I-Island

[moonshadows]

“That was fun,” Cementoss says quietly as we stream back into the communal faculty office. “A nice change of pace, playing a role so different from my usual one. I quite enjoyed it, although perhaps not as much as the rest of you,” he teases gently, shooting a smile at Midnight, who laughs.

“The thrilling rush of youth,” she says, waving it off. “I didn’t get into it nearly as much as you did,” she says to me. “Don’t you think you over-did it just a little?”

The fake nose ring plinks as I drop it back into its box. “Nope. This will have been their first time seeing me with my hair down. I wanted to make sure that if they ever see me in the street, they won’t recognize me.”

“But they’ve seen your face,” Cementoss protests.

“They’ve seen my face, but it was wearing a Present Mic expression and it was on a body that was wildly over-acting, wearing clothes I don’t normally wear and cheap, distracting jewelry.” I rattle the beads around my wrists. “They haven’t seen me. They’ve seen Present Mic playing a part. If you saw me in the street, I’d bet money you wouldn’t recognize me.”

“Don’t take that bet,” Toshi says as he sits at his computer, his villain helmet on the desk next to him. “He’ll only take your money.”

Midnight chokes back a laugh. “I wasn’t aware that you’d met him off the clock, All Might.”

Plastic everyday glasses swapped out for a pair of non-Present Mic shades, I waggle my eyebrows at her. “That’s one way of putting it.”

She throws a light punch at my shoulder. “Oh, you! Trying to make me think…” Not wanting to say it out loud while Cementoss is still in the room, she trails off.

He’s not looking and Toshi’s absorbed in the email he just got. I form my lips into an O and press my tongue to the inside of one cheek a couple of times, making her huff and smack my shoulder at the insinuation.

“Mic,” Toshi says absently, “which week is Eraser doing that training camp with his class?”

It takes me a second to pull the dates up, but then I rattle them off and he frowns.

“Won’t be back in time,” he mutters darkly. Then he sighs.

I edge around the desks to peer over his shoulder. “Back from what?”

“I-Expo,” he grumbles, slumping back in his chair. “I wanted him to meet David, but…”

“David Shield? The one who…” There are about half a dozen ways I could end that sentence, but I don’t.

Toshi grimaces. “That one. His daughter invited me to visit, as a surprise, and I wanted to take young Midoriya, but…” He turns to gesture at the screen, and his unhappy expression softens when he sees the pleading look on mine. “…but maybe you would like to come, instead?”

The hand curled up over my chest reaches briefly towards my throat, and he nods with a sympathetic look.

“I’ll have to clear it with Eraser,” I tell him brightly, “but I’d love to!”

Toshi nods and turns back to the email, fingers pecking out a reply.

 

===

 

“You’ve flown before?”

Despite my being anxious over how much is potentially riding on this visit, I give Toshi a look of driest skepticism, and he laughs.

“Right, right…I should have remembered, California Boy. Are you going to sleep?”

Over the engines whining as they prepare for takeoff, I shake my head. “I actually like flying, and I have a ton of things I’ve been meaning to do.”

“Lucky.” He shifts in his seat, across the aisle of the tiny private jet. “I’m going to sleep. Wake me when we get there….Michael.”

He gets a sunny smile for that, and I shift to English. “You got it, Toshi!”

Then the whine of the engines escalates to a roar, and the jet races into the sky.

Once we’ve settled into cruising altitude, Toshi tilts his head every which way and yawns widely several times. Then he looks at me expectantly.

“Sorry, but I don’t have that problem. My inner ear-”

“-is part of your quirk,” he sighs. “Right. No wonder you like flying. I guess you don’t get airsick, either.”

“Nope. Have a good nap?”

He grins at me. “I’ll try.”

Although I don’t have any classwork to catch up on, I have plenty of other things. Demos sent in for review by indie bands. Correspondence from the various people I employ to keep on top of any developments in fandom, or in other online communities. Three different silly browser games based on virtual animals that are in various states of digital neglect. The jet has wifi and charging docks, and the time absolutely flies by.

It’s the change in altitude that pulls me out and my eyes slide to the window, where the ocean looks much closer than it did last I looked.

“We’ll probably have to circle to get to the landing strip,” Toshi says groggily. “If you can’t get a good view from your side, come over here.”

“And sit on your lap?” I tease reflexively, making him cough on the breath he’s trying to inhale.

“I thought you and Aizawa…”

“Oh, we are,” I answer cheerfully. “But he doesn’t object to my…extracurricular activities. In fact-”

“I don’t want to know,” Toshi groans, rubbing his face. “It’s bad enough that my choice of companion is going to carry…implications.”

Stretching, I do my best to shrug. “Toshi, you have history with him. It’s not like he doesn’t know which way you swing, and it’s not like we didn’t-”

“I know,” he groans. But I’m almost twice your age, Mic. And you’re…”

“Pretty?”

Toshi winces. “You’re going to look like some trophy conquest.”

“I’m okay with that. No one knows who I am. Why are you really so anxious?”

He actually flinches at that. “Because I haven’t seen Dave in – well, the last time was just before I met you. And once we land, I’ll have to stick to muscle form unless we’re alone.”

Just then, the pilot announces our final descent, cutting off my incredulous protest before it started because I want to be wrong, but I’m pretty sure Toshi never told David about his current state.

 

===

 

We’re meeting David’s daughter Melissa after we go through security, so I’m wearing something pretty but not completely femme. A gauzy silk shirt with long sleeves over a sky-blue tank top, faded and comfortable jeans that hug my hips and my favorite sandals. My hair is pulled up into a bun and secured with a plain black hair elastic, and I’m wearing my cheap plastic glasses instead of the nice gold frames I go clubbing in.

I tow Toshi’s suitcase along behind me with my duffle bag slung over my shoulders as we go through security, and there’s a tense moment when the scanners throw up our profiles, but no – it’s Michael Preston, not Yamada Hizashi. Or Hizashi Yamada, since the screen proclaims Toshi’s name Western style, given name first and then family name. The rest of the screen is in English, which is convenient for an independent city of scientists, I guess.

As we head out from security to the showcase plaza, Toshi comments idly that quirk use is unrestricted on I-Island, and I swallow a snort because maybe that’s the case for everyone else, but the use of my quirk is restricted by more than just law.

And that’s why I’m here.

Naturally, Toshi gets recognized almost immediately, and a crowd converges – but this is something I’d mastered years ago, and a careful hum produces a sound that’s just on the edge of normal human hearing – and uncomfortable. There are those who persist for photos or autographs, but at least half of the crowd disperses long before they otherwise would have. In a reasonable amount of time we’re standing in front of a floral clock and I’m getting a suspicious look.

“You did something, didn’t you?”

“Yup. I know your fanbase; we’d have been there all day.”

He sighs. “You’re not wrong. Well, we’re early, so…”

“So, does David know you picked a successor?”

Toshi chokes. “Mic!”

I cross my arms. “Yes?”

He looks around before leaning in to hiss, “I haven’t told him about One For All – any of it.”

“Why not?”

But I only get a chagrined look as an answer. Luckily for him, a sproingy noise and a cry of “Uncle Might!” herald the arrival of a blonde girl on some kind of pogo stick who leaps and is caught and swung around by Toshi. There’s the usual small talk – thank you for coming, thank you for inviting me, you’re all grown up – and then he sets her down and she explains that her father had completed an important step of some high-security research, and the invitation was a surprise to celebrate that.

Then she notices me.

“Ah, Melissa, this is my friend Mic – Michael Preston,” he clarifies.

I offer my hand. “I’m a California boy, too,” I tell her in a soft, high voice just shy of being my tinyvoice. “I’ve been living in Japan for a few years now, working in a hero agency.”

“How exciting! I’m in my last year of school here. I’m going to be a scientist like Papa, and design wonderful support items for people!”

“That’s why I brought Michael,” Toshi says. “His quirk…”

Melissa looks at him, startled, then looks at me again. “Your quirk?”

