least meet the woman."
He knew deep down, his mother only wanted what was best for him. But as the years had gone by, he was starting to wonder if his mother really knew what was best for him at all. She had had his life laid out for him since his birth, from his schooling to his career to his marriage.
Frankly, he was wondering if his life was even really his .
Eventually, Tensei dropped down into an alley, sliding down one of the walls, before revving his engines and rocketing off towards the street, his musings still prominent in his mind.
"Alright," Tensei muses, " right turn, two blocks, and then it's time to face the music…"
However, in his introspection, he failed to notice the thin string that glinted in the bright streetlights.
Upon contact with the wire, he felt the thin, but strong, material collapse around his thighs, tripping him up, and falling. Immediately, his mind flew into hero mode, and he made to roll and flip himself up. This attempt was thwarted, however, when he felt a sharp object pierce his thigh, right between the seams of the armour plating. He grunted in pain, and tried to stand, unsteady due to the wire still wrapped around his ankles.
Tensei used the sharp edges of his bracers to catch the wire, and pulled as hard as he could. He felt the wire catch, and tear, allowing him to finally stand firm, scanning the alley to find the culprit. However, he found that no matter where he looked he couldn't see a figure in the shadows of the alley.
"Okay…he's an ambush fighter, preferring to attack using surprise. Not to mention he laid a trap here…he knew that I would be coming home today…meaning he knows my schedule." Tensei felt his heart hammering in his ears, "He aimed for my thigh to prevent me from running away…he's smart, and he doesn't seem to be one to waste time."
Tensei tested his injured thigh, feeling the tearing of muscle upon the blade. He knows that removing the blade is likely to make the situation worse, but he also knows that running at his top speed out of here is unlikely. Not to mention, there are likely more traps around.
He was stuck.
Tensei put on a false smile behind his helmet, trying to amplify bravado.
"So," he began, "usually when I meet someone on the street, they ask for an autograph. Can't say this is my warmest greeting, but you certainly left an impression."
Silence. He scans the alley, the fire escapes and the dumpsters, trying to find the attacker. Then, he sees it. A flash of light, and another blade fires out from the shadows.
"There!"
Tensei ducks under the knife, turning his engines up and shooting forward. His thigh is screeching out for him to stop, but he still launches himself up, onto the fire escape, to where the knife was launched. He notices a flash of movement, and rushes towards it, seeing a ripped red coat.
Charging up his punch, he launches a fist at the jacket, backed by the revving of his engines, and thrusts his fist true into the back of the figure, only to feel a sharp pain as his fist meets a hard object, instead of the familiar feeling of flesh and bone. The jacket catches into a breeze, and lifts, revealing that the article of clothing had been pinned to the railing of the fire escape. His fist making contact with the thick metal pole.
Pain permeated up his arm, and he did not have time to scan the shadows again, before he felt another blade enter his shoulder blade. Tensei cries out in pain, turning around in hopes of catching sight of the figure, only to be met with another blade, this time embedding itself in his side.
"This is bad," Tensei thinks, focusing his hearing on his surroundings, "I can't keep track of him! Every time he attacks he has already moved to a different vantage point!" Tensei hears a whistling sound from his side, and ducks, barely avoiding another blade, as it flies past him, embedding itself in the brick. The hero takes a moment to observe the blade, and is taken aback by the sight.
"It's…it's a pocket knife." Tensei kept low, crouching, and ready to spring. Looking at the other knives embedded in him, he catalogues the lack of uniformity to the blades, each one being of different quality, material, and age. "All of these knives are different. It's like this guy just picks up every blade that he can find."
"Y'know, some people collect coins." Tensei jabbed, "have you ever thought about finding a more normal hobby?"
With that, Tensei notices something out of the corner of his eye, a shadow slowly rising, just above and to the side of him. He turns to meet the figure, but is blindsided when they seem to apparate in front of him, with the figure closing on him before he can get a proper look. The figure tackled Tensei, knocking him off the fire escape, and restraining him, following the pro hero as he fell to the concrete below. Tensei felt the figure grab the knife out of his shoulder, and tear it out, causing the armoured hero to cry out in pain. Tensei twisted to lay a blow on his attacker, who hopped off him, skidding a few feet away.
Ingenium rose to his feet, ready to rush the villain, but he noticed the villain raise the knife to his lips, covered in Tensei's blood, and run an oversized, slug-like tongue across the flat.
Immediately, Tensei felt his body go entirely stiff, and he fell onto his side. His limbs had completely locked up, preventing him from moving. The attacker slowly walked over to the downed hero, clearly taking his time now.
"Shameful," a raspy voice sneered out at the downed hero, "for all of your boasts, you crumple so easily. You couldn't even land a blow."
Tensei managed to twist his neck, meeting his assailant for the first time, and felt his blood run cold.
"...Hero…Killer…" Tensei rasped out, barely able to manage as much. The hero killer did not respond, finally alighting over the paralysed body of his quarry.
"In the past, we had true heroes…gods amongst men, who pushed the world into a bright new era. Now, we are left with the likes of you …carrying it towards an age of darkness. Heroism is a privilege. A duty given to the most righteous of our society…and its name is wasted on fakes like you!" He looked down at Tensei, his expression revolted, like a man observing an ant on his food.
"This society is dying. It is dying a slow…painful death…and it's you and your kind…the stains on the name 'hero' that are supplying the poison."
Stain lifted his boot, and slowly pressed it into the knife embedded in Tensei's side, causing the blade to sink deeper and deeper into the downed hero. Tensei grunted in pain, feeling the sharp edges sink further into his body, but did not stop glaring up at the hero killer.
"But change is coming…and it will be born in the blood I spill on this day, and every day after that."
Tensei watched as Stain drew his katana from his back, an old, poorly maintained blade with a jagged, crooked edge, and positioned it above the man's head. Stain lowered his hands, unbuckling the helmet from the paralysed hero, and removing it, meeting Tensei's glare directly for the first time.
"You think…that…you're doing…the right thing?" Tensei jabbed, gritting his teeth in pain as the blade was pushed even deeper, "You really think…that…that you're the hero here?"
Stain lifted himself from the downed hero, levelling the blade with Tensei's throat.
"No…I don't."
A quick thrust, and an upward slice, and all Tensei knew was darkness.
_________________________________________________________________________
It started with a faint buzzing. Quiet, like a mosquito whizzing around in his skull. The world was pitch black, calm, and dead. He floated within this abyss, no breeze to tickle his skin, no sun to heat his face. Everything was a stagnant calm pool.
