Chapter Text
These kids deserved better.
Shota forcibly banished the thoughts he still had on the conversation he’d just left; he needed to focus. He took a deep breath to settle himself before pushing open the doors to the gym he had reserved for his internship with Shinso Hitoshi.
The GenEd student was already there waiting for him.
“Sorry, I had a meeting that ran late. Won’t happen again.”
Shinso stared at him wide-eyed for a beat, then shook his head. “It’s fine. I only just got here.”
Shota nodded. “Since you accepted my offer, I’m guessing you know who I am?”
“You’re Eraserhead,” Shinso confirmed. Saying Shota’s Hero Name with the type of reverence he was used to hearing people say ‘All Might.’ Having no idea what to do with that realization, Shota ignored it.
“Call me Aizawa-sensei unless we’re on patrol. I’m also the one who is going to be determining whether or not you’ll be joining the Hero Course. Specifically, my class: Hero Class 1-A.”
His new intern startled then straightened up from his slouch as he narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “What? I thought we couldn’t get into the Hero Course unless we won the Sports Festival.”
“Like I did, you mean?” Shota asked wryly.
Shinso nodded.
Shota shrugged, taking a seat on one of the benches that lined the gym. He gestured for his student to join him as he mentally dismissed his original plan of spending the afternoon doing an assessment on Shinso.
“That used to be the rule,” he admitted, “but I was the only GenEd student in the history of UA to actually do it. When I started teaching, Nedzu and I discussed it and agreed that there was a high probability that students with hero potential were slipping through the cracks. He ended up giving control to the Heroics’ homeroom teachers, since we know our classes best. As long as we provide Nedzu with sufficient reasoning, we have the authority to accept or expel students from the Hero classes.”
Shinso looked frustrated. “So even if I join your class, I might not stay in it?”
“Right,” Shota agreed. “You’ll have to work to keep your spot just as you worked to earn it. Same as the rest of my students.”
“Oh please,” Shinso scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Like the son of Endeavor and the brother of Hawks had to actually earn their spot in your class?”
That brought Shota up short. The only times he had seen Midoriya interact with Shinso were after the media blockade and outside the classroom after the incident at the USJ. Both times the two boys had seemed to be on relatively friendly terms, so he wasn’t sure where this hostility was coming from.
Well, he supposed there was also their fight at the Sports Festival.
Oh.
Yeah, that would do it.
He wanted to bang his head against the wall.
He had been so focused on the potential enmity between his three podium students that he hadn’t even considered Midoriya’s other fights. Shota had already decided to intern Shinso about halfway through the second round, so his fight with Midoriya hadn’t mattered to him. The same could not be said of Shinso himself.
“Yes,” Shota asserted, “they did earn their places in my class, and they continuously work to keep them.”
“Great,” Shinso muttered, sullen. “Just make sure you give that bird boy a heads up so that I don’t have to deal with him accusing me of not deserving to be there due to my quirk.”
“Excuse me?” Shota asked.
From the way that his intern shrunk back, Shota’s voice was sharper than he meant it to be.
He gentled his tone before continuing, “What are you talking about?”
Shinso shrugged, his shoulders curling up defensively. “Just something he said about my quirk. Nothing I’m not used to. It’s fine.”
Shota considered that. He knew the idea of brainwashing could intimidate even veteran heroes, and he was sure Midoriya had several triggers that could cause him to lash out, but even so, he never would have expected a quirkist comment from someone like his Problem Child.
“Even if he was just caught up in the moment, it’s still something I need to address with him. What did he say?”
“Oh.” Shinso blinked, seemingly caught off guard. “It was after our match. He followed me to tell me that quirks like mine didn’t belong at the Sports Festival.” He scowled, then muttered, “Upset over such an unheroic fight no doubt.”
Shota frowned, considering that. “That doesn’t sound like him. Do you remember his exact phrasing?”
“You shouldn’t be using a quirk like that at this type of event,” Shinso echoed with an uncanny imitation of Midoriya’s speech patterns.
Shota raised an eyebrow, impressed. “Side effect of your quirk?”
Shinso flushed, but nodded, and Shota filed that away for later.
He frowned as he considered Midoriya’s words. “I can see how that could be taken negatively, but he might have been honestly trying to warn you.” He saw his intern drawing himself up defensively, so he continued quickly, “I was planning to give you similar advice.”
That brought Shinso up short. “You - what?”
Shota nodded. “It’ll be best for you to limit people seeing your quirk in use. It works optimally when your targets don’t know its limitations. You would have to ask him to know for sure, but if that’s what he meant, not to use your quirk openly in a televised event, then he was offering you some solid advice.”
“Oh.” Shinso was still flushed, but he seemed to be willing to listen. “I just - it sounded like - everyone always says -” He cut himself off, ducking his head and gripping his hair in frustration.
Shota hummed, ignoring the pang in his heart as he remembered his own wake up call from Oboro and Hizashi.
That’s not what I meant and you know it! Stop trying to twist my words, Sho.
We just want to be your friends! You always do this! You always -
He shook away the memories, but completed Oboro’s words aloud, “You’re used to always assuming the worst?”
A noncommittal shrug.
“Yeah, I get it,” Shota assured him, though Shinso didn’t seem to hear him. “Hey, kid,” he called, reaching out and gently squeezing his intern’s shoulder. Shinso glanced up at him from beneath his wild hair and Shota made sure to hold eye contact as he repeated softly, “Trust me, I get it.”
“Yeah?” Shinso mumbled, guarded but hopeful.
He nodded. “I got the same comments growing up that I’m sure you did. It sucks.”
That startled a huff of laughter out of the kid. “Yeah, it sucks.”
Shota’s lips twitched as he continued, “It also doesn’t help that quirks like yours and mine tend to be best utilized in Underground work, which the public barely knows about; or if they do know about it, most see it as only a small step above villainy.” He grinned wryly at Shinso, who was staring at him intently, his eyes shining. “But it’s not like we can be Spotlight Heroes, since our quirks heavily rely on a certain level of subterfuge. Which means we can’t openly work to change the masses' perception of ‘villainous’ quirks like ours.” He shrugged and repeated, “It sucks.”
