Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was lonely here.

But, that was what the people wanted.

One swing of her axe was enough to level the forest. The lumber was needed. The land was needed. After all, people needed to be happy. People needed to be saved. The starving, the cold, no one deserved to be abandoned.

No one left behind.

And in that effort, she swung her axe.

Bundles of timber, rows upon rows of uprooted stumps piled high. It was mindless, thankless work. But she didn’t need thanks. Work was its own reward, as it was said. The rough, uneven, unusable land became pristine. Wild, untamed nature fleed from her blade as she marched forward. Set the lumber aside. Burn and chip the stumps. There was going to be a road here, soon. She would have to go back to the mountain to obtain more paving stones. Hopefully, no one had moved into that area yet. They didn’t deserve to endure having to look at her.

The lumber would be used to make new houses. When the mountain was leveled, she could start building more houses and let the people who flowed behind her like water fill in the cracks. They would populate those empty houses, filling them with life. 

And yet, she could not turn back. She could not smile with those flowing people and their civilization. She did not deserve to do so.

“You’ve destroyed everything!”

So she continued her work.

The people were happy to take from the endless fruit of her labor as she marched across the plains and forests.

“Why did you remove the beauty from the world?”

Why?

She wanted to see everyone smile.

But she couldn’t.

After all, how could she look behind her if she was marching forward?

She swung her axe.

The forest disappeared in a single stroke. Bundle the lumber, ship it back. Haul the stumps, till the ground. Pack the earth, level the hills. Pave the roads, lay the foundations. Dig the shafts, mine the ore. And on it went.

What else was there to do but march forward? After all, even if she would never be allowed to see the smiles on the people’s faces, she would believe they were there. She could not turn back. To turn back was to not be useful. She had to be useful, to save everyone.

Though the smiles were never for her.

After the people got what they wanted, they would discard her like a useless garnish, a piece of parsley no one wanted. That was okay.

She was a machine. A bronze machine that marched onward without stopping.

She would make everyone smile.

Even if her wish was absurd and her hands too large.

Even if the things she loved would be crushed under her own hands.

Even if she had to destroy the only thing that made her herself.

The people would be happy.

What she wanted didn’t matter.

...

How long had she been here? Hundreds of years? Thousands?

How long had the bronze machine of civilization marched and trampled and rampaged over nature?

Maybe in another hundred years, the people will be happy.

She swung her axe.

-----

She fell asleep under the stars, cradled with her little Babe. It was warm, with the sound of the wind blowing across the plains. Babe didn’t say anything, even as her only companion. The world was strange, she could tell. It was nothing to be concerned about, though. As if the world itself was moved to the left, just a little bit.

It was that same feeling she had when she met that Master so many years ago. She fell asleep wondering if that Master she met was a dream.

She peered around. Slick, white stone walls. A bed that she recognized as being rather nice, all things considered. Oak wood?

“Oh?”

She blinked, spinning to face a voice from behind her. A man with flowing white... everything. Flowing robes, flowing hair, flowing petals in the wind.

“Who are you?” She had to ask. No one had talked to her in many hundreds of years, if they were not yelling at her, admonishing her failure.

The man gave her a smile that she wasn’t sure was good or not. He gave off that sort of feeling. “They call me many things, though I prefer Merlin. What is your name, little one?”

She hadn’t been called by her name in a long time. She wasn’t even sure if she was real, after all. Machines didn’t need names.

A hand came down on top of her head. It was... different. “Do you not have a name?” He looked unconcerned.

“...Paul.”

“Paul.” He nodded, as if he was satisfied with the answer. She relished in his smile even for a second. “How did you end up here in my tower, I wonder?”

“I’m dreaming.”

“And so you are.” Merlin sighed. “The world has shifted, Paul.”

“Shifted?”

“Things are not where they are supposed to be, I think. My sight has changed. What I can see is not what I was once able to see. It is... concerning.”

“What do you see?” Paul walked up to Merlin, peering around him for a window. There was nothing but a stone wall in front of him. “I can’t see anything! Let me make a window!” She hefted her axe.

“Ah, no, please, little one.” Merlin’s hand appeared around her shoulders, preventing her from swinging her axe. “There is no need.” He waved his hand, and a vista appeared. A city, smaller than the Chicago she remembered. “Look and tell me what you see.”

She focused on the scene. Tall buildings, cars, people moving about. People were happy. “A good thing!”

“Indeed.” Merlin nodded. “A good thing. But not the same as we remember it, I think.” He frowned. “You would not know, little Bunyan.”

“Wouldn’t know what?” Paul blinked. “And how did you know my last name?”

Merlin smiled. “It’s part of what I can see, Paul.” His hand rose to pick up a staff. Where did the staff come from? “Look there. What is that?”

A man was leaping from building to building. He was springing off of the ground and the buildings forcefully as if the strength in his legs were greater than he appeared. Blonde hair and an outfit that was both outlandish and flashy. “A Heroic Spirit?”

“A Hero, perhaps.” Merlin replied. “Not a Heroic Spirit. Not yet, at least. Though his story is, most likely, coming to an end.”

Together they watched as the man slammed into two other people, blowing them away with powerful punches.

“I am here!” The man declared, smiling brightly to the cheers of those around him.

She was immediately jealous. Though, maybe not. It didn’t feel like jealousy. It felt more like... longing? The man got to see the smiles of those around him. He was beloved for his work. Even if that work was punching people rather than building and creating and destroying. 

“It is a strange thing, humanity.” Merlin started, and Paul blinked. She hadn’t realized it, but Merlin’s hand had reached down to wipe away a tear.

“S-sorry.”

“Do you like what you see?”

 She nodded.

“For me, it was disorienting.” Merlin conceded. “This world we are seeing is not the same as the one I had seen in the past. Though I can say that this version of humanity is perhaps just as interesting as the last one I saw.” He nodded. “And that presents an opportunity!”

“Really? How?”

“You were lonely before.” Merlin didn’t ask her, he told her. She had no choice but to nod. “Would you like to not be so lonely?”

She could feel herself beginning to cry again. “Yes, please...”

“Since the world has shifted, our little places in the universe have been disrupted. We can go down there, if you like.” Merlin nodded. “I think... let’s open a restaurant.”

“A restaurant?” Paul blinked. “Why?”

Merlin’s smile grew wider. “That’s what one is supposed to do, of course! When you arrive in a new world, with a new life, it is tradition to open a restaurant, or a general store, or something of that nature. There’s always something interesting if you get the right location.”

“Oh, okay.” She didn’t really understand, but that was fine.

“Is there anything you want for the restaurant? I was thinking... udon?” Merlin laughed a little.

Paul paused. Udon... it sounded alright. But still... “I want Hamburg steak.”

“I’m sure we can figure something out.” Merlin nodded once again. “Alright, Paul Bunyan, facsimile of a great creator Goddess, the potential of America. You want to save everyone, right?”

Was she happy? Was she feeling excited about wanting things for herself? The excitement was welling up in her. She knew it was wrong. It was selfish. She didn’t deserve anything. And still... “Yep! And eat Hamburg steak. And go to the fair, and sleep in a big bed, and go to a hot spring, and even eat some udon. And we can save people, just like that man! And... and-”

“We can do that.” She found herself enveloped in a fluffy, soft embrace. It was nice. “We can do that. After all, it will be fun!” Merlin’s staff began to glow. “There’s no magic keeping me locked away from this place, now. Besides, I get the feeling something interesting is about to happen!”

Paul hugged the magus tightly as she felt herself getting lighter. The world was filled with flowers.

Adventure!

-----

It hurt, just a little bit.

They hadn’t done much. Not at least what Kacchan could do to him when he was in the mood to do it. It was only after school when his backpack was torn away from him by a boy with stretchy arms, hanging far out of his own reach. The bag ended up in a tree that he had to climb all by himself to reach. Of course, no one would tell anyone else, and he knew that if he tried to tell a teacher that they would accuse him of throwing the bag in the tree himself. The boys would obviously cover for each other, and that left him to face the trials of middle school alone. Midoriya Izuku, after all, was a troublemaker that wanted attention. Because, well, he was Quirkless.

It didn’t make him feel better when he finally managed to get close enough to get his backpack off the tree branch. The boy with stretchy arms, whose name eluded Midoriya, had simply reached up and plucked the bag right back out of his reach, the rest of them laughing all the while. It wasn’t the tallest tree, given the arms of the stretchy boy only seemed to extend the length of his forearms a certain length, perhaps five meters. He wasn’t sure if his arms were more or less durable when stretched, so Midoriya refrained from struggling as his bag was lifted into the air.  One of the others, Onoda, flew up to where he was perilously hanging off the branch and started shaking it. The first boy dropped the bag while his arms were still extended and reached out to help Onoda shake the tree branch, trying to knock him out of it. The sharp crack of something inside as the bag hit the ground told him that probably his wooden bento had cracked. Now his mother would have to purchase a new one.

