Chapter 18: Roger That
Sunday, September 16th
4:45 am
-Two Weeks Since Hagakure Went Missing-
Danny's powers slipped his skin, oozing out like algae-filled water from a pond at creek's edge.
Slogging across the Ops Center in the pitch black of early morning, the sleep-deprived boy autopiloted toward the bathroom. A fallen canister light and broken glass blocked his path, but he jumped over them with just a hint of weightlessness. Scratching at several millimeters of rough stubble along his jaw, he touched down and ducked inside before heading to the sink. Water doused Danny's face, trying to dissuade the slimy feel of another "episode" from clinging to his skin as he looked up at the mirror. Dripping bangs and dark bags framed a set of apathetic blue eyes, creating a gothic-tier look that quickly disappeared behind a rough towel.
A quick check of a cracked phone screen—4:48 in the morning.
Might as well call Mom and Dad. It was…the math of a seven hour time difference escaped Danny and he settled for the knowledge that it was somewhere near midday in Switzerland.
Tapping on an app he'd recently downloaded for his parent's trip, Danny watched as a picture of them—dressed for disco night at the Material Grill—pulsated with white light. The obnoxious dial tone playing on loop coupled with a bright blue background had him feeling like a fish trapped in an upbeat aquarium as he waited for the call to connect.
Dann-o! Perfect! his father's excited voice boomed over the phone and the screen transitioned to a grainy image of black, tan and orange. We were going to call, but your mom didn't want to wake you! We have good news!
Danny's heart stopped—which would have been concerning if it didn't happen nearly every day—and he squeaked out, "What'd you find?"
Is that Danny?! yelled from the background before Jack could answer and shuffling footsteps whispered through the speaker. A second later, his mom squished into frame with a brilliant smile. Sweetie! Guess what?! We found a way to adjust the Fenton Portal! As long as the jump's not too big, we should be able to switch the endpoint away from the Zone and re-anchor it to a neighboring dimension!
At the words, Wulf's deep voice filled Danny's head, "Viaj odoroj venas de la Malproksimo. Mi povas nur Disŝiri la Proksime. Sferoj kiuj limas niajn." [Your scents come from the Far. I can only Rend the Near. Realms that border our own.]
Deflating just as the video quality sharpened, Danny watched his parents fall silent and trade disquieted looks.
…Danny? his dad prodded.
"I saw Wulf yesterday." The phone screen cricked under Danny's fingers and the cracks covering its face splintered just a little bit more. "That's not gonna work."
Sunday, September 16th
8:07 am
"Okay, Cosplayer. We're ready." On Nezu's right, Power Loader threw a thumbs up to a short, pixie-cut blonde beyond a pane of hurricane glass.
Clad in a gold tiara and what looked like an american-themed swimsuit, the woman in the testing chamber nodded and sparkled bright. The magical girl transformation that trickled away left the hero significantly taller, blue eyes staring at the observation deck with arrogance. Gaze dropping, she peered down through long strands of wavy, black hair to fiddle with a mechanized belt at her waist. Clicking it into place, she turned a key in the device's center lock and adjusted the dial around it.
When a green tinge radiated from the invention, Nezu felt the fur of his back rise. But whether it was from anticipation or close proximity to the portal user's ectoplasm, he didn't know.
Maijima and himself had finally deemed the belt safe for human testing. Still, it was nice to know that Cosplayer's costume protected her from most damage and would even kick-started her own healing if anything did happen.
Ten seconds passed and the comic book character just stood there, rubbing at her lower back with a yawn as the belt's glow remained cheerfully bright. In the monotonous grey of the room, it mocked Nezu like a festive Christmas accessory.
Checking the output from the chamber, Nezu rubbed at his brows.
So it wasn't a weapon.
But, just to be sure….
"Cosplayer-san. Would you please repeat the test?"
"Okay, but I only have enough time for a few more tries before I'm on cooldown." True to her word, four iterations later the woman was shrinking.
Nezu just sighed.
That cinched it.
This device had to be a support item for the portal user's own use. But if that was the case, then what kind? They still couldn't get past the firewall. It was just too adaptive. Even the technomancer they'd hired—the same one that had upgraded the school's security system—had been stumped.
"Thank you, Cosplayer. Please exit the chamber and head toward the decontamination unit," Majima instructed. "Ectoplasm-sensei, you're up."
Fog spewed on Nezu's left and condensed into a duplicate of UA's math teacher as the woman beyond the glass finished removing her belt. Handing it off to the clone that entered the room, the blonde raised her arms in a full body stretch and sashayed out the door. Now alone in the chamber, Ectoplasm's double held it offhandedly, patiently awaiting instructions.
Nezu leaned toward his control panel, using his front paws to support himself as he saved the previous data and started a new recording in a separate file. (Living in a world made for larger people never bothered him. He'd been even smaller, once. Before the genetic splicing.)
Pulling away from the desk-like computer, he tilted back to look upside down at the original Ectoplasm near his shoulder. "Are you ready?"
The blue man hummed an affirmative and his clone in the next room clipped on the belt, sliding the key into the lock.
Nezu was just bringing his head back down when an intense, cheese-grater-meets-chalkboard scream sounded, shocking him so badly that only a broad hand at his back kept the mouse upright. As he barely managed to stay on his stool, the unholy cry abruptly cut off and white mist exploded through the test chamber, followed quickly by a hard thunk.
"Are you okay, Dearie?!" Shuzenji's weathered voice demanded from another stool just past Ectoplasm and the tall man nodded grimly in response.
"It appears that, perhaps, it is a weapon after all," Ectoplasm pondered with a wince. "One designed specifically for ectoplasmic quirks." The gentle giant tilted his head back and forth as the test chamber cleared to reveal the belt—still illuminated—on the floor. "I am all right. Just uncomfortable. I have never felt a clone's pain before. This was…a unique experience."
"Let's get you to the infirmary. I want to make sure you're actually alright." The school nurse grabbed her cane from where it leaned against a desk and slid off her stool, supporting herself with the syringe like a pole vaulter as she dropped.
"I'm fine. It was no more than an echo of the emotion. I was simply not braced for it," Ectoplasm knelt down despite the assurance, bringing himself to only twice the height of the healer so she could check his vitals.
After fussing over him for over a minute, Chiyo begrudgingly looked away from the man's pupil-less gaze and Ectoplasm rose again.