“Exactly!” Shinso agreed, throwing up his hands in exasperation. “And it doesn’t help that people with heroic quirks keep getting special treatment!”
“Ah. That’s where we disagree,” Shota countered, leaning back on the bench until he rested against the wall, keeping his posture casual and non-confrontational.
Shinso froze. “What?”
“I don’t think there’s such a thing as a ‘heroic’ quirk. The same way that there’s no such thing as a ‘villainous’ quirk. Just heroic and villainous people,” he concluded with another shrug.
“Wha - but - it -” Shinso sputtered, blinking rapidly. “That’s not - it’s not the same!”
Shota hummed, watching his intern closely. “Isn’t it?”
“No!” Shinso insisted.
“And who decides what is heroic and what is villainous?”
“Well, everyone just seems to collectively agree on that, don't they?” Shinso countered with a scoff.
“Do they?” Shota raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t anticipated spending their time today having this conversation, but it was too important to brush off or postpone. “Did you know that before Endeavor became No. 2, most fire quirks were considered too dangerous to be used in heroics?”
Shinso blinked. “What?”
“And did you know,” Shota continued, “that Hawks was the first mutant-type to break into the Top 10 when he debuted four years ago? It wasn’t until the next year that Gang Orca would join him, and he’s sat at the No. 10 spot since. This past year Miruko managed to get to No. 7, but do you notice the trend there?”
Shinso stared at him blankly.
Shota decided to answer his own question. “The two mutant-types that have managed to get higher than No. 10 both have human faces.”
Shinso inhaled sharply, his eyes wide in shock and confusion.
He shrugged. “I suppose an argument could be made for Ryukyu’s transformation. But you’ll notice that none of her promos feature her dragon form. And what’s one of the most well-known ‘fun facts’ about Gang Orca?”
“That’s he's consistently ranked in the top five ‘Most Villainous Looking Heroes’,” Shinso answered in a whisper.
“Yup.”
Shota let the silence hang for a few moments, allowing Shinso to gather his thoughts.
“So - what? People think any quirk can be villainous?” Shinso asked, frowning.
Shota shrugged. “It’s more that the public’s views on what is considered 'villainous' or 'heroic' are constantly shifting.”
His intern frowned, staring down at his hands folded in his lap.
“And those with quirks more suited to Spotlight Heroics, even those that aren’t heteromorphic, have different sorts of challenges than you or I,” Shota added, his voice quiet and serious.
“Like what?” Shinso asked, incredulous.
Shota paused, the question brought to mind the image of teenage Hizashi, gripping his hand and whispering:
My elementary teachers didn’t know how to handle a voice quirk like mine. I hated it, but I didn’t even realize that their method of silencing me was illegal until I said something offhand to my parents and they got the police involved. Fucked up world we live in, huh Sho?
But that wasn’t his to share. He was sure his student would encounter others’ examples on his own soon. For now, Shota simply offered: “The path to becoming a Hero isn’t easy for anyone,” he said grimly, “regardless of their quirk or family. It’s easy to become resentful and dismissive, but that blinds you and can lead to making careless mistakes.”
A memory of Oboro’s smile teased the edges of his vision and it caused Shota’s face to soften into something gentler as he stood up and clasped Shinso’s shoulder.
“Just something to think about, kid.”
~*~*~
“I have a question.”
Izuku glanced up from where he was preening the feathers he could reach. Shoto was perched on the edge of the bunk across the small dorm room they would be sharing during their internship.
The two of them were the only interns currently at Endeavor’s agency, so they had the room to themselves. After arriving in the afternoon, they had been given a tour of the agency as well as their schedule for the week, then ushered off to bed after dinner in the agency’s cafeteria. There had been a bit of confusion when Shoto followed Izuku to the intern dorm rather than go home with Endeavor, but Izuku didn’t draw attention to it. It was still early though, so Izuku hadn’t been sure what they were supposed to do.
He was glad that Shoto had taken the lead and initiated a conversation, since he had no idea what a regular teenager might do with all this free time.
“Alright, go ahead!” Izuku encouraged, giving his friend his full attention.
Shoto nodded. “Why did you really choose to intern here?”
The Commission's spoon-fed reasoning was on the tip of Izuku’s tongue, but he bit it back.
Shoto was his friend. He had shared his secrets and trusted Izuku; he couldn’t repay that by lying to him.
“What makes you ask that?” Izuku questioned, making sure to keep his voice non-accusatory and his face open and curious.
Shoto scanned his expression and, seemingly finding what he was looking for, answered, “You called Endeavor your second favorite hero,” his eyebrows dipped into a small frown, “but you don’t like him.”
Izuku smiled sadly. “You’re right, but can I ask how you knew that? Was it obvious? Did my face or my voice give it away when I said that?”
His friend looked thoughtful, then shook his head. “I saw you interact with him. So I already knew. I didn’t really pay attention to how you said it.”
Izuku considered that. He supposed it made sense for Shoto to place much more stock in actions than words. Then he winced at the implication that it was obvious whenever he was near Endeavor, which he would be for their entire internship. “Well, I need to work on that then. I can’t… I have to sell the idea that he’s one of my favorite heroes this week, otherwise I’ll get in trouble.”
Shoto nodded, but still looked curious. “In trouble with who?”
He took a deep breath.
Shoto knew what it was like.
He would believe him.
“What do you know about my brother and I?”
Shoto’s voice took on an even monotone as he recited the information available to the public, “Hawks debuted four years ago at eighteen and hit No. 9 in the Rankings within six months. It was at this point that the public became aware of you as his younger brother, though you did not make any media appearances until recently. He was Ranked No. 5 the year after that and has held the No. 3 Rank for the past two years. Hawks didn’t attend a Hero School but often claims that Endeavor is his favorite hero and was the reason that he wanted to become one when he was a kid.” He shrugged. “Everything else I know are details about his statistics and whatever my father says about him when they work together.”
