The bus ride from Musutafu to Shinjuku took ninety minutes. I spent most of it watching the city transform outside my window, listening to Chet Baker's trumpet wrap around my brain like smoke. The suburbs gave way to denser urban sprawl, which gradually sharpened into the gleaming spires of Tokyo's business district.
When the bus finally pulled up to Oscorp Tower, even Bakugo shut up for a second.
The building didn't scrape the sky so much as carve through it. A shard of obsidian glass and chrome that looked like it had been thrust up from the earth by some geological violence. Where other corporate structures tried to appear welcoming with their curves and colors, Oscorp Tower was unapologetically hostile.
Now that's how you make a statement.
Mr. Takahashi stood at the front of the bus, clutching his clipboard like it might save him from drowning. "Remember what I said. Best behavior. Do not embarrass me, do not embarrass yourselves, and for the love of everything holy, do not touch anything."
The doors hissed open. We filed out onto the sidewalk, and I could feel the temperature drop as we approached the entrance. The building's shadow was cold enough to make me wish I'd brought a jacket.
The revolving doors were polished to a mirror shine. I caught my reflection in the glass as I passed through and barely recognized the kid staring back. When had my jaw gotten that sharp? When had my eyes gotten that hollow?
Then we stepped into the lobby, and every thought in my head evaporated.
Holy shit.
The space was a cathedral. Three stories of polished black marble floor that reflected the stark white lighting fixtures overhead like stars on a dark lake. The walls were smooth obsidian, broken only by geometric patterns of brushed steel.
Behind the reception desk, which was a thirty-foot span of white stone that looked like it had been carved from a glacier, the Oscorp logo hung suspended.
The lobby swallowed our group of thirty students like we were insects. Even the chatter died. Koji, who never shut up, actually closed his mouth. Nanami stopped mid-giggle. The students clustered together like prey animals suddenly realizing they'd wandered into a predator's den.
I watched Bakugo's eyes narrow as he scanned the space. For once in his life, he looked like he'd walked into a room where he wasn't the most dangerous thing present. His shoulders were tight. His hands, usually loose and ready to spark, were shoved deep in his pockets.
I'd spent my entire life in buildings designed for mediocrity. Schools that warehoused students. Hospitals that processed patients. Even hero agencies, with their garish colors and motivational posters, were just expensive theaters for public relations.
This wasn't a theater. This was a war room.
A woman materialized beside our group. I hadn't heard her approach. She wore a charcoal gray suit and her smile was so professionally maintained it looked like it had been installed surgically.
"Welcome to Oscorp Tower. My name is Ms. Hayashi. I'll be your guide today. If you'll follow me, we'll begin the tour."
She turned on her heel and walked toward the elevators. We followed like ducklings.
The elevator was larger than my bedroom. The walls were mirrored chrome, multiplying our reflections into infinity. I stood near the back and watched thirty versions of myself stare back with the same expression.
When the doors opened on the seventh floor, Ms. Hayashi led us down a corridor that felt more like a museum than an office building. The walls were lined with backlit displays showcasing Oscorp's greatest hits. Prosthetic limbs with neural interfaces. Support gear that could amplify or stabilize Quirks. Medical devices that looked like they belonged in science fiction.
"Oscorp's Legacy Hall," Ms. Hayashi announced. "Here you can see our contributions to society over the past two decades. Our prosthetics division has restored mobility to over fifteen thousand individuals with limb loss or paralysis. Our support gear has been adopted by seventy-three licensed hero agencies worldwide. Our medical research has led to breakthroughs in Quirk stabilization therapy for individuals whose abilities cause chronic pain."
It was impressive. It was also propaganda.
Every display emphasized the humanitarian angle. Nothing about military contracts. Nothing about the rumors of human experimentation that occasionally surfaced in underground forums. Nothing about the fact that Norman Osborn had personally sued three different journalists for defamation when they'd tried to investigate Oscorp's less public ventures.
A few of the students actually looked interested now. Miki, whose father lost an arm in a villain attack, stood in front of the prosthetics display for a long time, her fingers pressed against the glass.
Bakugo walked past every exhibit without a glance.
Ms. Hayashi led us through another set of doors into a conference room that could have seated fifty people comfortably. A long table of dark wood dominated the center. The far wall was floor-to-ceiling glass, offering a view of Tokyo that made my throat tight.
Standing near the window was a young man in a tailored charcoal suit that fit him like a second skin. Early twenties, maybe. Dark hair styled with just enough casual disarray to look intentional. His face was the kind of handsome that belonged in advertisements.
Harry Osborn. Had to be.
Beside him stood a woman in a modest business suit holding a tablet. Professional interpreter, based on the earpiece visible in her right ear.
Harry turned as we filed in, and his smile was everything his building wasn't. Warm. Welcoming. Charming enough to make half the girls in our class suddenly stand up straighter.
"Good afternoon!" His voice was smooth, confident. American accent, though his Japanese pronunciation was passable. "Welcome to Oscorp. I'm Harry Osborn. I know you've all heard a lot about my father, Norman Osborn, but today I'm here representing Oscorp Japan as its new CEO."
The interpreter translated.
Harry's eyes swept across our group, making brief contact with each student like he was cataloging us. When his gaze passed over me, I felt the assessment. Brief. Clinical. Then gone.
"My father founded Oscorp on one belief, hat the genetic lottery is fundamentally unfair." Harry continued, pacing slightly as he spoke. "Some are born with gifts that can level a city block. Others... aren't. We're here to burn that lottery ticket. We believe real greatness isn't born. It's built. With the right tools, everyone has the capacity to become something more."
Oh, that's good. Really good. Tell the Quirkless kid in the room that he matters.
"Over the next hour, you're going to see research that's on the absolute cutting edge of bio-engineering and genetic science. Some of it might seem like science fiction. I promise you, it's very real. And in the next decade, the work we're doing here will reshape what it means to be human in a world of Quirks."
Bakugo made a noise in the back of his throat that might have been a snort or might have been a growl. Harry's eyes flicked to him for a half-second, then moved on without acknowledgment.
"Now, if you'll follow me, I'll show you the heart of Oscorp Japan. Our Bio-Genetics Atrium."