Of course. After all, what else would happen?

The tree branch was starting to rock more violently as the two boys worked together to make him fall from the tree. It wasn’t a particularly long fall, but he still would prefer to get down the long way. 

A glob of liquid whizzed by his face. Midoriya blinked, recognizing the Acid-Spit quirk of Terumi being fired at him. They really wanted him to fall, huh? He really didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of making him let go, but he also didn’t want to lose his eyesight to an acid attack. At least Terumi had to wait at least a few seconds before trying again, as he needed a certain amount of saliva in order to fire a glob of that size. It also wasn’t particularly accurate, as spitting long distances was something that most people didn’t train. Terumi was probably better than most children their age, given his quirk, but that didn’t make him particularly skilled. He could see Terumi work his jaw trying to gather spit for another attack-

“Adult!” One of the other boys cried out, pointing in a particular direction towards the street. His ears retracted back to normal size as he deactivated his Sensitive-Hearing quirk, and the boys ran off in the opposite direction, leaving Midoriya in the tree. Fortunately, he was saved by a random passerby.

“Hello?” Midoriya called out cautiously. He wasn’t sure what kind of person was coming from down the street, but at least the boys were gone. If it was a villain by some horrid coincidence, then so be it.

“Hello!” Echoed the voice of a little girl. From around a brick building came a girl with straight blonde hair, wearing what looked like a traditional restauranter outfit, including a little maekake . The kanji for sakura was printed on the front, surrounded by the falling petals of said flower. Behind her was a man with long hair bound into a ponytail. Around his head was a striped headband that matched the identical maekake he was wearing. Were they related? Or did they work at the same place?

“Um, excuse me, could I get some help?”

The girl looked up at her... father? Well, the man. He nodded. “Yes!” The girl smiled as she ran up to him. “ Enchanté! My name’s Paul! What’s your name?” A foreigner? That was very traditional Japanese clothing for a foreigner.

“Uh, Midoriya Izuku.” He shifted on the branch, making sure he wasn’t about to fall off. “Could I get that help down please?”

“Sure!” Paul nodded. Midoriya looked at his hands to adjust his grip and suddenly she was ten meters tall.

“Woah!” Paul held out her now very large hands and Izuku unceremoniously rolled off of his branch onto her palms. She lowered him to the ground, where he scrambled off her hands. By the time he looked at her again, she was already back to her normal size... was she? No, she definitely wasn’t that tall when she first appeared. When the pair had entered the clearing she was barely 1 meter tall, and now she was over 1.3 meters? They were now eye-level. Did she adjust her size slightly? Could she only change sizes when no one was looking or was there a limit? What was her default height? The first time she changed seemed almost instantaneous, did that mean her growth speed was that fast? He had never heard of a gigantification quirk that worked at that speed before...

“You’re feeling alright, young one?” The serene notes of a beautiful male voice drifted over from the man.

“Oh!” He was mumbling again, wasn’t he?

“You’re bleeding.” The girl noted.

“I am?” Midoriya glanced down at his hands to find the palms covered in cuts. “Oh.” Of course he was. Did he get any blood on the girl? ”I’m sorry for asking for help.”

The man raised an eyebrow, and Midoriya winced. The look on his face... well, Midoriya recognized unimpressed disapproval. “Now now, none of that.” His voice softened as the thoughts flitted across his mind. “I’m not mad at you. Here, let’s get you looked at.”

“Ah, uh- sorry, but-”

“Want some Hamburg steak?” The girl suddenly asked.“Ah-” Well, Midoriya really hadn’t eaten much that day. The empty bento had been overturned that lunch period into a nearby trashcan, and it took all of his dignity shriveling up and dying to retrieve at least the box from the garbage. He was sure someone had taken a picture of him rummaging through the waste to get his box back.

The man smiled. “That’s no way to be.” Midoriya suddenly found himself being dragged along by the wrists by Paul, who was doing her best to avoid the cuts on his hands.

“Come on, we’re really close!”

They came across a very traditional-looking udon store, small and unassuming. The lacquer was brand new, though, betraying its recency. Five stools along a single bar, and three square tables. It definitely could be described as ‘hole-in-the-wall’, if one wanted to go that far. The sign read ‘Sakura Udon’, and the restaurant itself appeared to be closed.

“This is close to the school. I wonder why I hadn’t heard of it before.” Midoriya noted.

“Oh, we move about, here and there. We used to be in central Tokyo, but for now, Musutafu is more interesting, I think. Maybe we’ll move again in a few years.” The man replied easily. “Besides, we’re not that close. You wouldn’t have noticed, but we’re quite the ways away from where we were.”

“W-we are? Where are we?”

“Ah, maybe a ten-minute walk from that big high school over there.” The man pointed and Izuku saw the shining buildings of U.A High. “We get a few customers from there, which is good business.”

“Oh!”

“Come on inside, we’ll get those wounds looked at.”

“T-thank you for this, sir.” Midoriya bowed to him as they entered the restaurant.

It was beautiful. The interior was warmly lit with yellow lamps, polished dark wood furnishing most of the surfaces. Surely the cost of this place was very high, given the furnishings... He found himself being seated at one of the stools where the man brought his hands to the counter.

“Nothing too poor, I think.”

“I’m gonna go get the Hamburg steak!” Paul cried as the man nodded.

“Make sure to put on everything, Paul! Well, Midoriya, do I have permission to heal these wounds of yours?”

“H-heal?” Midoriya blinked. How would he do it? A quirk?

“I can help you heal if you’d permit me.” The man smiled.

“Uh, y-yes please.” he nodded.

The man grinned as if he was laughing at some inside joke. Midoriya briefly felt a pang of disappointment. The man was laughing at him, wasn’t he? But he quickly quieted his train of thought as the sweet scent of flowers rang through the air. A flurry of sakura petals flew by, obscuring his vision, and when he could see again, his palms weren’t in pain anymore.

“Let’s see how we did, shall we?” The man hummed, and Midoriya appreciated the musical lilt of his voice. The man ran a wet rag across his palms, revealing unblemished skin. “There we go.”

W-what an amazing quirk! A healing quirk that seemed to work nearly instantly? Was it an area effect, or did it only work on one person at a time? Did the petals heal him, or were they a side-effect? Did it drain him at all when it worked? He flexed his hands, and there was no pain whatsoever!

“Uh, s-sir? I-”

“I got them!” Paul burst back into the room a good ten centimeters taller than when she was last seen. Midoriya really wanted to ask some questions about how her quirk worked, but the smell of food overwhelmed his thought processes. “Here!” Paul grinned as she extended to him a plate of what was, of course, a Hamburg steak with brown gravy, potatoes, and parsley.

“I thought this was an udon shop.” Midoriya remarked, glancing at the man.

The white-haired man grinned back. “Ostensibly, yes, we sell udon here. But Paul loves Hamburg steak so we keep the ingredients to make it here. It’s on the menu.”

“Hamburg steak! I even eat all the parsley now!” Paul grinned.

“Th-thank you.” Midoriya bowed. “I... I didn’t get your name, sir.”

“Hmm.” The man hummed. “They call me Merlin.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Merlin-san.”

“Please. Eat.” Merlin nodded at Midoriya, who turned to the rather tantalizing scent of the food in front of him. “Don’t worry about taking too much time. We don’t open until eight.”

“Thank you for the food.”

The two strangers surrounded Midoriya, with a shorter-than-remembered Paul on his left, and Merlin behind the counter. “So,” Merlin asked. “What were you doing in that tree?”

“Oh, uh...” Midoriya winced. “I, uh, my bag was up there and I went up to get it.”

“Is that so?” Midoriya nodded quickly. Maybe too quickly? Merlin didn’t look bothered, but he didn’t seem to be entirely convinced either. “I would ask why your bag was in that tree, but... well then.” Merlin nodded.

“S-sorry.”

“Do you like it?” Paul had peered over at Midoriya’s plate, where he was halfway through the food provided. He knew he should finish it given that they had provided the food for him. It was a good thing he skipped lunch, then. Silver linings.

“Yes, it’s good!” He didn’t even have to lie, the food was very nice. Not something that he would normally eat, but it was hot and it tasted good.

