"I think that's enough for today. Go get yourself cleaned up." Dynamight reaches over his shoulder to take the wraps I hold out to him. "Also, I'll give you your meal and training plan before you leave later in the day, but you should also get wraps and knuckle guards. At least three pairs of each. They'll be good."
I nod. "Okay, will do."
He turns and looks up and down my body. "You kept up the stance I taught you."
"You sound surprised," I accuse. In truth, he should be, because I feel like my whole stomach might have shrunken from tensing it so much. I did a total of one thousand punches, and I can definitely feel it.
"There is someone in the waiting room outside my office to see you. Apparently you need to design a hero costume and fill in a few details about yourself." He tosses me my own bag and my jumper. "Be here at 5:00 again tomorrow, but try not to be late. I want to get straight back into combat form instead of wasting time on running."
I salute teasingly. "Sir yes sir."
He sighs. "And try to be a little less of a pain in the ass tomorrow as well. At this rate I won't be able to put up with you for longer than a week."
"Sir yes sir."
"I'll also get a copy of whatever forms you fill in today. If there isn't a space for it already, put your contact details down. I'll email you if I need to."
I smirk. "Whaddaya know, you might actually take time out of your day to update me when things happen. Who ever would have suspected it?" I raise a brow at him and he glowers at me. So apparently, I haven't made any progress after all. My smile drops. "You could at least make an effort and laugh," I mutter.
"Get out of my sight," he snaps back before shoving me through the door to the base of the stairwell. I stick my tongue out at him before stomping up the stairs, purposely making as much noise as possible. If there are any sidekicks in the room at the top of the stairs, they're gonna think that Ragnarok has started.
In the coming few days, it might.
...
If there's one thing I hate more than Tuesdays, it's paperwork. So apparently, being a hero means a lot of paperwork, and I'm currently drowning in about fifty different forms. Why can't they just photocopy my info instead of making me fill out something different for every single company I might be working with? I've scrawled my signature about ten thousand times, and my fingers feel like lead. I might not even be able to let go of the pen at this point.
I shrug my shoulders, trying to work some feeling back into them.
"Last one," the safety commission worker assures me as she hands me another form. Yet another one asking for all my personal info. Well, if there's one way to nail things into my brain, it's this. My eyes quickly flick over the terms and conditions before jotting down my signature and moving down to the questions.
Name: Akari Akiyami
Age: 21
Height: 170cm
Weight: 62kg
Birthday: 3/26
Quirk: Ghost
Blood Type: O+
Relations: Sakura Akiyami, Chiyo Akiyami, Yuki Akiyami, Mai Harada
Education: Professional Homeschooling
Qualifications: None
I sit back and the commissioner takes the piece of paper. "That's it for formal paperwork. Thank you very much for your patience."
The most I can manage is a tight nod.
"Well, now we can get on to your Hero Costume." I sit up straight as she fishes around in her bag and draws out a few sheets of paper. "You can either do a rough sketch of what you want with a description of the design and any mods, or you can leave it up to the support company to design one for you and just give the details of your quirk and what you need in order to use your costume to its fullest." She sits back and smooths down her skirt. "You have until tomorrow afternoon to hand that in to your boss. He'll send it straight to us. Your costume should only take a few days to construct, so if you do everything on time, you'll have it by the end of next week at the very latest."
Just as she goes to get up, the door opens and- oh great, my lovely, dandy boss walks in... in his hero costume. There's a few scratch marks on his face, but other than that he looks fine. I've seen his costume on TV and on some merch, but in real life it's... so much cooler. I may hate the bastard, but I respect him and how totally awesome he is at fighting villains.
He dips his head at the commissioner woman, and then turns to me. "I don't think it's specified on the sheet," he says, "but you also need to come up with a name for yourself."
I scoff. "Well trust me, Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight, you're not the person I'm going to go to for that kind of advice. Maybe I'll track down your good old friend Red Riot, who actually managed to think up something decent."
The commissioner gives me the kind of look that suggests she thinks what I said was the most disrespectful thing imaginable. I have an inclination to tell her I've said things that are plenty worse than that. At least, in context they were.
Dynamight scowls at me. "Shut your goddamn mouth before I murder you!"
"At least if you do that a few people might actually talk about you instead of Deku. Might give you that splash of character you desperately need."
"At least people have actually heard of me, unlike you. Maybe that was because I actually managed to get into U.A. due to my skill."
"At least I got all of my points in the entrance exam fair and square rather than stealing them from people who would have gotten in otherwise!"
We both pause to catch our breath, and only then do I realise the commissioner has pulled out her phone and has been recording the entire interaction. We look at her at the same time, and she shrinks back slightly, pushing pause on the recording and tucking her phone back into her breast pocket.
"I should really go," she says shakily. "Leave you two to sort things out."
Neither of us say a word until she scurries out of the room, taking her bag full of forms with her. I watch her go, remaining utterly silent until the elevator pings and the doors close. Then, I sag slightly and stand up straight again, not looking at Dynamight. He probably didn't even get the hint. And if he did he most likely doesn't care. He's not the kind of person that takes honesty and fair play seriously.
But to my surprise, he speaks up, cutting through the silence. "What did you mean by 'stealing' points?" A genuine question.
"You won't remember."
"I want to know," he growls, stalking towards me.