"It could be a weapon," Majima agreed. "Definitely packs the same punch as one. But I also wouldn't discount it being a support item so soon. It could have a self-defense mechanism built in for anyone who tries to use it without an authorized signature."
That was reasonable. Probable, even.
But…
Nezu's mind circled several old hypotheses.
These new Nomu had quite a bit of autonomy.
Too much.
He couldn't shake the feeling that it really was meant to shock the user. To control them. That would be a good reason why it ended up here, portaled away.
Or for that matter…
Nezu climbed down his chair like a fireman's pole and darted across the skinny room, skirting the line of control consoles on his right. Opening the door of the observation deck and leaning out into the hallway, he yelled, "Cosplayer-san! Please come back. I have another test I'd like to run."
"But I just started decooooon!" the shapeshifter whined. "You couldn't have asked a minute ago?!"
"Sorry. I know it's a hassle, but it's important."
"Fiiiine," Cosplayer groaned. "Don't get your whiskers in a knot. Just give me a sec. My cooldown's not quite up and I gotta get dressed again."
A short while later and Nezu was back at his station, watching the hero pick up the FentonWorks belt with an unimpressed look before starting to put it on.
"Wait just a moment, please." Turning in his seat, he addressed Ectoplasm again, "If you're up for it, could you create another clone and have it touch Cosplayer-san when the belt activates?"
"WHAT?! You had me come out of decontamination and you hadn't even asked him yet?!"
Ignoring the outcry, Maijima mused, "Oh, good call. I didn't even think about that," while Chiyo leveled Nezu with a prickly look.
"Do not worry, Shuzenji-sensei. I will be prepared this time," Ectoplasm reassured in response.
"Oh? And what about Cosplayer-san?! Will she be prepared, too? She's the one wearing the belt. What happens when you're both zapped?"
From within the testing chamber, the Wonder Woman wannabe refuted, "Don't worry, Grandma! Hazard pay's where I make the big bucks! A little zap and I come out of this with a seventy inch flat screen!"
Eyes tracking from Cosplayer to every face on the observation deck, Chiyo grumbled, "For the record. I'm against this."
"Noted." Nezu dipped his head.
Ectoplasm took that as his cue, creating another clone and sending it into the testing chamber where Cosplayer had just finished transforming. Nezu tensed as the belt turned on and the duplicate reached out.
There was no scream this time; but the eruption of steam was as startling as ever.
"I'm good!" yelled from the fog a heartbeat later, followed by, "Didn't even hurt!"
As visibility quickly returned to the chamber, Cosplayer raised one hand in a gleeful fist pump. "New TV, here I come!"
Chiyo sighed next to Nezu; but the rodent's own relief was short-lived as his mind got to work and a weight settled in his chest.
"I'm not sure this belt is a support item for the warp user. Not unless it's made to function as a shock collar." Nezu glared into the other room, black eyes clouding with an old memory of a TENS machine and peanut butter. "But with Cosplayer completely unharmed I'm inclined to believe that it is instead meant to keep some kind of jailer safe."
"I'd entertained the idea previously, but set it aside as implausible. Now I'm not so sure."
"That would make sense if the new line of Nomu are all ectoplasm-based. Having support items on hand to control them isn't particularly far-fetched," Ectoplasm agreed.
"Oooo, we should redo the thermos next!" When the room fell silent and regarded Maijima strangely, the mechanic rubbed at his neck. Tone smoothing into something way less eager, he elaborated, "If the thermos really is some kind of weapon that only works against an ectoplasm user, Kocho-san's idea has way more weight."
Sunday, September 16th
8:40 am
"The Catch of a Lifetime: Local fisherman, Uozumi Souta…"
Nope.
"...Uraraka Construction set to renovate the Shimizu Parks and Recreation building in wake of Uravity's rising fame…"
Nadda.
"...the heist left the staff terrified. Investigations into Mori-san's disappearance are still underway and…"
Doubtful. Not unless it happened at a bakery. Or a grocery store.
"How to be Taken Seriously as a Powerful Female: Mt. Lady's tips for surviving…"
Definitely not.
Jazz sighed. Looked like she wouldn't be finding any more last-minute hints to Lunch Lady's whereabouts. Oh well, she probably had enough leads anyway.
Eyes dropping to the desk next to her, Jazz scanned a collection of triangles ("Nomu" sightings) and circles (possible haunts) that covered a map. Logging out of the computer, she shrugged on her work jacket and stood.
Quickly checking her breath to make sure it wasn't too atrocious after a few days without a toothbrush, Jazz winced and made her way to the bathroom. Cleaning her teeth with a finger as best she could, she rinsed her mouth and grabbed a paper towel to dry it. As the brown, scratchy thing dampened, she looked down at it in contemplation before wetting it under the sink more and bringing it over to the soap dispenser. Using it to wipe the smelliest areas of her body, she rewashed her hands and exited the bathroom.
Just because she was days from a shower didn't mean she needed to smell like it.
Freshened up, she made her way over to the help desk and offered Inko a smile, penning her timestamp down on the sign-in sheet's "out" box.
"Going somewhere?"
"Yeah; I have a couple errands I was hoping to run today. I should be back later though."
"Oh! That's good. I—I mean, you can spend your time however you want! I—I was just hoping to have lunch with you again today."
Jazz felt her heart warm. "When's your lunch?"
"The library closes early on Sundays—" Well that was good to know. "—So not until after I get off work at two-thirty." The woman's eyes looked sideways. "I have to lock the doors at two, though."
Interesting that she'd add that last bit. But Inko probably just wanted Jazz to know that if she came back early the library would be locked up for the day and she'd have to wait outside.
Which. Was a problem.
How was she supposed to stay the night if she left with Inko to have lunch after the doors were closed.
A slight crinkle developed between Jazz's brow.
"Ano—Jazz-san?"
Jazz "hmm'd?" distractedly, mind racing with valid excuses as to why she couldn't have lunch after all.
"I know this isn't my place, but…" The chubby woman paused, taking in a breath and straightening her spine. "Would you like to come stay with me? At my apartment?" As Jazz's aqua eyes zipped up and locked with Inko's darker green, the woman quailed, composure breaking down like compost at a mushroom farm. "N-not forever. Just until you g-get back on your feet! I saw you were looking for apartments, and I thought, maybe, you know, since you said you knew how to fight, that you'd be willing to teach me in exchange for rent?" Ending the ramble with shoulders hitched high, Inko peeked up through the half-closed eye of a wince.