“We’re glad you do.” Merlin nodded. “Midoriya-kun~.” Merlin sang.

“Yes?”

“Do you know what you want to be in the future?” Merlin’s eyes seemed to flash as MIdoriya straightened from his meal.

Of course he knew what he wanted. It was the same dream he’s had since he was little. “I want to be a hero.”

“Oho?” Merlin almost seemed excited. “A big dream, Midoriya.”

“It is!” He nodded. “But... But I can do it. I’ve dreamt of being a hero since I can remember.” He told those words almost more to himself than to the man in front of him. Beside him, he could see Paul staring at him intently.

“A brave dream.” He hummed again, tilting his head to the side. His hair cascaded down, barely contained by his hair tie. “And do you think you will achieve your dream?”

Midoriya simply nodded.

Merlin gave him a grin. “Then good luck to you, Midoriya-kun. Make sure to work hard. And don’t give up so easily on that dream of yours.”

“Yes!”

-----

When Midoriya went looking for Sakura Udon again, he wasn’t sure if he kept his promise.

Chapter Text

The world had changed around him.

Of course, saying those words like that counted as deception. Eventually, everything would change if given the chance. People would come and go. Ideas would become prevalent and fade away. If given the chance, humanity would do its best to change. Unlike humanity, his perch upon utopia would never change. That was the definition of paradise, already. To turn away from perfection is to sin, after all.

To be more precise in his words, the world changed rapidly and suddenly. In fact, it was less of a change and more of a replacement. The world had... moved. He could feel it. The binding magic that held him in his tower had vanished, replaced by... nothing. Around him, Avalon remained perfect, of course. To be perfect is immutable. To be perfect is to be immortal. Death is imperfection. And yet, the parallel worlds around him, originally inaccessible, shifted in his view. Individual corruptions, errors in the timeline of human history drifted away into the darkness. Within one of them, he had pulled the dreams of a sleeping girl. In another, he peered within to see a burning, empty world. In another, a world of relentless, blowing snow. And yet, for all of his effort, for all his clairvoyance, the world he had been observing within the past year had disappeared from his sight. In its place was a world where superheroes straight out of comics lived, where the reemergence of the abnormal stalled human progress. A strange world, indeed. Perhaps less entertaining than one fighting for survival against the end of the world. Still, it was the one he could reach now. No Chosen King to guide. No Last Master of Chaldea to observe, either. At the very least, he could peer into the little places that survived the shift. Not only that reality marble that Paul had manifested but the little places that lay forgotten in the shift. The moon, for example. There was usually something strange going on in there. Perhaps now that he had a reason to, he would guide his eyes in that direction.

It was a shame, losing his little pieces of entertainment in the world. Though, given what he knew about where those damnable trees had been planted, he didn’t want to interfere very much. He wouldn’t be missed, at any rate.

An upside presented itself, as one tended to. There was nothing keeping him here, in this tower. Perfect, unchanging utopia.

Oh, Viviane. She could not reach him anymore. The infinite walls had already begun to crumble around him.

Good riddance.

-----

Part of his motivation was whimsy. Well, that was deception. Most of his decisions were performed on the whims of his will. He was a free-spirited creature, after all. He did what he wanted to, regardless of what humans thought he ought to do instead. The girl he rescued had cried out for companionship, and he had obliged. The world below him seemed interesting, so he observed. The prison no longer held him from interacting with the world, and so he explored.

His little forays onto the internet in the past had led him to learn many little things. What modern humanity took as entertainment was of special interest to him. After all, he was what one would call an incubus. Knowing what entertained humanity was of importance to his feeding. Pleasure, happiness, excitement, thrill, love. He would prefer if the humans around him weren’t always so dour, and yet he found himself in increasingly bleak situations. Encouraging them in any way he could... well, he did his best.

Throughout the centuries, there were few things that resounded deeper within the human heart than food and drink. Through food, even the most closed-off and sheltered can be reached, even a little bit. One would have to be the most deplorable sort of human to deny the rich flavors of good food. Alcohol, too, sent emotions spiraling through the air with abandon for him to feast on. The side benefits of loosened belts and even looser tongues were nothing to sneeze at either. Food and drink created a wonderful environment for humans. To wash away the sorrow of the day, or to revel in the freedom of the night.

An udon shop? Well, part of it was the little joke that was the origins of Paul. A false Heroic Spirit created from a Holy Grail and udon dough. The Master with No Name had attempted to summon a false deity in hopes of gathering more power for herself. Though she had failed at creating a powerful creator goddess as she intended, the udon dough and the grail did create a Heroic Spirit with enough magical energy and history to record itself into the Throne of Heroes, if only barely. “Columbia”, the spirit of the American frontier, wrapped up into the false hero that was Paul Bunyan. And yet, no such goddess was considered part of mythology or legend. “Columbia” was a creation made as propaganda. A fake. A fraud. Nothing more than tall tales and fanciful whims of American artists. Paul Bunyan was worse still, a series of fake myths created long after the supposed time of the legend. With scant two hundred years of history, all after the creation of gunpowder. Still, that anemic history was enough to be remembered. Enough for her to want to be saved from the fate that was her own existence. So, he spirited her away from that collapsing Chicago she desperately tried to create. 

At the shop, he could serve people udon and alcohol. Of course, Paul had her own wants and desires, so he did his best to accommodate her. There would be no point in rescuing someone from the depths of their own mind if they were unhappy outside of it, regardless. Udon, alcohol, Hamburg steak, and the occasional bowl of rabbit stew. His own needs weren’t neglected, either. If Paul could tell that he would occasionally take a few lonely businesswomen upstairs after closing, well, she showed no signs of caring. 

Originally, they had established a small shop in Roppongi. While the hustle and bustle were nice and good for business, his primary reason for being in Minato was to be closer to that interesting man that they observed that night in the tower. One of the hobbies that he and Paul both shared was hero-watching- that was to say, being convenient bystanders whenever they could be while a hero was operating. It was quite exciting to see, especially the exploits of the venerated All-Might. The unstoppable force, while impressive to see up close, was one of many heroes operating in the dense and rich Minato, let alone all of Tokyo. He enjoyed observing them all as they did their work. It was a strange sort of peace, this world had settled into. And they fell into a routine, the two of them. Wander during the day, and work at night.

Modern alcohol was something he wasn’t the most familiar with. While he could mix a few drinks when asked, he was never a bartender. Of course, he could learn himself, but Roppongi had no shortage of nightclubs and bars for the discerning drinker to browse. A little udon shop on the corner of a somewhat trafficked office district only needed to serve beer, sake, and the occasional sour or Japanese whiskey cocktail. He kept the bar stocked regardless, but it was still used more as a way to get customers to relax than a full-fledged part of their business. Udon was fussier than cocktails, but at least Paul could help him with their work. In his humble opinion, they made good food. People knew the little shop named Sakura Udon made good udon. The tired office ladies coming home from their graveyard shifts also knew they stocked a good bar and kept some good company if they were to be asked. The nights grew busier, and the days passed. He knew that it was a waiting game. It always was.

It was only a year in when he had an inkling of a feeling. He was always one to trust his gut, as they often led to interesting places. There was a school, named U.A., that was filled with intriguing characters in and of themselves. And he had that feeling that a story was bubbling beneath the surface, focused around that place. When asked, Paul was willing to move, fortunately. Their little shop had started to get a little too popular, given there were only two employees at any given time. And so, Sakura Udon on a little corner near Kanon Heavy Industries quietly shuttered its windows for the last time.

It took a scant month for Sakura Udon on a little strip near U.A. High School to announce its opening.

The clientele near such a place was surprisingly low on high-school students. Though, perhaps not, given the late hours of operation. Often it was not the students that frequented the establishment, but the teachers. After late days grading papers and handling various issues in their classrooms, various suited men and women could be found swallowing the only meal they had that day. It was definitely a change in pace from the young bar-hoppers and exhausted salarymen that frequented the old location. The intriguing part, though, was the, perhaps unsurprising, amount of Heroes that frequented the shop. Being so close to a heroics school that employed real, active Heroes came with benefits, he supposed. It wouldn’t be unusual to spot the bright hair of Present Mic peering out from one of the corner booths, and Cementoss would often bring a small box of manju from a sweet shop down the street with him to eat after his usual bowl with tempura and pint of beer. He would say little but would offer Paul one of his manju every time she served him, so she did every time the hero came by. It was one of the little highlights of her night, getting to try what flavor he brought over.