Then, the buzzing grew louder, causing the back of his head to sting. He began to stir from his nonexistence, forced into the reality that he, indeed, was real. The buzzing in his head was met with a piercing sensation in his face, and a soreness in his jaw. His limbs felt like they were being pulled apart, every cell in his body repelling from each other, like magnets of the same charge.
He wanted to go back.
Then, the memories hit him. They flashed behind his eyes, scenes playing out in front of him, reminding him of his life before this moment. Colourfully costumed heroes scolding him, the distinct singing of starburst explosions on his skin. His garage, and the acrid smell of slag and fire that accompanied it. He remembers an open field, a stadium, surrounded by thousands of jeering spectators. He felt the feeling of bright lights beating down on him, the heat and pressure of a metal exoskeleton pressing against his body…only to be robbed of that feeling.
He feels a blazing palm press against his face, looking up at the malicious scarlet eyes, staring down at him. The feeling of heat gathering in the hand and then…
The buzzing faded, escaping the confines of his mind, and projecting above him. Izuku feels the world come into existence. His eyes, while still closed, felt the uncomfort of light beating down on him. He felt a pounding in his head, a migraine unlike anything else. He groaned in pain, and tried to roll over to his side, only to feel a tugging on his arm, followed by a sharp pain in his wrist. He began to cough, trying to find a position that stems all of these sensations. He hears someone talking, but the sounds are garbled, like they are speaking in another room.
Eventually, he finds the strength to open his eyes, and notices that his vision is obscured. Moving his head a bit, he feels the brushing of gauze over his right eye, and notes an IV connected to his left wrist. Looking up, he sees three figures staring down at him, all of them still out of focus, but slowly sharpening as he becomes accustomed to the fluorescent lights above his head. The figures come into focus, and he takes a moment to recognize each one.
Recovery Girl stands closest to him, looking at an EKG and glancing at Izuku every few moments, trying and failing to hide her worry. On his other side, slightly obscured by the bandages, Power Loader and Midnight sat. Power Loader was leaning close to him, asking him questions he still couldn't comprehend. Midnight was still sitting, trying to smile at Izuku as he woke up, but Izuku could see the emotion in her eyes. Concern and fear ruled, but he noticed another emotion that appeared to be growing behind her blue irises.
Pity.
He had always hated being pitied.
Izuku tried to sit up, feeling the straining of his spine as he lifted his torso. Immediately, he began to cough, causing both Power Loader and Recovery Girl to rush forward, and try to settle Izuku back into place. His ears began to equalise, and he saw Recovery Girl thrust a cup of water forward. Izuku lifted his arm, but found the strain of moving to be too difficult, and he allowed Recovery Girl to tilt his head back and pour the water into his mouth.
At that moment, he realised how dry his throat was. He felt the water scratch against his esophagus, causing a tickling in his throat. He felt his throat flex, rejecting the liquid and causing another coughing fit.
Once his coughing fit faded, Izuku left a hand rest on his forehead. Recovery Girl leaned over him, and looked down.
"How do you feel, boy?"
Izuku tried to respond verbally, but found the process painful. So he settled for trying to communicate his condition by simply shaking his head. Recovery Girl's face twisted in pity, causing Izuku's stomach to boil. He tried, again, to sit up, only for all three heroes to try to push him back into the bed.
"Midoriya, please just stay in bed." Power Loader begged, lightly. Izuku did not listen, trying again to get up, but realising the futility of this act, he obliged, laying back down.
"Good," Recovery Girl stated, "now do us a favour and just rest…you still are not fully recovered."
Izuku felt a sting in his heart, learning those words, as the reality of the finale of the Sports Festival set in.
"I…" he coughed again, "...I lost…didn't I?"
He heard Power Loader rush out some platitudes, trying to spin the truth into an optimistic light. 'Try not to think about that right now.' 'Right now, focus on the present.'' All of it rang hollow in his ears. Instead, he felt a wave of emptiness wash through him.
Just like a year before.
He had set out to do one thing. Win the Sports Festival. Prove everyone wrong…and he had failed.
He felt his eye water, and tears slowly escaped his eye, running down his face. He couldn't stop the flow, feeling his failure wash over him.
Useless…
He couldn't help but flinch as that word rings out in his head. But he also couldn't refute it. He felt that for all his efforts, for all of his determination…he still wasn't good enough.
"Because the truth is, Deku? You never stood a chance…"
His mind was clouded, so he reached out to grasp onto the present. To try and ignore the stirrings in his head. He honed in on Recovery Girl, who seemed to be patiently waiting for him. Izuku moved to look at Recovery Girl, who smiled at the boy.
"Alright, dearie. Let me run a few examinations on you, okay?"
Izuku nodded, slowly, and Recovery Girl moved over, pulling out a small rolling table, covered in implements. She pressed over his body several times at his joints, causing him to wince. Eventually, she checked his breathing, and reflexes as well. Pulling out a cuff, she checked his blood pressure, and made sure his breathing was stable. Izuku found himself relaxing somewhat, shutting off his mind and losing himself in the medical examination. Eventually, Recovery Girl backed away, and her gentle smile turned strained.
"...okay dearie…I need to change the bandages over your face. Can you hold still for me?"
Izuku nodded, somewhat confused at her hesitation. Recovery Girl slowly walked over to him, untying the gauze and slowly unwinding the bandages. Izuku braced for the moment the bandages fell away, and he would need to adjust his eye to the light once again, but was surprised when he felt the bandages fall away, yet no bright flash of light followed. The vision of his right eye is still as dark as ever.
Izuku reached over with his only hand, trying to grab for a second bandage, perhaps fixed over his eye with adhesive, but when his hand made contact with his face, he felt no such device. Instead, his hand ran across his skin, the touch feeling foreign to him, as he brushed his brow, feeling the beginnings of small hairs growing upon it.
In that moment, Izuku felt his blood run cold, and the world went still around him. He placed his fingers lower this time, around his temple, hoping that he had simply missed the bandage, only to be met with skin again. However, his touch was much less prominent, and the texture of the skin was much more rough, and thick.
Izuku's breathing grew quicker, as his head shot around the room, trying desperately to find a reflective surface. He needed to see it himself. Slowly he rose from his bed, this time backed by the panic rising in his stomach, he brushed past his teachers, and grabbed the reflective surface of a food tray from the cart. He held the tray up to his face, the cruel truth settling in.
And he felt the world shatter again.