Had her homeless status really been that obvious?
Jazz appraised the other woman.
The offer was almost too good to be true. Were it anyone but Inko, the answer would have been a hard "no".
Instead, "Are you sure you want to offer me that? You barely know me." Probably not the best approach when confronted with such a perfect solution, but, "What if I'm some crazy person? Or a terrible slob? I could rob you in the night and disappear, never to be seen again."
The woman almost faltered then and there; but as Jazz studied her, "You won't," came out quiet and surprisingly resolute.
Feeling her shoulders lower, Jazz's piercing gaze softened.
It was official. She was going to have to teach Inko self-preservation.
"Well, okay then."
Right after she brushed up on the subject, herself.
Sunday, September 16th
8:51 am
Mashirao Ojiro pushed into Gym Gamma, shoving the blue door open with so much force that it slammed against the wall. Ignoring a disgruntled shout from Kirishima—who was painting fresh lines on the cement floor nearby—the tailed boy dashed further into the room. With only a slight favor to his sore leg, he sprinted past training dummies and weighted equipment, eyeing several muscle-bound students as they tagged off between exercising and sparring.
Sounds of battle came from all over the gym, interspersed between outcroppings of artificial cliffs. It was expected, since the school had recently opened joint reservations—the lockdown had sent demand for gym slots skyrocketing—but it made finding Midoriya-kun more difficult.
"Ojiro-kun! This time is fully booked! You can't be here!"
The call stopped the martial artist dead and he turned to his right where Cementoss stood next to a huge floor mat. The dark blue pad was thick, covered in an outer neoprene lining. On it was an upperclassman (who looked somewhat like a shark and seal mixed together) doing a strange, t'ai-chi-esque pose, patiently waiting for his teacher to resume instruction.
"I'm not here for the gym, Sensei. Midoriya-kun doesn't have his phone and I needed to ask him a question about—" What was something Midoriya-kun would know? "—Hastume Mei-san."
"Why not ask one of your classmates in the support department? Or perhaps young Iida-kun?" Cementoss scratched at the non-existent border between his neck and face. "He's interacted with Hatsume-san on several occasions."
"Uh, sorry. This question's…personal."
The older man's eyes somehow moved toward each other in skepticism to make up for a lack of eyebrows and Ojiro felt himself start to sweat. But a second later the mason waved dismissively toward Mashirao and turned back to the aquatic teen behind him. "Just check back with me before you leave. I have to keep tally of everyone here."
"Thanks Sensei,"Ojiro responded, jetting off before the teacher could change his mind.
Surveying the landscape, he sprang toward a set of boulders where a long tongue disappeared, a thick, grey plate ensnared at its tip.
If Tsuyu-san was over there, more of 1A was probably nearby.
Dipping around the side of the rock field, Ojiro grinned when he spotted Midoriya and Ochako next to her.
Called it.
Sliding to a halt in front of the trio, foot stopping just shy of some kind of specialized discus thrower, he greeted, "Hey, can I borrow Mido for a second?"
Tsuyu and Ochako traded glances, strangely suspicious. More than just his arrival would account for.
Oh.
The smile fell off his face like a skier meeting a cliff side in a snowstorm.
As the girls offered "Go ahead," and "Sure…", the blonde waved for Izuku to follow him across the field, movements once again stiff and edgy.
"Did you see the article?!"
"Which article? I've been here tweaking Shoot Style all morning so I haven't had a chance to look at my phone in a while."
"There was a break-in at Detnerat."
"WHAT?!" Midoriya instantly covered the whispered shout with both hands, having the grace to look embarrassed. "What? When? What did they take?" came out next, in a much quieter voice despite being equally as insistent.
"The article just dropped an hour ago but it happened yesterday. The League took some kind of top-secret invention, so the story didn't have a bunch of details. But get this. They didn't just steal the prototype. The main employee heading the project's been kidnapped as well."
Izuku hissed in a jagged breath.
"I think if I can get ahold of someone I knew from junior high, I can bribe him to—"
"Ojiro-kun," the other boy cut him off. "We need to tell someone. This is beyond us."
"I know," and "Every moment we waste—" overlapped, before Izuku's words died and his face sagged into stunned relief.
Watching a million thoughts bounce around behind his friend's eyes, all Ojiro could think was that the teachers better figure this shit out. He'd handed over his best lead on faith alone, so if their help turned into another mirage that vanished the second the staff gained ground, there'd be hell to pay.
Fixing the younger boy with an exigent gaze, he steeled, "But that doesn't mean I'll stand by useless."
Sunday, September 16th
9:16 am
"Inui-san. Would you please repeat what you told me?" Nezu's voice rang clear around a conference room where teachers squished in to every open space and then some. Several additional chairs had been wheeled in for the occasion, littering the spots around a U-shape configuration of desks.
Only Cementoss, Power Loader and Recovery Girl remained missing from the line up, already caught by tasks that couldn't be delegated.
Hound Dog grunted roughly in acknowledgment and pushed out of his own office chair, striding across the soft-purple floor to the open end of the tables. Straightening, he recited, "I've received an anonymous tip about our situation. It sreeemmmrrrrrrrms…" The canine's growl petered off and he took a deep breath. "Somehow, we missed an important article from The Daily Kanagawa."
"Kanagawa?" Several concerned and confused looks shot around the room before Toshinori's deep voice followed up with, "I've been hearing quite a bit about that place lately." Threading his fingers together, the emaciated man rested his chin on the top of his knuckles. "Young Midoriya's been pestering me to take the class there on a field trip. He thinks it would be good for the upcoming Kamakura project, but obviously that's—"
"Uh, Toshinori?" Midnight cut in, one eyebrow raised. "Ishiyama-san and I finished that unit last year. We're on the Edo period now."
Aizawa's eyes shot over to the paralyzed Symbol of Peace, black pupils shrinking in horror as his teeth grit.
It was official. All Might was a complete and total idiot.
Hound Dog and Nezu both frowned but stayed silent as the principal held out a remote and the wall behind the security guard lit up. The left half of the projection was a block of text, but the right half showed a blurred image that was still easily recognizable.
Aizawa's masseter tensed so hard his right eye twitched, twinging the scars around his reconstructed orbital floor.
