Chapter Text
Hanta tries not to raise his eyebrows, looking at the Business Course student in disbelief. “Hang on, the leftover Support Students are doing what?”
Nagashira looks around the cafeteria, then leans in to whisper more urgently. “Nedzu had a bunch of the third years help him try to hack Mayhem’s hacking of Present Mic. And the one who doesn’t do software… He’s making functioning Mecha stuff!”
Hanta just stares, then shakes his head. “You watch too much sentai, dude. No way even Nedzu’s pocketbook could cover all of that.”
“What do you think he does with the scrap from all the robots you guys smash up in Hero Training?” Hanta pauses, Nagashira waving a finger at him. “That third year boy who’s basically a genderswapped Hatsume, Kenkyū? He's wanted to make a Zero Pointer Mecha since he was a first year, and everyone's willing to bring him pieces and scrap if he'll give their stuff a once over. Once he got the greenlight from the Third Year Support Teacher, he practically started living in the Labs, working day and night.”
“Oh, so a Support Student misses multiple days of sleep, and no one bats an eye. But when Izuku misses a few hours a night, and Recovery Girl reaches for her hunting rifle…” Hanta says it jokingly, passing the information along as a joke.
Nagashira nods, pulling up the other gossip he has for Hanta today. “That’s not all Nedzu’s been doing. Some of the Third Year Business Course students have been helping dig into the League of Villain’s previous acts, and seeing if they can predict their next big move. There are some hints on their Stream-Tube channel…”
“Their what?” Hanta stares blankly, Nagashira going from laughing off the comment to just staring at him.
The blond shakes his head, his pillar of blond locks threatening to destabilize as he swipes his finger across his screen. “Honestly, what would you people do without us? Perish the thought; because we are here.”
Nagashira shows him a channel, which Hanta quickly pulls up on his own phone. He scrolls through the videos, seeing a bunch dating back to just after Hosu last month. “Woah… Hang on, who's this guy in the black and gray bodysuit?”
Hanta opens the newest video, seeing Mr Compress and some guy in a full body spandex suit playing some sort of board game.
“Don’t know… It just uploaded an hour ago, so we haven’t reviewed it yet. I’ll send a notification, so the people who want to do the frame-by-frame can do that.” Hanta watches the closed captioning, Nagashira sending off a flurry of texts.
Hanta watches as the guy in the bodysuit apparently talks in one voice, only to shift how he’s sitting while the subtitling completely changes style. He vaguely recognizes the board game, one where players trade in chips themes around gemstones for different merchants to score points.
Compress seems to be winning… And Hanta feels everything go icy as Compress waves behind the camera, beckoning a familiar thing into view. A well dressed, purple fog covered thing, carrying a serving tray with shot glasses and a bottle of expensive looking booze on it…
Hanta lets his phone drop onto the table, trying to control his breathing as the U.S.J. replays in his head. How most of the class disappeared, and he’s been worried they’d all been killed when he couldn’t do anything to stop it… how numb he’d been when everyone shouted at him to help fight that thing off, just jumping to do what everyone was yelling at him…
Nagashira reaches forward, sliding away from the video and turning his phone off. The boy gives him a few seconds, Hanta looking up as the Business Course student gives him an understanding look. “We have a couple of pages of stuff we could get, since some of the Third Years have strings with the Quirk Registry. Plus a couple with reporter or private investigator relatives, so we have a couple of details.”
Hanta nods, brushing his feeling under the rug and moving the heaviest piece of metaphorical furniture over the lump. “I know Midoriya’s the expert at doing stuff with that, and he’s more likely to be able to pass it to Nedzu… But I might be able to do some stuff with that, if you can share it with me.”
Nagashira nods, pulling up a QR code to scan and access the document. “Just remember this, next time I ask for a favor.”
“I may or may not have an uncle who’s looking for a Summer Intern for a Hero Commission run Documentary on the Top Ten Heroes, scheduled to play for their Annual Ceremony in the Fall…” Nagashira practically dislocates his wrist, holding up the phone so quickly. Hanta shoots him a wink, quickly scanning the code and opening up the page.
He flicks through it, already knowing a bit of the information there. Mayhem, the Decay villain ‘Shigaraki’ (and a note how the spelling might be wrong, how thorough), and Bansa. Hanta scratches his head for a moment, the description sounding familiar… Then he places it. “Oh, she was the lady who distracted Thirteen so the Portal Villain could do his… thing… There’s a Hero Commission sanctioned database on the League, now?”
