"Okay everyone, this is Izuku," I say. "Our new probationary member."
The room claps.
Izuku looks like he just walked into a stage production he did not rehearse for. He stands stiff, hands flat at his sides, blushing like someone had called him cute on live television.
Rin walks up first. She claps him on the shoulder, leans in a little too close, and grins. "Welcome to the circus," she says.
He stutters out a thank you.
Tanaka watches from the side, arms folded. His expression is unreadable for a second, then softens. He walks over and holds out a hand.
"I'm Tanaka," he says. "Rin's brother."
Izuku blinks. Then shakes his hand.
"I'll be watching you," Tanaka says.
Then, after a beat: "Not in a creepy way. Just making sure you don't get her in trouble."
Izuku nods rapidly, clearly terrified.
Tanaka shrugs. "Good. You'll be fine."
He pats him once on the shoulder and moves back to his spot.
I watch the exchange with some amusement. Tanaka is always like that. Direct, no polish. But it works.
I already know I'll pair them soon. Izuku's sharp instincts, Rin's control, and Tanaka's grounding presence. They'll be our front-facing light. The kind that shows people we mean more than shadows and whispers.
Izuku turns to me again, squinting.
"Wait… you're the leader?" he says, voice rising. "You're like… a year younger than me!"
Rin smirks.
He turns red again.
"Update," I say without turning.
KD raises a hand. "Recruitment is going well. Everyone made first contact with their targets. Gentle might be a slow burn. Magne too. But progress is progress."
"And?" I ask.
"Bait got stabbed."
"It was a love stab," Bait calls out from the corner.
"It was not," Shadow replies.
"She said I made her heart race."
"She said she was going to carve your heart out."
"Semantics."
I nod, not surprised. "Clean the wound. No drama."
"Already done," Bait says, flipping a coin.
A small hiss pulls everyone's attention. Vaelrix slithers past Izuku's feet. He nearly falls over backing up.
She coils up and curls around the base of my seat, her emerald scales pulsing gently. Her head rises just enough to regard Izuku with a steady look.
"This is Vaelrix," I say. "My familiar."
She blinks once, slowly.
"H-hello," Izuku mutters.
"She used to kill with eye contact," I add. "But now she just judges silently."
"Comforting," Izuku says, not convincingly.
"She likes you," Rin says. "She hasn't hissed yet."
"Progress," KD says.
I glance back at Izuku. "You'll need a suit. We don't walk around here in street clothes. You're here, you're in. No halfway."
Izuku nods. "Can I still visit my mom?"
"Of course. She's welcome here, too."
He visibly relaxes.
"Tanaka," I say.
He looks up.
"I want you to take Izuku out tomorrow. Show him the neighborhood. Let him see what we do."
Tanaka nods. "Got it."
"You'll be the one he learns from," I add. "Make sure he sees everything. The real work."
Tanaka scratches his chin. "Guess that means the boring stuff too."
"Especially the boring stuff," I say.
Tanaka turns to Izuku. "You ever painted a wall?"
"Uh… not really."
"Good. You'll learn."
"Wait, that's part of training?"
Tanaka shrugs. "You want to help people, start by fixing their fences. Not everything's a punch."
Izuku looks like he doesn't know if Tanaka's joking or not. Then nods. "Right. Makes sense."
Tanaka smirks. "You'll get it."
Everyone goes back to their chatter. But something in the air has shifted. We just got a little stronger.
<><><><><><><>
The air smelled like rain even though the sky had not decided. It hung heavy over the neighborhood, clouds thick but not urgent. A good day for walking. The kind that reminded you how quiet the world could be without a crowd or a headline.
Tanaka wore a black tank top and his usual scowl. He walked ahead of Izuku by half a step, a bucket of paint swinging from his fingers. His pace was steady. Not fast. Just purposeful.
Izuku followed, trying not to trip on a crack in the sidewalk. He glanced at the paint, then at the walls they passed. Old gang tags, half-faded, scrawled in red and white. Some were just names. Others were threats.
"You ever painted before?" Tanaka asked, not looking back.
"Not walls," Izuku said. "Just… for art class. Once."
Tanaka grunted. He set the bucket down, pulled out a roller, and handed it over.
"Then don't be shy. These ones mean the people who live here aren't safe."
Izuku took it with both hands.
They worked in silence. Tanaka covered the top half while Izuku handled the lower stretch. By the second wall, the rhythm settled. Dip, roll, smooth. Izuku started humming under his breath.
Tanaka eyed him sideways. "You always hum when you work?"
Izuku paused. "Only when I'm nervous."
Tanaka grunted again. "You'll hum a lot then."
They stopped by a street corner where a fruit cart leaned awkwardly against a bent signpost. The vendor, a woman in her sixties, was trying to shift a crate of watermelons from the sidewalk into a shaded spot. Her arms trembled.
Tanaka stepped in without a word, lifting the crate with one arm and setting it down beneath the umbrella. Izuku jumped forward to help with the next. The woman bowed twice and offered them a plum. They took it. No need to make it awkward.
They patched a broken fence two blocks down. An alley dog barked once at Tanaka, then sat like it had changed its mind. Izuku fed it the rest of his plum.