Izuku nodded, that was about the extent of what anyone knew about them. The HPSC didn’t allow them to release much personal information. Keigo had gotten very good at repeating the same information in new ways to make it sound fresh. He was also able to make completely bland, often fake, impersonal information (like who his favorite fashion designer was, or what music he listened to) sound like he was sharing his most treasured secret. He pulled that trick out in interviews all the time.
“Right. Well, when we were kids, my brother caught the attention of the HPSC. They were working on developing a training program for heroes. The idea was to start earlier than the Hero Schools and have a more intensive and… personalized training regime. Hawks was their first true success. They’re hoping that I’ll do even better.”
Shoto stared at him intently.
“A training regime like my father has for me?” he asked quietly.
Izuku matched his volume. “Yeah, I bet it’s pretty similar.”
Shoto nodded and the last bit of tension faded from Izuku’s shoulders at his friend’s easy acceptance. “So then, did you intern here to protect me?”
Izuku blinked. “No. I didn’t think your father would do anything publicly. Would he?” he asked, worried.
“No,” Shoto confirmed. “So why did you choose to intern here?”
“Ah. Well, I didn’t,” Izuku admitted with a wince. “The Commission didn’t like that I placed third in the Sports Festival.”
His friend considered that for a moment, then, “Oh, this is a punishment?”
“Yeah.” Then, realizing how that could be interpreted, he continued, “Not working with you! Or even your father, since they’re pretty convinced we still like him,” Izuku said conspiratorially. “I think Endeavor was just the only hero they were willing to lend me to, and the main punishment was separating me from my brother, with the underlying threat that they could do so on a more permanent basis.” He grimaced, hunching his shoulders. “Well, that and the training I got over the weekend.”
Shoto’s lips tightened. “Yeah. Same.”
“For losing to Katsuki?” Izuku asked.
Shoto nodded. “He was mad that I didn't use any fire in the final match.”
Izuku winced in commiseration and the two of them fell into a companionable silence.
The glint of their costume cases caught Izuku’s gaze, and he frowned in consideration.
“Will Endeavor be upset over your choice of costume?” he asked, worried.
His friend’s face flushed with a light blush. “Ah. That won’t be a problem.”
“Oh, has he already seen it?”
Shoto shook his head, then clarified, “I placed an update request at the beginning of the week. Support was able to have it ready in time to bring here. My original design was too cumbersome to fight efficiently in. I needed a change.”
Izuku tilted his head questioningly, “What sort of change?”
His fellow Legacy gave him a deadpan look.
Izuku giggled. “Ok, yeah, your costume needed a full re-work. I mean, I understand the intention behind it even better now, but it was very impractical. How did you even move with half your body encased in ice?”
“Very slowly and with much difficulty,” Shoto admitted.
Izuku’s wings fluffed in excitement. “So? What does the new design look like?”
Rather than respond, his friend reached down and grabbed his case, opening it so that Izuku could see for himself.
Izuku exclaimed excitedly over his friend’s new costume. The simple, practical design fit what he knew of Shoto much better than the anti-Endeavor ice version he had originally. He ran the material between his gloved fingers, eyeing it carefully. Once he was sure he wasn’t mistaken, he glanced at his friend and asked, “Did you request the color, or did Support assume?”
Shoto stared down at the costume for a few moments before seemingly ignoring the query and continuing with a non-sequitur.
“I went to visit my mother over the weekend.”
“Shoto! That’s great!” Izuku said, the fabric of Shoto’s costume slipping out of his grasp as he gave him his full attention.
His friend’s lips twitched in what Izuku was beginning to recognize as his version of a smile.
“It was,” Shoto agreed. “She was… happy to see me.”
Izuku beamed.
Shoto continued, “After you and I talked and fought at the Festival, and then seeing her, I realized that it wasn’t about rejecting the entirety of Endeavor’s legacy. Rather, I want to replace his legacy with my own.” He looked up at Izuku, hesitant. “That’s probably not how a hero is supposed to think, is it?”
Izuku brought his hand up to his chin in thought, considering his response carefully. “I think that depends on why you want that.”
Shoto blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. “You and my mother are the reason.”
Izuku shook his head fondly. “No, we made you realize that that’s what you wanted. Why do you want that?”
“Oh,” Shoto responded quietly, frowning. He considered that for a few moments, then explained, haltingly, “I don’t think my father - that Endeavor is the type of hero people need. Or, at least not one that should be emulated. So, I want to do better. I want to be better. And then, when people think of my family’s legacy, I want them to remember me. Not Endeavor.” He took a breath, looking at Izuku and holding his gaze. “Is that…” He trailed off without finishing his question, but Izuku had an idea of what he was going to ask.
He smiled gently, holding out a hand that Shoto grasped quickly. “I think that’s a very good reason. And I think that that’s a perfectly fine way for a hero to think.” He glanced back down at the costume and reconsidered his initial question. “So, requesting that your costume be the same blue as Endeavor’s was intentional?”
Shoto nodded. “If I’m going to try and surpass my father’s legacy, then I need to first accept it.”
“That’s great! I think there’s a lot of good you can do with the influence of a Legacy, rather than rejecting it out of hand due to your father’s mistakes.”
Shoto looked thoughtful at that, then nodded again in agreement.
“You know,” Izuku added with a grin, “us Legacies need to stick together. And your father works with my brother a lot, so we could probably get Endeavor to agree to let you train with me occasionally! I remember when the Commission started to let me train primarily with Hawks instead of my usual trainers -” he paused, shaking off the dread of their threat to take him back to the facility, then continued, “even if you’re still training just as hard, it’s so much better! Much less painful.”
His friend tilted his head, interested. “That could work. I did use his - my fire in the fight with you. Endeavor liked that.”
“Yeah! We can use the training rooms at my brother’s agency! That’s where Katsuki and I train, so you can join us both! He did ask you for a fight, which means he wants to be friends,” Izuku explained.
“I see,” Shoto nodded. “Yes, I think training regularly with you will be beneficial.”
