Pawns who perform their duties under the guidance of their superiors often have their own opinions about everything, but they do not dare to openly express their dissatisfaction in order to please their directors and senior managers. They have to carry out the dirtiest tasks through gritted teeth. No one was forced to join the government apparatus—people went there for good salaries and status, but they had no idea how deep and dirty the rabbit hole called "the government apparatus" was.
The Heroes Commission was no exception: from spying on theoretically dangerous heroes and personalities to contract killings that threatened their system. Vigilanties have never been popular with the people. In the eyes of most, they were masked psychos who took the law into their own hands against criminals. At the beginning of its existence, the Heroes Commission actively collaborated with the lynch mobs and even financed them.As the Commission's credibility grew in the eyes of the public, they decided to renounce their shady dealings and transactions with the lynch mobs. Now the Commission had become the law and an object of fear. Those who knew too much often did not live to old age — many died quickly and "painlessly," but not everyone met this fate. Among the vigilanties, there was a choice that later became something of an irony:
"You work for them, serving them like a maid, or die a hero in an alley."
Most vigilanties lived off their own resources and did not have the means to develop their quirks. Many of those who worked with the Hero Commission were considered cheap slaves who had sold the foundations of heroism for power and protection in serious circumstances. The Commission grew and expanded its influence throughout Japan. The era of chaos and uncertainty was coming to an end, and for the sake of order, the Commission had to build academies for the development and control of quirks under the guidance of trained agents, who were now called heroes. For the sake of the peace of mind of the people of Japan, the Commission began to smooth out the rough edges: the aggressive costumes of the heroes became more pleasing to the eye and radiated more positivity and calm. Supporting the heroes, the Commission generously pays them regardless of their specialization; several types of heroes have emerged in heroic communities.
Rescuers are heroes who specialize in saving citizens during natural disasters and catastrophes. They most often operate in cities or coastal areas. Every hero's duty is to help, and to that end, they channel their quirks into good deeds.
Combat heroes are heroes whose quirks are geared toward fighting villains. Due to the destructive power of their quirks, they are given the opportunity to fight villains without serious consequences from the law. Heroes with destructive quirks rarely crossed the line, and abuse of power was strictly prohibited.
Special heroes have highly specialized quirks for the needs of society. Their abilities work under special conditions and in rare missions. In investigations where many factors of a crime are difficult to notice, special quirks—such as detecting digital traces or rolling back a fragment of time—often led to a positive outcome.
Peacetime brought many changes: no one wanted to see murder and crime anymore. To maintain order, the Hero Commission changed its name from the "Academy for the Development and Control of Quirks" to the "Hero Academy." Hero academies became the new pillar of public order, reducing the role of the regular police.
****
After a failed attempt to catch the Silent Phantom, Tsutsumi Kaina, nicknamed Lady Nagant, searched the sewers for clues, working with an agent from the Commission. Wandering through the long corridors, Nagant found no clues pointing to the mysterious vigilante. Her heroic uniform was saturated with the smell of sewage — a rare place for missions. The problem was compounded by the fact that the sewer system in Japan was built differently than in other countries: it took not days or weeks to fully explore every corner — the tunnels reached a height of three to four meters.
"It's useless to look for him here. He's escaped. Tell the Commission to send trackers through the tunnels," Nagant assessed, hearing water flowing through the channels; the dampness and mold on the walls hurt her lungs. After an hour and a half of searching, they lost track of him and couldn't find a single clue.
"Let's go, there's nothing for us to do here," Nagant was alarmed by her partner's strange behavior. The Commission's tracker was not as simple as he seemed: after passing a rigorous selection process, he had been trained in many things that Nagant didn't even know about — everything was strictly confidential.
"Wait, Miss Nagant. I've picked up a strange smell that I can't identify. Come with me," her partner said emotionlessly, and she followed him. Government agents were sometimes considered heroes, but they performed more important tasks than saving people. Nagant had to work with different people on the Commission's orders: from arrogant newbies with inflated egos to frighteningly calm individuals who expressed absolutely nothing.
Turning the corner, the agent caught a stronger smell of blood. Sniffing, he discovered a smeared drop of blood on the ground. The red liquid was so small that he had to turn on his flashlight for a closer look. Such evidence was usually collected using ampoules or sterile instruments for working with particularly wanted criminals.
"Judging by the looks of it, he was seriously injured, and the wounds opened up during the fight. He couldn't have gone far. Call for backup and report to the Commission that we have valuable evidence," the agent ordered. Nagant followed her colleague, and, finding nothing else of value, they left the foul-smelling place filled with human waste.
****
For most people, breakfast was associated with something light—from scrambled eggs to oatmeal—but for the voracious symbiote, that was insignificant. He stitched up the wounds on Izuku's body himself: Andy didn't know how to suture, so Izuku had to learn on the fly to at least stop the periodic bleeding. The symbiote helped with healing, but it wasn't enough to close the open wounds. There were many injuries, and in order not to go to school with a bloody shirt, he had to use the family first aid kit and self-medicate. Recovery was slow without nutrients, and it took at least eight hours of active rest for complete healing.
While the host dozed, gathering strength, the symbiote, acting on Izuku's behalf, ordered fourteen dishes with various nutritious foods, based on the advice of internet experts. Andy was curious and always interested in new things. The hearty food gave them strength; it's nice for ordinary people to eat well, especially when food advertising is everywhere, from restaurants to celebrities promoting various cereals.