“The Commission President advertised it on Tuesday… To borrow the common parlance, ‘My Good Bitch’, You Literally Listened to the Broadcast Live!” Nagashira tab switches, Hanta checking and pulling up that resource to read through on his phone.
“I never claimed to be smart, just sociable. And with friends who act like you, who needs enemies.” Hanta shakes his head, already adding the links to a text… He stops, about to select Izuku’s number.
Sure, he’d make sure Nedzu knew about it… But what if he didn’t know? He was already losing sleep, and this might drive him to pull an all-nighter, building files on them with all the skills Nedzu taught him. That information would be useful, but Izuku would definitely crash again, like Denki said he would…
‘There are other roads to the soul…’ Hanta takes a second, then pulls up the number Aizawa gave them if they needed to talk to him. He sends the text before he can overthink it, assuming the teacher could make use of it.
If he could keep his class from stressing about the League, why not? Besides all the group attacks, and the All Might thing everyone was politely not talking about outside the dorms, what did his class have to worry about?
-
Mashirao looks at the number on his phone, one he’d typed in from the business card he’d gotten on his birthday. He hadn’t mentioned liking the book series since he got to Yuuei, and he could only think of one person who would both get him that book, and leave a card with a random phone number in it.
He hits the call button, looking around. It was lunch time, and he was mostly sure he was alone. But he tries to look like he’s doing a bored check while the phone dials, actually taking a few before a grating familiar voice slithers into his ear. “Mashie, my boy! Sorry, about your little house-arrest situation. I was going to stop by to see you on your birthday weekend, but other business popped up…”
Mashirao tries not to grind his teeth, crossing his free arm in front of him as he tries to fade into the wall. “What do you want? You don’t just give gifts, you want something from me.”
“Who, me? Kid, I’m offended… Nah, you know me too well.” Okuta continues to grate on his patience, the hair on his tail spiking up as the man chuckles to himself. “Okay, I wanted you to know you still have a friend in your corner. Times are getting complicated, and you might need a less than above-board favor in the future. Your last fight that the Heroes interrupted still got me a pretty penny, especially from some clients who paid for an early duck out before the hammer dropped.”
“Then leave my uncle alone; that’s all I want from you.” Mashirao checks around, a different feeling on him now. He can feel someone watching him, but he can’t tell from where. And with someone like Mirio, or maybe Kyouka tuning in to him, he wants this call over with fast.
“So long as you don’t go telling them about my business, your Uncle’s as safe as anyone with a Mutant Quirk in Tokyo. Even safer, since I’m making sure people know he’s off limits. I’ll even leave your favor untapped, since I like ya, kid.” Okuta gives another little laugh, then cuts the call short.
Mashirao resists the petty urge to throw his phone, sliding it into his pocket before letting his hands clench. He tries to take a deep breath, shoving all this hostility into a box in the back of his head. He… He couldn’t do anything about Okuta, anyway. Sure, he could try and tell Nedzu about it. About how he’d done more than one back alley deal for him, and…
Well, that would probably make Nedzu less willing to keep him around. He might actually get thrown out of the school then… But if he didn’t tell Nedzu, and the principal found out later… He’d probably be getting the treatment Nighteye had promised that night with Stain…
Mashirao blinks, finally able to place the feeling of being watched. He turns, seeing a familiar face half pressed out of the wall and watching him. He takes a step away from the wall, trying to force himself to relax.
Mirio leans out of the wall, in his full Hero Costume and everything. “Sorry, just stress testing this before my next day out with Sir. I didn’t really hear your call, since my ears were in the wall and all… But I’m betting it wasn’t good.”
Mashirao takes a beat, then shakes his head. “It’s… It’s nothing. Just a guy who knew me from… the ring stuff… mad about money he lost on me.”
Mirio takes a moment, leaning against the wall with a nod. “You can tell Nedzu, if you want him to trace the call. Better than letting someone who’d threaten you like that keep walking around.”
Mashirao takes a moment, then moves to lean against the wall with Mirio. “I… I’ll tell Aizawa, and I bet it’ll get passed up if it’s bad enough. I… I’m not used to it, having people on my side.”
Mashirao isn’t looking at Mirio’s face, but he can hear a well meaning tone as a hand pats his shoulder. “Hey, you’ve got plenty of friends now. You might not count me that close, but I’m definitely looking out for you in the future.”