“Ditto!”
His friend tilted his head. “What does that mean?”
Izuku grinned. “It’s slang! Rumi taught it to me. It’s a shortened way to say that I’m repeating what you just said to me back to you!”
Shoto’s brow furrowed as he seemed to work that out in his head. “So, that you think training regularly with me will be beneficial?”
“Exactly!” Izuku agreed.
Shoto nodded. “Yes, that is an efficient way to communicate.”
Any response Izuku had was derailed by his phone notifying him of a text from Keigo wishing him good night. Izuku glanced at the clock, startled.
“Oh, it’s getting late. We should sleep,” he said as he texted his brother back.
Shoto nodded in agreement and re-packed his costume case as Izuku changed.
“Hey, Izuku?” Shoto whispered after they had both slipped into bed but before they drifted off to sleep.
“Yeah?”
A pause, then, “I’m sorry that you’re being punished, but I’m glad you’re here with me.”
Izuku smiled and hoped his friend could tell somehow, even in the dark. “Me too, Shoto.”
~*~*~
Rumi kept her face impassive as her new intern made his way over to where she stood waiting. She gave Bakugo a once over as he came to a stop in front of her.
She hadn’t been sure the kid would accept her offer, and now that he was here, she wasn’t entirely sure what she was supposed to do with him. She’d never even had a sidekick much less an intern - they had always seemed too squishy to her - but Keigo had been dropping hints since before the Sports Festival and once she saw this kid in action she knew why.
“Right,” she said, nodding. “Let’s spar.”
The blond bared his teeth in a grin. “Fuck yeah.”
Yeah, she had a feeling she wouldn’t have any issues with this intern.
She had requested that he meet her near a gym that she frequented, so the two of them headed in that direction. It had private sparring rooms available that were licensed for quirk-usage, so it would serve nicely for a little “get-to-know-you” spar with her intern.
For the majority of the time, Rumi liked the way she wasn’t tied down by an agency, it gave her a flexibility and freedom that the others in the Top 10 didn’t have. But she had to admit that she was just a bit jealous of the training facilities at the Winged Hero Agency. Keigo let her use them whenever she wanted, but that only worked when she was near Fukuoka, which wasn’t as often as she would like. So most of the time, she settled for the facilities at her gym. It had a few different locations spread across Japan, which suited her transient patrol zones.
Sparring with Bakugo left Rumi fidgeting with anticipation for the rest of the week. The kid had serious potential and she couldn’t wait to help him realize some of it. In fact, she had been enjoying it so much that she lost track of time, so when they finally called it quits they were both starving.
After the two of them had showered and changed, Rumi placed their dinner order at a local ramen shop that had the option of veggie noodles for her and had a dish that Bakugo deemed spicy enough. Thankfully, it seemed the food would be ready by the time they walked there, so they wouldn’t have to wait.
As they started in that direction, Rumi tried to think of how to word her first bit of advice to her intern - well, other than the fighting tips she gave during their spar. She wasn’t always the best with words, since she tended to just say exactly what was on her mind. But this was her new baby intern! She wanted to do this right.
“That intense drive you’ve got, it’s great!”
Her intern grinned at that, showing his teeth.
Okay, that seemed like a good start. She nudged her shoulder against his as they walked.
“You do need to find a balance though, maybe chill out a bit.”
“Hah! Not a chance! Did you?”
Rumi scoffed. “Yeah, no. We have opposite problems. You think I didn't try to tone it down when I first started out? Turns out that really wasn’t an option for me if I wanted to be taken seriously.”
The kid frowned at that. “Why the fuck not? You’re strong.”
Rumi grinned. “You know, honestly I love that you didn’t immediately guess why.” She reached over to ruffle his hair then dodged his retaliating punch with a laugh. “But seriously kid, think about it. I’m a female hero with a bunny quirk.” She looked at him expectantly.
He sneered. “Oh fuck no, who cares about that when you can kick a man’s heart out of his chest?”
“Hah!” Rumi laughed. “That’s pretty much what I said too! Except it was ‘kick a man’s head off his neck.’ But yeah, welcome to heroics: people care about shit like that.”
Bakugo scowled, his palms crackling with tiny little explosions.
Safe way to self-soothe and release tension? She wondered, eyeing the kid’s hands. Or just getting rid of excess sweat? She made a mental note to ask him about it later.
They had made it to the restaurant, so the two of them grabbed their order and made their way up to the rooftop where the restaurant had set up a small seating area that was thankfully empty.
Rumi kicked her legs over the arm of the chair as she settled her bowl on her stomach and continued their discussion, hoping she was able to get her point across.
“I figured out pretty quickly that I had three options,” she said, holding up her fingers to tick them off one by one, “I could ignore their opinions on my personality and my quirk, and hope it blew over eventually; but ignoring issues has never been my style. Another option would be to play it up and use stereotypes to get popular quickly.” She shrugged as she slurped up some noodles. “Not the worst option. A lot of heroes do that to get a foot in the door, and whatever, more power to them. If they can’t actually handle heroics then they don’t last long anyway, no amount of style with no substance can save you in the field. But again, not what I wanted. I wouldn’t be able to handle the type of fans and publicity I would get via that route,” Rumi added with a shudder. “My final option,” she let him see her most feral grin, “was to not only embrace but lean into my natural personality to the point where I was so hyper aggressive and combative that my sex appeal would be the last thing someone brought up in regards to me being a hero.”
Her little gremlin intern returned her grin. “Hell yeah! Fuck them!”
“Fuck them!” Rumi agreed.
The two of them ate in silence as she let Bakugo ruminate over what she said.
“So what’s the deal? Why did you say I need to tone it down?” he asked with a frown.
Rumi pointed one of her chopsticks at him. “Like I said, opposite problems. I needed to be taken seriously, whereas you need to be approachable.”
“Hah?!” Bakugo shouted. “I’m already fucking approachable!”