Knock knock.
Izuku groaned with exhaustion and covered himself with a blanket. His arm muscles ached painfully with every movement. His leg and arm muscles felt sluggish, and his head was on the verge of exploding after recent overexertion and blows. A normal person in his place would, at best, be lying in a hospital in a coma, on the verge of life and death, and at worst, with a cracked skull in some alleyway. Andy opened the window and let the fresh morning air into the room while the carrier groaned and covered his ears from the noise of the cars.
"Wake up, people in suits are here to see you," said the symbiote. Izuku's eyes flew open, and, ignoring the pain and wearing only his pajamas, he was ready to fight in his own home. He glanced at the window Andy was pointing to and, approaching very cautiously, poked his head out—but saw no one.
"There's no one there," Izuku replied, rubbing his eyes wearily from the sudden rush of adrenaline. Venom gloated and chuckled quietly as the knocking on the door grew louder. He didn't look through the peephole — the carrier hadn't noticed the twelve scooters parked in front of the residential complex. The burden of anxiety lifted from Izuku's shoulders as quickly as it had appeared, but his head ached even more: his body demanded calories.
"Let's just say that while you were asleep, I ordered something on your behalf," Andy said. Realizing this, Izuku rushed to the door. There was no peephole, and, clinging to his last hope, he worried that Andy might have ordered something unnecessary.
The door swung open, and twenty-four pairs of eyes greeted him in the hallway. Various delivery services had arrived, and Andy had ordered a ton of food in Izuku's name, as if he were preparing for a party for twenty people. Smiling foolishly, Izuku scratched the back of his head before the couriers shouted their signature phrase in unison:
"IZUKU MIDORIA, YOUR ORDER, PLEASE!"
Physically, he couldn't have eaten that much food. Andy had thought the order through in advance. He would be the only one paying for this festival of extravagance.
"Can I cancel the order?" Izuku asked, earning angry glances from the delivery guys. He noticed something interesting: some of the delivery guys had bruises. He figured that while he was sleeping, the delivery guys might have gotten into a fight with each other.
"The order cannot be canceled. You paid for everything online," said one of the couriers. Izuku's heart skipped a beat, but he accepted every package, spending more than fifteen minutes on confirmation.
"So, let's count:
— 6 boxes of pizza with different toppings — check;
- 30 rice onigiri - check;
- 5 miso soups - check;
- 10 boxes of spicy wok - check;
- 3 medium-rare steaks - check;
- 1 salad - check."
The table was covered with food, and the worst was yet to come. While Andy was checking if everything had arrived, Izuku was counting calories and was not happy with the amount of food. Andy's choice was not based on a desire to eat until he was stuffed, but on a desire to speed up his recovery and get more nutrients for future outings.
Balance in Midoriya Izuku's bank account: ¥127,000
Delivery service: −¥58,590
Total: ¥68,410
Izuku's eye twitched at the amount spent. Since his mother's death, he had stopped spending money on figurines and led a frugal lifestyle, like any adult. His father did send him money for living expenses and personal needs, but that could be cut off at any moment — and this uncertainty had weighed on Izuku for the past three years. Saving money had become a skill he had honed; now, with the appearance of the symbiote, his expenses threatened to increase due to the constant need for nutrients. For a comfortable recovery, he had to build a diet and eating regimen, which was not cheap. His budget limited the quality of the food, and vice versa — because of this, he had to choose between one or the other. It was impossible to constantly balance between the two extremes due to the traumatic nature of the fights: after each battle, Izuku returned with fractures or injuries that would take a normal person years to recover from. Torn ligaments and tendons were relatively normal for underground heroism. Heroism took a lot of strength, but yesterday he prevented many deaths, even though he ended up in an ambiguous light.
"If you eat all of this, your injuries and abrasions should heal by evening. Then you'll feel fresher than any pastry," Andy said, turning on the TV. In the mornings before school, Andy often watched TV, hoping for something good, but unfortunately, only the morning news was on. Izuku sat on the sofa and looked through his notes when there was only an hour left before school. During class, Andy slipped him snacks so he wouldn't have to think on an empty stomach: pieces of pizza flew down his throat. Izuku mechanically chewed a slice of "pepperoni with pineapple," which Andy considered "the optimal combination of protein and vitamins." The taste was strange, but his body, exhausted from yesterday's battles, gratefully accepted every calorie. He felt warmth spreading through his exhausted muscles, and the dull pain in his ribs gradually receding.
"How does it taste?" Andy asked, trying the onigiri. It was supposed to replace the trendy potato snacks with lots of seasonings and unhealthy fats; despite his alien biology, potato snacks disgusted him, and the internet recommended rice balls.
"It's kind of like onigiri, but less tasty," Izuku replied. Andy added salmon from the set on top and dipped it in soy sauce, adding spice and richness.
"Now what?" he asked, watching the carrier's reaction. Oddly enough, when the carrier felt emotions, Andy felt them too, at least partially: part of the symbiote's consciousness was connected to the main control center. This was new for an alien life form whose main goal was survival.
"That's much tastier. Let's have some more," he smiled, writing down the tasks in his notebook and completing them with full dedication. His work was interrupted by the sharp voice of the morning news anchor.