I look up at him, a scowl spreading across my face. "Alright then. I'll tell you. Do you happen to remember a girl who was in the entrance exams with you? She wasn't as strong as you, and you were already so far ahead. Of course, maybe you didn't know that, but everyone else sure did." I laugh weakly. "You were destroying those exams. We all saw it. When everyone was cowering in fear because of the 0-pointer, you just kept fighting. But that girl did too, and she only needed three points to make the cut and stand in 40th place. But you stole those fucking three points. That was the last robot you took down before time ran out. You ruined her chances. That was all. Your. Fault." I glare straight at him. "That girl was me, Dynamight. You ruined my life. That's what I mean by 'stealing' points."
He stares at me for a minute, letting the silence fall on the room like a blanket.
"You're dismissed," he says. "All of what you need is downstairs with the receptionist."
I stand there in shock. So he really has nothing to say? I wait. I wait for him to tell me something. Because I want him to talk, even if it means he belittles me and says my anger is misplaced. I just want to know that he actually heard what I fucking said.
But all he says is, "Get out."
...
I stop off at some random cafe on my way to the mall. I still need to pick up those wraps and knuckle guards. I also need to swing by the supermarket to find all the recommended foods listed on my meal requirements. Oh yeah, and then I have to go and start packing up my old tattoo parlour so that they can put it on the market. I have to take the perfectly-ordered inks from the shelf and clean up the sketches from the tables. I have to let go of the one thing that I made for myself.
The small doorbell rings as I step inside the cafe, inhaling the sweet scent of pastries and cake and the bitter odour of coffee. I don't drink coffee - never have. I'm more of a hot chocolate person. Or strawberry milk. I love strawberry milk.
I opt to pay for an iced chocolate and a chocolate croissant with my own money instead of my work pay. I can't always rely of Baku- Dynamight's money to get by. I have to make a living myself. Especially since he has no shred of care for who the hell he hurts. Like his words don't have an effect on anybody. Like people can just get over them. I shrug my shoulders bitterly as I sit down at the window seat, tucking my card back into my wallet.
My phone buzzes, and to my surprise it's Ryōsuke's name that shows up on my screen. I click on the message and read over it a few times.
Hey Ace. I finished my work trip a little early, so I was thinking I could call you tonight? Talk about work?
I smile and leave the message and type a simple sure back. I've always found it easier to talk to people face-to-face rather than through a phone, but it's not like I have any friends in Hosu to talk to anyway, so I'm grateful Ryōsuke is willing to let me vent on him. He has always been like my personal therapist - there for me when no one else was or could be. Maybe one day when I'm a hero I can repay him somehow.
"Well, look who it is! My favourite hero-in-the-making!"
I look up and my face breaks into a grin when I see a familiar baseball cap and sports t-shirt. Kirishima takes a seat beside me and smiles so wide I think his face might split in half. He slings an arm over my shoulder.
"How have you been?"
I snort and rub my eyes. "I should have chosen a different fucking agency."
His smile turns bashful. "Oh yeah, I heard about that. So you chose Bakugo, huh? I wondered how that would go. When Makoto told me, I almost didn't believe what I was hearing. Deku didn't either. When Bakugo got the phone call, he almost blew up the car." He says it so sincerely that I can't help but laugh.
"He's a right pain in the ass, but he knows what he's doing, at least. According to him, my stance sucks, I'm annoying, and I argue too much." I pause for a moment. "I think all three of those things are pretty much correct."
I look back up at Kirishima, and I only then notice the scratch marks all over his face, neck and arms. "You look like you've had one hell of a day."
He rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah. I'm on break for the next hour. Luckily I have such nice sidekicks who love work. I don't think I'd be able to handle things on my own. Being a hero is hard." He eyes me. "I, personally, think you made the right choice with Bakugo. You're right, he's a pain in the ass, but he knows better than anyone the hardships of being one of the best. If you can manage to get onto his good side, he'll be the best teacher you could ever have... and a great friend. If you get that far before he kills you."
A sigh escapes me. "Yeah, well, I'm not doing a great job with that."
Just then, the waitress sets my drink and food in front of me. I thank her quietly and stare down at the croissant, suddenly not very hungry. I shove it towards Kirishima.
"Oh no, you paid for it. I'll get something later."
I wave him off. Don't worry about it. Consider it payment for letting me vent on you for the next ten minutes." He raises a brow. "Oh yes, sir, you have no idea what you've gotten yourself into. Prepare for my full life story."
Kirishima's face softens. "Alright then. I'd better dig in. Go ahead."
And so I tell him everything. About growing up with my parents, training with Ryōsuke, my sister, and how I eventually went to the U.A. entrance exams. I complain about how awful it was to have my dreams snatched away by Dynamight, and what happened to me in my own home afterwards. I tell him about things I haven't told anyone else but Ryōsuke and Sakura - things I barely ever admit to myself. Talking to him and watching and watching him listen only confirms what I already knew about myself: Having someone right there in front of you to listen and care is so much better than having to imagine they give a damn because you can't even see their face.
When I finish, I breathe heavily and begin furiously gulping down my iced chocolate in the hopes of drowning the emotions inside my chest. Kirishima looks at me for a few moments, and then he puts a hand on my shoulder.
"There are lots of things I want to tell you, but I don't think I'm the right person to say them." He pulls me closer to him, and I smile and hug him back. "And thanks for the croissant."
I laugh. "Food is always the way to a person's heart."
"Indeed it is. I'm glad to have a friend who enjoys eating as much as I do." Kirishima rests his chin on a fist. "There is one thing I can tell you, though- based on what you said"
I raise a brow. "Oh yeah? And what's that?"
"You chose a good mentor."