Mashirao nods, looking up at the older student. He takes a second, taking the time to vent about his short trip up to see his uncle. “Thanks… It’s just, this one guy… He’s not even the worst guy I was forced to hang out with, in my time in the scene. A bunch of the old guys who frequented the ring had CRC tattoos and stuff, so even when I won… I knew I was one bad night from them doing something, and probably not getting home. The one who called me… He’s a total sleaze, but at least doesn’t loudly talk about dealing with my sort of people when he knows I can hear.”
Mashirao takes a few seconds, Mirio’s ever present grin almost breaking with a hauntingly sad expression. “That… That sounds awful, man. No one around here says stuff like that, right?”
“No, never.” Mashirao shakes his head, waving his hand as if that would displace the bad air he’d spewed out. “No, it’s just some of the locals when I went to see my uncle. I think being in Yuuei is actually good for him, too; If anyone hurts him, I’m just down the hall from All Might, or Nedzu pointing an All Might shaped bazooka the right way.”
“Oh, he told you about the bazooka?” Mashirao blinks, Mirio quickly catching that Mashirao was completely unaware of whatever he was talking about. “Oh… Um, nevermind! Funny joke! Ha Ha Ha!”
Mashirao takes in the awkward laughter, an exhausted huff of a laugh escaping him in spite of his dour mood. “Of course he has a bazooka… You have any advice for beating Nedzu, if I’m matched up against him for our Finals?”
“You’ll be fine; the teachers don’t fight the first years. That’s a second year… thing…” Mirio watches Mashirao’s look stay consistent, letting out another awkward laugh. “Oh boy… Here, take one of these, and text me by tonight. I’ll see if my classmates have any advice.”
Mirio produces something that looks like a business card, with a phone number on one side and a golden one million on the other. Mashirao lets out another huff of laughter, bringing the card up in a salute. He almost wants to continue, only to be interrupted by the sound of an artificial bell chime. “Will do… Sounds like lunch is ending. Got to get to class… Talk to you later!”
Mirio quickly beams a golden smile at him, falling into the ground like a cartoon coyote that just realized it followed a roadrunner off a cliff. Mashirao turns around, trying to keep a bit of that energy up as he makes his way back to class.
He tries to fix the smile on his face, but he can’t help but turn over what Okuta had said in his head. Because… Mashirao hadn’t heard Okuta concerned for him, even when going up against an opponent twice his size. And that was just a social call, apparently?
Okuta had left him a ‘favor’ for months without telling him, so he wasn’t someone who cared if he was in someone’s debt. So… he had to have some sort of angle. But what?
-
Kyouka sets down her finished homework, looking over at Fumikage and Shouto. They were both helping each other do English Flash-Cards, ignoring as Dark Shadow fits them for half made sweaters. Kyouka was betting Fumikage could turn all the extra knitted stuff into a nice bit of change when Winter rolled around.
She turns back to Shouto’s computer, where they have four half finished tracks set up to add to. Kyouka takes a minute, pulling out her notebook of amateur songwork she’s been tooling around with for years. But there was this one idea, the loosest one she’d ever scribbled, that she almost wants to try. “Hey, guys… you know if Hitoshi is busy?”
“Last I heard, he was doing Midnight’s retest this afternoon. He should be available later this evening, assuming he doesn’t ask to add in another make-up exam.” Fumikage looks through the notecards he and Shouto were going through, the two of them making a bit of a game out of it that Kyouka had only half paid attention to.
“Cool… I was thinking about something.” The two boys look over at her, and Kyouka takes a second to hold up her notebook. “You guys know Mia, the sound specialist from the Support Class?”
“Of her, perhaps. Did she give you an idea about Hitoshi’s Quirk?” Kyouka takes a second, drumming her fingers on the notebook. Shouto sits up, Dark Shadow turning to her with the steady clicking of knitting needles at work that the three of them are getting used to.
“Well… She’s studying Hitoshi’s voice, and what gives it it’s brainwashing power. And she was talking about harmonics, and some other complicated stuff… And I got to thinking about asking if we can have him record a demo song.”
Shouto looks a bit confused, but Fumikage sits up. “I see… You want to see if Hitoshi’s Quirk can have its power recorded, or possibly replicated in a recorded environment.”
“He was secretive about whether he can sing or not.” The two goths turn to the goth in training, Shouto offering a shrug. Kyouka notices Fumikage giving her a bit of a look from the corner of her eyes, making her realize the two of them have probably heard this from the hypnotic boy's mouth directly. “He taunted Katsuki with the information, saying they weren’t close enough for him to consider it. I would assume there was something there to reveal, if he’s being secretive about it.”
