Deku bent at the knees. One for All flared, warmed his muscles, and crackled across his skin. He jumped.
At high speeds, air resistance pushed back with force. Wind whipped sharp against his skin. His shirt flapped madly around his torso. His hair streamed back from his forehead, pulse rising with the rush of energy. Then gravity reached him, and his ascent slowed until, for a solid second, Deku hovered level with the skyscrapers of Roppongi hills.
During rush hour on a Tuesday morning, the streets bustled with commuters, and more than one stopped dead in their tracks to crane their necks to the sky. They were supposed to look. It hadn’t been long since he’d been another person gawking from the crowd at the untouchable Symbol of Peace and everything he wanted to be. Deku had come to understand peace as something created from both a physical state of order and people’s trust that things were stable and they were safe. If society needed something to believe in, he’d sign up to have his picture on cereal boxes. He talked to people on the street; took on would-be villains in front of cell phone cameras; went on variety shows where the host coerced him into eating hot peppers; and threw himself into the sky where anyone could see. For the Number One Hero, being seen was half the job.
He hung for only a second. Midair, Deku spun; his trajectory changed with a roundhouse kick. Energy welled in his arm and burst into black tendrils. Latching onto a high rise, he yanked himself forward, hit the roof at a sprint, and within three steps, jumped again. Adrenaline pushed him – faster.
Five years ago, one jump had shattered the bones in his legs. The wind alone would have blinded him, and Blackwhip could have ripped off his arms. Faster – his nerves itched for velocity. He could go so much faster. One for All had restructured his body; muscles, skin, ligaments, nails, and bones strengthened into channels for raw power. Deku often marveled at the idea that All Might had chosen him to inherit his Quirk; the sheer improbability of him leading this life—
Other times, he wondered how many people wouldn’t have died if All Might picked someone better.
He held himself at forty percent. Damaging the infrastructure would do no good for anyone. Also, Deku needed his clothes. His costume, currently in the locker room at his agency, was designed to withstand extreme forces. As for an ordinary t-shirt and shorts – showing up half-naked never made a good impression.
With the route to Uraraka’s agency fresh on his mind, Deku didn’t need to pause for directions. Jump, soar, land, leap again. He threw himself forward, fully absorbed in the rhythm of motion. From one leap to the next, the tweaks and variations to his course, the gusts of wind cutting under his shirt— It wasn’t quite flying, but when a single jump sent him over a city district, it was close enough.
He cut his speed passing through Yokohama. School grounds he’d passed yesterday clued him into his location, and from there, he spotted the shopping district and its familiar row of ginkgos. The Gunhead Agency officed in a six-story building along the main road. Once Deku had it picked out, a calculated jump placed him soundly on the roof.
One for All tapered away. Deku pulled out his phone, swiped aside ‘notifications disabled while driving,’ and let Uraraka know he was here. She didn’t read or reply, understandably, since it was still a few minutes before nine. He pulled up a conversation with Tsuyu instead.
Yeah, I’ve talked to Ochaco about looking for another
job, but I don’t think she’s taking it seriously. She
complains sometimes about being bored and wanting
to do something more meaningful. You should talk
to her if you have something in mind
I haven’t thought of anything yet, but I’ll try to. She
can’t keep this up pregnant
message undelivered
Deku sighed, leaning back against the guardrail. “I bet it’s cloudy where she is.” Tapping resend wasn’t getting him anywhere; Tsuyu had unreliable reception out in the ocean. It could be hours or days until she replied.s
He would have to think this through on his own. He couldn’t exactly call someone else up for advice – not without Uraraka’s permission. Forget saying anything about the baby. If he said they were dating, when word got out that she was pregnant, everyone would think Deku was the father by default. Which would be fine with him if she wanted to go with it, but they hadn’t talked about anything. And him being the Number One Hero, baby rumors would make the news.
Talking to Tsuyu had been helpful, regardless. Good to know occupational risk was something Uraraka wasn’t taking seriously, as uneasy as it made him. He wouldn’t jump to conclusions about her judgment. Any number of things could be influencing her decision to keep working, and he wouldn’t know until he talked to her. Exactly how he was going to talk to her…
Deku scanned back through their messages. Yesterday, at 7:30 on the dot, he had received the initial wall of text and typos. He could only imagine what was going through Uraraka’s head when she sent it. His shock had worn off, replaced with a dull ache that settled on his chest. Ache, and relief that she had told him. If she let him, he could help her.