She paused to honestly consider that rather than dismiss it out of hand. “I mean, yeah that’s valid. There’s definitely people, heroes and civilians alike, who either won’t be bothered or will genuinely appreciate your attitude.” Before the kid could interject, she continued, “But not a majority, not enough to get the approval ratings you’ll need to hit the Top 10.” She gave him a knowing look.
He scowled, but didn’t contradict her assumption of his goal. “Why the fuck not?” he asked instead. “You did it.”
Miruko nodded, “I did, yeah. But when I scream obscenities, people change their opinion of me from a ‘sexy bunny’ to a serious hero. When you scream obscenities at them, they’re going to think of you less as a hero and more as some sort of feral vigilante.”
Bakugo scoffed, but something in the way he was hunching his shoulders defensively made her think he had experienced that bias already.
She narrowed her eyes, but decided not to push right now. “On one hand, they’ll take you seriously from the start; on the other, that means a lot of people will take your empty threats of casual murder seriously too. Which, you know, isn’t the best look for a hero.”
Her intern kicked his feet up onto the coffee table, the chopsticks in his hand looked like they were close to snapping. “So, what? What are you telling me? That I need to fucking cater to the fucking extras that can’t handle a few bad words?” He scoffed derisively, adding, “And Birdie had been sure you wouldn’t force me to change who I was like Jeanist would just to make others happy. Guess he was wrong, huh?” he finished, grinning at her nastily, before continuing to eat with a faux casualness that didn’t fool Rumi in the slightest.
The mention of Izuku made her smile. She had been wondering if he was the one who convinced Bakugo to come here, but she sobered quickly as she refocused on the conversation. Her intern needed to be her entire focus right now, not Izuku, and she was realizing that she hadn’t been making the point she wanted to make.
(Besides, seeing Keigo and Izuku interact had always made her wish she had a sibling…)
“Kid, I don’t fucking care what the rest of the world may think of you. I like you. The bird brothers like you. Those are literally the only opinions that I really care about. The rest of the world could label you as unstable, or feral, or fucking insane, and as long as they didn’t actually do anything to you I would just write them off and offer you a sidekick position anyway.” She held Bakugo’s complete attention, his narrowed eyes locked onto her as the noodles that were halfway to his mouth slipped back into his bowl.
She continued, keeping her tone no-nonsense, but being careful not to gentle it too much since she was sure he would take that as condescending (at least, that’s how she would feel), “If you didn’t care, I wouldn’t care. I mean, with that type of publicity you wouldn’t break into the Top 100 let alone Top 10, so I’m assuming you would care, but that’s not the point I was really making.”
Bakugo lowered his chopsticks back into his bowl. “Alright. What was your point, then?”
“There was a difference between how you acted for a majority of the Sports Festival and how you were at the end of your fight with Endeavor’s kid. You were unbalanced. People can read that kind of shit and it scares them. Luckily that wasn’t the last impression you made on them, and since you had calmed down for the closing ceremony everyone wrote it off as adrenaline or competitiveness. But they won’t forget it completely. You can’t have episodes like that as a Pro.” She held up a hand as Bakugo drew himself up in indignation. “I’m not asking you to change who you are. Honestly, I probably wouldn’t like you if you were the type of person who was willing to do that just to get ahead. I am asking that you find an equilibrium. Yes, preferably one that will also be palatable for the media and the public, but primarily one that's healthy for you to maintain.”
Bakugo scowled, but didn’t immediately dismiss her words.
She gave him a crooked grin, then concluded, “I just want you to know what you’re getting into. You’ve got plenty of time to find that balance before going Pro. You’re still just a baby intern!”
“Fuck off,” Bakugo responded with a roll his eyes, though his words lacked any sort of heat. He placed his ramen bowl on the table then folded his arms as he gave her a thoughtful frown. “What I’m getting into, huh?”
Rumi nodded. “Yup. Dealing with the public and the media is part of the Pro Hero gig. Especially if you’re aiming for the top.”
Bakugo gave her a flat look that conveyed of course I’m aiming for the top - it made her laugh, but she didn’t let it distract her from the final point she had wanted to touch on with this kid.
“Once you break the top fifty or twenty, you may be allowed a bit more leeway since you’ll be well established by then. But the HPSC keeps close tabs on all the widely popular Pros and especially the Top 10.”
If she hadn’t been looking for it, she may have missed it. It seemed like the kid really could control his reactions when he wanted to. But she was looking for it, so she saw Bakugo’s disgust at the mention of the Commission flit across his face before he schooled his expression. There and gone in an instant, but a telling gut reaction.
An unlicensed first year didn’t normally have any reason to feel that way about a government organization. Most average fifteen-year-olds heard “HPSC” and thought “Billboard Chart” and maybe “Hero license exam.” She focused her hearing for a second to double check no one was close enough to the rooftop to overhear, then set her empty bowl back onto the table.
Bakugo eyed her warily as she straightened up from her lazy sprawl.
“So,” Rumi began, her tone serious, “you’ve made a big life decision and decided to adopt a bird friend?”
The blond blinked a few times, then barked out a laugh.
Rumi’s lips twitched, but she forced her glee down. “This is serious business, you little gremlin,” she insisted, pointing her finger at him, “they take a lot of care and attention and it’s a big commitment.”
Bakugo scoffed before answering, “Yeah, no shit. I’ve only known Feathers for a month and I swear he’s given me daily heart attacks. How the fuck have you survived?”
Rumi groaned. “Tell me about it. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d kill a bitch for either of them. But sometimes I just want to -” she mimed the motion of grabbing and shaking. “Only, gently. 'Cus they’re still so-so on physical touch sometimes,” she added with a stern look.
“Fucking - yeah,” her intern agreed, running a hand through his hair as he slouched back in his chair. “Wings are a no-go unless he initiates, hands can be iffy but arms are usually ok. Shoulders and head have seemed fine so far too.”
She raised an impressed eyebrow.
“What?” Bakugo growled, scowling.
“Nothing,” Rumi said, ignoring his defensiveness. “Back is a no-go too. And feet,” she added.