The most notable of his customers, though, was a little gathering of three or four people in rather nondescript clothing that came by every Friday night. They always ordered something different and trickled in at different times of night, but at least two of them always appeared. After all, even if they thought they were being quiet and secretive, there wasn’t anything this world could do to keep him out. He almost felt rather bad when they presumed that he wouldn’t understand German. When he came over to ask about their meetings, he allowed for them to come by even after the three AM closing time, if only because they confessed to being Pro Heroes. Granted, listening to their plans and reviews of that night was entertaining, but generally, they were simply exhausted people trying to get some food and a beer after a long night of work. One of them, the underground Hero Eraserhead, seemed especially tired compared to the rest of them. He would often order a simple, unadorned bowl, but Paul had taken to adding something to it almost at random.  The only woman at the table seemed to enjoy his slight discomfort at Paul’s eagerness to show the new topping she had prepared for the stoic man. Once, she served the man an entire hamburg steak next to his udon, and he was still too polite to reject her. When he swung by to the table to see how they were doing, he managed to discreetly remove about half of the portion, to the man’s clear relief and the woman’s chuckling.

What a cute kid.

-----

The sign above the door read Sakura Udon. It was nearly eleven at night, and Midoriya knew he wasn’t supposed to be out this late, but he had found himself sneaking out to find the restaurant anyways. His mother knew he was a good kid, so she never really expected him to be out at all. Hopefully, she trusted him to be in bed instead of gallivanting around at night... There was no way he could sleep the way he was right now. He rubbed at his side, slightly wincing at the pain. He was already here, after all. No one else would even believe what had happened today.

It wasn’t a tremendous amount of pain, at the end of the day. He could grin and bear it, as he usually did. But tomorrow was Saturday, and his mom was planning on going on a day trip with him in the late morning. A trip to a hot spring, which meant he had to take off his shirt at some point. If anyone saw his chest or ribs and his mother found out about it, she would worry. And suddenly changing his opinion about the trip would also raise suspicions. They had planned the trip at the start of the week, and suddenly not going would be strange, especially for him. He thought about feigning some sort of natural illness, but that would still worry his mother, and possibly waste her time taking care of him! She had taken the afternoon off, and she wouldn’t be able to relax if her son was sick with some mystery cold. Midoriya didn’t want to deprive her of her day off...

Still, he found the shop quickly, thanks to the power of online maps. The few patrons didn't seem to pay him any mind as he entered the restaurant. He found himself seated at the empty bar, gazing up at the television displaying a game of no-Quirk football. An interesting choice, given how Quirk-sports had taken over the public eye a long time ago. The men simply moved their bodies, kicking an orange ball with no hint of a quirk among them other than mutations. One man’s hair was glowing, but he supposed that turning off such a quirk might have conditions that someone playing a sport wouldn’t care to think about. Perhaps the people playing were Quirkless or had a Quirk that was invisible to an outside observer.

“Hey!” A voice sounded from behind the bar.

“Ah-” Midoriya found himself glancing around, wondering where the voice came from. When he swiveled his head the third time, Paul was suddenly right in front of him. She was a good ten centimeters taller than his current seat, seemingly towering over him even as his feet dangled in the air above his stool. She had to have been at least two meters tall, if not more. “Uh, hello?”

“Hi, Midoriya!” Paul grinned at him. “Did you want some udon? Or a drink?”

Midoriya blinked. He did remember to bring his wallet with him, right? He patted at his pockets, relieved to find the rectangle of leather that signified the presence of his limited-edition All-Might wallet. He really didn’t spend much on himself outside of the occasional convenience store lunch when the one he brought was... indisposed, so he had money to spare. “Sure. What do you recommend, Paul-san?”

“Udon with shrimp tempura is my favorite, I think.” Paul nodded. “And I’ll get you something fun to drink, too!”

“Thank you, Paul-san.”

She strode her way to the back screen, where harsher fluorescent light could be seen streaming out from the kitchen.

The atmosphere in the area was quiet. There weren’t many people inside the restaurant, which Midoriya thought was a shame. Merlin-san and Paul-san were both good people. The only other people there were a man and a woman, both wearing rather dark clothing. He almost missed the two, if not for the man’s starkly pale face. He was stooped over a bowl of udon, the top of the bowl bursting with what looked like various tempura. The woman was chuckling at him, her own bowl much tamer in comparison.

“Excuse me!” Paul’s voice rang out. “I have your tempura udon, sir!” She smiled at him as she approached with his bowl.

“Ah, thank you.” Midoriya nodded. Honestly, the udon didn’t look like anything special, but he ate regardless. It was, as expected, good udon. As he glanced back up at the counter, he found a bright green drink waiting for him. He idly remembered a fact he read on the internet a while ago when collecting All Might merchandise. The shape of the glass was called a highball, though he only remembered that because he wanted a collectible Mighty Agency glass. The website had listed several sizes and shapes, including both the highball and an unusual one called a Pilsner glass. The ice being used was that fascinating, clear shaved cubes that restaurants often used.

“Here! People like this one!” Paul said.

“Ah, thank you again, Paul-san.” Midoriya nodded. He took a careful sip from the thin glass. It was an... unusual taste. It was certainly very sweet, he could understand why people liked it. It almost tasted like a melon soda. But there was a strange, almost acrid aftertaste. Did people like this drink? It certainly wasn’t his favorite, but it was at least drinkable. He sighed. He didn’t want to say anything to Paul, not when she seemed to have made the drink herself. He did have a question to ask, though. “Ah, do you know where Merlin-san is?”

Paul nodded her head. “Yep! He’s finishing up some tempura, then he’ll be right out again! Then I go back into the kitchen and do the noodles!”

“Ah, alright.” Midoriya nodded. He returned to watching the television.

It wasn’t until he found himself reaching for his glass once more that he found the spot empty. He glanced around, wondering where he misplaced it, only to find it being held in between the fingers of the man in the corner. “Alcohol being served to minors?” The man rasped out. Behind him, the woman with pale green hair was frowning at Paul, who was standing behind the counter.

“No, sir.” Paul shook her head.

Alcohol? Was that the sharp aftertaste in the drink? Perhaps he should have expected that, given that he was seated at a bar.

“There’s Midori in the glass.” The man deadpanned back. “I saw you add it.”

“Less than thirty milliliters, Aizawa-san. The total alcohol percentage is below the national limit for minors.” Paul replied. “Currently we are only allowed to serve two glasses to a minor. I can give you the recipe if you’d like.”

“No, that’s fine. Thank you, Paul-san.” The man, Aizawa-san, nodded. Behind him, the woman sighed in relief.

“I told you there was nothing to be worried about, Shota.” She said. “Besides, look at him! I would want to give him something green, too.”

Aizawa-san placed the glass back onto the bar, within Midoriya’s reach. “Actually, Paul-san? Make me one.”

“Yes, of course!” Paul nodded.

“Sorry to bother you.” The woman spoke directly to Midoriya.

“N-no, it’s fine! You were just worried about me!”

“By the way, where are your parents, young man? Are they around?”

Midoriya swallowed. “Ah, n-no, ma’am. My Mom isn’t with me.”

“Should you really be out this late, then?” The man asked.

A call came from the kitchen in English. Unfortunately, Midoriya’s English wasn’t the greatest. He still wanted to learn some, given how All Might was bilingual, but his progress was rather slow. “Paul! Is there something interesting happening out there?”

“Midoriya is here!” Paul replied.

“Midoriya? I’ll be right out!” The curtain was pushed aside, revealing a flour-dusted Merlin, his hair tied back into his bandanna. “Right. Here I am.”

“You know the boy, Owner-san?” The woman asked.

“I do,” Merlin replied simply. “Midoriya-kun is a good kid. If he’s here, that means it’s something I need to handle. Sorry for the inconvenience, Aizawa-san, Fukukado-san.” Midoriya didn’t miss the stern look in Merlin’s eyes, even as he gave Aizawa a carefree smile.

“I see.” Aizawa frowned. “Well then.” Paul handed the man a glass filled with the same drink Midoriya had. “Sorry to bother you.”

“Wait,  your name’s Midoriya?” The woman, Fukukado, smiled. “That’s so cute! It’s perfect!”

“P-perfect?” He blinked up at the woman.

She laughed, a little lilting laugh that sounded somewhat familiar. Had he met this woman before somewhere? He didn’t think he knew anyone named Fukukado... “Midori, Midoriya!”

Midoriya could only let out a weak chuckle. Though, Paul and Merlin were both grinning, too. “So,” Merlin began. The man had returned to his overflowing bounty of udon and tempura, but the woman still lingered by. “You had some questions then, Midoriya-kun?” Paul retreated back into the kitchen.