_________________________________________________________________________
Stepping off the train, a crowd of people poured out of the doorways. Dozens turned into hundreds, as people steamed out of every orifice from head to tail of the massive tram. In that crowd, a woman jogged as best as she could while wearing a pencil skirt. She stumbled slightly on the foot of a surly-looking man, and hastily apologised to him, fixing her dark green hair back into place as she ran.
Shoving pedestrians to the side was unadvisable at the best of times, but to Inko, she felt it necessary in this moment, hastily displacing people in her quest to reach her destination. Checking her watch, she swore to herself, working off memory to navigate the winding streets of Hosu. She kept looking up to the road signs, checking for the proper street. When she finally reached a familiar name, she turned sharply, continuing to speed walk down the bustling sidewalks.
Inko kept flitting her eyes towards the buildings, checking for the one she had familiarised with over the past few years. Finally, she caught sight of the modest mid-rise building, and breathed a sigh of relief. Taking a deep breath, Inko schooled her features, and walked through the front door.
Inside the lobby, Inko caught sight of several of her coworkers, scrambling up the stairs into the office above. At the rear of the room, surrounded on both sides by stairs, was the secretary, who waved cheerily towards Inko. Inko sighed, and waved back, tiredly. She approached the secretary, pressing her ID onto the sensor at the desk.
"Just in time, Inko!" The secretary chirped, "careful, or you might be a whole minute late one of these days!"
Inko sighed, "sorry, there was a delay in the trains, you know how the metro can be sometimes, right?"
Inko heard the bubbly woman begin to babble, but tuned her out. It has become routine, the woman greets her, and Inko pretends to greet her back. The woman then rambles about the happenings of her life in the past day, and Inko pretends to care.
Inko probably shouldn't be so cruel. The woman is plenty nice…if a bit excitable. Perhaps one day she should try and learn the woman's name.
Inko broke from her musings, the secretary still talking. She looked up at the clock, noticing the time and attempted to hurry this along.
"Um…yes. Well, I should get to work."
Inko turned on her heel, barely registering the farewell from the cheerful secretary. Walking up the stairs, Inko walks towards the double doors, entering the maze of cubicles that had become her life. She saw her coworkers all hunched over their keyboards, busily typing away and answering calls.
Taking another breath, Inko quickly stepped over to her cubicle. The area was plain, with no decoration or colour to brighten the dour visage. Her space was neat, no papers or sticky notes pinned to the walls of the cubicle. It was perfectly clean, not even a speck of dust on the station.
As if nobody had been there at all.
Inko took her seat, logging into her computer to begin work. Immediately, several applications opened, as well as her unfinished work from yesterday. She sighed, and got to business. Hey let her body carry itself as her mind wandered, her fingers furiously typing away as her thoughts floated away from her body.
She had stayed in a cheap hotel in Chiyoda the night prior, busying herself with finishing up some projects in her downtime, working into the early hours of the morning. A few years ago, she might have been exhausted, but over the years, she had learned to appreciate the little sleep she got.
"Mrs. Midoriya…I am afraid we have some…difficult…news."
Besides…the less she slept, the less time she had to think about…that.
She was startled from her thoughts when a hand reached over the wall, slapping the felt side twice. Inko rolled her eyes, putting a smile on as a man rose over the barricade, leaning his head over the gap. Tatsuya Sako. Inko supposed that he was somewhat handsome. Wavy brown hair, light brown eyes, an easy, somewhat mischievous smile on his face. His white dress shirt was well fitted, and he cut a good figure.
If it weren't for his incessant flirting, Inko might be able to tolerate him more.
"Hey, hey, Midoriya!" His voice carried easily, "fancy seeing you here today!"
Inko laughed, hollowly, "Good morning, Sako." His smile grew, and Inko fought the urge to scoff. "I see you are as busy as ever."
He laughs off her jab, "Well, not all of us can work every moment of our lives. Some of us that are still human need rest." His smile turns roguish, "speaking of relaxing…you up to get a beer after work?"
Inko huffed, "sorry, Sako, but I am busy tonight."
Normally, Sako would shrug, claiming that he would 'get her eventually'. But, this time, Sako rolled his eyes, his smile becoming more forced.
"C'mon, Midoriya," Sako urged, "it's just a beer! You never take breaks! I bet you didn't stop working all weekend!"
Inko opened her mouth to refute, but found herself being interrupted by a yawn. Sako's smirk turned eloquent, and Inko had the decency to blush. "See? You never get out, Midoriya!" Sako leaned over the partition more, leering at Inko with a trickster's crooked grin. "Tell you what, forget the beer. You need an adventure! How about me and you head off to Shinjuku? We can do whatever you want!"
Inko's patience was running thin. "Sako, I already explained to you that I am busy. I have several reports that are overdue, not to mention that I need to keep pace with next week's projects."
This was, of course, a lie. She was more than caught up on her work, but Sako didn't need to know that.
Sako clearly wasn't done pushing, however, and opened his mouth, intent on maintaining his futile wooing, but by this point, Inko had stood and began walking towards the water cooler, trying to clear her head.
Grabbing one of the cheap paper cups, Inko leaned over the cooler, pouring herself a drink, idly listening to the chatter from other employees as they flit around the break area like hummingbirds.
"...was kind of scary, that mech suit thing, right?"
"...did U.A. really expect anything else?"
"...shame how boring the finale was."
Inko quirked an eyebrow at their chatter, left in the dark as to the topic of their conversation. With her cup full, Inko downed the cool water and quickly walked back to her desk, intent on completing her work today. However, curiosity buzzed in the back of her head, itching at her focus until it was satiated with answers. Reluctantly, she addressed Sako, who was still leaning over the partition, seemingly refusing to do his work.
"Sako," said man's focus locked onto her, "what are they talking about in the break area?"
"Oh, that?" Sako ran a hand through his hair, "probably the Sports Festival…that's all anyone has been talking about all day."
Inko's eyes widened. "Oh, that was this weekend? My…it feels like the last one was just yesterday."
"Well, this festival was definitely one to remember," Sako's expression turned somewhat grim, "honestly, it's probably for the best that you didn't watch it. It got a bit…intense."
"Oh my, it was that bad?" Inko's attention had since turned away to her computer, continuing her work.
"Yeah, it was bad." Sako extrapolated lightly with one hand, emphasising his speech. "The festival was kinda off from the start, to be honest. But, it got really bad in the tournament. There was this kid with this massive mech suit! The thing was massive, I swear you could hear its footsteps echoing through the recording!"
"Mhm." Inko affirmed, no longer paying attention. Now that she had been answered, she had long since gone back to her work.
"Yeah," Sako took her response as permission to continue, "I mean, don't get me wrong, the thing looked like it was made out of junk. But it put up a damn good fight. Made it all the way to the final!"