Her intern didn’t ask her to elaborate - good kid - only nodded in acceptance.
“Is there -” Bakugo cut himself off, glowering at his ramen bowl. “I mean is there any way…” He trailed off again, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration. “Fucking - fuck! So the Commission is a bunch of assholes, yeah?”
Rumi huffed out a mirthless laugh. “Yeah. Fuckers.”
Some of the tension in Bakugo seemed to loosen as the two of them shared a loaded look.
She knew how he was feeling. As far as Rumi knew, she was pretty much the only other person aware of the brothers’ situation, so she hadn’t ever been able to discuss this with anyone. Keigo and Izuku knew that a lot of what they went through was bullshit, but they tended to brush off any concern she voiced. Rumi figured that they didn’t want to talk about things that they couldn’t change, so she did her best to respect that.
She had been bottling up an epic rant for over a year and was ecstatic that she could now talk about this with her new little intern.
“We should just get them out!” Bakugo whisper-yelled so that his words wouldn’t carry.
“I know right?” Rumi groaned. “Except that the Asshole Public Fucker Commission has the power to ruin them. And us,” she added as an afterthought. “They have too tight of a hold on hero society. Even if the No. 3 and No. 7 spoke out against them, it wouldn’t actually matter. And then we’d have played our hand too soon and wasted any sort of advantage we had.”
Bakugo mumbled out a string of creative swears as he let off another series of small explosions. “And then they’d just get the two of you off the Top 10 somehow and focus on Feathers. Probably using Big Bird to get him to cooperate.”
Rumi snorted at the kid’s nickname for Keigo, then pointed a finger gun at him as she responded, “Bingo. Glad to see you already get the level of fucked up we’re dealing with.”
He huffed, then frowned. “Okay, so tell me you have a plan because like hell am I just going to accept this as the way things have to be.”
“I know, it sucks,” she agreed with a sigh, “but honestly the bird brothers know what they’re doing. We have to follow their lead on this, otherwise we’d probably end up hurting more than helping. The best thing we can do right now is keep doing what we’re doing.”
Rumi held up a hand to forestall the objection she knew he would have to that, then continued, “When they make their play, they’ll need heroes with influence backing them up. That’s going to be us. And whoever else is smart enough to join us.”
Bakugo nodded in understanding, then scowled. “It’ll be years before I have the sort of sway we’re going to need.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Rumi said with a grin as she stood up. She draped her arm over her intern’s shoulder when he followed her. “Winning the Sports Festival and then interning with a Top 10? People tend to pay attention to kids that do that. If that kid keeps that momentum, pretty soon they’ll care what his views are on shit like… say, the Hero Public Safety Commission. Just, as a random example.”
They shared a feral grin as they made their way down the stairs.
“Let’s get to fucking work.”
~*~*~
Momo tried not to let her disappointment show on her face.
Uwabami had offered internships to her and Kendo because they were cute? What did that have to do with being a Pro Hero?
Midoriya had spoken well of Uwabami and the research that Momo had done seemed to paint a picture of a kindhearted hero who was dedicated to several charities. Momo had been so honored that she had seen her heroic potential. But apparently the only thing that had stood out about her was that she was cute.
She and Kendo exchanged a look as they followed Uwabami from her powder room to the interview prep room where the hero’s makeup was touched up again. Then they assisted her… sidekick (though Momo felt as though she was treated more as a personal assistant), who introduced herself as Akiko, as Uwabami gave an interview on her new line of cosmetics.
Cosmetics.
How heroic.
Momo shook her head to dispel the negativity.
She was sure that Uwabami had a reason for this. These must be lessons that Momo needed to excel as a Pro Hero.
She told herself that many times over the following days as they shadowed Uwabami as she bounced from photoshoot to interview and back again. Momo and Kendo would eat their meals with Akiko while Uwabami was working, or in the limo as they traveled between locations.
If nothing else, this internship had taught Momo a great deal on organization and time management.
It was during one of these “limo lunches” that Uwabami brought up their next assignment.
“It’s a demo commercial for my new hairspray,” she said while scrolling through her phone. “And I think both of you girls would look so cute in it!” Uwabami added cheerfully. “So the three of us will star in it together! Won’t that be fun?”
Momo exchanged a glance with Kendo (they had done that a lot these past few days) as they both nodded their assent.
“That will be… interesting,” Kendo said with a small smile. “We appreciate the opportunity, Uwabami-san.”
The hero waved away the gratitude. “Of course, my sweet little interns!”
Momo smiled as well. Even though this internship hadn’t been what she was expecting, she had to admit that Uwabami had been very kind to them. “Which product is the commercial for?” she asked, trying to be enthusiastic.
“UNERI Hairspray!” Uwabami cheered.
“Oh!” Momo exclaimed excitedly. She actually knew of this one! “That’s the hairspray that you helped develop with that pro-mutant charity,” she frowned as she tried to remember what it was called, “MORPH, I think, isn’t it? Though I don’t remember what the acronym stands for…” She shook her head to dismiss that train of thought. “This is the hairspray that's safer for people with more sensitive heteromorphic quirks, right?”
There was a beat of silence as Uwabami seemed to freeze and the other two stared at Momo: Kendo in confusion and Akiko in shock. Momo’s smile slowly fell as Uwabami looked up at her from her phone with a blank expression.
She swallowed. “I’m sorry, is that not…” Momo trailed off. She remembered reading about it while she was researching Uwabami! She was sure that was the right product.
Uwabami’s gaze sharpened as she tilted her head in consideration. “Now where did you get that idea from?”
Was this a test? Momo straightened as she explained, “I mean, it’s not being advertised that way, but all your cosmetic products are free of sulfates, parabens and phthalates which, while healthier in general, tend to be more of an issue for many of those with mutant-type quirks. For UNERI Hairspray in particular though, the polymer switched from polyvinylpyrrolidone to a more natural vegetable gum polymer. MORPH has been advocating for the removal of PVP from cosmetics for years, due to the irritation it causes heteromorphs, but it hadn’t gone anywhere until you got involved with them a couple years ago.”
