I arrived at the nearest police station, criminal and drugs on shoulder and in hand respectively. The dealer's breathing shallow against my ear.
The station's automatic doors hiss open.
"Uhm hello," I said as I peeked my head into the department. The main desk sits elevated slightly, papers neatly pressed at one side. A police officer's gaze meets my own, it goes up and down, inspecting my suit with tired eyes beneath graying eyebrows, scratching at a beard that hasn't quite grown in yet. I settle the man still knocked unconscious on the floor, careful not to let his head hit too hard.
"Hello young man, what agen-" the officer stops mid sentence, his scratching stops as well. "You're Arthur the vigilante."
Damn. I see as the officer tenses, muscles stop working as smoothly and even his face gets locked in place, and with his words a few others in close proximity tense too. Chairs scrape against the floor. Papers stop shuffling.
I can hear heartbeats accelerating, five, no, six officers now aware of my presence. They begin to sweat, forehead and brow mostly.
I see the officer reach to his side, to his weapon. The leather holster creaks. Metal clicks. "You're not supposed to be a vigilante anymore."
He begins to unholster his weapon. The motion isn't smooth, in fact his fingers are so tense, he misses the first time. Weren't police meant to deescalate the situation! This was the complete opposite.
My mind races through options, I could disarm him easily, but that would only make things worse. Violence begets violence.
I quickly settle case at my side, my movements are slow. No sudden motions. I don't want one of them to shoot. My arms going up to show I was no threat, palms open, fingers spread.
"I'm not a vigilante anymore, I have my provisional hero license here, I'm interning in Ryukyu's agency," I said, keeping my voice level and calm, I noticed then something that Toru had once told me, I was very different when I was doing hero work than when I was just being normal, I couldn't be more thankful for that distinction right now.
One of my hands moves to a small pocket of the cloth in my armor, slowly. From it, I pick out my card and show it. The laminated surface with my face at it's edge my saving grace in this fiasco.
The officer squints, leaning forward slightly. His eyes scan the card once, twice, three times. Reading every word. The tension in the room is thick enough I could cut it with Excalibur.
Nodding slowly, the clip over his gun closing once more with a definitive click. Thank God. The relief that washes through me is instant. Around us, I hear the hearts of the people around me calm. Chairs settle. Still I can feel some of their eyes are still on me.
"Uhum," I cough, clearing the tension from my throat as I point to the dealer at my side. His forehead I realize has a small bump, I get the urge to heal it with Avalon, I restrain myself. "He was dealing trigger in an alley, I caught him, his supply is in that case."
The officer nods. Two more approach me. One cautious, younger. The other relaxed, older, and he walks past with a kind smile. He pats me on the shoulder, a gesture that surprises me, before kneeling to open the case.
As there are no locks, one side of the case just falls to wayside. Inside, are the vials. He inspects it for a few seconds, counting the vials, before closing it once more as well as he can without locks. He nods towards the original police officer, a confirmation.
The cautious one begins to pull the dealer inside, dragging him by his armpits. The criminal's shoes scrape against the floor.
"Did you get any relevant information? Who did he sell this to? It would be best to have a witness to corroborate your-" the older officer begins to ramble.
I think of Rin but decide against it. He doesn't need to deal with this. He needs help, not handcuffs.
"He had the drugs on his person isn't that enough?" I interrupt as he's still asking me a few questions.
The officer scratches at his beard.
"For police officers sure, but since heroes work under another branch of government which at the same time is privatized through agencies..." he trails off, gesturing vaguely at me then at the criminal still being dragged inside. "It's basically his word against yours, it's also why heroes don't work alone most of the time. Partner testimony carries weight. Solo work?" He shrugs. "Gets complicated."
"So what can I do?" I ask, a bit of frustration seeping into my voice. I caught a criminal. I have the evidence. Why isn't that enough?
"Was there really no one who might have seen you?"
Again I think of Rin, huddled in that alley. I made him a promise to help him. I won't break it for the sake of paperwork.
"No, I'm sorry," I reply as I shake my head. The lie tastes bitter in my tongue. I never liked lying, I think I'd never get used to it. Probably because it reminded me of mom and how I'd lie to cover up for her.
"It's... fine," he sighs. "We'll run his prints, he's probably in the system, we'll be able to build a case, with what you've given us. It just won't be guaranteed. Thanks anyway for catching the perp. As long as we get some of the stuff off the streets, the city will be better for it."
Small victories.
I nod once more, smiling, and with that I turn to take my leave. My footsteps echo in the station as I walk toward the exit. Behind me, I hear the officers discussing the case in low voices, about... me. I don't like it, but I say nothing.
It seems there is still much I have to learn about working in the legal framework. Still, the guy had been caught and that was all that mattered at the end of the day.
I walk out of the station, opening another pocket in my cloth to grab my phone and look at the time. 11:38.. Lunch is probably at 13:00, Ryukyu had mentioned something about discussing patrol routes over food. So I still have some time.
I spend the next hour looking through the city, trying to be useful in small ways. Constraint as I was to half of the city, it was still nice to be back where I was supposed to be. Of course not all vigilante work is grand, in fact most of it is quite unnoticeable.
I pick up some trash that had been left on the street, depositing it in the proper bins.
A woman struggles with a stroller at the bottom of a subway entrance. The wheels catch on every step, her baby crying in frustration. She smiles as she sees my costume, she doesn't recognize me as Arthur probably just a sidekick. I carry the stroller up the flight of stairs, her grateful smile worth more than any grand heroic deed. The baby stops crying, staring at me with wide curious eyes.