"The green Nomu, Lunch Lady," Inui began, "caused chaos at a shopping mallrrr in Kanagawa just hourrrs before the first attack on UA. There were injurrrries, but no casualties, and the reaserrn forrrr the attarrrrrck was unknoooooaaaOoo—"
"Until now," Nezu's soft voice stepped in. The mouse waved a calming paw and both Hound Dog's head and gaze lowered as if someone had touched the back of his neck with cold fingers. The principal's small eyes then switched over to Aizawa, boring into the tired hero and putting him even more on edge.
The projection flickered to a new article where an employee picture sat front and center, the smile beaming from it branding the inside of Aizawa's stomach like hot iron.
Hiroki Mori.
"That particular shopping mall is located just one block from Kanagawa's main Detnerat branch. Where a theft and kidnapping has just occurred."
He'd been at Detnerat. Right there. These kinds of high-profile heists always required weeks of in-depth research to pull off.
He should have noticed something.
A second later, a memory paraded through the dour man's head.
"Listen up, everyone. Despite what you may think, mock battle analyses are still due today. As heroes, you will be expected to continue your routines as normal, even in the face of villain attacks. Either turn your notes in now or Ectoplasm-sensei will take them during combat training later."
As Iida furiously scribbled a reminder in a spiral book, several papers passed toward the front of 1A's homeroom.
In the shuffle, Ochaco raised her hand.
"Yes, Uraraka-san?"
"You won't be here?" The gravity manipulator inquired.
"No. I have prior obligations at Detnerat." Movement caught Aizawa's eyes and he squinted suspiciously at both Izuku and Mashirao. The boys' expressions had shifted. They didn't trade glances or anything. Hell, their faces had hardly moved, but Shota knew something was up.
Aizawa's mind reeled back in sudden epiphany and his mouth soured.
They'd known.
"As distasteful as I find it, it's important for heroes to remain unruffled. Showing an attack has caused damage is an invitation for trouble."
Ojiro and Midoriya had been acting strange that morning and he'd brushed it off.
He wanted to blame them. Curse them for not speaking up. But this was his fault. He'd been so tired and high-strung over what was happening inside UA's borders that he hadn't forced the information out of them before he'd left or followed up when he'd returned.
As annoying as Mori-kun was, the ginger didn't deserve to be kidnapped for Shota's mistakes.
If it rained or spears fell, he would fix this.
"It's possible the attacks on UA were a red herring. A way to keep the media attention diverted from Kanagawa. As we know, anything that happens at our school is almost guaranteed front page material."
Anger seared Aizawa's brain. He'd fallen right into the villain's hands, just like everyone else.
Black hair rose as the erasure hero barely refrained from breaking the table, rage partially activating his quirk and turning his eyes crimson.
"Nezu, get Tsukauchi-san on the phone. I have a non-disclosure agreement to break."
Sunday, September 16th
1:42 pm
"I wudo rlike to worlight yuu a rletta."
Kamada, Danny and Hagakure were currently in Jazz's room. The extradimensional teens perched next to each other at the edge of a pink bed while the Amity local sat criss-cross on a two-toned area rug in front of them.
"No, here. Watch my mouth." Danny pointed to his teeth, sharp canines more prominent than normal as he bit down. "Rrrrrr. Write has a hard 'r' sound and a silent 'w'."
As Hagakure wordlessly followed along, she nudged Kamada. The other girl was repeatedly glancing down, rather than study their teacher's scruffy face.
When the Shiketsu kid ignored the hint, eyes staying evasive and cheeks turning rosy instead, Toru frowned.
Danny had chosen not to abandon them to an empty house, even though he was dying to look for his sister; the least Haru could do was pay closer attention.
"Lrrrrrr," Hagakure tried again, focusing on making sure her teeth stayed together and her lips drew back to mimic Danny's.
"Better, but I can hear you curling your tongue inside your mouth. Pull it back and out of the way lihhk hisss."
Maybe she shouldn't be too hard on Kamada-chan. Jazz's kidnapping had thrown them all off their game. It wasn't fair to expect her to pretend everything was normal.
"Rrrr."
"Perfect!" Satisfied, the Fenton shifted toward Haru. "Kamada-san, you've been pretty quiet; why don't you give it a try?"
Directly addressed, the teen next to Hagakure froze, keeping her gaze adhered to a pair of fidgeting hands. "I wouldo like to write you a letta."
"Oh, wow, Kamada-san! I can't believe how much your pronunciation has improved in just a week. Your practice is really paying off!" Danny's tired smile lifted into something resembling real cheer and Haru's entire face darkened to match her cheeks.
"S-sank you."
"Thank you," Danny enunciated. "Just remember to bite your tongue for the 'th' sound." This time, Kamada's eyes were caught by the dark, pink muscle that slipped from their host's mouth, holding her like a charmed snake as her color leached away.
"Thank you," Hagakure jumped in, trying her luck and saving her friend from paralysis.
"There you go! Nice one, Hagakure-chan!" Danny praised, leaning forward to fist-bump the invisible teen's glove. "See, Kamada-san? Easy-peasy."
This time, Toru ignored when Haru studied her knees instead of answering.
It was probably best to just give the shy girl space for now. Toru could always have a heart to heart with her later if things didn't improve.
Danny stretched, back popping as he leaned away from the bed, arms high in the air. Slumping into a relaxed pose that held just a little too much tension to be real, he pulled out his phone and turned on the Gabber app. "Does anyone want a snack? I'm gonna go grab a glass of water."
"No thank you," Hagakure managed in English, grinning with pride (not that anyone could see it, but still).
"Kamada-san?"
"No thanks. I'm not hung-rrri," Kamada's emphasis on the last word came out jolted, but every part of the sentence had the correct sounds.
"Ooooo. Naisu wan!" Toru cheered, copying Danny's earlier phrase as the boy got up and headed toward the door. Now alone, the preppy teen looked around the room awkwardly, unsure what to say. A silence took root, only broken when Kamada cleared her throat into a hoodie sleeve.
It wasn't aggressive. Definitely not made to get attention or start conversation, but Hagakure latched on to the opportunity. Switching to Japanese, she asked, "Are you sure you don't want anything to drink? I can grab you something, if you want!"
Kamada blinked in surprise, looking anxious before her shoulders lowered slightly and she offered a tentative smile. "Ano, do you know if there's any lemon ginger tea left?"