The creak of a door drew Deku’s attention to the rooftop entrance.
He automatically expected Uraraka, despite being early and her having not read his messages. Instead, he met the stare of a man with long hair and a rustic-themed costume, recognizable from Gunhead’s sidekick roster.
“Hey, you’re Deku!” The sidekick pointed, his mouth left open in surprise. “Don’t tell me. You’re here to see Uravity again.”
“Ah, yes. I am. Did she mention I was coming?” Deku corrected his posture, slipping his phone back in his pocket.
“Lucky guess. I had a feeling you’d be back, but I didn’t think first thing in the morning. I saw someone on the camera and came to check it out.” The hand pointed at Deku was redirected to a security camera. “I’m a sidekick for Gunhead, by the way. Hero name is Hatchet.”
Deku should have noticed the camera. “Hatchet, nice to meet you. Sorry to disturb you at work. Uravity said she’d meet me during her break, and I thought there might be a commotion if I waited out on the street.”
“No, you’re fine! Use the roof whenever you want. Or, would you like to come in now?” Hatchet twisted halfway around to gesture inside. “She’s been going through reports, so she should be able to take a break whenever.”
“Actually, she said she’d meet me outside.”
“Up here, you sure? The smokers seem to think the whole roof is their ashtray. Doesn’t smell much right now, but usually by ten o’clock or so…” Hatchet drew in a hiss.
Sparing a glance down, Deku found a cigarette butt close enough to kick. “She didn’t say the roof specifically.”
“Dirty, right? We’re not busy. I could get you some tea.” Hatchet’s eyebrows were halfway up his forehead, and again, he waved inside.
Deku hesitated. Where else would they meet – outside was here or the street, unless there was a back alley? Would Uraraka mind if he went inside? It was an eager invitation. “If that’s alright?”
“Sure! Come on.” Hatchet pushed the door open as far as its hinges allowed. “Our elevator’s slow, I hope you don’t mind. Unless you’d rather take the stairs.”
“Either is fine.” Deku followed inside. Uraraka wouldn’t mind, right? Inside or out wasn’t the type of thing to typically bother her, but he hadn’t come for a typical reason. He fished out his phone again.
Ahead, the elevator doors slid slowly open. “Elevators must be boring if you can jump on our roof, right?” said Hatchet. “After you.”
Deku boarded, typing out a text to Uraraka. “Sorry, I don’t want her to come looking for me on the roof.”
Hatchet bobbed his head and jabbed the button to the second floor. “You’re really close to Uravity, huh?”
“I’d like to think so.”
“So what brings you here two days in a row? Trying to scout her? Offer her five times as much as Gunhead?”
“No, I don’t have plans to hire any sidekicks,” Deku said, then adding quickly, “Not that I wouldn’t want to work with her, but I don’t think she’d want me to hire her. It’d be strange since we’ve been friends for so long.” The prospect of hiring Uraraka was – well, he’d haggled with her over who paid restaurant bills.
“A personal visit then. That’s nice.” The sidekick turned his head. The metal elevator doors made a fuzzy reflection, but clear enough to see the lilted smile on his lips. “I was sure there was a chance. Usually, when we get a rookie that’s pretty good, they’re gone after two years. Some of them make you sweat – get called out to an emergency and feel like you’re bringing a civilian – but the U.A. grads always have it together. Don’t think I’ve ever had to worry about her. Except for—.” Hatchet stopped himself and shook his head. “Nah.”
Deku’s brow tightened. “… except for?”
“Hmm…” Hatchet put a hand on the hip and cocked his head. The elevator crept down. He let his gaze slide towards Deku. “Ah, I probably shouldn’t say this. But, well, Deku. You seem like you know her better than me. Has she always been into assholes?”
“… into what?”