Momo clasped her hands together to keep from fidgeting as the other three women continued to stare at her.
Finally, Uwabami’s lips curled up into a satisfied smile.
“Well, well, well,” she purred. “Look who did her research. Beauty and brains? My favorite combination.”
Momo felt herself flushing. “Ah - it’s not - it just stuck out to me, that’s all! I need to know the molecular structure of anything I want to create, so I found it interesting. Creating things with organic, natural based materials is always easier on my quirk, so it’s important for me to keep up to date on these sorts of innovations!”
Uwabami continued to smile as she tilted her head curiously.
“Oh, how interesting! What’s your quirk?”
Momo froze in shock. “You - you don’t know?”
The Pro’s smile softened, “No. I didn’t actually check what either of your quirks were.”
She and Kendo exchanged a bewildered glance.
“Then… why…” Kendo’s voice trailed off weakly.
Uwabami glanced at Akiko, who smirked and shrugged, then back at the two interns. Seemingly coming to a decision, she tucked her phone away and looked at them both intently. “Why did I ask you to be my interns?” They nod. “I told you: you’re two cute girls.”
The words were almost identical to what she had told them from the beginning, but now her tone made it sound like a warning rather than a compliment.
Seeing their confusion, Uwabami sighed, but continued, “Every year I send out offers to two or three first year girls to be my interns. I typically have them picked out by the end of the first round of the Sports Festival tournament event, if not earlier. I don’t pay attention to their quirks or even their actual performances during the events. I am only looking for one criteria,” she held up a perfectly manicured finger, “girls that are cute enough that the commentators remark on it multiple times.”
Momo jerked back, “Aizawa-sensei would never -”
Uwabami shook her head. “Sorry, that came out wrong. Not UA’s commentators; you’re right that they didn’t make a single comment about any of their students' looks, neither of them ever have. I was talking about the TV commentators that were covering the event.”
Kendo looked disgusted. “They talked about our looks?”
Akiko nodded, rolling her eyes. “They always do. During the event, Uwabami and I scan through all of the stations covering it and flag anytime a girls’ looks are mentioned unrelated to her quirk. The ones that get multiple mentions are the ones that we send internship offers to.”
Momo frowned, frustrated. Distantly, she had been aware that heroes, female heroes especially, were often objectified, both by fans and the media. With her quirk’s need for exposed skin, it was something that she figured she was going to have to deal with. She just hadn’t anticipated it so soon. And during a school festival where she was wearing the same thing as everyone else. She turned back towards her mentor, still confused, and asked, “But why would that be your only criteria? It doesn’t really tell you whether we’d be good interns.”
“No,” Uwabami agreed, crossing her legs and leaning back in her seat, “but it tells me that you will most likely grow into a beautiful hero.” She made an elegant sweeping gesture that encompassed herself and the limo. “There are certain things that physically attractive heroes have to deal with that UA doesn’t prepare you for. I offer internships every year to a few young girls that I believe need to see the type of work that they will most likely be requested to do. It may be by their PR agents, or Agency managers, or media representatives, or, well, you get the idea,” she concluded with a dismissive wave.
The four sat in silence for a few moments, the two interns digesting the information.
“You weren’t going to tell us this, were you?” Momo asked.
“I wasn’t, no. I normally don’t say anything about it to the girls I intern.”
“Why not?” Kendo asked.
Uwabami lifted one shoulder in a graceful shrug. “They typically take what lesson they need without me saying anything.” She winked at them. “You would have too, even if you wouldn’t have been able to articulate it.”
“You think so?”
“I do, yes. The girls that intern with me typically respond in one of two ways: they loved the work they saw me do or they hated it. Either way, they leave my internship subconsciously making changes to their costume or hero persona that will either encourage or discourage this type of work. My only goal is to make you aware of the reality you will face in our society. Your attractiveness will be something that the media and the public notice and comment on. Your choice is whether to ignore it or use it.”
~*~*~
He wouldn’t go so far as to say he was relieved, but Fumikage could admit that it was comforting to see someone with a noticeable mutation at the reception desk of the Winged Hero Agency. Oftentimes, even places that willingly hired heteromorphs tended to keep them from positions that had them being a customer’s first impression of the company.
The hero, or maybe a sidekick, at the front desk seemed to have some sort of rodent mutation and the skittering energy that went along with it. The fuzzy ears on the top of his head twitched at Fumikage’s entrance, and he paused his frantic typing to glance up.
“Oh!” the hero exclaimed, excited, “You must be Tokoyami Fumikage! Welcome, welcome! I’m Swoop, the Gliding Hero! You’re welcome to call me Chihiro when we’re off duty, but everyone tends to go by their hero name when at the agency,” he explained as he handed Fumikage a neat package consisting of a folder wrapped in a lanyard. Swoop pointed to that first, “The lanyard is your access pass for the week! If it doesn’t work on a door, then that area is off limits, but there shouldn’t be many of those! Other than Hawks himself, your main contacts for the week will be Kiki and Darkwing. I’ve pinged them both, so one of them will be down shortly to give you a tour! Do you have any questions for me?”
Fumikage blinked at the onslaught of information, sorting through everything he’d heard as he placed the lanyard around his neck and thumbed through the paperwork in the folder.
“Er -” Fumikage stuttered, exchanging a glance with Dark Shadow, who was peeking over his shoulder.
“If not, that’s ok!” Swoop continued, smiling brightly and displaying his prominent front teeth. “You can feel free to come and ask me anything at any time! I’m here at the front desk for the day shift and Nightowl takes over for the night shift, and she can help you too! Of course, any of Hawks’ sidekicks will be happy to help a friend of Falco’s! We’re so happy to have you here!”
“Yes,” Fumikage said nonsensically, overwhelmed.
“Hello there,” a soft voice called, causing the two of them to turn in the direction of the elevators. “You are Tsukuyomi and Dark Shadow, yes?”
Fumikage and Dark Shadow both stared at the being of darkness that approached, enthralled. “Yes,” he said again, though thankfully it actually made sense now, so he didn’t look like a fool.
