Chapter Text
Mirai disliked jaywalkers, vandals and criminals. He disliked bullies, corrupt bosses and lazy workers. He despised pessimists and was positively enraged by bribery. He disliked a lot of things, actually. He was simple to please, once you knew what you were doing, but it was a long and slippery path of dodging all that he hated until you got to that point. Bubble Girl, his newest intern was fresh to the road, and, as a result, Mirai’s mood had turned positively sour. After a certain set of events had left the girl in tears, the pro had quietly asked Centipeder to console her and then went out for a walk.
It wasn’t that he had wanted to make Bubble Girl cry. She was a promising Sidekick with a lot of heart and a kind touch to boot. Both traits Mirai valued enormously. But he had never had interns or employees or sidekicks before. He had always been a sidekick, religiously following Allmight’s orders and he had gotten used to things being a certain way. He had to be nicer. Warmer. Gentler. He had to think more like Bubble Girl. He wanted to be just like AllMight.
The fresh air was good. Calming. It was a bright sunny day, poking out after a light rain and there were still puddles dotted here and there. The sky was so blue Mirai’s heart ached and the streets hummed with civilians going about their daily lives, smiling at him as they passed. Slowly he felt himself relax. His mind’s busy train relaxed to a more rational array of patterns and he began considering heading back to the office to apologise. And then he saw the papers.
One by one, they drifted out of a random alley. Fluttering uncaringly on the cool breeze and out to the streets.
Mirai’s heart constricted. His eyes saw crimson.
Litterers.
As soon as the dots connected, a gang of rowdy schoolboys burst out of the alley laughing and reaching for the sheets of paper, stamping it into the ground, ripping sheets in their hands, throwing it like confetti. Mirai’s step quickened but they saw him approaching and shot off like bullets. Soft curses were heard as he stooped to pick up some of the litter. Exactly what he needed. Delinquent little devils to disregard all respect and dignity, leaving far nobler people to clean up after them. Honestly, what were they teaching children these-
Thud!
He felt a crash clumsily in his side. He quickly grabbed the boy’s collar before he could crash to the muddy ground and twisted it, allowing him to totter unsteadily back onto his feet. Once he was stable, the boy wriggled as if expecting Mirai to let him go, but he merely shifted the boy so that the pro could examine him better.
His hair was fluffy, but ruffled, a mossy colour with black roots. Plain face, the only notable attribute being a wide scattering of freckles and a scrape on his cheek. His school uniform matched that of the gang before him, it was muddied and the knees were torn off. On a closer look, Mirai could spot similar scrapes on the palms of the boys hands.
The boy’s wide, grass-coloured eyes widened and he reached for the papers in Mirai’s hands.
‘I’m sorry!’ he gasped. ‘That’s mine.’
Indeed. Mirai could see a heap of scrunched and dirty papers clutched tight into the boys chest.
‘It’s all over the street’ Mirai replied coolly. ‘It’s unseemly.’
‘I know, I know, I dropped it. Can you let me go, I need to pick it up. It’s my maths homework, it’s important.’
He glanced at the papers he’d picked up. True to the boy’s word, there were equations scrolled across them in a neat, shaky hand. He let the boy go.
‘Here.’ He offered. ‘Let me help you.’
The boy gaped at him for a second and then bowed, before hopping around to pick up as much of the loose scraps as he could. Meanwhile, as Mirai daintily lifted the bigger sheets and shuffled them together, he did what he did best. Analysed and slotted together the points.
1: A gang of schoolboys spread around sheets of paper, laughing, before running off when an adult approached them.
2: That paper was this boy’s maths homework.
3: The boy in question had scraped knees, hands, cheek and his uniform had mud on it, like he’d fallen face-first into a puddle.
4: The boy in question had felt compelled to lie about how the paper had ended up on the street.
‘What’s your name?’
The boy stared at him, in fright.
‘My- my name is Midoriya Izuku, sir.’
‘Pleasant to meet you. I’m-‘
‘I know who you are’ Midoriya supplied. ‘You’re Sir Nighteye, AllMight’s best sidekick!’
Yes, this, this was good. Talking to an excited fan, soothing him after an obvious bullying incident- no matter what he’d said- stretching his pro-hero muscles, connecting with the civilians the way AllMight always had. He’d missed this.
‘Ah. You’re a fan then?’
Midoriya beamed at him.
‘AllMight is my favourite hero! He’s the best hero!’
Mirai smiled in spite of himself.
‘You have good taste.’
The boy shuffled his feet a little, as if on the verge of saying something but then burst out-
‘Can I ask you a few questions about your quirk? I do hero analysis see-‘ he took off his backpack and pulled a rather battered notebook from it. ‘And you don’t have to, but it’d be really great for my notes and-‘
‘Hero analysis?’ Mirai had only heard that phrase uttered in dull paperwork meetings. To hear it spill from the mouth of this enthusiastic child threw him wildly off-rhythm.
Midoriya nodded. ‘Yes. So I can become a hero someday. A good one. As good as AllMight.’
Mirai was officially enchanted now.
‘Can I see what you’ve written?’
Tentatively, he handed the notebook over. There were a few singe and tear marks on it, though the way Midoriya had held it didn’t indicate much rough use. Perhaps his quirk was difficult to control, though by his colouring, the pro would have guessed a plant-based quirk or something gentler. Mirai opened the notebook, keeping light conversation with Midoriya as he did so.
‘As good as Allmight huh? A lofty ambition. What’s your quirk like?’
Mt Lady, Rock Lock, Eraserhead.
Dead silence.
Mirai looked up.
Midoriya was looking at the ground defeatedly, knuckles clutching tightly to his backpack.
‘I haven’t got one.’
He focused his attention back onto the notebook.
‘Oh, I see.’
Midnight, Endeavor . . . The Hero Killer?
‘Do . . . do you think I could still be a hero? Even without a quirk?’
Mirai scoffed. Toshinori had been quirkless, hadn’t he? And look at him now. ‘Of course you can. Don’t be ridiculous.’
So engrossed was he, studying a page about Monstra, that he didn’t notice Izuku’s expression, staring at Mirai like he’d handed Izuku the world on a platter.
‘Really?’
‘Yes.’
Monstra had been difficult to pin down so far, due to his volatile shadow-based quirk, that turned the darkness into wicked spikes of pain. But a scribbled note on his page in Izuku’s notebook caught his eye.
He never attacks at night. Why? Uncontrollable quirk?
Mirai pointed it out to him ‘You caught this?’
Midoriya nodded.
‘That’s interesting. I wonder if Mt Lady could-‘ He shook his head and closed the notebook with a snap. ‘Would you mind if I took this back to my office and had a look at it? Your theory might prove helpful. And- tell you what. Come visit my office in a week to pick it up and I can schedule a time to answer some of your questions in return for the loan.’
Mirai didn’t like the idea of opening up about his quirk. He kept it under wraps for a reason. But he needed to offer something in return for the notebook and Midoriya had asked nicely after all.
‘Of course you can have my notes! I hope- I hope that they’re helpful. And you would really do that for me? That’s so nice-‘
‘Wonderful.’ Mirai tore a fresh page out and quickly wrote a note before handing it to Midoriya.
‘There, that’s my office's address. Come around next Tuesday at 3:30- just knock on the back door, Centipeder will be expecting you and let you in. Good luck with your homework.’
Mirai strode off, heading purposefully back to his agency. Once there, he would give Bubble Girl the role of intelligence collation- such an important job would make her feel useful and give her a chance to prove herself- and he would have the afternoon off to study this fascinating little book.