"Breaking news: a terrorist attack has occurred. Last night, the Silent Phantom prevented an explosion at a music festival. Several visitors were injured, and the organizers suffered losses." The footage showed a destroyed stage and dozens of tents with mini-games, prizes, and snacks for visitors. Izuk was not surprised: he had been in the thick of the action and had narrowly escaped capture by the heroes — only luck had saved him. No matter how experienced he was, Izuk understood that luck was not eternal, and his strength was not infinite, allowing him to fight several enemies at once.
"In addition to the explosion at the festival, there was another one. Law enforcement agencies said the explosions occurred at the same time. A powerful explosion rocked a nursing home in one of the residential areas: 58 people died immediately when the building collapsed. Among the victims were 16 elderly men, 32 elderly women, and 20 employees who cared for the elderly. Heroes and the police are investigating the case; at the moment, the investigation is looking for those responsible for the terrorist attack. Further footage did not pass television censorship." Izuku's eyes widened, and his hand stopped above his notebook. He no longer heard the reporter's further words: he threw the notebook aside and ran to the computer; the symbiotic head followed him, grabbing food. Immediately sitting down in his work chair, he went from site to site, looking at the shocking aftermath of the terrorist attack. Many women and elderly people had been cut in half, many people had lost limbs, and some had suffered fatal injuries. It was difficult to identify those who were unlucky: some had their faces mutilated, others had their brains torn from their skulls. The most horrific image was that of an old woman's intestines hanging out. Blood flowed like a river, and the employees of the institution died young, wanting to help the elderly who had been abandoned by their own children. And all this was at the will of one man who decided to imagine himself the master of destinies. Out of anger, Izuku searched for more information from various sources to find at least something. Remembering the reporter's words from five minutes ago, the puzzle came together: a picture and the name of the culprit appeared before him.
"It happened at the same time," flashed through his mind.
"Moloch," he whispered. Everything matched up: the time of the explosion coincided exactly with the time of the explosion at the festival. Moloch may have been a low-level criminal, but he was far from stupid. The problem was that as long as he was alive, only a broker could kill him. With immunity from murder and execution, he wasn't worried about death. No matter how despicable the broker was, he cared about his clients and didn't let them die at the hands of others. Of course, if a person has value, a debtor is always more profitable to a banker than someone who has no debts.
"He tricked us. Innocent people died," Izuku leaned back from his desk, no longer wanting to watch the footage of people dying. Thoughts about the project with Melissa, about the broker and his business, swirled in his head. Izuku made a promise to himself: he would never side with the broker or follow in his footsteps. No matter how honest he was, the broker's business was so shady that any villain would envy him.
"It's not our concern, Izuku. We saved many lives at the festival, including Melissa's, so there's no need to worry about those who are spending their last days alone," Andy replied in his pragmatic manner. It was no secret to Izuku that Andy was his more pragmatic side, thinking about profit and not inclined to compassion. That part was like a siren luring brave sailors; in the end, those who succumbed to temptation drowned. Selfishness was a convenient tool to prove how psychologically stable Izuku was, and perhaps to show what the principles of heroism were — and whether it was heroism at all.
Covering his face, Izuku sighed in frustration and returned to his usual morning routine before school, eating properly beforehand to recover.
At school, everything went as usual: classes, lectures, assignments, and a couple of exams, which were not difficult. Due to his lack of interest in his own quirks, Izuku did not spend time developing them and did not pay attention to things unrelated to heroes.
The exams were simple: just by looking at the tasks, he could determine their type and how to solve them. But Andy unexpectedly took the initiative, wanting to prove his intelligence to himself and the carrier. The time he spent studying the human world on the internet gave him confidence. If Andy had any doubts, he asked for hints or "dived" into the carrier's memory to solve the problems. His head was full of information that he could use, but he decided not to cheat and to rely on his own strength, as the host demanded. Their character traits gradually merged: at first, this caused discomfort and outbursts of rage, but the longer the symbiosis lasted, the more they got used to each other. Izuk received a surge of strength and confidence, while Andy gained knowledge about his surroundings and an intelligence that was foreign to his alien nature, whose goal was to survive at any cost.
Time flew by quickly, and the healing of wounds did not stand still either: the pain in his muscles and back disappeared without any noticeable traces of the beating. At the beginning of the school day, Izuku noticed a strange detail: Melissa was absent all day, and this worried him. Later, Fuyumi said that she was at home and fine, but her parents wouldn't let her go out after the recent events. While the lessons were going on, several thoughts were spinning in Izuku's head at once, and to prevent them from escaping in the form of mumbling, Andy kept him from saying anything unnecessary, keeping an eye on their personal lives.
Tagoba Beach.
"I don't think that's a good idea," Melissa replied, looking at her friend trying to lift a small metal plate. She was holding a video camera on Dagoba Beach. The clean beach was littered with various debris. The once-popular beach had now become a tourist attraction in Mustafa. People from other prefectures often joked that this beach had more visitors than their tourist attractions. Melissa cared about her new home, and like many others, she wanted to make a difference by cleaning up the beach.
Giving a thumbs up, Melissa was ready to turn on the camera. Izuku's appearance was unusual: a black wide-brimmed hat with white patterns hid his face from certain angles, and he wore a green jacket, black pants, knee pads, and special black shoes. A mascot was an integral part of any popular brand, and Melissa decided to take this task seriously.