“You know, guys that treat women like trash. See, I happened to run into this guy she was dating. Acted like he was better than the whole world. He practically growled at her, like, ‘don’t make me wait for you,’ and she leaves holding his arm. I asked her about it later, and she defends him. You know how some women are – no concept of what they’re worth. Seem totally reasonable on the outside and hang out with nothing but scumbags.”
Deku opened his mouth and shut it again. He wanted to say that Uraraka wouldn’t hang out with scumbags, but since last night, he’d been wondering. Why? What happened? “When was it?” Deku asked. “About two months ago?”
“No, sometime last year,” said Hatchet. “Two months ago, you said? So did you meet another one?”
“Not quite… I heard about it later, sort of,” Deku said. The bio-father wouldn’t be the same person Hatchet met. “I actually haven’t met anyone she’s dated. She didn’t have any boyfriends in high school. We were too busy training.”
“I see. I bet you would have scared him off.”
“I would have said something at least.”
“I did say something to the guy she was with, and he called me a loser.”
“And you’d never met him before?”
“Never. I told you he was rude. He looked like he had money, though, so maybe he impressed her with fancy dates. Who knows? He’s gone, anyways.” Hatchet shrugged. “But I guarantee there’s a hundred more assholes sniffing around for somebody to take advantage of.”
Deku felt cold. The image of Uraraka with an asshole was surprisingly vivid. He could see her just out to have fun, jumping to be the next up for karaoke. With a few drinks, her face flushed, and she was laughing at anything. She giggled at the guy driveling out vapid compliments. He offered to buy her more beer. He didn’t ask for permission to put a hand on her leg.
She should have been with someone better, someone who knew how much she wanted to help people and who liked getting pictures of her lunch. Then, he could have been happy for her. But what kind of a person slept with women too drunk to remember what happened? If Deku had been there, he would have kicked the man out if it meant starting a fight. It made his skin crawl.
“Are you getting out?” Hatchet leaned towards the opened doors.
“Right, thank you.”
Off the elevator, Hatchet led the way through a hall, past rows of empty desks and computers. It was still early for the civilian staff to be in, save for a young woman who forgot her task at the copier and gaped at Deku. He offered her a nod and good morning.
“Aya, have you seen Uravity?” Hatchet asked the woman.
“No, not yet today.”
“Swore she was in here.” Hatchet skirted the room to stick his head in an office. “Hey Boss, I found Deku on the roof and brought him inside.”
“You don’t say!” There was a scoot of a chair, and Gunhead emerged. Even with a full mask on, he was clearly in a good mood. His shoulders bounced, his voice bubbled, and he leaned towards Deku as if to tell a secret. “You’re here to see Uravity again?”
Reflexively, Deku took two steps back. “Yes, I’m sorry to interrupt your workday. I was meaning to meet her for a few minutes outside.”
“He’s good, right?” Hatchet added.
“Of course, of course. Uravity’s friends are welcome to visit. We didn’t have a chance to talk when you came by yesterday, and everyone was terribly curious. She’s in the dojo this morning, running basic drills with our intern. I was just getting ready to head down there myself if you’d like to join,” said Gunhead.
“Right, she’s working with Fugu.” Hatchet snapped his fingers. “He’s fifteen, such a jumpy kid. You’re good with kids, right? You could say something to psyche him up.”
“Sure, I could do that.” Deku agreed. “You said Fugu, so does he have a pufferfish Quirk?”
“Fugu as in he can synthesize any of his bodily fluids into—what’d he call it—tarot-toxin?”
“Tetrodotoxin,” Gunhead corrected. “The neurotoxin in pufferfish. Give him a few years. With some confidence and close-range combat skills, he’ll be im-poisonous to mess with.”
Gunhead led the way back through the office, chatting with Hatchet as they walked. It was easy to see how Uraraka fit in here. She talked as much as her co-workers, and they talked about her. Gunhead wanted to know “so what do you and Uravity do for fun?” Hatchet pointed out her picture in a collection of newspaper clippings hung in the hall, highlights of the agency’s run-ins with villains, where Uraraka stood with flames and a broken neon sign in the background. Among these, Deku recognized a serial killer Gunhead and his crew caught thirteen years ago. Not all agencies held up for so long.