“Kind of.” He leaned forward, hoping to whisper to Merlin. “I-I’d like you to use your Quirk on me, please.”

“Oho?” Merlin leaned back, raising an eyebrow. “Quirk usage during business hours is illegal, you know. I don’t have a Quirk Service license.”

“I can wait!” Midoriya quickly replied. He didn’t want to inconvenience the man, especially during business hours. His mother was definitely already asleep. Besides, if he could prevent her from knowing about the state of his ribs, sneaking out at night was worth it. In fact, if he was caught, then maybe he could weasel out of the trip to the pool altogether...

“Hm.” Merlin glanced at the woman behind Midoriya, who was frowning at the exchange. “Well, it seems quiet enough. Paul, if you could watch the store for me, I can take care of Midoriya-kun in about five minutes upstairs.”

“Yes!” Paul called from the kitchen. It took less than thirty seconds for the girl to emerge, this time the same height as Merlin. She was drying her hands on a towel tucked into her apron.

“What is your Quirk, by the way, Owner-san?” Fukukado tilted her head to one side. “I don’t think you’ve ever told us.”

“Hrm. Perhaps there was never a reason to bring it up, then.” Merlin nodded. “I would tell you, but that might violate Midoriya-kun’s privacy, sorry. Perhaps another time.” He gave her a pose like a pop idol, knocking his temple with the back of his curled fist.

“But-”

“He’s right, Emi.” Aizawa called from his position in the booth. “Whatever happens on private property isn’t our business right now.”

“But Shota, what if-”

“Um!” Midoriya tried to speak up. “I, uh, Merlin-san, you can uh, tell them. As long as you don’t tell anyone else. It’s okay.”

“Are you sure, Midoriya-kun?”

“I-if it means you’re not a suspicious person... then it’s okay.” He didn’t want Merlin-san to be considered suspicious by his customers... It wasn’t that bad, after all.

“Well then, all right. “ Merlin glanced at the two adults, then suddenly grew a rather mischievous smile. It made Midoriya’s skin crawl, like he was suddenly looking at a scheming villain in the movies instead of an udon shop owner. “My Quirk is called Flower Viewing. It lets me create pink flower petals anywhere I can see. The petals themselves are... well, they heal people, I suppose. That’s the best way to describe it.”

“Heal people?” Fukukado asked. “That’s remarkable!”

“You’re injured, Midoriya?” The man focused on him suddenly instead. His rather expressionless face suddenly became very intense. “Why come to an udon shop instead of a hospital?”

Midoriya swallowed. “I uh, I wanted to go to the hot springs with Mom tomorrow, and I didn’t want to worry her. It’s just some, uh, bruising. I promise it was my idea! Merlin-san didn’t even know I was going to be here until I got here!” He quickly tried to defend the man.

Aizawa glanced around at the nearly empty restaurant. “Quiet for a Friday night, isn’t it?”

Merlin frowned. “So it would seem. Normally we get at least one or two more tired businessmen in this late.” He gestured to Paul, who quickly moved to the front and started closing the shutters. Aizawa nodded in approval, or so it looked from trying to see around the crouching form of Fukukado.

“Can... can I see your injury, Midoriya-kun?” The woman was suddenly at eye level, concern across her face. “I’m not sure if you are aware, but we’re Pro Heroes. Off duty right now, of course. But an injured person isn’t something I can just ignore, you know?”

“Uh, yes, of course!” Midoriya blinked at the admission, then pondered for a moment. His hands fell away from his side as he suddenly realized- “You’re Ms. Joke... right?”

“Good eye.” The newly identified Hero nodded.

“Uh, here!” Midoriya lifted the hem of his shirt, exposing the ribs below.

Ms. Joke blinked once before quickly pulling out her phone to turn on the flashlight. The light in the restaurant was rather dim, after all. “Those aren’t just scrapes and bruises, Midoriya.” She suddenly grew very serious. “Shota, get over here.”

“Hm?” Aizawa also crouched, and Midoriya could see the glint of something metallic around his neck. There were only so many Pros associated with Ms. Joke, and if he was also one... that left a few options. While most of the male Heroes that Ms. Joke worked with were either too muscular or not pale enough to be Aizawa, there was always the chance that their relationship was entirely outside of professional work. They were here together at an udon shop, after all...

“These are burns,” Aizawa stated flatly. “What’s with the burn marks, Midoriya? It doesn’t look like you’ve even tried to get these treated, either.”
 
“It’s... not really anything.”

“Midoriya.”

He winced. “Really, it’s no big deal! Merlin-san can fix it, and it won’t be a problem!” He begged. “I’m okay.”

The sound of a camera shutter emitted from Ms. Joke’s phone. “Well, I have a picture now. Let Owner-san heal the boy.”

“Hn.” Aizawa frowned. “I don’t like this, Midoriya. I’d rather you tell us who did this; unless it was self-inflicted?”

“N-no, sir. I... I didn’t do this to myself. W-why would I?”

“True. Coming out here at night to heal an injury you caused yourself wouldn’t be logical even if it was an accident. If it was accidental, you would have gone to a hospital, unless you really wanted to go on that trip.” Aizawa kneeled in front of him. “I can’t make any more assumptions in good faith, but the implications aren’t good, Midoriya.” He sighed. “I’m no good with children, Emi.”

“Of course not, Shota. If you were good with kids, you wouldn’t be a teacher.” She giggled, and Midoriya couldn’t help but giggle a little as well. Was that the joke or her quirk? He couldn’t really tell, and perhaps that didn’t matter. “Owner-san, could you please heal Midoriya? We’ll allow it.”

“We will.” Aizawa sighed. He flicked his fingers over his scarf-

“Oh!” Izuku blinked. “You’re Eraserhead!”

The man, Eraserhead, gave him an uneasy grin. It honestly looked less like he was smiling and more like he was in pain. “Oh, joy. That means Cementoss won the bet.” His gaze sighed.

“Not my fault that you bet on ‘never’, Shota. Someone was gonna recognize you eventually, now that you’re less underground than you were before.”

“I don’t have a homeroom this year, Emi. I fully expected to last at least the year.”

“Excuse me, may I?” The melodic tones of Merlin’s voice rang out over the conversation.

“Of course. Please, go ahead.” Ms. Joke replied.

The world was suddenly filled with flowers. In his vision, Midoriya could see a clear blue sky extending out over a meadow. Before him, a tower was slowly collapsing, the stone falling away from the sides in slow motion. He blinked, and the world was back to normal.

Eraserhead sighed. “Hm. My leg isn’t stiff. And my dry eye is gone.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Merlin replied. “I can’t really control the effects very well. If you’re in my range, you get restored to the best shape you can manage. No regrowing limbs or anything, though. I think. I haven’t tried.”

“No, it’s fine!” Ms. Joke flexed her fingers. “I’m pretty sure you’ve reset one of the breaks in my hand that healed poorly, though. My ring finger hasn’t been very flexible since then. Though, what good is a ring finger without a ring, Shota?”

“Hn.” Eraserhead sighed. 

In return, Midoriya’s burns had apparently flaked away to reveal healthy skin. Eraserhead reached down and ran his fingers across Midoriya’s ribs before nodding. Ms. Joke took another picture before they both stepped back. “You’re feeling okay?”

“Um, yes.” He turned to the man who had actually done the healing. “Thank you, Merlin-san.”

“It’s no problem.” The man replied easily. “Paul likes you, and that’s enough to make you interesting to me.”

“L-likes?” He found himself stammering at Merlin’s suddenly smiling face.

“Ah, I wouldn’t worry about it for a few years, Midoriya-kun~” Merlin laughed. “You’ll find out later.”

Ms. Joke laughed along. “Well, not to kill the mood, but we do need to bring you home, Midoriya.”

“If I am not being presumptuous, are you all right at home?” Eraserhead interrupted. “You family isn’t abusing you?”

“No!” Midoriya objected forcefully. “Mom would never-”

He cut himself off as he felt a hand run through his hair. “Good. I’m not happy that you won’t say who did this to you, though. I want to bring you home myself to be sure it’s not your mother.” Eraserhead sighed.

“Y-yes sir.” Midoriya sighed.  He should have expected that, to be honest.

“Don’t worry, Midoriya-kun.” Ms. Joke pitched in. “You’re not in trouble or anything. If I’m being honest, your consideration for your mother is sweet. But going out in the middle of the night to a restaurant, alone, is dangerous. Even if you know the owner.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Come on.” She took her hand in his. “Let’s get you home.”