Kyouka shrugs, turning and pulling up the track breakdown of one of the pieces the three of them had mostly messed around with. “So when we recorded this, all of us had different octaves we were comfortable in, but we strayed into each other’s ranges at different parts. Hitoshi’s voice is naturally kind of low, but I recorded him using his Quirk one time, and plugging it into the program shows it’s pitch turns to a weirder low range. Which I think is impossible for nearly anyone else to reach… without help.”
Shouto nods, already knowing one of the tools that came with the software. “That would explain why his first model of mask ruined his Quirk’s ability to grab Tenya, in that first exercise. It was completely copying Tenya’s voice, not accounting for the pitch Hitoshi needs for his Quirk to work.”
Kyouka nods, drumming her fingers on the computer. “Maybe… Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to share if he can sing. He can, but it’s like those bird lady singers in Greek Mythology…”
“The Sirens… I suppose he would need to be careful, if his Quirk works like that.” Fumikage crosses his arms, considering it. “I was thinking about something as well, concerning his experiment with Mashirao a few days ago.”
“How he can’t get people to talk back to him easily, but Monoma can?” Kyouka asks, Fumikage nodding as they all stewed on that. Izuku’s various resources and ideas about how to improve their Quirks got all of them thinking, how everyone else could be helped to improve themselves more. Like when Ms Joke and Mashirao helped them each pick out martial arts styles they’d do best with, or when Momo’s tea collection inspired Rikidou to start testing more than processed sugar. And a hundred little moments since, everyone giving little novel tips to someone and getting something back later.
Fumikage lifts his hand, the back of which is the base from which Dark Shadow is expanding from. “When Dark Shadow first manifested, they would always come out of my back, right at my shoulders. It was only about this time last year that they learned how to come out of any point of my body, really breaking a barrier I didn’t know I’d put up between me and my Quirk…”
“The same with my fire.” Shouto holds a hand out, a ball of orange fire rolling across his palm. “It was the fight in the Sports Festival, with Izuku, that helped me push past a block of my own. That this Quirk is mine, and not my fathers. And my Father’s flames are always this reddish orange hue…”
Shouto shifts his fingers, the fire curling into a thin column of blue flames. Dark Shadow noticeably shifts back, pulling their needlework with them. Kyouka watches a few blue sparks dance towards the floor, fading before they could reach…
Kyouka feels her hand go slack, her journal spinning to the ground. She quickly moves her foot over it, pulling it back as Shouto shuts his flame off. “Sorry… Got distracted… So, you’re saying Hitoshi has one of these mental blocks on his Quirk?”
Fumikage takes a few seconds, also seemingly distracted by the blue flames for a moment. Neither of them had had to deal with them directly, remembering them roaring under the rubble of one of the buildings destroyed in Hosu. “… Yes, I believe so. And… Well, I’m fairly certain I can guess its exact nature. That he’s built up a fear, a rational fear based on the evidence, of how people react to his Quirk.”
Kyouka takes a second… Then nods, kind of grabbing the string. “You mean… Oh, that no one would ever talk to him again, after he uses his Quirk on them? That… Yeah, that sounds about right.”
The three of them sit there for a minute, Kyouka taking a second to think through the problem. Because Izuku was able to get through to Shouto in a fight, but that was after a month in school before that. They’d had longer with Hitoshi, so it should be easy to just talk him past this…
But Hitoshi probably had to deal with a lot more shit with his Quirk. Shouto still used his fire grudgingly, mostly because it balanced out his Ice. Hitoshi… Kyouka shuddered to imagine the stuff Hitoshi hadn’t told them yet, remembering the faint marks from a muzzle he’d explained before.
Shouto raises his hand, his fingers curling as he says what they’re thinking. “Hitoshi isn’t going to just have this block fixed for him, if we tell him this. He… He needs to be the one to take those steps. But not doing anything isn’t right… How can we show him his problem, and let him find the solution?”
Kyouka takes a bit longer, shaking her head. “Slowly, I guess. He’s more comfortable with us than he’s been with anyone, but there’s still that instinct to keep his guard up. We just need to… I don’t want to sound skeezy, but we need to get him to lower his guard.”
Fumikage lets them consider options for a long moment, shaking his head before scooping up the vocab cards. “Easier said than done. Not impossible, though.”