Hagakure was already pushing to her feet. Padding out the door, a thought occurred and she leaned back in. "Did you want honey? It's great for a sore throat!"
"Sure."
When Haru's lips rose just a little bit more, Hagakure nodded to herself and slipped back out into the hall. Whatever was up, things would be okay between them.
Turning her attention to the other nervous wreck of the house, she quietly trekked down the stairs and across the living room. As she approached the kitchen and her eyes found Danny, the young man exploded into green smoke.
A split second later, a glass shattered on the tile, pouring water across the floor in a tiny deluge.
WHAT THE HELL?!
Toru dashed forward in search of the missing superhero, ignoring the moisture wicking into her socks and being careful not to step on any errant shards.
HOLY SHIT, DANNY'D BEEN KIDNAPPED!
Was it the villain who'd taken Toru and Haru?
No. There hadn't been a portal.
A friendly? Like Clockwork?
Toru waved at the air, trying to clear the last of the weird, wispy particles that tried to cling to her gloves.
Wait.
She'd seen this before. From Ectoplasm-sensei AND videos of Phantom.
A clone. It'd been a clone.
Hagakure put a hand to her chest and breathed out a deep sigh, trying to calm the hyperactive drummer performing band practice on her rib cage.
It seemed their host hadn't stayed home after all.
But when would the real Danny be back?
A few minutes? An hour? A day?
"Hagakure-chan?! Danny-kun?! Is everything okay?!" echoed from the second floor as footsteps thumped down the hall above.
Eyes twitching from several kitchen utensils, to the fridge, then over to the front door of the house, Hagakure made a small sound in the back of her throat.
She had all of a few seconds to come up with a legitimate reason why Danny would ditch their English lesson. For an indeterminable amount of time. Without saying so much as a word to either of them.
This was FINE.
"I'm sorry, that was me! I just dropped my cup!" she yelled in response, hoping that would stop the other girl's advancement.
Hearing Haru start down the stairs, Toru felt herself gulp.
She couldn't tell Kamada that she'd seen Danny leave. As soon as he got back he'd spot her lie. (Toru was already on thin ice saying she'd broken the glass.) But if she said she never saw him at all, Kamada-chan would worry until he got back.
If that only took a few minutes, that'd be fine. He could pretend he just went to the bathroom or something.
But if he was missing for longer than that, she'd need an excuse as to why she wasn't freaking out. Or she'd have to pretend that she was freaking out.
That'd probably be the best way to go. It wouldn't be too hard to fake.
A sudden buzzing of her jean's pocket made the invisible teen flinch and she pulled out an old smartphone the Fentons had lent her.
There, in the household chat, was, Sorry guys. Ghost attack across town.
Everyone's gone so I have to take the call. Should be back in a few hours. I'll bring Chinese food home when I'm done.
OH THANK KAMI-SAMA!
Toru barely got out a quick reply before Kamada reached the bottom of the stairs.
Sunday September 16th
1:48 pm
Tucker looked down at a cracked phone screen, sighing in relief when a Star War's sonic boom shook his hand.
Okay! Chinese sounds great.
Thank God Hagakure-san had been paying attention to her phone.
Refocusing on the scene just beyond the Specter Speeder's window, Tucker winced in sympathy as his best friend continued to grow an unsettling number of additional body parts.
****There is a layout sketch of Inko's apartment on my deviantart (same username).
Sunday, September 16th
3:04 pm
Despite her earlier confidence, Inko was spiraling as she led Jazz up the final flight of stairs to her third floor apartment.
What was she doing, inviting a literal stranger into her home?
This was a horrible impulse decision. Jazz was right, Inko barely knew the girl. Just what had possessed her into thinking this was a good idea?
(Okay, so obviously her maternal instincts, especially with Jazz being quirkless, but still.
Even that was suspect; most quirkless people weren't this well-adjusted.)
"So here we are, home sweet home. It's not much, but it's comfortable." Inko's voice was shaky as she pushed open her front door, revealing a small mudroom that stepped up into a short hallway.
Here's hoping she hadn't just bought a fast-pass to Murderville.
Letting out a nearly inaudible whimper, Inko toed off a pair of black flats and pushed them over to the side. Like a shadow or baby bird Jazz copied her host, neatly tucking her own into place near several other pairs of shoes—even with the encumbering sleeping bag rolled up on her shoulder.
"The bathroom is straight down the hall if you need it," Inko commented, grabbing some house slippers off a rack before hanging her coat on a wall hook just past the washing machine.
With her redheaded guest looming at her back and tracking every move she made, Inko felt akin to a rabbit that'd somehow made friends with a fox.
Hanging a left just before the bathroom door, the nervous woman explained the layout of the apartment—bedrooms to their left, living room/kitchen to their right—as she entered the longer half of the L-shaped hall.
The light changed and the towering presence at Inko's shoulder disappeared, prompting her to glance back to where Jazz was squinting down at her phone.
Oh good. With how fancy her translator was, Jazz could be disabling cell service right now. Or checking for surveillance cameras. Who knew what other technological wonders her future killer had on hand?
"Oh-mah-neh-key ee-tah-dah-key ah-ree-gah-toe go-z-eye-mah-su!"
Inko blinked. Then blinked again.
Omaneki itadaki arigatou gozaimasu.
Thanks for having me.
Awwww.
Yeah, inviting a stranger into her house was stupid. And she was right to be a bit paranoid. But she was being ridiculous.
Even now, Jazz was just trying to be a good house guest.
Inko let herself smile and like a sunbeam through an icicle, the prior cold made her shine that much more brilliantly.
"You'll be staying in Izuku's room. That's the first bedroom down." Inko walked forward, pushing open the door to her son's abode and gesturing inside as Jazz's flustered voice replied, "Oh! That's okay! I can stay on a couch or something. I don't want to take anyone's room!"
"You won't be. He's living on campus for school right now."
"Still, I hate to intrude on his private space. You should ask him if he's okay with it, first."
Despite her words, Jazz poked her head in behind Inko, betraying a quiet curiosity as she surveyed the walls.
"Wow….uhm…" Jazz trailed off, going oddly quiet and avoiding Inko's gaze.
"What?"
"N-nothing! It's nothing."
Raising an eyebrow, Inko looked around the room.
What could she be—?
Oh.
Inko snorted. "Izuku's always been a big fan of All Might, ever since he was little."