“My voice.”

I can see the wheels turning in her head. “Oh. That must be very difficult. You must be very good friends with Uncle Might for him to have brought you here! Let’s go see Papa right away!”

Filled with a vigor that would have Midnight making inappropriate sounds, she leads the way and we follow.

 

===

 

Melissa leads us to the door to David’s lab area, then gestures for us to stay hidden while she goes in. Toshi and I lurk on opposite sides of the door, listening as Melissa tells her father that she invited a certain person to celebrate his research milestone, and then Toshi leaps in to make a loudly dramatic entrance while I slip in behind him, unnoticed.

“Toshi?” David says, the word startled out of him, before he shakes himself slightly. “All Might!”

Sure, maybe it could have been that he’s American and ‘Toshinori’ is a mouthful and nicknames carry less emotional weight than they do in Japan. But I know what love looks like when it’s had to endure forced separation spanning years, and it’s all over his face.

They totally banged.

David’s assistant – Sam? – looks stunned to have the Number One Hero there in the flesh, more so when Toshi rushes forward to pick his ex up and swing him excitedly around. I have to say, David’s aged pretty well – he’s got that ‘wacky absentminded scientist’ look going on, and I can see where he would have been a knockout when he was younger. Sam just looks like a stereotypical middle-aged accountant, with thinning hair and a thickening waist.

“Dave! I came all the way out here to see you!”

“Are you surprised?” Melissa chirps from the side.

The expression on David’s face is one I’ve seen reflected in Aizawa’s eyes plenty of times. “Yes,” he says softly. “Very surprised.”

“We both need to thank Melissa,” Toshi says. “How many years has it been?”

David chuckles. “Don’t remind me how old I am,” he jokes. “Neither one of us wants to think about that, do we?”

Right. Primary goal: see if I can get a support item to inhibit my quirk. Secondary goal: get this poor man laid. I mean, I’d blow him if it meant getting that support item, but that’s not the same as sex with the man you’ve been pining after for half a decade. And judging from the affection in Toshi’s voice, I’d be doing both of them a favor locking them in a room together.

“Oh! Let me introduce you to my friend,’ Toshi says after he and David have expressed how glad they are to see each other. “Mic?”

“Michael Preston,” I say with a smile, stepping forward to offer my hand. “San Fran. Currently living in Tokyo. Met this big lug when he was skulking around trying to find a halfway-decent slice of pizza.”

There’s uncertainty in David’s eyes, but he smiles back and shakes warmly. “David Shield. I guess we have a few things in common. Did he…?”

“Toshi’s told me all about you,” I assure him. “To be honest, I feel a little bad tagging along and interrupting your reunion. I hope you’ll have plenty of time to catch up with him in private.”

There; now even if he assumes I’m Toshi’s new fling, I’ve reassured him that I want them to get it on. Sure enough, there’s still uncertainty in his eyes, but his smile gets warmer.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Michael, and I look forward to getting to know you better. For now, maybe Melissa could show you around I-Expo…?”

“There’s plenty of time for that later,” Toshi says firmly. “It was a long flight. Maybe we could get something to eat together, just the three of us?”

David looks surprised, but probably not for the same reason I am. Toshi suggesting food? No, there’s some ulterior motive here that I’m not catching. David seems to understand, though, because he nods and sends Melissa and Sam to get take-out and bring it to a specific room where we’ll eat together. Once we’re alone, Toshi releases his muscle form with a sigh and some restrained coughing that has him sitting on the floor.

“Toshi! Are you all right?” David looks…more alarmed than surprised as he crouches by his old friend. So, he’s seen All Might powered down, but not rake-thin. “You told me about your symptoms over email, but…” He looks at me uncertainly.

“I met him like this,” I assure him as I sink to my heels beside them.

“…but I didn’t realize it had gotten so bad,” he finishes grimly.

“The amount of time I can hold muscle form has gotten shorter,” Toshi admits reluctantly. “If I’m not actively using my quirk, it’s longer, but…”

I cross my arms. “But after the USJ attack, he’s down to just under two hours of active use.”

Toshi winces. “I over-did it that day.”

“There would have been deaths if you hadn’t,” I remind him, “very probably including my husband.”

David looks at me in surprise. “You’re married?”

“Fifteen years, as soon as he proposes.”

David looks at Toshi for an explanation.

“It’s complicated,” Toshi sighs.

“I guess you can tell me about it over lunch,” David says. “And then after…”

Toshi nods, but whatever it is he’s agreeing to, he’s not looking forward to it.

 

===

 

Although Sam and Melissa deliver food to a comfortable sitting room, we gather it up and take it down to a secret-looking research lab. Toshi studiously ignores the monitoring pod in the corner, but David catches me looking.

“Something I developed,” he says proudly. “It measures the strength of a person’s quirk. I’ve been using it to keep tabs on Toshi’s condition – when I can,” he adds in a pointed tone.

The promise of validation looms over me, glorious and terrible. “Could you measure mine?”

He looks a little uncertain. “I suppose, but…”

Toshi pulls a stack of covered containers out of one bag and distributes entrees to us as we settle into a loose circle on the floor. “I brought Mic here out of the hope that you could design a support item for him.”

“Probably,” David says, popping the lid open and inhaling fragrant steam. “What did you have in mind, Mike?”

I curl both hands around my lunch to keep them away from my throat. “Something to inhibit my quirk. I know,” I say as his expression darkens. “It would be dangerous technology. Just hear me out, please.”  

Reluctantly, he nods.

“My quirk…it’s heteromorphic. That’s the first thing you need to know. Not an emitter-type. I can’t turn it off, I can only turn it down.” It’s a good thing I mastered tinyvoice when I was so young, because my throat’s threatening to close over this. I take a deep breath. “It’s my voice. And I know you’re thinking it doesn’t sound so bad, both literally and figuratively.”

David nods, then says between bites, “You are correct. But I know Toshi wouldn’t bring you to me unless it was truly severe, so I assume what I’m observing is an amazing level of control.”

“Yeah.” It occurs to me that I’m still just staring at my food, and take the lid off. It smells amazing and Toshi pointedly shoves a plastic fork into my line of sight. I take it, stab it into my meal, and leave it there. “When I was born, I damaged the ears of both my bio-parents and the doctor delivering me. That’s when they cut my vocal cords for the first time. They repaired themselves, of course,” I tell David dryly, with a wry grin for the look of horror on his face. “I was eighteen months when they tried to do it the fourth time, and the nurse picked me up and ran. When I was five, I fell into a half-rotted tunnel and panicked. Shouted at the top of my lungs and blacked out. At fifteen, one of my friends discovered a story about a mysterious shriek that was heard up to fifty kilometers away and we went out to the site to see it. Just a couple of dumb teenagers sightseeing, you know?” My voice shrivels to nothing, leaving only the tinyvoice. “There was a hole twenty feet wide in the ground where something had exploded inside the tunnel. The sight triggered a flashback to being stuck in there and I spent the rest of the day shaky and pale because that was me, I did that. And this?” I ask, lifting my head and pointing to my neck. “This isn’t my voice. Look at me. I’m holding my breath. This is my quirk. Every sound that comes out of my mouth is tightly controlled because I could kill people with a careless laugh.”

I let my breath out in an unsteady rush and put my food down, untouched. Toshi’s hand snags one of mine to grip it reassuringly and when I raise my eyes, David is staring in sympathetic horror, fork forgotten halfway to his mouth.

“Mic. Eat your lunch. Look, I’m eating mine. Don’t make Aizawa worry.”

That was the magic phrase; I pick my food back up and allow myself to get distracted eating some sesame-ginger something, I don’t actually know what it is and I don’t care. I eat until it’s gone and then hug my knees, head down, eyes closed, thinking very hard about one of my favorite songs and letting it play in my head while Toshi tells David that I’ve been friends with Aizawa for fifteen years despite the fact that no one else could tell until recently, when he almost died in the USJ attack, and after that we apparently went from ‘long-term acquaintances’ to ‘married couple’ and no one’s sure how it happened.