Midoriya glanced back to see Merlin smiling at the trio as they exited the restaurant. He was holding a folded-up wad of bills in his hands. 

“Please, come again.”

-----

“Eraserhead!” Aizawa frowned at his phone. It had immediately started ringing as soon as they had gotten a block away from the restaurant. On the phone was Power Loader, who had apparently managed to call Aizawa’s phone seven times without him noticing. “You’re with Joke, right? We’ve been trying to contact you guys for two hours now!”

“I haven’t heard anything from my phone. Emi, did you hear your phone go off when you were in the restaurant?”

“Nope. I even checked the screen a few times, and didn’t see anything weird either. No missed calls or anything.” Fukukado replied, leaning slightly on the steering wheel of her car as she considered the question.

“Same.” Aizawa narrowed his eyes. In the back seat, Midoriya’s eyes were wide as he heard the discussion take place.

“That’s suspect, though I can’t say it was a bad thing...”

“Don’t make out Merlin-san to be a bad guy, please, Eraserhead.” Midoriya tried. “I think he just wanted privacy for me. I... it’s fine, really.”

“Did anything happen, Maijima-san?”

“No, fortunately not. You just missed the check-in at nine. Mic and Cementoss both said they couldn’t find the restaurant, either. They went looking and ended up walking in circles until they gave up.”

“Hn. We’re marking the restaurant as a place of interest. The proprietor, under the name Merlin, has a powerful healing Quirk that might prove useful in an emergency. There was also an incident happening inside with a boy that came to him for healing, though that won’t need to be in a report. We’re taking the boy home now.” He sighed. They were definitely going to investigate who gave Midoriya the burns and why he was so adamant about hiding it from people. At the very least, Emi would never forgive him if he let it go.

“We’ll follow up on that, then.” Came the reply from Maijima. Aizawa hung up.

“Someone in that building has a powerful presence concealment Quirk that works in an area-of-effect.” Ms. Joke mentioned. “It couldn’t have been the owner, so who was it? The girl working for him?”

“It wasn’t Paul-san, either.” the boy in the back responded. “Her quirk is her size-changing. I’m pretty sure if no one is looking directly at her she changes size at random, though she did show control over it when she wants to. Her clothes always fit, too, which is strange but not unheard of.” The boy was babbling, though the actual content of his ramble was actually useful information. Good to know in the future. “She never seemed to notice when her size changed, meaning unless she controlled it, her size is locked into a range rather than one specific height. I have no clue how old she is, either, given her constantly changing body size. And-”

“Midoriya?”

“Sorry,” Aizawa winced at how quickly Midoriya deflated at his voice. “I’ll be quiet.”

“No, it’s fine. I’d like to ask what you know about Merlin and Paul.”

After all, it would be a shame if a man and girl like them were involved in criminal activity.

He rather liked the tempura.

Chapter Text

“Really, nothing?” Aizawa Shota perked up from his onigiri at the conversation happening in front of him. He was leaning over the cheap wooden table in the teacher’s lounge, idly listening to the microwave heat someone’s coffee.

He glanced at the man sitting across from him, the Pro Hero and teacher Yamada Hizashi, or Present Mic. Next to him sat another teacher: Ishiyama Ken, or Cementoss. Ishiyama shrugged over his cup of instant noodles.

“Nothing of note, at least. Full name Merlin Sylvester, with western name order. He got his restaurant and alcohol licenses all up to date. He moved here from the United Kingdom a few years ago, girl in tow. Apparently, the girl is his adopted daughter. Looks like he’s quite rich, too. Managed to grease the wheels on his residency, no problem. Maybe an eccentric? He definitely doesn’t need to run that restaurant if what we know about him is right. I didn’t want to dig much deeper than that.” Ishiyama leaned back in his chair, rolling a small grey ball in one of his hands.

“And his Quirk?”

“As far as we know, it lines up. The registry has it recorded as ‘Flower Petal Generation’.”

“No mention of the healing, then?” Aizawa had to ask.

“None.” Ishiyama nodded. “If it was registered at the age of four like most other Quirks, then they could have missed it. Other than that, there’s nothing suspicious about him. Ran his restaurant out of Roppongi for a year, then moved here a few months ago. The girl’s been with him the whole time, and she’s the only other listed employee. Paul Bunyan. Bit of a strange name, but I’m not British so I can’t say anything about that, really. Quirk listed as ‘Size Manipulation’. Homeschooled and employed. He’s about as clean as a sketchy udon shop owner can be. We can’t update his Quirk Registry without his permission, so someone would have to convince him to get a Quirk medical license if U.A. were to ask him for healing in an official capacity.”

Aizawa sighed. “Well, then.”

“Oh, yeah, what happened to the kid?” Hizashi asked. “You and Joke bright him home, huh?”

“Nothing, really.” Aizawa frowned. “ Talked to his mother. Nice woman, if a bit of a helicopter parent. Nothing strange, no abuse. They care about each other. There wasn’t a father home.” He grunted out. “He’s quite the note taker, that one. I signed one of his notebooks.”

“An autograph?” The voice of Midnight rang out from across the room. Her head appeared from over one of the cubicle walls. “Cactus-san gave an autograph?” She smirked.

“I did.” He turned back to his lunch. “I’m still concerned, but there’s nothing I can do without launching an official investigation. If Emi’s agency wants to set one up, I’ll assist, but I can’t justify doing it myself.”

“Well, why not?” Hizashi asked. “It’s not like you have a homeroom to teach.”

“It would interfere with my naptime. And grading all of your papers. And if the quality of these English essays is anything to go by, you need all the help you can get, Hizashi.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Hizashi puffed. “I still can’t believe you have a British accent.”

“Still, a kid got Eraserhead to sign something. That’s a bit unusual.” Kayama seemed to be stuck on that, didn’t she? “Maybe I’ll try and get Fukukado-san to actually do that investigation. Can’t let someone that interesting slip by, you know.”

Aizawa raised an eyebrow at that but declined to comment. He simply turned back to his food and did his best to finish it.

Behind the cubicle, Aizawa could hear the sound of Kayama tapping at her phone’s screen. The fake nails were rather loud, after all.

“Hey, Fukukado-san!” She was calling Emi now? Aizawa was forced to stand as he listened to the conversation. “I was wondering how your investigation into Midoriya was going! No, really? Well, hurry up. Shota-kun is looking pretty bored, you know.”

“Oi!” He vocalized.

The art history teacher laughed at his disgruntled glare. “Oh, I’m sure he’d be happy to help.”

“Midnight!” Aizawa objected. “You can’t just-”

“Alright, bye!” She hung up, beaming over the damnable cubicle wall between his hands and her neck. Aizawa sighed, slumping back in his chair as he felt his own phone begin to vibrate. He checked the number, and of course. Why wouldn’t it be? He picked up.

“...No, I don’t have a class. I never have class. You know that... You’re serious? ...Fine. Twenty minutes.” He hung up.

Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have even bothered with a case like this one. But apparently, Emi had taken a shine to the kid, and she wouldn’t let him walk away when they were both there at the beginning.

Maybe this really would be better than grading papers?

Damn it.

-----

The Midoriya household is a midsized apartment complex in the same city as U.A., which made the trip easy enough. Emi, in the guise of Ms. Joke, knocked on the door of the apartment. At this time of day, of course, the kid would be at school, which was ideal. Dealing with each member of the household one at a time would be ideal for his dry eye. After about ten seconds, there was no response. She knocked again, this time calling out. “Midoriya-san? Is there anyone home?” They both paused, straining to hear if there was any movement. Silence.

No one was home, it seemed.

“You know, it makes sense.” Aizawa had to say. “Without a husband, she would have to be at work.”

“I... I guess I got excited, huh?” Emi sighed, pulling down her mask. Her usual grin was absent, this time replaced by a thin frown.

“As you tend to do.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She pouted.

“Well, we’re nearby the school.” Aizawa nodded. “We weren’t sure if she would be at work, regardless. If she happened to be home, I would rather talk to her first before the kid. Though it might work out better like this.” He adjusted his scarf.  “You should go in and talk to the principal of Aldera while I do some snooping. If he’s being bullied, the school is either ignoring it or covering it up, given the lack of records of these sorts of things. He didn’t even have any visits to the school nurse in the records U.A requested.”

“Talking to the principal seems easy enough.” Emi frowned at him. “What sort of snooping?”

“Just some simple observation.” He conceded. “Getting inside the building anonymously would be difficult. And If I went as Pro Hero Eraserhead, then people’s behavior would change pretty drastically. No one wants to be a bully around a Pro, after all.” He checked his watch. There was probably still time, given the hour. “I’ve got a good feeling I know where Midoriya will be, at any rate.”