"Thank you," she breathes, adjusting her grip on the handles
"No worries mam, it's been my pleasure," I reply, feeling the need to bow slightly though I'm not sure why. "Mothers are the unsung heroes of the world."
I continue my patrol, trying to be where I'm needed for whatever reason I may be. Small things.
Once more I stand in front of the agency, the glass and chrome building rising into the sky. Ryukyu's giant poster is plastered on the front. The glass has been picked up already from this morning's incident, so it just looks like a renovation where they have decided to change the windows.
That is, of course, if you don't count the Mirko-shaped hole in one wall, a perfect silhouette of her form where she crashed through, and the small sunken crater just at the entrance from where I and Mirko had fought. The concrete is spider-webbed with cracks radiating outward like a frozen explosion.
I walk over to the desk, my reflection multiplying in the polished marble floor. A woman with green hair sits behind it, scrolling through her phone, a bored look in her eyes.
Her long acrylic nails tap against the screen. I'm about to ask her where the lunch is being held, but before I can open my mouth, someone appears at my side.
Ryukyu's assistant, or who I think is her assistant, materializes beside me like a ghost, scaring the bejeezers out of me. My heart jumps into my throat. I didn't hear him approach, didn't smell him, didn't sense him at all. It makes me wonder what his quirk is.
"Madame Ryukyu is waiting for you," he says in a slight bow, his voice soft, he looks more like a butler with his garments than anything else. "Please follow me."
I do as he says, following him up the stairs. We don't take the elevator, which seems odd until I realize that Ryukyu also came down some stairs before, there is no elevator, for some reason. Floor after floor we climb. We stop when we make it to the seventh. The top floor.
Two black doors with giant golden wings as handles adorn the entrance. The wings are not like those of a bird, but rather they are scaly and thin, they are a dragon's wings. Her assistant pushes one of the doors in, revealing what is inside.
A giant office sprawls before me, easily the size of a small apartment. Sofas and chairs and tables make up the entrance area, arranged for casual meetings. Posters and trophies line the walls showcasing Ryukyu's achievements, newspaper clippings of major saves, certificates of commendation, a key to the city. At one end is a giant oak desk with a stack of papers that seems about to topple over, but that isn't what catches my attention.
No, that is the middle of the room, where a giant round carpet sprawls, an intricate pattern of red, silver and gold woven into its surface. A glass table sits above it. Four chairs surround it. Two of those have occupants.
One of them, of course, is Ryukyu, lounging in her hero costume. The other is Nejire who smiles at me brightly as she sees me walk in, also in her costume. I reciprocate the gesture with a smile of my own.
I realize then that food is set on the table. Three dishes, steam still rising. Salmon and fried rice, with a sauce drizzled over both that smells of soy and ginger. My stomach growls audibly.
I sit at Nejire's side, which is also at Ryukyu's side, you know, because it is a circle. Though I am farther from Ryukyu than to Nejire.
"So Arthur?" Nejire asks immediately, not even waiting for me to settle in my chair. "How was your first day back on patrol? Did you catch anyone? I'm sure you did, didn't you? Was it exciting? Did you use your sword?"
Ryukyu hears her rapid-fire questions but says nothing, simply taking a sip from... coke. My pupils dilate. Delicious coke. The condensation on the glass, the perfect ratio of ice, the way the bubbles fizzle. I want it.
"I caught a dealer selling some trigger but that's everything of importance," I answer, though my eyes never leave the drink in Ryukyu's hand.
Ryukyu seems to notice me staring at the drink. Her lips quirk in amusement.
"Do you want some?"
I nod, perhaps too eagerly. She snaps her fingers and there her assistant is once more at her side, appearing from nowhere with a giant bottle of coca-cola in hand. The two-liter bottle sweats with cold, condensation trickling down its sides. I want to gulp it all down.
"Leave it here Murata, thank you," Ryukyu says. The assistant, whose name I now know is Murata, nods with that same slight bow, placing the bottle on the table with barely a sound before vanishing again.
I open it, the cap twisting off with a satisfying pop, the gas fizzing out slowly like a tiny geyser. The sound is music. Then I begin to pour, watching the dark liquid cascade into my glass, foam forming at the top. After doing so I gulp it down. The sugar hits my system at once and I feel my pupils dilate even more. I want to down another one immediately but realize that may be rude, so I turn to Nejire and ask.
"How was your morning? Did you catch anyone?"
She shakes her head, her long hair swaying with the motion. "Nope, simple patrol. I enjoyed it though, I get to use my quirk to move around and stuff which helps a lot with stress."
I nod, understanding. Using our quirks for simple things, is one of the small joys of hero work. Quirks are after all parts of ourselves, and while a lot of people could live without using their quirks for heroes it's like asking them to use and stop using their arms at different intervals.
With that we eat, making idle conversation about the morning, the city, the weather. But as we eat, I begin to notice something strange. Ryukyu is eating... a lot.
Plate after plate is brought up to us thanks to Murata's silent servitude, appearing and disappearing like a well-trained ghost butler, and plate after plate our appetite doesn't seem to go down as we wolf it down.
The salmon is perfectly cooked, flaking apart at the touch of a fork. The rice has just the right amount of sticky consistency. The sauce ties it all together. I know the taste inside and out by the seventh plate.
Nejire is already patting her belly from her second serving, looking full and content. "I don't know how you two do it," she says with wonder, watching us continue.
Meanwhile, Ryukyu and I eat our twelfth plate, matching each other bite for bite. Neither of us comments on it, but there's a mutual recognition, a silent acknowledgment of shared appetite.
Now I see. Now I know where the familiarity came from. The reason she seemed to understand something about me from the moment we met.
We were both foodies, bottomless pits, creatures of appetite. It all made sense!!