"Oh, really?" several charts blinked to life on Inko's screen, and she began rapidly inputting data points.
"Yes, really!" Sako exclaimed, causing him to get some dirty looks, "but that isn't even the weirdest part." Sako leaned even closer to Inko, torso hanging over the partition entirely, allowing Inko to smell the peppermint mouthwash he had apparently used this morning.
"The kid who built it? He's quirkless ."
Inko's rapid taps on her keyboard ceased. Her expression morphing from indifference to shock, then to anxiety. Her focus had been broken, entirely, now unable to continue her monotonous work. She refused to look at Sako, fearing he may notice her demeanour shift.
"W-what did you say?"
"Yeah," Sako seemed unaware of his coworker's change in attitude, "a quirkless kid managed to make it into the final! He put up a decent fight, all things considered." Sako shook his head, "shame though. Kid clearly has talent, but he probably won't have a chance to use it given…well, y'know."
"He left this note, Mrs. Midoriya. I think it's best if you read it to yourself."
"Mom? Why are you crying?"
"I couldn't live knowing no matter what our son does, he will never be good enough."
"W-what did you say his name was?"
"Oh," Sako puts a hand to his chin, racking his brain, "Mizo-something? I'm not sure, honestly."
Sako kept blathering, but Inko was no longer listening. The world had stalled around her, her heartbeat the only sound that penetrated the miasma of emotion fogging her mind.
"Izuku," she thought, "what did you do?"
_________________________________________________________________________
The footfalls of his thunderous stride echoed across the cement. Measured, easy steps cracking against the sidewalk as Tenya Iida jogged forward. His mind was clouded by the conversation he had shared with his parents a few hours prior. He had gone for a run to clear his mind, letting the sounds of the early city morning and smell of the still drowsy air distract him.
His parents were not pleased with his performance in the Sports Festival. He didn't blame them, truly. They had always had high expectations for him and his brother, and it had always been his job to exceed them. Yet, when he had agreed to help that support course girl with her demonstration, he had assumed that it would be a mutually beneficial transaction.
How foolish he was.
Still, his mind was less on the conversation, and more on the missing member of his family. Tensei always made a point to come home for family dinner on the weekend, rarely missing it for any reason. Tenya could count on one hand the number of times Tensei had missed this ritual, and he always made sure to call if he was going to miss it. His parents did not seem worried, his father assuming he was off doing hero work, and his mother of the mind that Tensei was goofing off. Still, Tenya couldn't fight the nagging feeling in the back of his mind that something was wrong.
Stopping in front of his house, Tenya wiped the sweat from his brow, watching the sun finally peak over the horizon.
Five laps so far, five to go.
He looked down at his legs, the exhaust pipes poking out of them heat radiating off the metal tubes, and nodded to himself. He had to get faster, he had to be stronger. Next time, he wouldn't lose like that.
He would become a hero that his family could be proud of!
With renewed energy, Tenya dropped into a sprinter's stance, ready to shoot off again. He shoots forward, blitzing down the sidewalk, and turning a corner. He decides to take a different route than the previous five laps, electing to hook a right at the corner instead of rocketing left. His stride continues on, measured and strong, as he carries forward across the pavement, letting his footfalls play a rhythmic tune.
He passes by several neighbours and locals, rising with the morning and waving at Tenya as he passes. With choppy movements, Tenya attempts to wave back, earning some fond eyerolls and giggles at his antics.
He still does not understand what is so funny, he is merely waving!
Jogging in place, Tenya waits for the walk signal to change, his breaths escaping his mouth in even bursts. He sees several other early birds next to him, dressed for office work, or exercise like he is, and tries to remain out of their way. Eventually, the indicator shifts, and the walkway is clear, allowing Tenya to continue his jog.
Tenya hooks the next corner, two blocks from his home, expecting a clear runway for his daily routine, but instead is met with a wall of onlookers. Confusion and curiosity peak in Tenya's mind, and he ceases his jogging to approach the crowd, trying to best understand what the situation is.
Tenya stands at the periphery of the crowd, trying to get a look into the sectioned-off area, but finds the task impossible. Instead, he listens to the crowd, trying to glean information from the civilians.
"...so young, too…"
"...shame, really…"
"...hope it was quick…"
Tenya mused on this information. Homicide, most likely. Hearing the sirens rapidly approaching from the distance, he comes to the conclusion that the police will have this handled, shortly. Backing up, he takes a sprinter's stance again, ready to continue his jog, but catches another slice of a conversation before he can take off.
"...would do something like this? And to a hero no less…"
Tenya's breath stills in his lungs. Slowly, he rises from his stance, head turning to the alley once again. His heart hammers in his chest, as confusion morphs into disbelief, and fear. Tenya moves closer to the crowd, beginning to move into it, entering the mosh of people. He approaches the alley, closer and closer, and can begin to see details of the scene. Bloodstains on the floor, a knife embedded into the brick wall.
…and a flash of silver, gleaming off the morning sun.
Tenya begins to shove forward, aggressively moving pedestrians out of the way. Some pay him no mind, others curse or glare at him, but he is not focused on them. Instead, he is focused solely on the aggressive palpitations of his heart, the blood thundering in his ears. Further and further he pushes up, until finally, he breaks the line of people, and is met with the full picture.
"...no…"
Lying on the alley floor, Tensei Iida's body is splayed out, face up, arms bent at his sides. One leg is twisted, violently, and the other is decorated with an open wound, a pool of blood around it. He sees the armour of his torso, once pristine and shined to perfection, now pierced and filthy, covered in alleyway grime. But the sight that catches him the most, the one burned into his mind forevermore, is his face.
A narrow hole is run through Tensei's neck, blood pooling around his head, and dyeing some of his blue hair a pitch black. His mouth and cheeks are relaxed, not dissimilar from the times he has seen his brother sleep. But, unlike those times, his eyes are open, the pupils dilated, and irises devoid of the roguish joy they had once contained.
Tenya fell to his knees, feeling the police push past him, setting up a barricade and directing citizens to vacate the area, but he finds himself incapable of movement. Staring at his brother…what once was his brother.
His eyes are locked onto the dead eyes of Tensei Iida…and he knows he will never forget those eyes…
Chapter 22: Trust
Sipping his fourth cup of coffee of the morning, Aizawa still felt as if he was not awake enough to deal with the day. Classes started in a few minutes, and he knew that today was going to be a special kind of tiresome. He is sure that the events of the Sports Festival are still fresh in his students' minds, and they will likely have questions for him. Questions that, likely, he won't have the answers to.