“So the two of you didn’t…?”

“No, we did,” Toshi admits. “But as friends. Not…romantically.”

“Oh.” Silence for a long minute, and then he says, “Let me get your readings first, Toshi, and then I’ll calibrate the machine and see what you’re dealing with, Mike.”

“Thanks,” I whisper into my knees.

 

===

 

Although I know how skinny Toshi is, it’s still alarming to see as he climbs into the monitoring pod wearing only his black boxer briefs. David attaches a pair of giant electrodes and a mask, and the top comes down to encase the near-skeletal Symbol of Peace. Lights, whirring, and beeping ensue and continue for several minutes while David does something on the giant computer console and I perch on an unused edge trying to pretend any of it means anything to me.

When the graph comes up, however, even I can understand what it is.

David jerks like he’s been stabbed, and looks like it, too. On the other side of the room, the pod beeps and hisses as the lid retracts, all measurements completed.

“What’s going on, Toshi?” David murmurs, staring at the dramatic red drop-off.

I lean over, examining the dates.

David spins around in his chair and points at the screen as Toshi climbs out of the pod. “Why are your quirk numbers going down so dramatically? Even if you were seriously injured during your fight with All For One, to suddenly get these numbers…”

“Isn’t that when you passed One For All to Midoriya?” I ask, far too innocently, before Toshi can open his mouth and stuff both feet into it. He shoots me a filthy look, but I bat my eyelashes at him.

“Passed…” David glances at me, then back to the very uncomfortable scarecrow trying to murder me with his eyes. “Toshi?”

“My quirk,” he says slowly, still trying to wish me dead, “was not originally my own. One For All is a quirk that has been passed through seven bearers. After my fight with All For One, I started looking for a successor. Last year, I made my choice.” He points to the dramatic drop in his power level. “I passed my quirk to a worthy young man and what’s left is only an ember that will eventually die out. I’m sorry, Dave. I didn’t want to get you and Melissa involved. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

Although he’s already sitting down, David slumps and rubs both hands over his face. “But what about the Symbol of Peace?”

“Eventually, I will retire. But the torch has been passed, and young Midoriya is determined to take my place as the new Symbol.”

A low, tearing groan that turns into a rumble of frustration leaves David’s throat. “Well, that makes my research useless,” he sighs, letting his hands drop. “I was trying to find a way to mechanically enhance your quirk so that you could continue being the Symbol of Peace, but…”

Slowly, Toshi approaches and lays a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “My time has passed. It’s taking me a while to come to terms with it, but it’s the truth.”

“And what if another villain like All For One appears somewhere?” David protests.

I clear my throat.

“Ah, right. Sorry, Mike. Let me adjust the machine…”

Toshi moves over to my side as David goes to the pod.

“That wasn’t your secret to reveal,” he says quietly, unhappily.

“You had plenty of time to do it, and you didn’t.”

“There were reasons for that, Mic!”

“There were reasons Aizawa spent those years being avoidant, too. Valid reasons. Doesn’t mean he didn’t hurt both of us doing it.”

Toshi subsides, glaring off into the corner, as David comes back over.

“Okay, Mike, you’ll need to strip down like Toshi did, and – do you have any other piercings? It would be best if you took them out.”

I nod, already reaching for my ears. “Not surprised. I used to have other piercings, but I let them close up. It’s just the ears, now.”

Within a minute I’m climbing into the pod, wearing only my boxer briefs and unashamed of the fact that there’s a panda face on the butt. David affixes the giant electrodes and the mask, and then the lid comes down and my ears are filled with a truly exciting assortment of frequencies as the machine measures the strength of my quirk. It’s almost a disappointment when the noises die down and the lid comes back up.

“That’s…” David stares at the display, shakes his head, and stares again. “That’s a lot of power. Did you know…? Toshi, did you know your friend’s quirk was this strong? I’m trying to visualize what you could do with your voice, Mike, and coming up short.”

I pad back over to check out my numbers, but without a convenient graph they don’t tell me much. “How strong is it?”

David pulls up Toshi’s numbers and overlays mine. “This strong,” he says, pointing to the ‘six years ago’ drop that would have been him almost losing the fight against All For One.

“Well, it’s hard to compare my Voice quirk to a power-up type,” I say slowly, “but I guess that sounds about right.”

“Normally, I would be very wary about creating a device to inhibit someone’s quirk,” David says, shaking his head, “but you said it’s a heteromorphic type…”

“I used tinyvoice exclusively until I was ten,” I tell him quietly. “That’s how long it took me to learn enough control to be able to speak with air moving through my vocal cords, and not just vibrating them on their own. Then puberty hit…”

“And your voice started to change,” David supplies grimly. “You said your vocal cords were damaged three times?”

“And I practiced a lot for ten years. Voice lessons of all kinds. I have a soundproof room in my apartment for if I’m feeling shaky, so I can sleep without worrying about destroying anything if I have a nightmare.”

“It’s going to take a bit to develop,” David starts, “and I’ll absolutely try to make it unique to your quirk, but I can’t not do my best to help you. Are you going to be at the reception party?” he asks, but I’m not sure if the question is directed at me or Toshi.

“We will,” Toshi promises. “Although, we haven’t even seen our hotel rooms yet.”

“Get dressed and let me call Melissa,” David offers. “She can escort you to your hotel, Mike, so you can drop your bags off, and then she can show you around if you want before the party starts. I’d like to take you up on your promise of being able to catch up with Toshi in private.”

I nod. “Sounds like a good plan. I’ll see you both at the party.”

Toshi nods, looking both uncertain and hopeful, and David’s smile is full of relief.

 

 ===

 

Melissa keeps up a running commentary as we ride something that defies description to the hotel. It’s like a single large wheel with small platforms to either side and a pole sticking up through and around the whole thing. I set Toshi’s bag and mine on a platform mounted about shoulder height off the back of the wheel and grip the pole that splits around the wheel, anchored to the mechanism at the center that propels the whole thing, while I stand on the right-hand platform and Melissa steers – somehow – from the left. Mostly, she tells me about the construction and history of I-Island, which I’m more than happy to listen to.

“…most visitors forget we’re an island,” she finishes as the device comes to a stop at the hotel’s grand entrance. “Unless there’s a big storm, you can’t even feel the island shift.”

That gets a chuckle out of me. “You can’t.”

“You can?” She looks at me in surprise as we dismount, but it fades after a few seconds, and she nods. “Right. If your quirk is your voice, then your inner ears are probably specialized as well. You must have amazing balance!”

“Balance, yes,” I say as she leads the way inside. “Hand-eye coordination, no.”

She gives me a curious look, but lets it slide in favor of getting a room key from the front desk and waits until we’re in the elevator before saying cautiously, “Undercompensation of the optic nerve?”

“Uh…”

Melissa laughs as the door opens. “I mean that your inner ear is so specialized that your brain prioritizes it for as much special calculation as it can, and only listens to your eyes for things your ears can’t tell you.”

That makes entirely too much sense, and I tell her so.

“I want to be a great scientist and inventor, like Papa,” she said proudly while we walk down the hall. “You can’t invent things to help heroes without understanding how their quirks work, and how they effect the rest of the body. Did you tell Papa about your quirk? Will you tell me? I don’t know that anything I can come up with will be better than what he develops, but sometimes having a different perspective helps create a more comprehensive solution.”

She takes my wrist and wraps a plastic-like metallic strip around it, then holds it to a panel on the door of the room we’ve stopped in front of. The door opens by retracting into the side with a whoosh, and she practically bounces inside. It’s a sort of living room/dining room/kitchenette area with three doors – bedroom, bedroom, and guest bathroom would be my guesses. I drop the bags on an ottoman and the chair it’s in front of.

“Two solutions are better than none,” I agree, examining the band. “Uh…how does this work?”