“Welcome. I am Darkwing. Hawks’ sidekick.”
A perfectly fitting name, Fumikage thought, admiring the sidekick's pitch black, leathery wings.
“It’s very nice to meet you,” he said out loud, bowing.
The being of darkness - Darkwing - turned back towards Swoop and nodded. “I will take it from here. Thank you.”
Swoop saluted, called out a cheerful, “Sure thing! Have fun!” and immediately went back to frantically typing.
Fumikage followed Darkwing into the elevator, who angled his body towards them and continued in his soothingly soft voice, “I apologize if Swoop was overwhelming. He gets excited by new agency members.”
“It’s alright,” Fumikage insisted, “His countenance was startling, but it was pleasant to be greeted so brightly.”
Darkwing nodded, “I am pleased.” He tilted his head towards the folder in Fumikage’s hands. “There is a map of the agency in your paperwork, but I will be showing you the main floors now.” He led them out of the elevator, gesturing towards the open space filled with a variety of desks, several - most, in fact - of which were empty. “This is the main Support staff area. As you see, a majority spend their time in the labs.” One of the claws at the joint of his wings pointed towards the side of the room where the wall seemed to be made of solid metal. There was a row of reinforced doors, but no windows. “Those rooms are entirely contained and safe for Support to develop and test equipment.”
Fascinated, Fumikage asked, “Does Hawks’ gear all come from in-house?”
“Indeed,” Darkwing confirmed as they walked to the opposite side of the floor, where there were a few large offices with walls of opaque glass. “In fact, all of his sidekicks’ gear is developed in-house as well. Due to the nature of the Winged Hero Agency, our Support staff is very adept at creating equipment for heteromorphs.”
Fumikage frowned, “The ‘nature of the agency’?”
Darkwing hummed as his blind gaze rested near Dark Shadow, who had barely taken his eyes off of the sidekick. “I am referring to Hawks’ tendency to hire agency members with physical mutation quirks.”
“Ah,” Fumikage responded.
Darkwing smiled gently, then continued, “Although, the official criteria are those with avian or flying quirks. After all, Hawks’ needs sidekicks that fit his… aesthetic.”
Fumikage held back a snort. Growing up, he had seen several forum posts from other heteromorphs who had given reasons they weren’t accepted at certain jobs and the most common tended to boil down to a company or agency’s ‘image’ or ‘culture’ that they weren’t a fit for. He found it amusing that Hawks was applying that same principle, though in reverse.
A high pitched giggle came from the open office door in front of them. “And we all know Hawks is all about the aesthetic!”
“Indeed,” Darkwing agreed, amused. They came to a stop once they reached the glass door that was propped open with a stack of papers. “Tsukuyomi, may I introduce Kiki: the Humming Hero. Kiki, this is our new intern.”
Fumikage’s crest feathers fluffed out in pleasure at the feeling of belonging that Darkwing’s words gave him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, though he couldn’t see anyone due to the large screens fanning around the U-shaped desk.
“You too!” a cheerful voice called out. “Welcome to the Winged Hero Agency!”
“Thank you.”
“Kiki is another of Hawks’ sidekicks,” Darkwing explained, his voice fond. “She is the head of our agency’s Support department, and handles most of our communications. She will be your other point of contact.”
A low humming filled the office as a colorful blur rose from behind the screens. “Yes! I’m so excited to have you here!”
The Humming Hero. Fumikage found the name to be apt. Kiki’s wings were what caused the humming sound as far as he could tell. Instead of hair, she had bright yellow, blue and teal feathers that extended down and covered most of her tiny body. The well-preened feathers glinted in the office light as she darted towards them.
“Bird!” Dark Shadow exclaimed, excited.
“Yes!” Kiki agreed, giggling. “Hummingbird, to be precise.”
“Pretty!” his companion continued, to Fumikage’s embarrassment.
Thankfully, Kiki didn’t seem bothered. “Thank you! You’re so sweet!” She hovered in front of Dark Shadow for a moment, then dashed over to Darkwing and landed lightly next to him.
Fumikage blinked. “You’re very fast.”
Kiki giggled again. “Faster than Hawks!”
“What?” he asked, confused. No one was faster than Hawks, everyone knew that.
She winked at him. “Agency secret.”
“Wait, you are actually faster than Hawks?”
“She is,” Darkwing confirmed.
“Well, it helps that my entire body weighs about as much as one of Hawks’ wings,” Kiki added with a smile.
“Wow!” Dark Shadow cried.
“But how is this an agency secret?” Fumikage asked, still baffled that this wasn’t common knowledge.
Kiki’s teasing smile gentled as she rose up and hovered again. “I don’t really go out into the field much. Or ever, really. So I’m not very well known. Or known at all.”
“Oh. I see. I apologize if -”
She waved him off, interrupting his apology, “No, no need for that. It doesn’t bother me at all! I am much more comfortable here.” She held out her arm and spun around in the air to indicate her office, or perhaps the entire Support floor, then made a sweeping gesture down her body. “With my quirk, a single solid punch is enough to take me out of the game. And that’s before taking my opponent’s quirk into account. I tried to develop support gear that would mitigate that issue, but anything of substance was too heavy for me to be able to fly with.” She shrugged then grinned again, “And no one else can match my level of multitasking with communications! So I’m right where I want to be!”
Fumikage nodded in understanding. “Of course. Then I will keep the agency secret.”
Kiki winked at him again. “I knew you were one of us!” She darted over to hover in front of Darkwing. “Do you need me to help with the tour?”
Darkwing shook his head. “I’ll show him the training rooms then take him up to Hawks’ office.”
“That works! Hawks is almost back from patrol, so he should be up there by the time you get there.”
Darkwing nodded, then turned back towards Fumikage and Dark Shadow. “Let us continue.”
They followed him back to the elevator, waving back to Kiki as the doors closed.
Fumikage couldn’t contain his smile.
One of us.
He couldn’t wait to see what this internship week had in store for him.