"I think 'fan' might be a bit of an understatement. I feel like I'm looking at a shrine," Jazz responded, leaning back out into the hall with a crease between her eyebrows. "Have you ever—hmm—" After a pregnant pause, Jazz's voice lowered and gentled. "Does Izuku-kun obsess over anything else to this degree? Or is it just All Might?"
Face scrunching into something split between a scowl and an exasperated smile, Inko admitted, "Izuku loves All Might. Probably more than he should. But it's because of what he represents. Izuku's always, always wanted to be a hero." Inko's voice thickened. "And All Might was the one who inspired that in him. But unfortunately that means he tends to go overboard with anything Toshinori-san's involved with."
"Toshinori-san?" Jazz's stare was so inquisitive that Inko mentally replayed what she'd just said.
Did Jazz not know who that was? How? Since his retirement, All Might's civilian name had been everywhere.
"That's All Might's name. His real name."
"Oh. Yeah—Haha! Sorry; I forgot! I've been hearing so much Japanese lately my brain's bogged up." Jazz rubbed at her neck in embarrassment.
It was still a bit odd, with how much time All Might spent in America, but Inko'd heard that traveling abroad was very taxing.
"So—uh, what do you mean, he tends to go overboard? Just with decorations and stuff?"
"No, he—" now it was Inko's turn to falter. She'd just been worried about Jazz being a spy and now she was spilling her guts again. "Eeee-to. Izuku tends to push himself really hard, and it's only gotten worse since Toshinori-san became one of his teachers."
"Wait, All Might's your son's teacher and doesn't force him to take care of himself?!" Jazz bristled as if personally offended. Crossing her arms, she grumbled, "I'll bet he doesn't sleep enough, and forgets to eat, too, doesn't he? His muscles are probably all sorts of chewed up without a rest day."
Something about the way Jazz said that…The other woman was definitely thinking about her own brother, Danny.
Inko didn't want to elaborate, since she'd been trying to redirect the conversation; but, then again, most of what she wanted to say could be found with a simple Moogle search…
"They are, but not for the reason you think. Izuku's quirk was a sleeper; he didn't get it until just a few years ago after a villain attack. Since then he's been working diligently to get it under control. But because it's super strength and his body didn't grow up with it, there's been a lot of backlash to him using it."
Inko's gaze flitted around her son's room, glaring at every pair of All Might's familiar blue eyes that she could find. (Which, between the posters, book spines and action figures were quite a few).
"Toshinori-san has a very similar quirk, so he's been trying to give Izuku special attention;" frustration bled into Inko's tone, "but all the coddling has made things even worse. Izuku's been hurting himself more trying to meet his hero's expectations."
Dragging her stare from her baby's room, Inko looked over at a face that showed nothing but understanding.
"Danny's twenty-one, now. But his quirk didn't come in until he was fourteen." Jazz reached the hand not holding her sleeping bag out and it landed lightly on Inko's shoulder. "Because of the accident…that forced it to manifest, no one in our family has a quirk that's even kind of similar." Breaking eye contact, the American looked down. "He had a real rough time of it, teaching himself from scratch while worrying that if he didn't get things under control fast—" A pause, "people might get hurt."
"I know it can be really frustrating, feeling like the bad guy. Like you're the only person in the world who really cares. The only person who pays attention. Who nags." The hand on Inko's shoulder squeezed even as Jazz continued to study the floor. "But trust me, you're not. And you might not see it now, because only hindsight is twenty/twenty—er—things seen in retrospect are clearest, but I bet Izuku-kun has a lot of people in his corner. And none of them want to see him get hurt. Especially not All Might."
"I promise he can feel that. Those expectations to stay safe. They're probably the only thing keeping him alive."
When Jazz was finally willing to raise her eyes, they looked positively haunted.
"Trust me, as bad as things seem, sometimes what looks like the worst case scenario right now could very well be the best."
For some reason, those eyes coupled with those words made Inko remember her son, before he'd gotten his quirk.
Covered in bruises he refused to talk about.
Crying alone where no one could hear.
The light leaching from his eyes just a little more every day.
Sometimes what looks like the worst case scenario right now could very well be the best.
Those same eyes, older, filled with utmost determination as Izuku held out a handwritten note from a boy named Kota, showing, proving, that he wasn't just training to be a hero, he was a hero.
Sunday, September 16th
7:19 pm
"Thirty-four! He managed to drop thirty-four before Mrs. Hallstrom banned him from handling fragile lab equipment."
Pudgy hands stilled halfway through chopping an onion into eighths and Inko Midoriya chuckled, glancing behind herself. Relaxing on a lavender couch just beyond the dinner table was her new guest, sharing "late-bloomer" mishaps about her little brother.
"I forgot to ask, are you allergic to anything?"
"Only starfruit, as far as I know," Jazz replied, shifting so her chest leaned against the back of the couch, arms crossing lazily over top of it.
The two were currently in Inko's apartment, finally settled in after a quick trip to the grocery store. (She'd forgotten that her fridge was more or less empty—cooking for one just felt so hollow.)
Jazz had been a good sport about the whole thing, assuring that it was no trouble to go back out for the missing ingredients.
With every new interaction, Inko couldn't help but feel she'd made the right choice about the homeless girl. Even if having a stranger in her house was still incredibly anxiety-inducing.
Putting down her knife and opening a bag of carrots in the sink to her left, Inko selected out a few and started to wash them.
The instant the water touched her hands, a techno-tune burst from her apron and the woman tossed the roots up in surprise. Lunging for the orange troublemakers with an "Ah!", she juggled a second before managing a firm grip, saving them from hitting the sink's stainless steel bottom.
"Are you okay?" Jazz called from the couch.
"Yes; sorry! My phone just spooked me!"
Rinsing the carrots in record time, Inko set them in the drying rack to the left of the sink and reached into her apron's kangaroo pocket.
"Izuku!"
Hey Mom.
Kami, it was good to hear her son's voice.
"Sorry, my hands were full. I'm making dinner right now."
Oh that's great! I'm glad you're cooking again. The boy's tone morphed from relieved to sheepish, I know things have been hard without me there, and now with everything else going on…
Inko's heart convulsed.
"Don't worry about me, Baby. I know I've messed up a lot in the past—" A toddler Izuku, held in her arms as they both cried. All Might's fragile form, begging up at her from the kitchen floor. "—but I think I finally understand what it means for me to support you with everything I have. I'll do better. For both of us. I promise."