How bothersome.
He quickly sucked down his last cup of coffee, barely savouring the dark roast, as he turned the corner towards the familiar classroom he had come to know. Taking a deep breath, and preparing himself, he opened the door, hearing all talking cease as soon as he walked in.
"Good morning, class."
They stay silent, and Aizawa takes his place at his desk, scanning over the students in the classroom. Looking over at the students, many behaved normally, such as Shoji and Sato. However, he did notice that many of the student's seemed off, even more quiet than before.
Shoto Todoroki had his head down, glaring at his left hand like it owed him money. His posture was rigid and tense, unwavering in his turmoil. His gaze was intense, but conflicted. Aizawa recognized a hint of guilt in his eyes. Right next to him, he saw Yaoyorozu, slumped in her chair, very uncharacteristic of her normally perfect posture. She hid her emotions well, but Aizawa could tell that she was upset.
Likely at herself.
Kaminari was uncharacteristically still. Usually the electric blonde was tapping his feet, or flipping his pencil, but today, he sat silently, deep in thought. Sometimes, his gaze would float over to Mina, who seemed closed off. Every once in a while, her eyes would flip over to the far side of the class, only to shoot back to her desk, trying and failing to keep herself from shaking. Aizawa could not tell if she was shaking out of fear, or anger.
Kirishima, however, was a much easier book to read. His gaze was locked firmly over to the far corner of the classroom, glaring at the student sitting second to the back. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes held a fire unlike anything that Aizawa had seen from the usually jubilant redhead. The target of Kirishima's anger, Bakugo, was leaning in his chair, slumped with a foot kicked up on the desk, acting nonchalant. But Aizawa could almost hear the blonde's teeth grinding at his classmate's behaviour.
Aizawa felt a spike of anger rise in him as he laid eyes on the blonde, but tried to tamp it down.
For now.
In the far corner of the classroom, Hitoshi Shinso seemed to nervously look around the room, trying to gauge what exactly was going on with his new classmates. Aizawa could only imagine how tense this felt to an outsider, compared to someone who knew the full situation. Hitoshi's first day, and he could feel the animosity towards the blonde so palpably he could almost touch it.
The student that shocked Aizawa the most was Iida, who sat in his normal seat. Normally a poised and diligent student, Iida instead was like stone. His shoulders were tense and hunched, as his gaze fired down to his desk. He did not stand to greet Aizawa, a behaviour that he had come to reluctantly enjoy. Instead, he stayed seated, barely even acknowledging the teacher's presence.
But what got Aizawa the most was his face. Iida's normally rigid face was twisted into a scowl. His brows were furrowed and his jaw was clenched so hard Aizawa could see it shake. His lips were almost imperceptibly curled inward, a snarl most would miss. But his eyes, normally calm and collected, denoted nothing but malice. Hatred.
Aizawa had heard the news…he could guess who the boy's anger was directed towards.
"Okay, class," Aizawa began, "today will be somewhat unique." He pulled out a small remote, turning on the projector, "as I am sure most of you know, the Sports Festival is a great way to present yourselves to the public…but also to advertise for internships." He turns back towards the class, his expression bored.
"I'm sure that you all can gather this, but your first internship is very important. It is a good way to evaluate your flaws, and to improve yourselves as heroes, something that all of you need to work on."
Aizawa heard a scoff, and turned his gaze to the back of the class. Bakugo's chin was raised, and his usual scowl had curled into a cocky grin. Aizawa felt his blood boil at that action, and decided to address the boy.
"Do you have something you wish to add, Bakugo?"
Bakugo leaned further into his seat, "maybe these losers need to improve, but in case you forgot, I wonthe festival. Maybe you misspoke, but I hardly see any flaws here."
Aizawa clenched his jaw, and noticed many of the rest of the class had too, but took a deep breath, thinking back to his conversation with Nezu.
_________________________________________________________________________
After Maijima had left the room, many of the other teachers had dispersed. However, Aizawa had stayed, silently eyeing the rat as he sat back in his massive seat. Silently, Aizawa took a seat next to Nezu, both simply staring down at the picture of Bakugo Katsuki on the table. A period of silence fell over the two, but was broken by Nezu.
"You are upset with my decision."
It was not a question, rather, it was an observation. One that Aizawa could not completely refute. Instead, he leaned forward, locking eyes with Nezu.
"Not upset, necessarily. I'm more…confused." Aizawa tents his hands under his chin, his attention lapsing. "I'm sure you can understand."
Nazu nods, though he interjects, "while I do understand, I was hoping that you would trust my judgement."
"How are we supposed to trust your judgement when you don't trust us enough to explain anything?"
The duo fell into another silence, and Aizawa felt as if he may have crossed a line. Before he could elaborate, Nezu began to speak.
"I have spent a long time with humans…and there are many things I have learned over the years. However, I still feel distant to humanity, and I am cognisant enough to know that what I have learned about humans pales in comparison to what I have yet to learn about them." Nezu looked down at the table, the face of Katsuki Bakugo staring back at him.
"I have always heard the phrase, "trust is earned". But, I suppose I never considered that trust, once earned, can easily be lost. I suppose that is something I may need to consider in the future." Nezu looks up at Aizawa, his eyes still betraying no emotion, "I have a plan…but it is one that requires that I keep close to the vest, so to speak. After all…I have been shown that the hero commission has agents closer to us than I anticipated."
Aizawa's eyes darted around the room, before leaning towards Nezu. "...you think there are spies among the staff?"
"No, Aizawa," Nezu answers, "I know there are spies among the teachers. I am near certain of one right now, all I lack is definitive proof…but I am not certain how many others, if any, are also working against our interests."
Aizawa begins to think out loud, "It seems obvious that Kan was a Commission plant…his actions and attitude during the Festival give that one away…but we can't say for certain just yet that he is. Plus, even if he is, I am not so certain that anyone else is also an agent."
"True," Nezu affirms, "but can you be certain that anyone isn't an agent?"
Aizawa chooses not to answer that question. However, the lack of response serves only to confirm Nezu's case.
"In any case," Nezu redirects, "I believe that the Hero Commission, unknowingly, presented us an opportunity…one that I intend to use to the fullest extent. In the meantime, it requires I let them believe they have won…as much as it pains me to do so."
"So, we're just going to let this slide?" Aizawa rebuts, "we're just going to let Bakugo get away with maiming another student scot free?" Nezu moves to answer, but Aizawa continues to rant.