"Señor El Cucuy," Andy replied, chuckling at the silly name, but the bearer had his own opinion on the matter.
"I really like the name," he said, adjusting his headdress. In some ways, it was more like a performance than an act of selfless heroism. The camera lit up red, and Izuku immediately got to work. The beach was littered with all kinds of junk, from smelly waste to decaying technology. After buying 50 trash bags, Izuku began throwing himself at the trash with determination, playing the role of the righteous El Cucuy. Izuku's lack of quirks gave people something to talk about and made them wonder what his secret was, creating intrigue in their eyes. It was a cliché that had been around since ancient times, but it had never lost its relevance.
His scars ached slightly from physical exertion. Izuku refrained from helping Andy, allowing himself to figure out the whole situation on his own. He lifted heavy debris above his head, demonstrating his strength on camera. His arms were numb, but he did not give in to his weakness. Never before had he felt so alive and needed at that moment. Those few people were watching him and believing in him, and letting them down would be the last thing he wanted.
"Let's take a break. We've filmed an hour's worth of footage." Lowering the camera, she smiled at Izuku, who, covered in sweat and holding his side strangely, took off his headgear. The spring heat made his body cry out for cool air, but his pleas went unheard, and Izuku sank to one knee. Leaving the camera on the stairs, she ran to him with a first aid kit and a bag.
"Are you okay?" she asked anxiously, taking out cotton wool and a towel.
"W... water," he begged, feeling the emptiness in his mouth. He had to dry 4 liters of water for one person alone. Melissa's expression changed from concerned to smiling.
"I couldn't imagine you were such a big eater. Four liters of water and several servings of food disappeared in a few minutes." Izuku, greedily gulping water from the second bottle, looked at her and tried to smile, although it looked more like a grimace.
"Work... requires fuel," he exhaled, leaning back on the sand.
"Especially this kind."
Melissa sat down next to him, her gaze sliding over his shirt, which was clinging tightly to his body from sweat. She noticed how he involuntarily pressed his elbow to his side, and that under the fabric, in the area of his ribs, there was an unnatural bulge — a fresh, almost healed scar that a normal schoolboy shouldn't have.
"Are you... are you sure you're okay?" Her voice grew quieter.
"I mean... yesterday at the festival... there was this... black hero. Or villain. No one understands. And you... you look like you ran a marathon through a minefield." Izuku lowered his gaze, unable to look her in the eye. He didn't even want to think about what would have happened if he had been a few minutes late.
"I'm sorry I wasn't with you then. I should have been there for you at that moment, but I put my personal affairs first..." She interrupted him, covering his mouth with her hand. With wide eyes, Izuku stared into her blue eyes. She was just like him, unassuming, but with completely different values in life. She didn't want to talk until Izuku himself took action. The silence between them continued until Izuku removed her hand from his mouth. His scarred hand touched her soft, silky hands, and his skin felt a pleasant tenderness, while the other side felt roughness and dedication to his work.
"Don't make excuses, it doesn't suit you as a hero." Izuku blinked, and the ocean current provided the backdrop for her words. Holding back with all his might, he could have told her about his secret life, but he understood perfectly well where that could lead. To drag an innocent person into a meat grinder where bones broke like pencils, and the least painful thing was cracked bones. For the average person, such a picture was madness, and in this madness, Izuku went out under the cover of night, challenging himself and others that he was capable of at least something.
"You're a good person, Izuku. But you have your life, and I have mine. It's your choice. I'm upset that we couldn't spend time as friends, but I appreciate that friendship isn't one-sided." She gave him a smile, touching his shoulder. Her warm hand rested on his shoulder, and his nervous system finally felt the peace it so desperately needed, without aggressive fights and adrenaline rushes that could easily kill him, causing him to lose his last chance.
"Thank you," he managed to say, touching her hand. His heart fluttered, and his soul longed for more touches. Goosebumps ran down his body every time she touched him. His mind became clear without the rapid thoughts that turned his head into a race track for speeding cars trying to overtake each other. Overcoming himself, Izuku didn't want to put her in an awkward position and refused to hug her.
"If you don't mind, where did you get all those scars? I didn't have the courage to ask you about them. I notice every time you try to hide them. Are you in pain?" Izuku's heartbeat quickened with fear; she was so close to him that it happened so unexpectedly. Thoughts swirled in his head about running away from here right now or, at worst, shutting her up by being rude to her. Izuku didn't feel any malice or animosity towards her, she just wanted to know more about him. The other side was happy to be friends with him, a simple person like himself, in that childish friendship without obligations.
"All my life I've been self-flagellating. Like all children, I wanted to be like the All might. People pointed fingers at me and said I was old-fashioned, and they wanted to assert themselves by pointing out various quirks that I was particularly interested in. If you're interested, then..." He unbuttoned his sleeve, rolling it up. Melissa noticed traces of old burns and some peeled skin that was healing. She was amazed at how her peer could have gotten such scars. She couldn't imagine that someone so young could have earned such stab wounds. Ignoring personal space, she felt his forearms and turned his hand over, examining each scar. They had healed long ago, but they left a painful message to the body.
"Does it hurt?" she asked with a hint of concern. Her display of care was new to him, and at least it wasn't so close.