“Sensor in the band,” she answers casually, turning my wrist to show me the digital watch face that disguises it as fashion instead of function. “It’s waterproof and impact-resistant, and if you press here-” she touches a button-like dot, and the display changes to a countdown “-it will show you how long until you have to check out.”

I wonder how it will deal with Toshi’s fluctuating body mass.

“So, will you tell me about your quirk?”

“Of course! I may not have all the fancy scientific words you do…”

“That’s fine! Oh! I should take you to my lab at the Academy,” she says, face lighting up. “I can take some measurements, and maybe show you a few things.”

She reminds me of the support course students, and it makes me smile. “I’d love to see it. I just have to come back here in time to get ready for the party.”

Melissa suggests a timeframe, I set alarms on my phone, and then we’re riding the elevator down and mounting the wheel-pole thing again. This time, while we zip along, she explains how the left-hand platform uses weight-balancing technology to control the contraption’s speed and direction, much like a Segway. Her lab, when we get there, is cutting-edge in both content and aesthetic, with little touches of personality here and there. Notably, several trophies on top of a bookshelf and a handful of framed photos on a shelf beneath them. When I comment on the trophies, Melissa tells me shyly that she had to work extra-hard to get them because she wasn’t getting good grades, and that just wasn’t going to work when her dream was to be a great hero. Not a pro hero, she clarifies, but a hero to pro heroes.

“Even Uncle Might needs help,” she says with a defiant sort of pride. “Papa designed the material his costumes are made of because he would end every fight with his clothes ruined. It doesn’t matter that I don’t have a quirk; I can still be a hero without one by supporting those who do.”

“If you can design something to help me,” I tell her fervently, “you will absolutely be my hero.”

That reminds us both of why we’re here. “Your quirk! Tell me about it?”

While she makes notes, I give her a slightly-edited account of my childhood. How strong my quirk was at birth, leading to the three highly-illegal surgeries to paralyze my vocal cords and the tracheotomy that kept me from choking. How the nurse that abducted me before the fourth one did so because by that time, I’d learned how to talk just with my quirk – the ‘tinyvoice’ I then used for the rest of my childhood, until I had enough control to talk the normal way. After some careful demonstrations, she declares that I can vibrate my vocal cords without airflow, like a cat, something I prove by humming smoothly while breathing and holding my breath. We get into technical details after that – how the addition of airflow is like adding oxygen to acetylene and amplifies what my quirk is capable of. The range of frequencies I can hear that are above and below human standard. The range of frequencies I can produce that go so much further than most people even suspect, and how what I produce with my quirk doesn’t necessarily match what can be heard. She looks solemn as I explain my two main coping techniques: shunting the quirk output into a range that can’t be heard and probably won’t break anything in the area, and just using it for volume to compensate for talking very, very quietly.

When I’m done explaining that, she is very quiet for a long minute, looking down at her notebook and the notes she’s written.

“If you didn’t try to control it,” she says slowly, not looking up, “what would happen when you talked?”

I could go into all kinds of details, but instead I give her a taste of what has happened in the past. “Someone with a laughter-inducing quirk once used it on me without warning. I cracked the glass in a giant aquarium on the other side of the room. Someone with a quirk-replicating quirk once borrowed mine and within two words he made three people cry out in pain and fried a cell phone.”

There’s another moment of silence before she looks up. “I really appreciate you answering my questions, Mr. Preston. You’re not treating me like a child, and you’re not being patronizing about my not having a quirk.”

She doesn’t have to say that she gets treated like a child a lot; I can hear it in her silence.

“I work in a hero agency,” I say softly, “but I also teach high school English and some of my students are just like you – they want to create wonderful items to help heroes. They’re all brilliant minds, very creative and with big hearts to go with their big dreams. I won’t treat anyone with anything less than the respect they deserve as a human, whether they’re five or ninety-five. As for you being quirkless…” I give her a wry little smile. “I would have swapped places with you in a heartbeat for most of my childhood. I still have days where I’d swap with you in a heartbeat.”

Solemnly, Melissa nods. “So often, people have quirks that are amazing like Uncle Might or mundane like Papa, and we forget that people can have quirks that make it hard for them to live normal lives. I’m glad I met you, Mr. Preston, because you reminded me that not everyone who could use some technological support is a hero.”

That makes me wince a little, given the minor deception I’m here under. “I’m really not that formal,” I tell her jokingly. “Please, call me Mike.”

We move into more frivolous topics after that, as a sort of unspoken solidarity – namely, the aesthetics of my ideal support item. Something that sits on my throat is agreed to be the best bet in terms of locally neutralizing my quirk, and it has the added benefit of hiding the tracheotomy scar I’m still self-conscious about. Either a collar or something that can be disguised as a pendant are the two likely designs, with the goal of being wearable in an array of social situations and seasons. When my alarm goes off, we tear ourselves away from the lab and Melissa leads me back down to where the polecycle is waiting. She gets a text at the same time that I do, but while mine is from Toshi letting me know he’s back at the hotel room and taking the bedroom on the left, hers is from David asking if I’m with her. We both text back, and then she gestures for me to take the driver’s platform on the polecycle with a promise of verbally directing me back to the hotel.

I make a few false starts before I get the hang of it, and then we’re flying down sidewalks and weaving around people and I want to scream with the joy of this effortless motion. Although I keep it to a high hum, locked behind my closed lips, Melissa can see it on my face and she laughs in sympathetic joy. David’s waiting out in front of the hotel, and he smiles as I come to a perfect stop in front of him and climb down.

“I’m glad to see you weren’t bored,” he says, offering me a handshake. “I doubt we’ll get much chance to talk tonight, and tomorrow’s the opening of I-Expo, but after that…”

“I’m here for pleasure as much as my personal issue,” I assure him. “I’m looking forward to all of it.”

He nods. “I’ll leave you to get ready, then. I’ve told Toshi, but there will be a private car to take you to the party.”

“Thank you,” I murmur with a soft smile, because he seems a lot less tense and anxious than he did earlier.

David mounts the polecycle; I head into the hotel.

 

===

 

The I-Expo reception party is in a reception hall on the second floor of the central tower, soaring a magnificent 200 floors and boasting exotic features like an entire indoor plant factory for research purposes. I’ve chosen to go with the ‘classical depiction of an elf’ aesthetic, my hair braided back and studded with jeweled hairpins shaped like deep blue flowers. The suit I’m wearing flips both middle fingers to conventional fashion, being more like a tailcoat with trailing sleeves over leggings and some suede boots, all in gauzy midnight blue that fades into cobalt at the hems and glitters with sequins and tiny rhinestones.

Naturally, I texted Aizawa a selfie and a full-body shot. Just as naturally, he texted back telling me how gorgeous I looked and how much he was looking forward to our post-party video call.

The party is filled with gentlemen in suits, heroes in costume, and ladies in all sorts of dresses. David’s already inside, but Melissa meets us in the lobby and takes us up. Toshi, of course, is in costume and muscle form. She and I break for the refreshments table, where we load up plates for ourselves and the other two, while Toshi is immediately swarmed and barely manages to catch David’s eye and nod to acknowledge the table he’s lurking by. Melissa and I claim the end of the table and set down our plates, nibbling in culinarily delighted silence as we take in the attendees. David makes his way over to the crowd surrounding All Might, and just then the host asks him to come up on stage and say a few words. He looks a bit uncomfortable with this, but that’s what he gets for being the Symbol of Peace.

Almost as soon as he gets in front of the microphone, the giant screen behind him displays a very alarming security warning and loudspeakers start blaring a recorded message from the I-Island security system about an explosive device in the I-Expo area and how the island is now in high alert and everyone should return to their homes or lodgings or be arrested without warning. Melissa looks…offended when the announcement declares that the main buildings will be sealed, and then that gains more than a hint of fear as armed troops enter the reception hall from every entrance. Their leader is some dude with wild auburn hair and a mask that looks like it was made of scrap metal and just thrown together. I can’t tell if he’s a professional villain or just an overly-dramatic thug.