Emi pulled her mask back up. “You seem to be taking this seriously, Shota.” 

Behind his own scarf and goggles, he was sure Emi couldn’t see him roll his eyes. “It’s not the kind of work I usually do, but it beats sitting in the staff room grading other teachers’ papers.”

“I still can’t believe you managed to expel your entire homeroom class. How have you not been fired?”

“Apparently, the other teachers appreciate how quickly I can grade their papers. Besides, the Principal seems hellbent on keeping me here, for whatever reason.”

“So... Aldera?”

“The car already has the address.”

-----

As expected.

“E-Eraserhead?” Midoriya Izuku’s gaze snapped up from his food- what looked like a convenience-store onigiri. Actually, Aizawa recognized the packaging. In another part of his brain, he noted that Ishiyama tended to purchase that brand, though Aizawa himself didn’t prefer the rice they used. Aizawa reached into a small sling bag at his side and pulled out a sealed cup of miso soup. He chose to leave the onigiri that was also there aside, given the kid already had one on him. Still, it wasn’t wrong to expect the worst.

“Lunch is looking dry, Midoriya.” He handed the warm cup of soup to the boy, who took it without comment, He was leaning up against an air-conditioning unit.

“I- I had some juice.” Aizawa noted a darker patch on his blazer. Water? Or something else?

It didn’t take a genius to see what was happening, given what they knew about his home life. If it wasn’t at home, then it had to have been here at school. He thought back to his high-school classes on empathy and chose to bring out the onigiri, deliberately taking his time to fiddle with the packaging before unwrapping it and taking a small bite. He slumped in his usual way, letting his comparably lanky frame lean against the same air conditioner that Midoriya was at. There was no sensation of the air conditioner being on, which meant the school didn’t want to run the air conditioning at all. At this temperature, so deep into spring? Perhaps a bit strange, but not unheard of. It was still a tidbit to think about. Not that he was one to judge. He ran around in turtlenecks and scarves year-round.

“How was the juice?” He chose to ask.

“Uh- it was... I usually like the brand.” Midoriya finished lamely. He didn’t want to lie, then? Honest, or just because he was Eraserhead?

“That’s good.” Delicate, delicate. Aizawa sighed. He wasn’t good with kids, why the hell did he choose to come alone? 

Oh yeah, because Emi was as subtle as a bus full of clowns.

“Why are you on the roof, Midoriya?” Being blunt was more of his strong point, anyways.

“I, uh, well...”

Instead of directly asking, he simply sent the boy a mid-level glare. That was enough to make him wither into his food.

“I... if I go to the lunchroom or stay in the classrooms I tend to, uh, not eat.”

“They haven’t found you up here yet?”

“No, they-!” Midoriya cut himself off.

Too late. Aizawa resisted showing one of his ‘gotcha’ grins.”Which one of them gave you those burns?”

Midoriya was starting to shrivel up, his lunch now forgotten next to him. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does.” Aizawa sighed. “It seems like you’re protecting this person, whoever he is.”

“I... I can’t. He’s gonna be a-”

Aizawa sighed, which caused Midoriya to cut himself off one more time. “He’s gonna be a hero, huh?” Thanks for narrowing that down for them. When he met up with Emi again, it should be trivial to figure out who it was that managed the burns.

“Eh- b- but-!” Midoriya suddenly looked ill. “Why do you care, anyway? I already said it was okay. I... I’m fine.”

Aizawa considered the state of the kid’s room. All Might memorabilia and extensive notes on heroes. If he wasn’t planning on being a pro himself, Aizawa would eat his scarf. “What do you want to be when you get older, Midoriya?”

“Uh, um. I... I want to be a hero.” And there was the catch. A quirkless kid wanting to be a hero. Nothing wrong with that, in theory. In fact, in practice, it could work wonderfully. There are tons of quirks out there that don’t do very much in the line of Hero work and yet their wielders are pros regardless. In practice, Aizawa himself was nominally quirkless. Against mutant-type quirks, he essentially was entirely a normal human with a capture weapon. That didn’t stop him from taking down whatever mutant-type quirk was in front of him.

Still, there was a stigma against quirkless heroes. At the beginning of the Age of Heroes, there were plenty of pros who didn’t have a quirk, or who had quirks entirely unsuited for hero work. However, as time advanced and the pro scene became more and more competitive, the ‘support gear hero’ had almost completely vanished. The last truly quirkless pro that he knew of, Lightning Falcon, hid his quirklessness from the public using his support gear. Of course, he couldn’t have hidden it from anyone in his agency, but for the public, Lighting Falcon had extra fast reflexes. Though it would be difficult for someone like Midoriya to be a Pro Hero, Aizawa noted that at minimum, he could make it fine in the Hero Industry as a support technician or counselor. He took enough notes for it, at least.

“You do.” Aizawa nodded, then took the time to take a bite of his onigiri. That made Midoriya blink and reconsider the cup of soup next to him. Aizawa let him take the soup and sip at it gently before nodding in approval. “You know I’m the Pro Hero Eraserhead.” It wasn’t a question. At Midoriya’s nod, he continued. “What do you think Pro Heroes do for a living?”

“They, uh, they beat villains and save people, I guess?” Midoriya sniffed. Not the nuanced answer that Aizawa expected, but it was forgivable. He had been put on the spot when not in the best mental state. “I, I mean, there’s more to it than that, of course. Like investigating crimes, and public appearances, and uh-”

“No, that’s a good enough summary.” He nodded. “We help people who need help. A simple and concise way of putting it, I think. Would a hero who ignored someone who needed help really be a hero?”

“No.” Midoriya frowned, clearly understanding the simple logic he was using. “B-but I don’t need help.”

“You were injured and snuck out at night to an udon shop to get healing.”

“I-” Midoriya slumped. “Yeah.”

“And you told me that you didn’t do that yourself, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m a pro, and I’m quite good at this investigation stuff. If you don’t want to talk about it here, then that’s fine. But we’ll know by the end of the week who did that to you.” Aizawa rose. “You matter, and your health matters, Midoriya. If you want to be a hero, your body needs to be in peak condition.”

“I- I understand!” Midoriya perked up. Did the assurances of a pro matter that much to him?

“By the end of the week, we will be taking action. I have the free time, anyways. Are you sure you don’t want to just talk to me? We could be done today, probably.” Damn, that came out rather impatient, didn’t it? He frowned at himself. Hasty.

Midoriya swallowed visibly. “Uh, Eraserhead?”

“Yes?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I... I don’t want to talk about it here. But uh, if we could, would you... maybe, want to- uh. At the, er...”

Aizawa nodded at the idea. At least, he managed to understand Midoriya’s intention. A safer space. The place where they met the first time. “I’ll contact your mother and arrange a time. Most likely eight PM this Friday.”

“Th- thank you, sir.”

Aizawa nodded. “Enjoy lunch.” He reached back into his satchel, into a different compartment. He extracted a cold can of coffee and tossed it to Midoriya before turning away.

“Uh, Eraserhead, sir?”

He leaned over the railing, checking to see if anyone was around on the ground floor. There were no windows on this side of the building.

“Sir?”

He placed one hand on the railing, flexing it back and forth.

“How are you going to-”

He jumped.

-----

The front door opened, ringing a little bell to announce new customers. Of course, he knew who was coming, given his special array of talents, but he turned to face the newcomers regardless.

“Welcome!” Merlin called from behind the bar. His dishrag disappeared behind his apron as he placed one elbow on the counter. “Sit anywhere you like.”

A shorter woman appeared in the doorway, trailed by Midoriya Izuku. He knew it was going to be a fun night in the store, no matter what happened. It was all he could do not to let out a grin. Instead, he went with his standard, carefree look.

“Hello, Merlin-san.” Midoriya- no, he would have to call him Izuku-kun now, wouldn’t he? There was another Midoriya-san to be concerned about, after all. Well, Izuku-kun didn’t look particularly excited to be there. In fact, he looked rather concerned. Midoriya-san also didn’t seem the most comfortable.

“I’ve been expecting you. It seems something serious is happening, no?” Merlin did his best to look serious as he picked up a thin-walled highball glass. Of course, being clairvoyant meant he also had perfect proprioception, and that allowed him to keep his gaze on the two green-haired visitors as he began to mix a drink. A simple Midori soda, the same one Izuku-kun had that night. 

“Um, yes. Did Eraserhead tell you beforehand?”