"When I was dragging him into a holding room, do you know what he did?" Nezu doesn't answer, so Aizawa continues, "he struggled, looking back at me, and said 'I won, didn't I?'" Aizawa's fists clenched, and his teeth set into a snarl, "that little shit truly doesn't think he did anything wrong…all he cares about is winning, by any means necessary." The ragged-looking man shakes his head, his wild, unkempt hair flapping with the motion, "I don't know if I can treat him fairly, anymore…I don't even know if he deserves it."
"Who said anything about treating him fairly?"
Aizawa's eyes shoot up, expression of disbelief, but Nezu continues, "In fact, who said anything about letting him off, 'scot free', as you put it?"
"But, the commission said Bakugo isn't to be punished for his actions."
Nezu makes a noise of disagreement, and holds up one finger, "they said Bakugo isn't to be expelled for his actions…in case you forget, I ensured that his punishment was left up to our discretion."
Nezu squeaked out a laugh, lifting his teacup to his lips, "actually, I am glad that you decided to confront me on this, Aizawa. As Bakugo's homeroom teacher, I wanted to discuss Bakugo's punishment with you." Nezu leaned forward, and Aizawa followed suit.
"If I may, I have some… suggestions …for you."
_________________________________________________________________________
Aizawa snapped back into the present with Kirishima standing from his chair, ready to confront Bakugo, who eyed the situation with boredom. Aizawa took that moment to stop the situation.
"Quiet down, class," Aizawa eyed Kirishima, silently. Kirishima grunted, but acquiesced, sitting down at his seat once again. Bakugo puffed, proudly, but Aizawa's glare caused him to raise an eyebrow. "Without further ado, here are the number of internship offers that everyone received.
A list popped up on the board, with the vast majority of the class receiving at least a dozen or so internships. However, there was clear bias towards a few names. Todoroki received the most, with a few thousand internship offers. Followed behind by Mina, who received a bit over a thousand. Kirishima received a several hundred and Iida received a few hundred, himself, with the numbers trickling down from there. Even Shinso, whose transfer was finalised not two days ago, received a few dozen offers, much to his shock.
However, one name stuck out, right at the bottom of the list.
Katsuki Bakugo: 7
Aforementioned explosive blonde shot out of his seat, disbelief on his face, that quickly followed into anger.
"What the fuck is this?! Seven offers?! That's bullshit! I won the fucking Sports Festival, right?! I should have received thousands of offers, tens of thousands!" He charges up to the front of the class, slamming his hand into the desk in front of Aizawa, who looks at him in boredom. "What the fuck did you do?! Did you sabotage me?! Huh?! Jealous of my success while you're stuck working as a teacher so you bottlenecked me?!
The class sat in silence at Bakugo's actions, but they all noticed Aizawa's expression did not change. Instead, he kept looking down at Bakugo, exasperated and bored of this situation. This behaviour only served to anger Bakugo more.
"Your internship offers will be delivered to your desk," Aizawa said, pointedly ignoring the blonde in front of him, and addressing the rest of the class, "take some time to flip through them, and pick an internship. We will be picking her names with Midnight in about an hour, so use this time wisely."
"Bakugo," Aizawa spoke calmly, "Do you mind if we speak outside?"
Aizawa did not wait for a response, merely walking to the door, and heading Bakugo's angry grunts and growls as the boy reluctantly followed him. Robots lowered from the ceiling, carrying stacks of paper of various sizes, but Aizawa paid them no mind. The door shut behind them, and teacher and student found themselves in an empty hallway, the silence being disturbed by Bakugo's anger.
Bakugo opened his mouth to begin yelling at Aizawa again, but Aizawa's glare stopped the boy. His quirk was alive, and his eyes blazed an enraged crimson. Bakugo felt his palms grow cold, as his quirk became inactive, and he felt that same spike of fear that he had felt in the finale.
"Alright, Bakugo, " Aizawa spits his name out like it was a rotten piece of food, "let me make one thing very clear with you. If it were up to me, you wouldn't even be in this school anymore." Aizawa's gaze never wavered, and Bakugo tried to hide his discomfort with bravado.
An attempt that failed.
"Still trying to act big, huh? Well, let me correct that. You should count yourself lucky that you got any internship offers at all!" Bakugo flinched at that, and Aizawa pressed on. "But, fine. Since you can't be grateful for the internships you did get, despite everything that you did. Maybe you don't deserve to have one."
Bakugo's eyes widened. He finds his anger again, and begins to protest, "what the fuck?! You can't fucking do that! I showed I was the best! I won the Sports Festival, didn't I?"
"I won, didn't I?"
Aizawa's jaw set, "maybe in your small world, but reality isn't that simple." Aizawa stands, turning away from the blonde, "you will not be going outside of U.A. for an internship this year. I can't trust you to represent the school in a manner that we can approve of. Instead, your internship will be in house…with me ."
Bakugo's jaw flapped in disbelief, but Aizawa waved him off. "Now, go back into the classroom, sit down, and shut up. Understood?" Bakugo looked like he wanted to protest again, but Aizawa's glare stopped that, and the boy huffed, stomping back into the classroom. Aizawa then pulled out his phone, dialling Nezu, and listening to the phone ring. After two rings, Nezu picked up.
"You were right."
He couldn't see nezu's expression, but he could almost feel the smugness radiating from the receiver, "of course I was. I am assuming he did not take his lack of internships well?"
"No, he didn't." Aizawa confirmed, "He lashed out at me, accusing us of sabotaging him…" Aizawa smirked, "no idea where that theory came from…"
He heard some scribbling from the other end, "yes, well what's important is that Bakugo will not be leaving U.A. for his internship. Hopefully that keeps him from tainting our image further. In the meantime, I have set up a few pieces of the puzzle...I trust you will keep a close eye on Bakugo during your… private internship?"
"Trust me," Aizawa affirmed, "I don't plan to make the same mistake twice."
Nezu made a noise of affirmation, "good…now if you will excuse me…I need to prepare for my interview."
_________________________________________________________________________
Maijima sat at his desk, head down as he blinked away his exhaustion. The sounds of his students tinkering away at their stations creating a cacophony that prevented him from getting some much needed rest. He had spent the entire night in the nurse's office, trying his best to keep Midoriya calm. He knew going in that this task would be difficult…but he didn't expect it to be so…futile. Midoriya dropped in and out of consciousness rapidly, every time waking up with a start in terror. There were times that Maijima would have to hold him down while Recovery Girl sedated him.
However, the worst thing to him was when Midoriya would wake up calm. He would just…sit there…motionless. He might ask to go home, but Recovery Girl would remind him that he is still under observation, and keep him in bed. Every other time, he was completely silent, simply stewing in his own head.