Metalface declares that they’ve taken over the security system, and proves it by having the display screens show video from several sources of automated security bots and scared civilians, with a threat that if we fight back, the civilians will suffer. Everyone on the island is a hostage, he declares, and so are we.

Then he raises his hand to his ear. I can hear a com frequency open, and he says “Do it.”

Little holes iris open in the floor, and some sort of security device shoots out of each one to entangle one of the pros in the room with a glowing blue ribbon-like thing. Whatever it is, it’s strong enough to keep the heroes bound tightly. Toshi starts to flex with intent to break the one around him, but Metalface tells him to knock it off and aims a gun at the crowd. Toshi curses quietly and allows himself to get kicked over while Metalface warns everyone to obey quietly.

As much as he wants to fight, he also won’t risk hurting anyone – particularly David.

Melissa’s practically vibrating with rage beside me, but we sit obediently on the floor along with the rest of the guests. Carefully, carefully, I hum in a range humans can’t hear, going up and down the frequencies to identify which one will fry the communication devices of the armed thugs – and ideally, ones that will deactivate the security devices and possibly break the firearms the thugs are holding.

Before I can find what I’m looking for, Metalface orders two of his goons to take Dave’s assistant, Sam. Dave objects to this, naturally, but only succeeds in getting himself marched out along with his assistant. Metalface patrols the room, clearly trusting his lieutenants to carry out whatever they need their prisoners for.

I find a frequency that resonates with the glowing mechanical ribbons.

Faking a yawn, I open my mouth wide and let the slightest bit of air flow through my vocal cords, causing Metalface to curse as the communicator in his ear sparks and dies. Before he can react, I shift frequencies and all the capture devices flicker out and go limp.

All Might reacts before anyone else, zipping around the room and gathering up all the guns before crushing them in his hands. The other heroes leap up, full of fire and fury, and in moments all the thugs are detained and unconscious with Metalface cursing in what sounds like at least three different languages as he darts for one of the side doors, and when it closes, there’s a painful-sounding crunch that follows.

“Hey!” Toshi bellows indignantly. “Villain! You won’t get away that easily!” He runs to the door and metal screeches as he rips it open, but then he pauses. “Heroes! Protect these people and try to regain control of the security system! Mic, I’m counting on you to keep Melissa safe.”

And then he’s gone, chasing after Metalface.

“The security system is controlled from the top floor,” Melissa says, standing up. “Papa helped design it; that’s probably why they took him. But that means I know how to reset it, if I can get up there.”

There’s a shout from one end of the hall that the doors won’t open. Slowly, everyone turns to look at the door that Metalface and All Might left through, but Melissa’s looking up.

Up…at the ceiling very, very far overhead, and the balcony behind the main stage.

I make eye contact with a hero who looks like a heraldic griffin. “Can you get us up there?”

He follows Melissa’s gaze. “Sure, but what good will that do?”

“Whatever they need Papa for,” she answers crisply, “they haven’t had time to do it yet. Assuming they took him to the top floor, he will have just barely gotten there. They may not know what happened here yet. We have a window to act without being detected, and explanations will only waste it.”

The griffin shrugs. “Right. Hold on, then.”

He picks Melissa up in a bridal carry and crouches, launching himself into the air and half-flapping, half-gliding up to the balcony where he perches and sets her carefully on the floor. One of the suited gentlemen sidles up to me.

“You’re going to try to stop them? But you’re…”

“A pro hero, here on vacation.”

He leans back, relaxing slightly. “Oh, okay. But are you sure it’s wise to take the girl? She’s quirkless, you know.”

I give him a cold look. “So?”

“So…” he looks helplessly frustrated.

Griffin lands next to me. “You’re Mike? Let’s go, Melissa said to take the first corridor on the left and catch up with her.”

“Thanks,” I tell him, wrapping my arms around his torso and then my legs around his hips. There’s a lurch, wings thundering in my ears same-but-different as when Hawks has carried me, and then a thump as he lands and I unwind myself from around him.

“I don’t know who you are,” he says, “but All Might trusts you and that’s good enough for me. Good luck, Mike. We’re all counting on you.”

“Thank you,” I tell him again, softer, and then I’m running for the first corridor on the left and being glad that these boots have decent soles.

I catch up to Melissa as she slams into the wall next to a closed elevator door, one hand keeping her head from hitting the wall and the other reaching for a control panel.

“Emergency elevator,” she gasps, winded from her run. “Different system from the main security system in case something takes it down, to make sure anyone trapped in the higher levels can get down – or get someone up fix things.” The panel beeps as she enters what apparently is the correct code, and there’s a hum from behind the doors. Seconds later, they open, and she keys in another sequence almost before we’re both inside. The elevator takes her code and then we’re rising much faster than a normal elevator. “Uncle Might said he was counting on you to keep me safe,” she says evenly despite still catching her breath. “That means he not only trusts you a lot, but that he has faith in your ability to protect someone in a fight.”

“That is correct,” I say warily, but she only nods.

“I’ll leave it to you, then. Cover me while I get the security system rebooted.”

The elevator door opens and Melissa darts out. I follow easily, humming just to feel the vibrations echoing off of the corridors, trying to get even a breath of warning if we’re about to slam into someone. Our footsteps attract other footsteps, and Melissa throws herself flat against a wall so that she’s behind me as I skid to a stop and scream at the two armed thugs that turn a corner right in front of us, bursting their eardrums and then keeping up a lesser, more harmless scream to shield Melissa and cancel out the sound waves echoing back. Two more sets of footsteps approach at a booted run, and I move to shield her with my body as they get closer. This time, it’s the two that we last saw ‘escorting’ David and Sam out of the reception hall, and as they charge towards us the little one shrugs and ripples and starts to grow-

I keep my lips pursed, aiming my quirk tightly as I scream, pouring on the power until it hits the big one like a semi truck and knocks him over onto the tall, skinny one with weird hands. They twitch and moan, but they’re unconscious and we dart past them, me following Melissa once again. The fifth goon, we startle as we approach a huge, round door like a safe vault. He lunges at us in surprise, forearms turning to thick metal blades, and my voice hits him like a comically oversized mallet. I reach out and slam his head against the wall as we run past, then speed up to pass Melissa and leap into the vault, looking quickly around to take stock of the situation.

This definitely looks like the control center; there’s a huge bank of monitors and screens, with what looks like half a dozen workstations on the console in front of them, and Sam standing at one of them. The walls of the circular room are some kind of high-tech security vaults containing who-knows-what. Another goon, quirk unknown, stands over David’s kneeling form with a gun trained on his head. Melissa screams just as that sinks in, and he turns to us, firing a shot that goes wild.

With a shout of “I’ll leave it to you!” Melissa’s footsteps clatter off down the hall.

The goon and I eye each other warily. The sound that leaves my mouth seems to be just a warming-up noise, but there’s inaudible strength behind it in a frequency that makes it very difficult to concentrate because it’s interfering with nerve impulses. The goon fires at me again, wide enough that I don’t even have to dodge, and then motion from the side distracts me as Sam runs for the circular vault door, a metal briefcase clutched in his arms. David shouts inarticulately, surging to his feet to wrest the gun from the goon and slam his head against the wall before nearly falling over in an attempt to take off after his assistant with shaky legs.

“You okay?” I ask as I catch and hold him up.

He shakes his head. “Just a little dizzy. Melissa…”

“She said she could reboot the security system,” I say, not sure what exactly he’s asking.

“The control center is down the hall.” He straightens, secure in his balance again. “I’m not going to ask why she’s with you or why you’re here. We both have explaining to do after this.”

I can see where she got her pragmatism. “Agreed. What about Sam?”

David hurries to the vault door. “Melissa first,” he says darkly. “If she can get the security system rebooted, Sam might be a moot point.”