Izuku froze. Her fingers were cool and soft against his rough, scarred skin. Each touch was both painfully sharp and incredibly gentle. He could feel Andy tense beneath his skin, ready at any moment to put up his defenses or pull his hand away, but Izuku mentally calmed him down.
"No," he whispered, his voice sounding hoarse.
"Not now. Before... it hurt before. A lot." She looked at him sadly, unable to help in this situation. Taking out a cloth, she wiped the sweat that glistened on his skin from his hand. The dry muscles on his arm hinted that Izuku was not wasting any time and was preparing for his future just as she was. The similarities between them in some ways inspired her and gave her strength. If someone called them nerds, they would not be wrong.
Summoning his willpower, Izuku recounted his past in greater detail. Melissa was not accustomed to hearing such details; listening to Izuku describe his painful experiences broadened her world a little. She had heard stories of heroes who inspired her, fueling her desire to move forward. Before her stood the living embodiment of steadfastness, and a simple person like her inspired her. People who had overcome their obstacles despite their disadvantages inspired her. For her, Izuku was not a perfect person; he had his secrets and problems, which he hid from her for various reasons. She saw in him a humanity that many heroes lacked; if he needed help, she was ready to lend a hand.
"I dream of being a hero. I want to be the first person to become an official quirkless hero in Japan and even in the whole world." Izuku's impossible dream was barely within his grasp. After all, his secret was both his advantage and his Achilles' heel. Despite his unattainable dream, Izuku impressed his friend with his openness and honesty. For Melissa, learning about someone's desire or dream was like learning a secret that a person kept deep in their mind.
"Then I'll help you become famous." Her cheeks flushed slightly at his words, and she looked down at her medical bag lying on her lap. With her offer, she took another step closer to him, gradually drawing nearer. Melissa had never reached out to strangers before, and her gesture was new to her, causing her whole body to feel awkward. Suddenly, his hand rested on her shoulder.
"I would be very grateful," Izuku said dramatically, earning the blonde girl's gaze. Despite his knowledge, Izuku did not understand many things due to his age and naive worldview, which divided everything into black and white. Andy welcomed the new sensations, and the emotions he felt intensified, giving Izuku more incentive and confidence to continue the dialogue.
"We've been delayed, let's continue our filming," she said anxiously, looking for the camera. Time passed, and the conversation between them continued, as if they had forgotten why they had come here. Izuku took the concept for his new gloves, which he had designed himself based on the heroes' equipment, out of his backpack. The design was drawn in pencil, based on his experience fighting villains and heroes. Against villains with armor or hard skin, Izuku added thicker armor to the knuckles and fingers. The length of the gloves varied among the several models he drew.
Option 1 — The glove completely covered the wrist with thickened protection in the knuckle area to prevent fractures and microtraumas. Fabric was drawn between the reinforced areas for greater mobility. And the cherry on top was the claws at the end of each finger, like a cat's. The concept showed where they were hidden and how they extended.
Melissa appreciated the design and was even surprised by Izuku's skills. He amazed her more and more; she had never met anyone so immersed in their life, and even Starlet himself could envy such a desire to become a hero.
Option 2 was exactly the same as the first, but longer, covering the user's wrist. There was a hidden blade on the inside of the forearm for surprise attacks. But at the end of the draft, Izuku wrote in red: "Canceled."
The protection and plates covered the back of the fingers and covered the back of the forearm with armor, leaving the elbow vulnerable.
Option 3 is the most successful, preserving hand protection. The protection was taken from the second option, but with the addition of elbow protection, which is thicker and stronger, almost does not interfere with mobility, and does not rub, according to Izuku. Of the offensive weapons, Izuku kept the claws, considering the option with a hidden blade difficult to implement due to his lack of engineering education.
The beach cleanup went according to plan. All 50 bags were filled to the brim with trash, and a decent portion of the waste was removed, allowing the sand to show itself to the people. Izuku was proud of himself and, standing in a victory pose so that his face was not visible, Melissa clicked the camera, completing the final touch on the recording. Izuku collapsed onto the sand as soon as it was over. His muscles ached from the effort, but on the plus side, all of his open wounds, which had been stitched up by hand, were now completely healed, which was a welcome relief. Stepping onto the cool sand, Melissa sat down next to him, reviewing all the video she had managed to record on her camera.
"You really surprised me today, and not for the first time," she smiled, adjusting her glasses. She looked into the distance and felt very proud of herself and Izuku. Although they weren't heroes or workers, they had done a good deed. Izuku propped himself up on his elbows, staring into the distance at the restless ocean. The sun was gradually setting below the horizon, while the moon was already visible on the other side. Melissa's words made him happy; he had finally been recognized. These peaceful moments without adrenaline-fueled battles were a breath of fresh air. There was no need to rush anywhere or save anyone recklessly, just pure peace and goosebumps all over his body from the calm and safety, without any unexpected attacks.
"Are you sure you don't have a quirk with willpower? I'm sure with it, you'll become a symbol of steadfastness. With your sharp mind, they should let you into the UA without any problems," she said, helping him up.
"Thank you, Melissa, I... really appreciate your words and your support. I'm also sure that you'll make the best PR manager." Their fists collided, and while they discussed their business, Mei quietly watched them. She remembered the green head, but the new visitor on the forgotten beach was a novelty to her. Apart from the green-haired girl, no one else came here. She ignored the bespectacled blonde and focused on the trash bags. She needed small pieces of metal that could be melted down. Luckily for her, after feeling around in the trash bags, she found what she was looking for: a pile of sixes and metal fragments, which she took with her.