Mom….The watery sound in Izuku's voice cracked the dam in Inko's own eyes, and she found herself tearing up.
"And the first step of that is getting in shape," she declared. "I'm going to start dieting. And I've hired a personal trainer."
Really?! The sheer astonishment in the word left Inko mildly amused.
"Hey! I'm not that bad, am I?" As her son sputtered a panicked odyssey—that managed to touch on how beautiful she was and how happy it made him that her health and mobility were about to improve—Inko switched her phone to a shoulder hold.
Moving the carrots to her cutting board and chopping them into one inch chunks, the mother allowed herself a coy smile.
Poor thing. She shouldn't have teased.
"Honey, I was joking."
The muttered ramble petered off, replaced by an indignant, Mom!
"Sorry. I couldn't resist."
Using her knife to scrape the carrots and onions into a large pot on her right, the cook turned the burner on medium heat and added oil.
She should probably take this lull to tell Izuku the full story on Jazz…
Stomach churning, Inko queued two potatoes to the chopping block.
"So how are things going at school? I know you said you've been spending more time at the gym, but what about your classes? Are you still having trouble with electric currents?"
No! I got it figured out! Yaoyorozu-chan walked me and a few other students through a bunch of the homework problems with visual aids. It was super fun!
Like for one of the questions, she made an aquarium and wire with her quirk—it's insane how many things she just knows how to make, Mom! She's an absolute prodigy. I can't even imagine trying to remember all the molecular formulas she's got floating around in her head—
"Izuku…"
Oh, right. Uuuhm—yeah. After we filled the aquarium, we submerged the wire and got Kaminari-kun to run different levels of electricity through it while recording the water's temperature.
Joule's Law made a lot more sense after I saw it in practice.
"Oh that's good! I'm glad you have so many classmates you can rely on. I know I don't say it enough, but I'm really proud of how many friends you've made since coming to UA."
Before Izuku could blubber out an embarrassed reply, Inko continued, "Speaking of friends, how is Mitsuki-san adapting to life at the dorms?"
Baku-chan? I haven't seen too much of her yet. Her and Kacchan live in a separate building. You know that path that follows the forest? You get to it from there, even though they're right behind the 1A dorm. They share it with Ojiro-kun and his big sister.
Tossing the potato cubes, some mirin and water into a smaller pot to boil, Inko grabbed several spices out of the upper cupboard on her left.
"Oh, I suppose that would be good for them. Do you know how Kastuki-kun's doing? Is he any better since she moved in?"
Inko heard a deep inhale on the other end of the line.
He's not greAt—at the crack in her son's voice, Inko went dead silent, turning down and covering the curry slurry that had just started to pop and sizzle from heat. He's officially transferred to general studies, and he's doing better since Baku-chan moved in, but it's like he's lost his drive. I want to help him, but I don't know how…
Inko hummed in concerned acknowledgement, walking over to the dining room table as she tried to think of sound advice. Picking up a pack of chicken thighs, she angled back around, inadvertently putting a head of bright orange hair in her line of sight.
"You know, you should ask Mitsuki-san to give me a call. I think I might have an idea."
Monday, September 17th
1:24 am
"And next up, we have an unprecedented nominee in our midst. Jas*ine Fent*n has done the impossible. This intelligent, young psychiatrist has been put forward for fourseparate categories. A first here at the Heinz Awards."
"Not only has she found a way to harness renewable ecto-energy with zero environmental impact, she's also implemented a peace treaty with the denizens of the realm where it's sourced."
"And her brilliance doesn't stop there! Through this perspicacious lady's efforts as ambassador, she's enlisted several members in both communities to provide mental health aid and jobs to the less fortunate of her town, dropping unemployment and mental illness rates in the area to record lows."
"Let's give it up for Jas*in* F*n*on!"
"Jas*ine, would you please come up here?"
—Ja*mi*—
—C*me in, J*sm*ne—
Jazz forced her eyes open, the clinging warmth of her dream fading away as another Ca*ling Jas*i*e Fe*ton. Do *uo c*py? Over, finally echoed past the barriers of her subconscious.
Something incredibly similar to radio static filled the woman's brain and she felt her mind crackle with random, broken sound bites. Lurching up in bed, Jazz threw off her blankets and frantically surveyed Izuku's room as Jasmine Fenton, please QSL. Over, now came through clear.
She didn't recognize the rough, sunny voice with its slight Southern twang; but this definitely wasn't a dream and this person knew her last name.
Her real last name.
Danny? she called back, making sure to project the thought outward. This was, after all, not her first telepathy rodeo.
After an extended silence, Jazz felt her stomach flop.
Maybe she had been imagin—
You're supposed to say "over", or I might step on you, Ma'am, the voice grumbled,before ending the transmission with, Over.
Step on? Er. Over.
Cross signals. Double. Interrupt each other, snapped cheerily back, before, Am I correct in assuming this is one Jasmine Fenton? Over.
Oh, yes! I'm Jasmine Fenton; who are you? Over.
Alastor Williams, he announced proudly, ninth Field Battalion, Signal Corps. Call sign: Radio Ghost.
Please stand by for a relay from one Danielle Phantom.
Dani?
Not hearing the word "over", Jazz waited, tamping down all the questions that tried to escape her brain like rabbits from a broken hutch.
Jazz! The voice was still jarringly middle-aged male, but its inflection was obviously a mimicry of Dani's and Jazz felt her chest explode in tiny, spastic fireworks. Are you okay? What happened? Where are you? Over.
Jazz rolled her eyes at the rapid-fire questions, but responded, In that order: yes, Danny's got growing pains, Musutafu, Japan, Hagakure's dimension.
Several seconds of silence passed, before Jazz hurriedly added, Over, with a blush.
Danny's got growing pains? What the heck is that supposed to mean?! Over!
Uhhhhh. Danny can make portals now and I got caught in one. But because he's Clueless with a capital "C", he doesn't know he's the one making them. At this point, I'm not even sure Hagakure or Kamada-san were kidnapped. I think they just fell through like I did…
Anxiety spiked in Jazz's stomach, and she added, How's Danny doing? Over.
HA! PRICELESS! This is literal yeaaars of blackmail in the making!
Oh-oh, whoops. Sorry.