Well, that’s not encouraging. David jogs down the hall and I follow, humming cautiously, but there’s no one else in the corridors. He slides to a stop in font of another door, where a different arrangement of consoles and screens  is spread out in front of a single chair. As we watch, all the little red segments flicker out and light up green, and Melissa’s voice sighs “Got it!”

“Melissa!”

“Papa?” The chair spins around and she launches herself into hugging her father tightly. “Papa, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he assures her. “Are you…?”

“Mike kept me safe.”

“Thank goodness,” David sighs.

“The attackers’ leader is still at loose,” I point out. “All Might went after him. Can either of you use the security system to see where they are?”

They break apart to lean over the consoles and stare at the screens, which now show a trail of faulty door and security partitions that stop at an elevator shaft. The elevator car is still moving, and my phone buzzes against my thigh.

“He’s in an elevator,” Toshi says when I answer it. “Where are you?”

“In the security system’s control room. Melissa and David are safe. Get into another elevator and hit the top floor-”

“No good,” David interrupts. “Not every elevator goes to this floor. W- it’s stopped.”

“On the roof!” Melissa shouts. Her fingers fly over the console and one screen displays video footage of a helicopter with a decidedly military look to it landing on the central helicopter pad.

“Elevator’s going to be your fastest way up,” I tell Toshi. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Watch out – his quirk lets him manipulate metal. Ganbatte, Mic.”

“Arigato,” I shoot back, and shove my phone into my pocket. “How do I get to the roof?”

Instead of answering, David lunges for the door with a shout of “Stay here!” over his shoulder for his daughter. Melissa nods, and the control center’s door slides shut once her father is outside with me. He runs down the hall and I pace him, taking the stairs two at a time once we’re in the stairwell, and I emerge onto the roof in time to watch Metalface take the briefcase from Sam and then shoot him in the gut. Metalface winces and sways at my shout of “HEY!” but the pilot’s ears are protected, and briefcase and villain both wind up inside the helicopter as it lifts off.

“No,” David gasps from behind me. “Sam! My research – Mike, where’s the briefcase?”

“On the helicopter,” I call back, already running towards Sam’s bleeding body.

“No! Mike, that briefcase holds my prototype quirk-enhancing device!”

Well, shit. And the pilot’s going for distance, not height, so when Toshi rockets out of the elevator just as I crouch by Sam’s body to see that he’s still breathing, they’re already a significant distance away.

“Stop them!” David shouts to his friend, running up to press both hands against Sam’s wound.

Toshi runs and leaps into the air, but a few seconds later he lands next to us again. “They’re already past the island’s wall.”

David slumps in defeat. “Then it’s all for nothing. They have my prototype device, and I’ve created the next All For One.”

A wild thrill of excitement uncurls in my belly. “Not yet.”

David looks up at me in wary curiosity, while Toshi’s eyes go wide. We’re on top of the tallest structure on I-Island; there’s nothing around us for miles in any direction except for the helicopter. The grin that spreads across my face is probably terrifying and unholy, but I don’t care.

It’s Scream O’clock.

In what feels like slow motion I stand and turn to face the direction the helicopter went, vaguely aware of David standing beside me while Toshi picks up Sam and races for the elevator. Languorously, I fill my lungs, excitement singing through every nerve in my body like the moment before orgasm. I’m going to need a lot of power to short out the helicopter’s electrical system at this distance.

I’m going to need a lot of volume.

“I can’t even see it,” David whispers in despair.

I open my mouth and scream.

It feels good to let loose. To push myself to the limit instead of holding myself back, to sprint instead of tiptoe. In the distance, I can feel the helicopter as the shockwave of my scream swats it out of the air like the fist of an angry god, and a tiny explosion out over the inky ocean would be the fuel tanks exploding.

Through the exultation flooding my ears, I can hear David say, quietly but with great emphasis, “Holy shit.”

 

===

 

“You two should return to the party,” David says as Melissa exits the control center. “I need to check on Sam.”

Solemnly, she nods. I guess she saw him get shot.

“We’ll need to talk, afterwards,” he continues, looking uncomfortable. “The three of us and All Might. Mike…”

I can guess what he doesn’t want to say; the fact that what was stolen was the prototype he wanted to give Toshi does kind of imply that this was partially an inside job. Well, that and Sam booking it with the case.

“Sam may have been working with them,” I start, keeping my eyes locked on his, “but from what I saw, you absolutely were not.”

Relief flashes briefly in his eyes, and David nods. “I’ll meet you at the party when I can. Hopefully with All Might.”

Melissa and I make our way back to the main elevator, passing a security detail with restraints in hand. They nod to Melissa as they pass.

“I called them up for the thugs you knocked out,” she says once we’re in the elevator. There’s a pause. “You’re a pro hero, aren’t you?”

The elevator begins its descent, and I nod. “But I didn’t come here as a pro hero. I’m not looking for something to help me at my job.”

“You’re looking for something to help you in your personal life,” she says solemnly. “So you came here as a private citizen. You didn’t try to leverage your professional influence.” Her eyes widen, and she turns to look up at me in astonishment. “You don’t want anyone to know. That your voice…”

“I take my privacy just as seriously as All Might does,” I tell her as the elevator comes to a stop. “You used a sonic device to knock out those thugs. I’m just Mike, a friend of All Might.”

She gives me a mischievous grin. “I guess you do count as a sonic device. Okay, let’s go let everyone know the party’s back on!”

Melissa leads the way back into the hall, posing dramatically in the doorway and striding imperiously through to the cheers and applause of the guests. I follow along like the nobody I’m pretending to be, letting her answer questions and give reassurances. Apparently, she sent a recovery crew out to find the wreckage of the helicopter as well as summoning security to round up the rabble. When asked what took out the helicopter, she simply says she couldn’t see but assumes it was All Might, and everyone nods at that, relaxing because of course it was All Might. What else would it have been?

The party resumes cautiously, everyone engaging in small talk as we wait for David and All Might to return and confirm that everything has been taken care of. I take the opportunity to sample all the delicious foods available for nibbling and send a picture of my filled plate to Aizawa. He texts back a plate of leftover takeout, and I send him a row of sparkly hearts in return.

All Might and David return a few minutes later, with Toshi announcing that everything is taken care of and David expressing gratitude for his swift action in preventing the theft of dangerous equipment. Sam has gone into surgery, so unfortunately answers will have to wait, but it seems like no one else was hurt – aside from the attackers, of course. Melissa gets praised for her quick thinking and in-depth knowledge of the security system, and while the griffin-looking hero shoots me an intense look, everyone else seems to have forgotten about my involvement.

Just the way I want it.

The speeches are resumed; the alcohol flows; the tasty tidbits are refreshed and desserts added. I spend the next hour happily making inconsequential chitchat with various suited men, ladies in stunning dresses, and heroes in costume. Mostly, they want to know how I know All Might, and the story that I was able to point him to good pizza goes over well every time and satisfies most curiosities.

The griffin sidles up to me during a quiet moment and introduces himself. “I heard you short out the security devices,” he says in a low voice. “That took a lot of skill.”

“I was hoping no one would notice,” I tell him dryly. “I’m not here as anything but a private citizen.”

“I wish I had that luxury,” he returns, just as dryly. “Who have you flown with?”

Well, there’s no point hiding it. “Hawks, the number three hero in Japan.”

Griffin lets out a low whistle that’s distinctly avian. “Flashy friends. If I go looking at the JP billboards, will I find you?”

I pop a tiny cake into my mouth, chew, and swallow. “Maybe. But you’ll probably have second or third thoughts when you think you’ve found me. I’ll give you this: if you come to Japan and find my agency, I won’t pretend to not recognize you.”

He laughs softly, sounding almost like a parrot imitating a laugh. “Fair enough, Mike. If I’m ever in Japan, I’ll be sure to look you up. Think you can introduce me to Hawks?”

“As long as you keep my cover, absolutely. Also, I give fantastic pinfeather preening.”

His eyes light up. “Really. Do you want to maybe get together later? Tomorrow, or maybe the day after? I promise I’m not a creep, it’s just…well, you know.”