Amidst the mountains of trash, she set up a mini-workshop for her innovation. Although it was difficult to call it a workshop, there was a large tunnel with a small space under the railing on the beach. The entrance was round, but only a few people could find it, as the entrance to her workshop was blocked by large pieces of trash. The workshop was extremely modest; the workbench was built from metal beams and rebar. Each leg was different, built in a makeshift manner, and a metal plate was neatly welded onto these legs. Next to the table was a box of tools and unfinished inventions, which she called "babies."
The paper was scattered everywhere, as if a printer had exploded and scattered all the paper around the small workshop. Carrying two bags of rubbish with her, she turned on the light, forcing the cheap gasoline generator, which made a lot of noise, to start working. There was no money or generous sponsor, so without getting discouraged, Mei decided to do everything herself. Digging through the dump, she often found the tools she needed. For her, this dump became a treasure trove of new children. The generator roared to life, filling the entire workshop with noise. Mei carelessly threw her jacket on the ground, not caring about cleanliness. She was thinking about a way out of poverty, and cleanliness wasted precious time that she did not have. She was wearing torn sneakers, dirty dark green pants, and a sweatshirt tied at the waist. She wore a dirty, crumpled black T-shirt with traces of motor oil and soot on it. The young inventor didn't worry about her appearance, which was unusual for a woman. She put on her steampunk glasses, which magnified her already impressive zoom. She plugged in the brazier, which looked like a huge cylinder. It took a while to connect because the brazier took a long time to heat up. Dust, soot, and the smell of oil were common in any workshop, and besides, Mei wasn't ashamed of herself in her small but comfortable world without people.
Izuku followed her and was surprised when she disappeared into a pile of rubbish. The disappearance of two rubbish bags aroused his suspicion, but Melissa didn't notice and left. From the footprints in the sand, Izuku quickly concluded that the thief did not have much physical strength and had to drag two bags of metal trash with her. Finding the entrance, Izuku squeezed between the piles of scrap metal. Moving further, Izuku's eyes found steel supports holding a ton of debris above his head without blocking the entrance. From the street, this place looked like a huge mountain of debris, but inside it was made into a cozy tunnel leading to an unknown place.
"Be careful, there may be traps in these passages," Andy feared for his safety, because the desire to survive was paramount, and extra caution never hurts. Izuku listened to the symbiote and pressed himself against the walls, making no unnecessary noise. As he made his way further, Izuku heard the roar of a generator and the sounds of a welding machine. The entrance was close, and he caught sight of Mei, who paid no attention to him. The workshop looked extremely modest compared to the support services in large companies or the heroic academies often shown on television. Izuku noticed that everything in this workshop was made from trash and by hand. The smell of oil hit his nose, slightly irritating his heightened senses as Izuku paid attention to the details. Mei, meanwhile, put on a welding helmet and welded a part while the battery was still working.
"Hey, Mei!" Izuku shouted, but she didn't care. He shouted a few more times, which made Izuku take a couple of steps forward, trying to get her attention.
"Hey, can you hear me?" he said loudly, but she seemed stuck in her own world, refusing to pay attention to anything else. Andy hissed and, with malicious intent, grabbed the hammer with his tentacle and threw it onto her table. Izuku tried to contain his irritation, but Andy had his own opinion about her ignoring him. The hammer fell onto the table with a crash, making a loud sound as it hit the metal. Surprised, Mei jumped up, dropping the welding machine from her hands. She fell to the ground, removing her welding helmet, trying to see her opponent. There was a mirror above the table, and catching a glimpse of her opponent's legs, she took a 24×27 mm wrench from her belt. The opponent stood motionless, as if waiting for her next move. Blindly, she lunged at him with the wrench while he dodged her sweeping attacks. She covered her face with her welding helmet to make herself look more intimidating, but to Andy, she just looked like a weirdo.
Izuku deftly dodged Mei's clumsy attacks, but the whole situation had to end quickly. Without wasting much time, Izuku took a couple of steps back and, waiting for her to swing the wrench, knocked it out of her hands with his elbow and kicked her welding helmet. Mei fell to the ground again, closing her eyes in pain.
"I think you went too far," Andy replied with a smirk, watching the situation unfold. Her insolence had now been punished, and the feeling of satisfaction was very welcome. Izuku reached out his hand to help her up. She opened her eyes and, seeing the green hair, immediately realized who was in front of her. He had seen her more than once, but she had only spoken to him once, and that was during their unsuccessful first meeting.
"Greenhead?" she asked questioningly as he took her hand and helped her up from the ground. No mortal had ever come to her modest workshop before. She was alone, and there were no people who sincerely wished her well.
"I'm sorry I raised my hand to you," he said, standing up to his full height. She was 4 cm shorter than him and looked at Izuku with her head slightly raised, despite the insignificant difference in height. She dusted herself off, but did not hold a grudge against him. Thanks to him, she had two bags of junk that would have taken her a day or two to sort through. Despite her determination, she had too many tasks and ideas that required time she didn't have.