It was a shame Uraraka couldn’t keep working – unless Gunhead needed an extra person in the office, and it looked like he had enough civilian staff as is. If she was getting sick at work, maybe they had an inkling that something was going on. They seemed to like her, and Deku was glad he wasn’t the one who had to break the news.
On the first floor, they went to the back, out of view from the lobby, and entered the large, open room of the dojo. Uraraka was in her costume, save for her gauntlets that she’d set aside, there was another sidekick wearing nothing but skin-tight pants, and what had to be the intern. Deku wondered if he looked that young when he was fifteen. Fugu was all blue – blue costume, blue hair, blue lips – about as tall as Uraraka, and skinny as a twig.
In addition to the padded floor, they’d pulled out a thick mat the size of a mattress. Fighting wasn’t all about throwing punches, you also had to learn how to fall. With Fugu in front of the mat, Deku guessed this was today’s lesson.
“Are you ready?” Uraraka said with a fight voice.
Fugu stopped bouncing in place and steadied himself. “Ready.”
She swung at him with a right hook. He went down to dodge. His left hand grabbed her forearm, and the right went under the armpit. With all of his momentum, Fugu turned and lunged. Uraraka catapulted over his back and slammed into the mat with a thud.
“Much better than yesterday!” Gunhead clapped, stepping out onto the floor.
“Thank you, sir!” Fugu jumped to face him. “They’ve had me practicing shoulder throws since I got here this morning.”
“Perfect. We’ll drill it into your head before you go back to school.”
Uraraka rolled off the mat. She glanced towards the door as she stood, and a grin lit up her face. “Oh! Deku’s here.”
Deku tried to smile back, but his face was half frozen. He had read that light exercise was appropriate for pregnant women. No lifting heavy objects, starting new fitness regimes, or dangerous activities, but apparently, Uraraka had been practicing judo throws, or rather, letting a high school student toss her around, all morning.
“He’s here to see you!” Hatchet called out from behind Deku.
“Yes, I know.” Uraraka checked a clock on the wall. “You’re too early, Deku.”
“I didn’t want to be late,” Deku said. He wasn’t sure how his voice sounded. On one hand, it was early in her pregnancy. Daily practice was nothing compared to fieldwork. A villain would slam Uraraka into the pavement, not a mat. On the other – most villains were dealt with in minutes, not extended hours of practice. Was this what Tsuyu meant by not taking it seriously? Completely ignoring her personal safety? Denial? She could lose the baby.
“So Fugu,” said Gunhead.
The boy, locked onto Deku with wide blue eyes, jumped. “Yes?!”
“We’ve got an audience, but you’re not done. Still half an hour before morning patrol. Zip, come over here so I can show him.” Gunhead waved over the sidekick in tight pants. “You’ve got the momentum in, but you need to watch your feet, or you’ll lose your balance.”
Deku also checked the clock. Thirty more minutes of training. Even if Uraraka hadn’t been pregnant, a neurotoxin Quirk was dangerous. One or two people died every year of pufferfish poisoning. Fugu glanced back and forth between Deku and Gunhead throwing Zip onto the mat. How well could the average fifteen-year-old control their Quirk? Was the toxin in his sweat? In the moisture of his breath? Was the kid leaving residual amounts of poison on Uraraka’s skin and clothes when he grabbed to throw her again and again – and what would it do to a developing child?
Zip pushed himself off the mat and Gunhead said, “You think you can do that?”
“Yes!” Fugu nodded.
“Now let’s have you try again with Uravity.”
Uraraka caught Deku’s gaze, and like a candle whipped by a gust of wind, her smile went out. Her shoulders tightened. She rubbed a hand around her mouth and looked away. She knew this wasn’t right – she had to. She’d been worrying all by herself; she didn’t know what to do. Unless she was going to tell everyone she was pregnant, she didn’t see a way out. Fugu wouldn’t be able to throw Gunhead or Zip – they were both too big. Hatchet, maybe, but Uraraka was the perfect size.
If she couldn’t bring herself to get out of the situation, Deku would do it for her. But what, in front of her coworkers, her boss, and an intern?
Uraraka put a smile back on and faced Fugu. “You ready?”
He had to do something!
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