Then somebody would try to touch him.
It wouldn't take much. A simple grasp of the hand, a touch to the shoulder, even something as minor as feeling his forehead for fever. As soon as someone made contact, he would reel back, like their hands were covered in acid, curling in on himself, as his eye flew wildly around the room. Eventually, they would get him to calm down, but it broke Maijima's heart every time it happened.
Maijima was grateful that he had the chance to confront the saboteurs directly, this morning.
_________________________________________________________________________
Ectoplasm opened the door, leading Maijima into a room where three students sat, detained in their chairs.
Haruki Tanaka, Ren Suzui, and Ikki Aoi.
Maijima did not hide his contempt towards the three students, but he held his tongue. For now. Instead, he took a seat across from them, and simply grabbed a remote, turning to the monitor embedded in the wall. Clicking the remote, the screen blazed to life with high definition footage of the front of the men's locker room for the Sports Festival.
The support course teacher was not looking at the screen, staring daggers at all three boys, who flinched when they saw the footage playing. They watched as their silhouettes came into view, sharpening and coalescing to show the three students silently walking to the locker room, and entering the room, disappearing from view.
Still, Maijima stayed silent, instead he hit the button to rewind the footage, stopping right on the frame where all three boy's faces were visible. He then took a moment to zoom in on their faces, enhancing the footage, and sharpening their features, showing how clearly they could prove that the figures were the three boys in front of him.
"Did you honestly think that we wouldn't find out?" Maijima began, "the most respected hero school in the country, and you didn't even consider we might have cameras?"
Suzui stuttered out his defence. "W-we didn't think we would have to hide. We were just doing what we were told!"
"Told by who?!" Maijima interrupts, sharply, causing Ren to begin to blubber out a string of incoherent nonsense. Aoi rolls his eyes, and leans back in his chair.
"You can drop the act, teach," Aoi drawls, "we know all about the situation, you can stop with the theatrics and just let us go."
Maijima clenched his fist, causing his claws to scrape, loudly, against one another. However, he eyed Ectoplasm, carefully, who seemed just as lost as he was, but gave him a small, imperceptible nod, his masked features speaking volumes.
'Play along.'
"I see," Maijima spoke, "that's good. I am glad you followed through with your instructions." The three students relaxed, seeming to take a breath. Aoi smirked, broadly, happy with the outcome.
"We were just doing what U.A. tell us to, sir!" The blue-haired boy's brown-nosing was making Maijima sick, "anything to resolve our…prior issues."
'So, they were under the impression that this was our idea.' Maijima thinks, 'good, we know they were under orders…but not enough. I need a confession.'
"Still," Maijima said, "you should have been more careful not to end up on camera. If another party managed to get their hands on this footage, it could be a disaster, for you, and us." Maijima fast forwarded the footage, showing Tanaka leaving the room, followed by Aoi and Suzui twenty minutes later. "Not to mention, you took quite a while. Things could have gone very poorly if you had been caught."
Aoi stiffened his posture, and nodded, with Ren Suzui following suit. Tanaka was silent, looking at the situation with confusion, and disbelief.
"Yes, sir." Aoi belted out, "we would have gone faster if Tanaka hadn't grown cold feet." Aoi pointedly glared at Tanaka, who sunk into his chair. Maijima raised an eyebrow under his helmet at the display.
"So, you're telling me Tanaka did not participate?"
"No, he got scared and ran off like a coward!" Aoi shouted, Ren nodding along, "unlike us, sir. We performed our duty for hero society!"
'Okay, so I got a confession, odd that Tanaka did not get involved,' Maijima thinks, eyeing Tanaka, suspiciously, 'good to know…I'm almost there…I just need a name."
"Despite the…complications, I must say I'm impressed with your methodology." Maijima opened the file, showing pictures of the suit after its sabotage. "Despite your efforts, it almost looks like it was just a failure of the suit, itself."
"Yeah," Aoi boasted, "Vlad made it clear that U.A. wanted it to look like an accident, so we took extra care to do just that." Aoi's smile was so painfully honest that Maijima wanted to throw up. But, with that, Maijima dropped his act, his face growing into a snarl.
"So," Maijima's tone had become aggressive once again, shedding his calm facade, "It was Kan that gave the order?" Ren and Tanaka note the change in attitude, but Aoi seems oblivious.
"Yes, sir." Aoi nodded his head, still leaning back in his chair. However, he was caught off guard when Maijima lifted a clenched fist, unfurling his iron claws, and slammed them into the table, splintering the wood and piercing the piece of furniture with a mighty blow.
"That fucking piece of shit!" Maijima shouted, turning to Ectoplasm, "go inform Nezu, hopefully we can trust the rat to take care of this at least!" Ectoplasm created a clone, who exited the room and sprinted up to Nezu's office. Maijima turned back to the students, who were staring up at him in fear.
"W-what's going on?" Aoi looked bewildered, his calm confidence oozing out of him. "Did something happen?"
"What happened , Aoi," Maijima seethed out, "is that you just confessed to being an accessory to a crime."
"What?!" Aoi shot out of his chair, "b-but U.A. was the one who gave the order! We were just following what you guys said!"
"Do you honestly think that if we wanted Midoriya out of the competition, we would have come to youfor help?!" Maijima roared, causing Aoi to sink back into his chair. Maijima ripped his claws out of the table, causing the flimsy wooden furniture to splinter and crack, splitting in half. "Do you honestly believe that you matter that much?!"
Maijima leaned into Aoi, voice lowering into a growl, "get over yourselves…the only thing that you deserve is a cell !"
_________________________________________________________________________
Maijima did not know what had happened to Aoi and Suzui, other than the satisfying image of them being detained by Ectoplasm's clones, but he knew that Tanaka was separated from them and was being interrogated at that moment by staff. Hopefully Tanaka would sing, but until that time, all he could really do is wait.
He got up to do his look throughs of the work stations, peking into everyone's booths to get an idea of what they were working on. A few students he had caught using welding equipment unsupervised, and gave them an earful, but otherwise, no issues so far.
None of them knew of his quitting yet, but he would tell them…eventually.
Continuing on his path, he comes upon a booth that is unusually silent today. Hatsume. Normally, this booth experiences periodic flashes of bright light, loud bangs and even some accidental explosions, but today it is completely silent save for some frantic scribbling. Maijima's curiosity peaked, and he lifted the curtain, revealing the pink-haired girl hunched over a desk, drawing on some drafting paper. Her foot was tapping, rhythmically, but otherwise she seemed completely focused on her task.