"Don't worry, I probably deserved it. Go ahead, tell me why you came, I don't have much time." Without wasting a second, Izuku took out a notebook with glove designs. Puzzled and unsuspecting, she took the notebook in her hands, looking at the quite good designs for heroic equipment. She didn't like the second version of the gloves, and without asking, she simply tore it out of Izuku's hands and threw it on the floor.
"What made you think I have the materials to make such gloves?" she asked, ignoring the author who had come up with the equipment. She didn't care what people thought of her; she cared about how to get out of the hole and follow her ideas, and she didn't care much about others.
"As far as I can remember, you're the only one with engineering knowledge. I don't know anyone else who could do this." His words made her doubt him. It was a despicable use of her knowledge for his own benefit; not seeing any really good friends, Mei saw everything as an opportunity, not caring about long-term cooperation.
"I'm flattered. But look here." Izuku approached her, looking at his design, but from the perspective of an engineer and mechanic who truly understood creation and manufacturing.
"The first option is almost cheap to manufacture, except for the materials used there. You need shock-absorbing fabric to reduce the kinetic impact on soft tissues and joints. As for protecting bones and everything else, it all depends on the materials. As for the claws, you could come up with a special extension mechanism, such as a button on the palm, and the claws would extend without any problems. Sharpness and durability will also depend on the materials." From Mei Izuku's quick words, he realized that his knowledge of equipment was extremely limited, and that he was facing someone just like himself, who valued his work. His selfless heroism and her cold calculation, as well as her knowledge of equipment, would compensate for his recklessness, strengthening the symbiosis between man and alien.
"What about other variations?" he asked thoughtfully, scratching his chin. Andy found this more interesting; he always welcomed new knowledge. And new acquaintances and the opportunity for simple socialization fueled his curiosity.
"The second option is pure garbage. All the advantages of the first option are negated by the hidden blade, which can break under a strong blow, but will also restrict movement when fighting a villain. It's better to use a knife than a hidden blade. And the second one is more like a fan's dream from some failed video game.
The third option combines all the best features, protecting the back of the forearm. You kept the claws and added protection to the elbow. Of course, it all depends on the materials used to make this equipment." Izuku listened silently, his brain working at full capacity, absorbing every word. Mei spoke quickly, sharply, without unnecessary emotion, but there was a cold, refined logic to her words. She didn't see a "cool design," but a blueprint, a set of functions, and potential problems.
"Materials," he repeated, his voice sounding thoughtful. "Yes, that's the main thing. Where can we get them?"
May snorted and gestured toward her workshop—this magical cave made of junk. She took a couple of steps toward a huge structure covered with a tarp and threw the tarp to the ground with a sweep of her arm.
"Let me introduce you to a little baby made from trash. My furnace can heat up to 6000°. No material in this dump can withstand that temperature. You don't have to worry about materials at first. But if you want professional equipment, you'll have to shell out for more advanced materials." She tapped the device, causing an echo throughout the workshop. The generator was running at full power, and Mei's smile never left her face as she showed off her creation to a potential customer. Mei smiled as she turned on the brazier and lit the lower furnace. In front of Izuku, she took out a piece of scrap metal, wrapped it in a dirty towel, doused it with alcohol, and lit it with a lighter.
"I advise you to cover your ears." Andy was alarmed by what he heard, and with an impassive expression, she began to heat up the brazier, causing a sharp low-frequency sound that caused pain to both of them. In agony, Izuku covered his ears from the pain, while Andy let out inhuman screams that caused pain to his nature.
"AAAAAAH!" Izuku screamed, writhing in pain. He covered his ears, trying to muffle the nasty sound, until Mei turned off the brazier with a single button. The sound stopped, and the nasty sound disappeared in an instant. Andy relaxed, but the echo of the low-frequency sound caused only irritation, and wanting to destroy the device, Mei didn't care about anonymity.
"You'll turn this device on when I'm not here," he said with a hint of malice, still hearing the echo in his ears. Unsuspecting, Mei just gave him a thumbs up.
"There's enough fuel for two sessions. After that, I'll need your help, Greenhead. To make the gloves, I need precise measurements of your hands, right down to your fingernails." Before Izuku had time to think about her words, she took a measuring tape and a notebook from her belt and rushed towards him. With dirty gloves, she touched his hands, measuring the length of his fingers, wrists, forearms, and elbows, taking into account mobility and ease of movement. Andy didn't understand how the fight had turned into cooperation; it seemed funny to him how some human individuals socialize with each other. There were no examples of such socialization on the internet, where he got his information.
"What do my torso and chest have to do with gloves?" he asked, feeling uncomfortable. For Mei, shame and personal space were on par with boring lectures that didn't interest her. Taking off her gloves, she touched his chest with her clean hands, feeling every muscle and tendon he had. By feeling her client's physique, she was preparing the ground for future cooperation.
"This is for our future children. Relax, guys like it when girls touch them." Andy felt a new wave of emotions in the form of awkwardness and pleasure; judging by the hormone of joy, the carrier liked it. Feeling awkward, Izuku couldn't say a word to the eccentric mechanic. With a deft movement of her hand, she took out a measuring tape and a compact notebook. It wasn't her first time taking such measurements, and she was certainly no amateur at it.