Danny's a wreck. But when I tell him I found Alastor and got to talk to you, he'll cheer up! Besides, other than Sir Obsessions-Can-Be-Managed worrying himself half to death—Jazz snorted—things have been quiet. Everyone in the Zone caught wind of your disappearing act so Amity's basically on travel-ban. Not offiiiiicially, or anything; but like, even Skulker's on a VERY pressing hunt in sector seven, according to Ember, Dani/Alastor snickered. Over.
Jazz sighed in relief, feeling lighter than she had in days. Good. That's good.
So what's my eta on getting rescued? Over.
Knowing Gramps? Anywhere from two to two hundred business days. Give or take. Over.
Jazz rubbed her forehead, soothing a mild ache that was slowly building behind her eyes.
Just don't let him push himself too hard. Over.
Don't worry. Everyone's already been on DannyWatch, retorted back. He's being a little baby-bitch about it, too; but we're keeping him in line. Over.
Hmm…Maybe you don't have to. As an idea formed in Jazz's head, she leaned back down into her pillow, feeling slightly better. Tell him this world is fascinating and that I've already started writing a paper on how social dynamics and laws have evolved to accommodate various power types. She hadn't, but Danny didn't need to know that. That should keep him from rushing too much.
And make sure he knows I've already made a friend that I'm staying with, too. So he doesn't worry about me hobo-ing it like that time he got stuck in the twelfth century. Over.
Will do; but there's no way I'm not paraphrasing that,echoed in Jazz's head, followed quickly by, Oh shoot, my ride's here; I gotta go. Love you, Cuz. I'll hit you up again soon.
Danielle, over and out.
Alastor's inflection changed, once more turning disgruntled as he reprimanded, Over and out, what tommyrot. That girl don't have the good sense God gave a goose! A second later, he stressed, This is my final. Radio Ghost, jumping off.
As the strange stress of a telepathic conversation folded away, Jazz sent a goofy grin into the dark. "Roger that."
Sunday, September 16th
2:37 pm
-cut plot-irrelevant scene that was too slice-of-lifey/had too much fluff-
"So it's the train on the right?" Jazz asked, looking down from a stairwell onto a subway station absolutely packed with people. Above her head was a giant, purple sleeping bag, rolled into an overstuffed arm.
(It wasn't like she could do much about it. Her Fenton Bracelet could only enlarge charms, not reshrink them.)
"Not quite. It is on the right, but ours—did you see—quite here yet. —your new outfit—board for another ten minutes." As Jazz tried to parse Inko's words from the Gabber's highly confused babble—yay crowds—her guide smiled up from several steps below.
Inko was in her typical attire, save for a big, yellow purse hanging from one arm and a reusable grocery bag on the other. On the tote's semi-waterproof side was a summer cottage print, doing its best to combat the drear of the drizzly day.
Assured of Jazz's attention, the greenette waddled down the stairs that lead to the turnstiles, looking for all the world like a chilled flamingo as she pushed through the crowd in a fluffy, pink coat.
Jazz smiled, covertly snapping a picture with her phone before rushing to catch up.
Wishing her own jacket had a hood, she ducked further down into her olive green collar, trying to keep warm as she swiped the ticket Inko had bought her over a glass surface.
Hearing an affirmative "ping", Jazz pushed against the rotating bar and trudged up next to the older woman, stopping just shy of a thick yellow line painted on the grippy-bumped floor.
"Don't—want for your birthday—quieter on the train."
Jazz raised an eyebrow, then held up a "just a second" finger, changing the settings on her translator to only detect English.
At least she could help Inko understand her.
"It's hard to hear you with all the side conversations, but you think it'll be quieter on the train?"
Instead of answering verbally, Inko just nodded, not at all concerned when the metal behemoth next to them lurched forward and trundled away.
Seeing nothing better to do, Jazz took the moment to people-watch.
Despite the bustle of heavy traffic, things were oddly calm. The platform ran like a well oiled machine, its users more than adept at navigating the station's moving parts. It was almost…cathartic, in a way, seeing everyone go about their day.
Over by a support beam, a man made music with his elbows, looking for all the world like a cricket as a cup slowly filled with spare change in front of him.
A tranquil jingle played over the loudspeaker, ending with a chipper announcement in Japanese.
A blustery wind blew down the tunnel, flipping strands of hair into Jazz's eyes.
Okay, mood ruined.
Shoving them out of her face with a "Pftht, pffttt," Jazz jumped when a train HISSED to a stop just a few feet away, taking the place of the one that'd just left.
Clutching at her chest, the foreigner gaped at the new arrival.
Holy cannoli! It'd only been two minutes! Weren't they worried about a collision!?
Suppressing a giggle with a hand, Inko called Jazz's name and tilted her head toward a set of freshly opened doors. Starting toward them, she glanced back; and, upon seeing Jazz follow, disappeared inside.
A sudden influx of people swept Jazz forward and she maneuvered herself over to an open seat next to Inko.
Plopping down beside the librarian, the redhead raised a brow when Inko reached forward to tap Jazz's phone. "There's still a ton of background noise. I don't think it's gonna work."
The local just smiled mysteriously, even after the doors to the train slid shut and the clamor remained.
Jazz was clearly missing something.
It was a gentle rocking that finally alerted her to the subtle change. When their ride started forward, like magic, passengers around the compartment began to nod off, sending everything into a hush.
Eyes bugging out of her head at the power nappers, Jazz switched the Gabber settings over to demand, "Aren't they afraid of missing their stops?!"
With a shake of the head, Inko replied, "Japanese people spend a lot of time on trains. Everyone takes them. Even important people. It's why our subways are so punctual. But it also means we've developed a kind of sixth sense for knowing when we need to get off."
"Wow!" Jazz's face must have been something because Inko straight up laughed."I've waited over an hour for a late train at home. It feels like I'm in another world."
Well, for even more than just the obvious reasons.
Instead of poking further fun at her new pet American, the mother asked, "Are you ready for lunch?", reaching into her bag and pulling out a familiar plastic box. "We have just enough time before we get off."
"Oh, that'd be great!" Jazz's stomach gurgled at the reminder. "Would you like to eat first, since I did last time?"
"I told you before. Kids always eat first."
Jazz felt her cheeks heat up, but before she could respond, Inko was grabbing inside her sunny cottage tote again.
"But I wouldn't worry about that too much right now, anyway." Withdrawing a second bento with a blinding grin, Inko held it out. "Speaking of food, would you like curry or something else for dinner?"