He looked at the ground, seeing several crumpled up pieces of paper strewn about, almost forming a trail to the overstuffed garbage can. The can was filled with dozens of pieces of paper, all crumpled into a ball, and left to the side. Maijima looked back to the girl, who still had not noticed him, who had stopped writing, and balled up the blueprint she was just working on, tossing it behind her with a huff of indignation.
The oblong ball of paper sailed through the air, hitting the rim of the garbage can, and bouncing off, settling onto the floor with some soft hops. Looking closer, Maijima noticed that the girl had a small mirror set up on her desk, and her eyes would flit back and forth between the mirror, and her now blank drafting paper.
The girl's face showed pretty severe exhaustion. Despite the extended weekend, it seems that Hatsume had gotten no sleep. In addition, her hands seemed raw, and he could see clear signs of stress along her fingers. Maijima recognized the signs of overworking, and decided to confront her.
Approaching Hatsume, he laid a hand on her shoulder, causing the girl to freeze, stiffening up like prey for a moment, before relaxing, and continuing her draft, though acknowledging Maijima's presence through a grunt of affirmation.
"Everything alright, Hatsume?" Maijima asked, "Usually you are far more…devil may care with your approach to inventing."
"Why does the devil care what I do?" Hatsume responds, still drafting on her paper, "I do not understand what the devil has to do with my inventing."
"Uh," Maijima shakes off the response, "It's uh…a saying."
"I see," Mei nods, "I am not good with those. Can you be more clear next time?"
"Yes, uh," Maijima stutters out, "what I meant is that while you usually take longer than most to finish drafting…usually you are at least on a proof of concept stage by now. Is there something on your mind?"
Mei hesitates, then continues drafting. Maijima huffs, tiredly, waiting for Hatsume to respond.
"...I need to make sure that this works right. This needs to work, but I have never built something like this before." He sees Hatsume turn her head to look at him. "I do not know what I should do."
"Well," Maijima straightens, "perhaps I can help? Why don't you show me what you are working on?"
Hatsume straightens, handing Maijima the paper with a semi-completed blueprint on it. Immediately he is confused by the sketch, trying to understand the project. Hundreds of notes are scribbled into the margins, dots and lines connecting each note with a part on the drawing. The drawing itself was spherical, if a bit oblong, with two large wires running out the rear of the object. It lacked shape, and some detailing that had yet to be done, but Maijima had already begun to piece together what the blueprint was showing.
"I…is that…?"
"Connecting machine to machine is easy," Hatsume interrupts, "When you have a part, and need to connect it to another, it is usually as simple as creating a connection."
Maijima stared at the design in disbelief, the pieces clicking more and more. He reached down, lifting up a crumpled schematic from the floor, and unravelling it, showing a similar design.
Hatsume continued, "I know how to fix machines. Machines make sense…but I do not know how to fix people…"
Maijima interrupted Hatsume, holding up her most recent design, "Hatsume…this…why are you doing this?" He approaches the girl, who refuses to make eye contact with him. Instead, she stares at the floor of the workshop, gripping her pencil tightly. "You…you don't have to do this…so why?"
There was silence as Hatsume seemed to struggle to find her words. Maijima stayed patient, letting the girl find her footing, and eventually, she nodded, slightly.
"...I…do not know how to fix people…" Hatsume repeats, "But…I want to try, at least. An Inventor's job is to fix things…to help people…like how he helped me, before."
"Hatsume," Maijima began, but was interrupted by the girl.
"We are inventors…we fix problems." Hatsume declared, firmly, "and I want to try and fix this one…"
Maijima remained silent for a moment, staring at his most eccentric student with a mixture of shock, and pride. Listening to her declaration lit a fire in him, and he looked at the girl's quiet determination with admiration. He wanted to remind her that what she was trying to do was dangerous, especially to do alone, with such clear signs of fatigue. But, in his heart, he can't bring himself to do…at least not right now.
Still, he needs to draw a line somewhere.
"As your teacher," Maijima begins, "I cannot, in good conscience, let you do this…" Hatsume moves to interrupt him, protesting his statement, but he holds up a hand, "...at least…without proper supervision."
Hatsume stills, and Maijima pulls up a stool next to her, placing her schematic down in front of the both of them.
"Now," he affirms, "walk me through your design here…I want to make sure I know the process."
_________________________________________________________________________
Tenya Iida rifled through the internship offers on his desk, blankly, his movements even more robotic than usual. Each offer he picks up from the few hundred offers on his desk feels more bland than the last. Sure, he recognizes some names, there is even an internship offer from the Lion Hero: Shishido.
Normally, Iida would be excited, but he finds himself barely registering the names of each hero. He simply flips through each offer with a mixture of boredom and contempt. He knows that his performance in the festival was subpar…likely the only reason he got thismany offers was because of the situation surrounding his brother.
He could hardly think about the internships right now…his mind was focused on that alley. The visage of his brother's corpse is still fresh in his mind. His parents had been inconsolable when they heard the news, the police delivering their findings to the family.
It was then that Tenya learned who had killed his brother.
The Hero Killer.
The police had told his family that they were doing everything they could, and that soon, the Hero Killer would be brought to justice. In a way, he believed them.
But his mind cried out, shouting that this wasn't enough.
It would never be enough unless-
"hey..Iida?"
Tenya broke from his musings to look up, seeing Kirishima, Ashido and Uraraka staring down at him, their faces clear with worry.
"We uh…we heard what happened…" Kirishima supplied. Ah, so that's what this is about. "We just wanted to tell you that…if you need anything, we're here for you, man!"
Ashido and Uraraka nodded, and Kirishima leaned towards Iida, trying to convey his sincerity. Tenya took a breath, schooling his features. It would be best not to worry them, he needed them to leave him alone.
He needed to do this on his own.
"Thank you, my friends, but there is no need to worry. Trust me, I am fine." Tenya lied through his teeth. He wasn't fine…Tenya was cognizant enough to realise that. He just didn't care .
"...Okay, Iida…well, still. If you need anythi-"
"I assure you, Kirishima. I do not need your help." Tenya looked back down at his forms, browsing the internship offers and pretending to be interested. From the corner of his eye, he saw his three friends look at each other in concern, but they did leave his desk, sitting down and going over their own internships.
"I don't need them interfering…this is something I need to do." Tenya lifted an offer up, barely noting the name 'Manual' on it, but the location of the internship stuck out to him as if it glowed.
Hosu.
"I do not need your help…I need closure…I need justice…"
"...I need revenge ."