"Relax and enjoy yourself. Think of it as a massage after a hard day." Izuku had to roll his eyes at the stranger's comments. Mei smiled as she drew and measured every inch of her first client's body. She didn't care about unnecessary questions when it came to creating new children who had pulled her out of this situation. No one appreciated her technical genius and believed that her quirk was meant to be a medic for complex operations. If May heard that now, she would laugh out loud, spitting on the ground in humiliation at her quirk.
"By the way, what about your quirk? The launch pad is ready, we need to find out what your quirk is." Cold sweat rolled down Izuku's forehead when he heard about the quirk. He had guessed it, but he was still taken aback by the question. No matter what power he possessed, the question of his quirk was the most painful for Izuku. His toes curled, his breathing became heavy, and his hand involuntarily reached for his hair, scratching until it reached his scalp.
"I... I don't have it..." he replied with a heavy heart. While he was speaking, Mei was writing down measurements and a rough plan of action, but his complete sentence made her pay attention to him. He looked tense and nervous, despite his strength and physique. She found it strange that a man she considered strong was frightened by a single question. May didn't interact with people often enough to know about social engineering, but the absence of it was extremely surprising to her.
"How can that be? Every dog on the street has a quirk. Maybe you're afraid to reveal yours?" May asked casually, not caring how her words would affect him. Andy grumbled at her, wanting to teach her a lesson, but he was stopped in time from acting rashly.
"I haven't had one since childhood." Mei's mind processed this like a new foreign word, but from the serious expression on his face, she realized he wasn't lying.
"THAT'S GREAT! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MANY BEAUTIFUL CHILDREN WE COULD HAVE TOGETHER? YOUR UNPRETENTIOUSNESS WILL BE A KEY FACTOR, BECAUSE MY CHILDREN WILL BE UNIVERSAL FOR ALMOST ALL USERS OF PRICHU!" She was breathing heavily with joy and almost jumped into his arms with intense emotion. Andy, like his host, was puzzled by her. Her words were extremely contrary to his logic, and the way she called things by their names caused him only great confusion.
"So you don't hate me?" Izuku asked, choosing his words carefully.
"Why would I hate you? Oh, forget it, you're a godsend to me. You're gold... no, not gold, you're a diamond. Can you even imagine that thanks to your lack of quirks, you have no physical defects or internal flaws? And that makes you more unique than unique!" Izuku stood there, stunned. All his life, his lack of quirks had been a stigma, a flaw, a void that had to be filled at any cost. And now this girl, covered in soot and smelling of machine oil, looked at him not as defective, but as a blank canvas. As the perfect foundation.
"More unique than unique," he repeated her words, and they sounded strange, like a spell in an unknown language.
Mei nodded, her eyes burning with the excitement of an engineer who had been given the perfect prototype.
"Exactly! You see, Greenhead, most heroic gadgets are made for a specific quirk. For a specific body that may bend differently than everyone else's, or have extra joints, or secrete acid. These are all variables. Complications. And you..." She poked his chest with her finger. "You're the standard. The human standard. If I make equipment that fits and works perfectly for you, it will work for 90% of heroes and ordinary people. That's genius!"
She grabbed his wrist; her fingers, rough from work, touched his skin again, but now not as if he were a patient, but as if he were precious material.
"Your scars," she continued, tracing her finger over the old marks on his forearm, "they're data too. They show where the blows most often fall, where maximum protection is needed. They're not flaws. They're a map of vulnerabilities that need to be covered. You brought me the blueprint of your weaknesses yourself!"
Izuku looked at her, and something inside him shifted. Years of shame, ridicule, feelings of inferiority—all of it suddenly seemed incredibly foolish in light of this new, cold, impeccably logical gaze. It wasn't empty. It was... pure. A perfect foundation.
"She's crazy," Andy muttered to himself, but there was no longer irritation in his voice, only curiosity.
"But her madness is interesting."
"So...my quirkless... isn't a disadvantage?" Izuku finally exhaled, and there was no hope in his voice, only a need for confirmation of this new, incredible reality.
Mei let go of his hand and crossed her arms over her chest.
"A disadvantage? It's a superpower, you fool! The power to be normal! The power to be a reference point! Now listen." She became businesslike and sharp again.
Mei let go of his hand and crossed her arms over her chest.
"Minus? It's a superpower, you fool! The power to be normal! The power to be a reference point! Now listen." She became businesslike and sharp again.
"You bring me materials and fuel. I take measurements, make drawings, build prototypes. We test. We break. We improve. You'll be my testing ground. My living mannequin. And I... I'll turn you into a walking arsenal. Made from junk, but one that any heroic agency would envy. Deal?" She held out her hand again. This time it wasn't just a handshake. It was a contract. A pact between the dregs of society: between the one who had no quirks and the one whose quirk was considered worthless. Between the one who dreamed of becoming a hero in the shadows and the one who dreamed of creating weapons from trash. Izuku slowly but firmly shook her hand. His palm, covered with old scars, met hers, stained with soot and fuel oil.
"It's a deal,?" he said, and for the first time, his voice sounded not like a child's dreaminess, but like the steely determination of an adult who had found his place. She grinned, and there was something predatory and enthusiastic in her smile at the same time.
" Deal," he said, and for the first time, his voice sounded not like a child's dreaminess, but like the steely determination of an adult who had found his place. She grinned, and there was something predatory and enthusiastic in her smile at the same time.
"From the very beginning, Greenhead. Take off your shirt. We need accurate measurements of your chest and back. For body protection. And don't make a face
****