“I know,” I assure him, “and I’d love to.”

We exchange phone numbers, and he excuses himself to go congratulate Melissa – and claim his portion of fame for being the vehicle for her dramatic act of fearless heroism.

“Toshi’s about ready to go,” David says from beside me, having slipped up while I watched my new friend leave. “The car’s waiting outside. I’ll collect Melissa, and I thought we could talk in the hotel suite.”

I nod. “I’ll meet you in the car, then.”

The desserts are too tasty to pass up. Luckily, the staff have fancy take-home boxes and I load up two - one with sweets and one with hors d’oeuvres – before slipping out of the hall.

 

===

 

Toshi looks worn out on the drive to the hotel, but he doesn’t relax out of muscle form. No one really says much, and the silence is heavy with the weight of the conversation we all know is coming. He perks up, or at least pretends to, as we exit the car and enter the hotel lobby, where the clerk behind the front desk calls out in excitement.

“All Might! I saw it on the news – how did you stop the helicopter?”

Toshi claps me on the shoulder. “In honor of my friend here, Tokyo Smash!”

The clerk laughs appreciatively, and we make it to the suite with no further interruptions.

David sits on the couch, next to his slightly-subdued daughter, while Toshi sinks into the comfortable chair I’d left his bag on and I slip my boxes into the fridge. I steal the ottoman and perch on it, arms wrapped around my knees, feeling like I’m somehow holding up the whole proceeding.

“We all have things we haven’t been telling each other,” David begins grimly.

Melissa shrinks into herself, eyes on the floor. “I read your documentation of the security system without asking. It was wrong, even if it was useful tonight. That was secure information I had no business looking at.”

David sighs. “Correct on all counts. I should be angry, but that security breach saved countless lives.”

Toshi deflates slowly, looking very defeated as he loses muscle mass, and Melissa’s expression of alarm and concern strikes him like a slap across the face. “I didn’t want to worry you,” he says quietly. “Either of you. But pretending that nothing is wrong only worried you more, Dave, and I’m sorry. Mic was right; I should have told you long before this. Melissa, I’m sorry. I wanted to keep being Uncle Might in your eyes, the man strong enough to fix anything.”

“You’re still my Uncle Might,” she says, eyes filling with tears. “No matter what happens, you’ll always be that man in my eyes.”

That makes him tear up. “Thank you.”

I take a deep breath and let go of my knees. “I did live in San Francisco from the ages of five to fifteen under the name of Michael Preston. I did meet Toshi while he was looking for some good, American style pizza, and I do work in a hero agency in Tokyo.” I give David and Melissa a sheepish smile. “It’s my agency. I’m pro hero Present Mic.” Carefully, I slip into what I think of as Stage English – the accent I use on the radio and in public. “Okay listeners, put your hands up! Everybody say HEYYY!”

Melissa covers her mouth with both hands, squeaking in surprise, while David blinks at the dramatic shift in my voice.

“I keep Michael Preston on my agency staff so I can go shopping without having to get dressed up every time I leave my apartment, and I teach English at UA. Nothing I told you was a lie,” I say apologetically, my voice soft and high again, “it just wasn’t the complete truth.”

David shakes his head incredulously. “Mike. Mic. I can’t believe it was right there. That’s…”

“That’s very clever,” Melissa says, giving me a tentative smile.

Toshi groans. “Don’t encourage him,” he says dryly. “He’s far too smug about his misdirection.”

Melissa giggles, but David looks grim.

“My turn,” he says darkly. “Tonight’s attack was partially my fault. I created a prototype device that would mechanically augment a quirk, hoping to help All Might stay the Symbol of Peace even though his power levels were dropping, but the research was confiscated. I let Sam talk me into a plan where fake villains would attack and ‘steal’ it, so that I could give it to you,” he says, looking at Toshi with anguished eyes. “But then you told me what was going on. I told Sam to call it off, but I guess he either lied to me or was lied to, because the fake villains were real and he stole the device and took a bullet to the gut as payment for handing it over.”

Melissa gasps. “Papa…”

“Dave…” Toshi shakes his head. “This is all my fault. If I’d told you from the beginning…”

“I can’t say that would have stopped me,” David says with a stubborn look on his face. “I’m just grateful that between you and Mic, and of course my daughter’s quick thinking, no one else got hurt for my mistake.”

That snaps Toshi out of his dejected funk. “Wait. Melissa? What did you do?”

“She commandeered a ride up to the mezzanine and took the emergency elevator up to the top floor so she could reset the security system,” I fill in when she only blushes and squeaks. “I took out the thugs, but it wouldn’t have done any good without her knowledge of the security system.”

“You disabled the detainment devices,” she points out firmly. “None of us could have done anything without that, not even Uncle Might.”

“You were all amazing,” David says with a faint smile that fades quickly. “The only one who wasn’t, was me.”

Toshi shakes his head. “You wanted to help me. It’s not your fault that someone took advantage of that.”

“Well, regardless, it looks like I need a new assistant. Even if Sam pulls through,” David says grimly, “I can’t trust him.”

“Papa…”

“You’re going to need one, too,” he says with a faint smile. “Once you graduate and become my research partner, that is.”

Melissa gasps again, both hands once more over her mouth.

“And before then…I hope you’ll lend your ideas to my efforts at designing something for Michael Preston.” David shoots me a wry little smile at the emphasis. “I think I can reverse my quirk-enhancing research, but it will be slow going recreating it from my notes. All the documentation was in the case with the prototype.”

“I’ll help you, Papa,” Melissa says, full of determination. “I took some measurements before the party, and we can take more later…”

“Speaking of late,” Toshi interrupts gently, and the other two shake themselves.

David smiles at him. “Yes, of course. It was a very eventful day, and we all need some rest before the opening of I-Expo tomorrow. I’ll give you a call in the morning.”

He and Melissa make their goodbyes with a side of nice-to-meet-yous, and after another round of promising to get in touch in the morning they leave the suite.

Toshi and I look at each other for a long moment before he sighs and says, “Tell me honestly, how bad was it?”

“Not too bad,” I answer, half-perching on the arm of the couch. “One had a transformation quirk. Probably could have been messy if he’d been able to transform. Didn’t get a chance to see what his partner could do. Second pair, no idea. Fifth one had some kind of blades-for-arms quirk. David knocked the last one into a wall. Melissa kept her head and stayed behind me. She’s got very good instincts.”

“Yeah.” Toshi looks grim and sighs. “Mic…did I make the right choice? Choosing young Midoriya,” he clarifies.

As opposed to Mirio, or Melissa, or someone else entirely.

“Melissa isn’t pro hero material, despite her good instincts,” I tell him quietly. “She doesn’t want to be on the front lines, she wants to support those who are. The only reason she felt able to charge in was because you trusted her safety to me – and that meant I was someone she could trust.”

“But Mirio…”

“Has his own quirk. Could he have been the next Symbol if you’d passed One For All to him? Maybe. But he has a good shot of being the next Symbol all on his own anyway. In choosing Midoriya, you created a new future hero that otherwise would not have existed. Was it the right choice? Impossible to say, and only time will tell. But you changed a life, and by doing that, you set off a chain reaction. Every life Midoriya saves is your legacy. Everyone helped by Midoriya was helped because of the choice you made. Everyone those people go on to help, and everyone those people go on to help, all of that is because you saw a boy rush into danger and thought him worthy. There’s nothing to regret there, Toshi. It’s normal to have doubts. I have doubts. All we can do is remember the ripples our actions cause and take comfort in knowing we did the best we could at the time.”

He gives me a fragile smile at that. “How are you so good at this?”

“Practice,” I answer brightly.

That makes him laugh. “Well, thank you. And not just for this – thank you for helping me come clean with Dave. His friendship means a lot to me, and not being honest with him was a mistake.”