Near the edge of the neighborhood, a little girl cried by a cracked toy robot. Her mother hovered nearby, phone in hand, helpless. Izuku crouched and tried to fix the wiring, muttering soft apologies to the machine every time he fumbled. He got it working again. Barely. But the girl stopped crying. That was the important part.
"You get it yet?" Tanaka asked once they walked again.
Izuku blinked. "Get what?"
"This job. This group. It's not about kicking people in the face."
Izuku scratched his cheek. "I guess… I thought being useful meant fighting. Beating the bad guys."
"That's the easy part," Tanaka said. "Any idiot with power can break something. The hard part is fixing what's already broken."
They turned onto a quieter street, where most of the windows had security bars and the buildings looked like they were holding their breath.
A boy stood near the corner. Sixteen, maybe seventeen. Hoodie. Cigarette tucked behind his ear. He was tagging over a wall they had just painted yesterday.
Tanaka stopped. "That's new."
Izuku froze behind him.
The boy turned when he heard the footsteps.
"Mind your business," he muttered. His grip on the spray can was loose, but his eyes were full of bluff.
Tanaka tilted his head. "This is our business."
"We don't mean trouble," Izuku said quickly. He stepped forward, hands up. "But that wall? It's part of a safe zone. Families walk past here. Kids."
The boy hesitated, eyes darting between them. "Yeah? So what?"
Izuku's voice stayed steady. "So when you tag it, the gangs think it's open again. They come back."
"I'm not with them," the boy said. "I'm just… bored."
Tanaka crossed his arms but said nothing.
Izuku kept his voice calm. "If you want space, we can give you space. If you need help, we have people for that too. But this? You're marking territory that's not yours."
The boy frowned. "Who says it isn't?"
Izuku took a slow breath. Then pointed to the ouroboros pin on his shirt. "This is the symbol of the Eighth Coil. This whole neighborhood is under protection now. That means anyone causing problems will have a very bad day."
The boy took a step back.
"I'm not threatening you," Izuku added. "But you should know where you're standing."
There was a pause.
Then the boy dropped the can. "Fine. Whatever."
He walked off. Not fast. Not like he was scared. Just like someone who decided it wasn't worth it today.
Tanaka waited until he was gone before speaking again.
"Not bad."
Izuku turned, surprised. "Really?"
"You didn't stammer. You stood your ground."
Izuku scratched the back of his neck. "I was terrified."
"Good," Tanaka said. "Means you'll survive longer."
They made their way back toward the compound. The paint had dried by now. The crates were stacked. The kid had her robot.
Izuku looked at his hands. Still a little sore. A few splinters on his palm.
He smiled to himself.
Maybe this was what helping looked like.
Not grand. Not flashy.
Just real.
<><><><><><><>
She lunged again. Sharp, fast, all focus.
I dodged and tapped her shoulder with two fingers, light as a whisper. She didn't even blink.
Her eyes stayed locked on mine, irritated. Determined. Like she wanted to earn something today and I was just in the way.
Maybe I was.
I kept up the game. A step back here, a sidestep there. Always just out of reach. I couldn't overpower her. Not my style. But I could frustrate her enough to forget what she was doing.
That was kind of the point.
She was the kind of person who got stronger when she was mad. I liked that about her.
She didn't know what I was. Not really.
None of them did. Not the new recruits anyway.
She didn't know I was just another piece of him. The part he carved out and gave a smile to. The part he didn't have time to be.
And maybe that was fine. Maybe she didn't need to know.
But every time she got close to smacking the smug off my face and chose not to? It made me wonder if I was becoming something different. Something more.
Not just a reflection.
Not just the joke.
Her glare burned right through my grin. She was trying to hold back. Trying to spar proper. It was almost cute.
Cage turned into a floor lamp behind her. The cord coiled itself into a thumbs-up. He had no idea what timing meant.
I sighed. Loudly. "You're holding back again," I said.
She narrowed her eyes.
Good.
Right before she moved again, I let my thoughts drift back to him. The Boss. Me. Us.
I used to think I was nothing more than a borrowed shape. A punchline in a nice suit.
But lately?
I wasn't so sure.
Maybe I was the part of him he couldn't show. The part that talks too much, feels too much, cares in ways that don't make tactical sense.
And maybe that's why I stuck around. Why I kept poking her, messing with Cage, trying to get someone to yell at me like it meant something.
Maybe I just wanted to matter.
Rin stepped forward, hands up again. I didn't dodge this time.
She didn't hit me. Just stood there. Breathing hard. Confused. Tired of the games.
And then Cage ruined everything by lobbing a cushion into the middle of us and shouting, "Gross. Feelings."
Rin didn't even react.
She just raised her fingers and summoned a barrier around us.
It locked shut like a glass cube with no exits.
I blinked.
She sat down outside the box, calm and smug as ever, legs crossed like she was meditating.
I pressed my forehead against the barrier and sighed.
"She boxed me," I muttered.
Inside the cube, Cage morphed into a coat rack and whistled a tune he knew I hated.
Typical.
I slid down to sit on the floor and let my grin slip for once.
At least I was becoming something. Even if no one saw it yet.