I grin at him. “Had a good conversation with him after I left, hmmm?” The blush that stains his cheeks tells me everything I need to know, and I don’t make him answer. “I’m glad. I’m also going to go call Aizawa and have a good conversation with him.”

“You’re a horrible person,” Toshi says insincerely, making me grin wider.

“We weren’t even testing for that,” I chirp, and with a wheezy laugh I slide off the arm of the couch and saunter into the room I’ve claimed, closing the door on Toshi’s quiet chuckle.

 

===

 

Aizawa picks up on the first ring, looking tired but not exhausted, his hair pulled back loosely, the living room showing behind him. I smile at him and he smiles back, expression softening into a faint curve of the lips that only I get to see.

“Show me the room,” he demands teasingly, and I flip the phone’s camera to pan around the hotel room, peer into the bathroom, show off the closet, and flip it back around to discover that he’s now lounging in my – our – bed. “Looks nice. You look nicer.”

“This little thing?” I joke, flopping back onto the hotel bed. “My little Lord of the Rings getup?”

His smile widens a fraction. “My classical depiction of an elf. You’re gorgeous, Hizashi.”

Now I’m blushing, and I know I am because he looks quietly delighted by my reaction. “You would have hated the party,” I say, changing the subject. “Too many people, not enough dark corners.”

“Tell me anyway,” he says, drinking in the sight of me.

I can’t blame him; we haven’t even been apart for a full day and it feels like it’s been a week. I’m so weak for this man.

“Well, first, everyone’s okay.”

Aizawa’s relaxed expression vanishes, replaced with the intense look of a hunting panther. “Something happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m getting there! I’m fine, Taachan, you know I’d tell you if I wasn’t.”

Reluctantly, he relaxes. “Tell me everything.”

“I’m gonna get comfortable first,” I say, propping the phone up so he can see me take the jeweled pins out of my hair and pull off my tunic-shirt. Now topless, I sprawl on the bed and smile as his attention drifts between my face and my chest. “So David Shield has a teenage daughter named Melissa, about ready to graduate, and she showed us into the hall where the party was. Toshi got mobbed, of course…”

“Of course,” Aizawa murmurs, equal parts warmly amused and dryly annoyed.

“…so I hit the food…”

“Of course.” This time, it’s all warm amusement.

“So they ask Toshi to make a speech, because All Might, and that’s when the villains attacked.”

One hand comes up to cover Aizawa’s face, and a muffled groan escapes from behind it. “Of course.”

It takes longer to tell the story of the attack than it did for the events to actually unfold, and while he still looks disgruntled at everything, there’s also a fond quirk to his lips when I tell him that I got to scream. The fondness is joined by tolerant resignation when I tell him that I made a friend, but the possibility of me actually getting a support item that will let me talk, or laugh, or sing without having to worry about hurting anyone or anything…well, I’m not the only one hoping that the Shields can come up with something.

We’re both yawning by the time I finish telling Aizawa everything that happened during the day, and with many sleepy, fond smiles I wish him luck in packing for 1-A’s summer training camp and he gruffly demands that I tell him all about I-Expo when I call tomorrow night.

It still takes us another five minutes to actually hang up after agreeing that we should hang up, and reluctantly I drag myself out of bed to brush my teeth and change into pajamas. As excited as I am by I-Expo and everything else this trip promises, I still wish that I were cuddling my unofficial husband instead of a gathered mass of blankets and pillows when I crawl back into bed.

 

===

Epilogue

===

Although Aizawa can’t read my texts immediately at the training camp, the way he does when he’s not out in the forest kilometers away from anything remotely civilized, he does read them when he can, and sends back terse snippets of his day – which students are getting up to what, sometimes pictures, emojis that express things he has a hard time using words for. Tonight, just before we go to dinner with David and Melissa, he informs me with a hint of malicious glee that the five students who failed their practical exams are going to be in extra lessons tonight instead of the fun group activity they have planned. I text back that I’m looking forward to hearing all about it, check time zones, and make a mental note for when I can reasonably expect an update.

Dinner is delicious, and then there’s an outdoor concert showing off various quirks and support items, and some fireworks, and it’s something like two hours later before I remember to check my texts because I want to gush about how vibrant the concert was and how good it felt in my ears, but there’s only one text from my Husband ™. It’s terse code phrases, clusters of characters rather than whole words, and my blood runs cold as I decrypt them.

I’m fine. No casualties. Minimal injuries. Will call as soon as I can. And then he’s added the angry cat face, which indicates that not only is he angry, but he’s furious in the way that only threatening his students can make him.

Something happened.

“We have to leave,” I blurt out in a numb voice, confusing the Shields and getting a dismayed sound of alarm from Toshi.

“Mic…what happened?”

“I don’t know. Something happened at the training camp. Minimal injuries, no casualties, and Aizawa is pissed.”

Toshi looks at me with a grim expression. “You think it’s…”

“I think we have to assume that it is,” I reply, every bit as grim.

“Dave, I’m sorry, but we have to leave. How soon can we get a flight back to Japan?”

The confusion and wordless protest on David’s face fades into a hard, sad look. He knows that once Toshi gets a hint of All Might being needed, he’ll throw himself into the fires of hell to get there and nothing anyone says or does will so much as slow him down.

“Let me make some calls,” he says quietly. “You and Mic go back to your rooms and get your things packed up, but don’t fall asleep. I’ll be in touch as soon as I can.”

The radio silence eats at me as we go back to the hotel. I text Aizawa the mouth-zipped-shut face that means I’ve gotten his message and will wait for his next communication, but also the airplane to indicate that we’ll be on our way back as soon as possible, and the floppy disk to convey my plea that he keep himself safe. Half of my attention is on my phone as I pack my things, but by the time Dave calls to say he’s arranged a flight for us and that he and Melissa will be by to take us to the airport, the message still hasn’t been read.

The drive is mostly silent, me and Melissa in the back while Toshi folds himself into the front. He exchanges a few quiet words with David about their reunion being cut short, and some vague promises for one or the other of them to visit sometime, either on I-Island or in Tokyo. When we arrive, David handles all the arrangements while Toshi stands around in muscle form trying not to look as grim as I do, hovering in his shadow. Melissa shoves a box at him – hastily wrapped in brightly-colored paper – with a brief comment that it’s a gift from both her and her father, and then we’re boarding the little private plane and buckling in with barely enough time to tuck our bags away before we’re taxiing down the runway, the plane hurling itself into the air and I-Island disappearing behind us.

Aizawa still hasn’t read my text.

Once the plane has leveled out, Toshi pulls out the box Melissa gave him and tears the paper off. It’s just a shoebox jammed with plain white tissue paper, but he pushes it aside to reveal some sort of red gauntlet shape with spindly finger-looking things merged awkwardly into the design. While he turns it carefully over in his hands, I pull the folded sheet of paper out of the box and read it out loud for him.

It’s a note, either from Melissa or from David – the neat handwriting gives me no clues there – explaining that the base item was Melissa’s design, a gauntlet that can offer support for a limited number of full-power punches. Added to it are the salvaged remains of David’s prototype, the device meant to enhance the wearer’s quirk. Together, the hope is that it can be an ace up All Might’s sleeve in the event that “a villain like All For One” appears. Then there’s some sketched explanation for how Toshi can actually get the thing onto his arm.

Solemnly, we exchange a long look before he tucks it back in the box. “Let’s hope I don’t have to use this,” he says, but neither of us really believe we’ll be that lucky.

USJ was a terrifyingly well-planned attack that was only barely foiled, and I still have the occasional nightmare of seeing Aizawa’s body substituted for Oboro’s. For there to have been an event at the training camp that was kept so top-secret that I don’t even know where it is past ‘in the forest’…well…I have no doubt that Toshi will be putting his new toy to use sooner than we would really like, and I keep staring at my phone as if I could will Aizawa to call.

It’s going to be a long flight, but no matter how fast I wish we could get back to Japan, I get the feeling I’m not going to like what we’ve landed in the middle of when we arrive.