Merlin simply smiled. Of course, Aizawa-san hadn’t told him directly, but keeping secrets from the Magus of Flowers was rather difficult if he felt like it. “I expect you’re in for a long night, Midoriya-san, Izuku-kun.” The drink was finished, a long rod of ice and a sprig of mint adorning the top. He set to work on another drink, this one a touch stronger. Izuku took a seat at the bar, in the same spot he was in last week. That was serendipitous, to be sure. Beside him, his mother looked a bit less nervous. “Hello, Owner-san. My name is Midoriya Inko. It’s nice to meet the man who helped my son.” She gave him a genuine smile.

“Merlin Sylvester. I’m British, yes.” He nodded at the woman, who nodded in understanding. Throwing a little awkwardness in his speech helped sell the illusion of his foreign status, despite his fluency in every language he’d encountered. “Please call me Merlin, it’s what I’m used to.”

“Of course, Merlin-san.” He set the new glass in front of the woman, this time a taller Collins glass filled with a darker green liquid. “Oh?”

“Please.” He grinned, and he could tell that his pretty face was flustering her a bit. “I can’t imagine Aizawa-san not being punctual, but sit and drink regardless. Don’t worry about your tab. If what I know is right, then you’ll need a bit of a confidence boost.”

“Thank you, sir.” She averted her gaze as she took the glass from the bar. Victory...

Paul’s head emerged from under the kitchen door. While she made the noodles, she tended to grow as large as the kitchen would allow, which was quite large indeed. Nothing close to her maximum size, of course, but a good bit taller than the tallest naturally-occurring human. Perhaps four meters tall. She had to duck slightly as she spoke to him. “Dough is done kneading. Gonna set up the resting station then start the fryers.”

“Thank you. Actually, go ahead and eat now. I made some of your favorite tonight, it’s under the heat lamp.”

“Really?” Paul smiled. “ Merci !” She blinked at the two guests. “Oh! Guests! Hello, Midoriya-san!”

“Hello, Paul-san.” The boy replied. He was suddenly rather nervous, wasn’t he? Did he happen to take Merlin’s earlier tease to heart? While amusing, that wouldn’t be great for their friendship in the long term if he was constantly embarrassed, would it? Well, another thought for another time, he supposed.

“Ah, hello. My name is Midoriya Inko.” She bowed from her seat. By the time her head came back up, Paul had shrunk down to be shoulder level with the counter.

“ Enchanté! It’s nice to meet you! I am Paul Bunyan. Everyone calls me Paul!”

“It’s nice to meet you, Paul-san.” Inko smiled, this time a genuine one. A soft spot for children, then. She didn’t seem fazed by the use of Paul’s quirk, either.

“I’m gonna go eat, okay? We can talk later!” She turned to him to ask. 

“Go, go.” He encouraged. “I did say you should.”

She quickly stepped back into the kitchen, intent on her food.

Merlin sighed. “She’s getting a bit lonely, I think.” He shook his head. Why not plant a little seed of something fun for later, then? “My company isn’t the most interesting for a younger one like her.”

“Are you taking care of her by yourself?” Midoriya-san asked.

“Well, she takes good care of herself on her own.” He admitted. “She’s been helping me in the restaurant for a year and more, now. We make do.”

“What a hard-working girl.” The mother observed. “You’re not working her too hard, are you?”

Merlin laughed, a ringing thing that reminded those around him of chiming bells, or so he was told. “I couldn’t even if I tried. I swear she’d try to run the whole restaurant without me if I didn’t force her to take a break. She’s an engine, that one.” Perhaps a little on the nose, but his audience wouldn’t understand the deeper meaning. “Well, we know what Aizawa-san and Fukukado-san are going to get, so would either of you like any udon?”

“Well, you did say we should get dinner here...” Midoriya-san responded. She was holding up one of the menus scattered on the bar.

“We should!” Izuku-kun smiled at him. “The udon was good!”

“High praise, I think.” Merlin drawled. “Well, would you like the same as last time, or something different?”

“Hmm... something different, I think?”

Merlin nodded. “Perhaps some zaru ? Or maybe just some kitsune udon is different enough?”

“Ah, some kitsune udon sounds good.” Izuku-kun responded.

“Of course. And you, Midoriya-san?”  The restauranteur persona was laid back and polite, which wasn’t horribly far off from his usual rotten personality. It was a change of pace, and definitely one that he abused to have a little fun.

“Just the tempura udon, please. Both shrimp and vegetables.”

“That will be out soon, though perhaps we should wait for your friends to show up?” He noted that while Izuku was still working on his glass of melon soda, Midoriya-san had nearly drained her own glass. And that one had significantly more alcohol in it. As he was mixing a second glass, the bell to the front door rang out once more.

“Aizawa-san, Fukukado-san! Welcome!”

“Owner-san, it’s good to see you.” Fukukado smiled lightly, though her expression was rather tight. Behind her, Aizawa-san was staring at his phone.

“Is there something bothering you, Fukukado-san?”

“Do you know who is putting up the anti-perception quirk?” Aizawa cut in. “There’s someone or something in this building concealing us.”

“Oho?” Merlin grinned. How forward of them. This could definitely be entertaining. What could he say that would be teasingly infuriating? “Well, we pride ourselves on fulfilling the needs of our customers. I think a little privacy is worth it, given the current situation, no?”

“Illegal quirk usage in public spaces is, well, illegal, Owner-san.” Fukukado tried.

“Hm.” Merlin tilted his head. “Well, if you want it taken down, I can do that. Though we pride ourselves on a peaceful environment for our customers.”

“Leave it for now.” Aizawa-san replied. “It’s helpful for our uses.”

“Shota?”

“If Merlin-san’s perception field is the thing that keeps criminals from snooping on our meetings, then I’d say let him. You live upstairs, right?”

“We do.” Merlin nodded.

“Then we’ll call it private property.” The man put his phone away.

Merlin grinned. “How very shrewd of you, Eraserhead.”

Fukukado’s grin dimmed a little. “Well...”

“I’m still technically an underground Hero, Emi. I’ll take resources where I can get them. Though perhaps getting this place registered as a secure meeting spot would be helpful.”

Both the Midoriyas seemed enraptured by the exchange. Merlin allowed the conversation to continue. “Well, I haven’t really done much training with it. I’m rubbish at that sort of stuff in general, you know.” It wasn’t even a lie. Incantations always took too long, and he never could get his pronunciation as good as he wanted it to be. “I was always better at swordplay than... my quirk.”

“I didn’t take you for a swordsman, Merlin-san.” Fukukado approached the bar, considering his arms. “Though, now that you mention it, you’re quite fit, aren’t you?”

Information gathering, then? They were both quite good at making the conversation seem natural. Still, Merlin had spent thousands of years manipulating humans. This was little different, though he wasn’t out to ruin these people or anything of the sort. “It’s something to do during the dead hours, at least.” Cut off that line of inquiry in the bud. “Well, we’ll have your food out shortly, I think. We got you the regular, if that’s fine, Aizawa-san, Fukukado-san.” Make the change in subject abrupt enough that they would take notice. It’s always fun when they think he had something to hide.

Aizawa’s gaze didn’t dip, but Fukukado shook her head before turning to face him completely. “Yes, thank you, Owner-san. We’ll use our normal booth, then. Midoriya-san, if you would?”

As the four of them settled themselves at the booth, Merlin began preparing the usual drinks. A simple canned coffee on ice for Aizawa-san, and some sweetened black tea for Fukukado-san. He poked his head into the kitchen, where Paul was getting several bowls of udon onto a serving tray. “Ah, you’re already good?”

“Yep!”

“I’ll get started on the rest of service preparation, then.” Merlin allowed the shorter girl out of the kitchen before disappearing into the back.

Time for a little drama, then.

-----

Fukukado Emi didn’t like dealing with people.

It was strange, wasn’t it? She was known as Ms. Joke to the public- a wisecracking hero who could put a smile on everyone’s face. Her quirk complimented the outgoing persona wonderfully, making every villain takedown an absolute embarrassment for the villains. They would crumple to the ground, unable to breathe or defend themselves, and the public treated her like she was completely harmless. If her quirk was simply the ability to cause someone to choke on air, she wouldn’t be such a public-facing hero, that was for sure.

It was simple enough to let her writers come up with cute sound bites to give to the public. Most of her speech material wasn’t even hers, down to the jokes. Her own little notebook of quips she used during takedowns was her own material, of course, and she was a natural at adlibbing. An upbringing reading historical theatre and performing improv tended to produce decent acting ability, after all.

That was all it took, really. She didn’t need to make long, passionate speeches to bring out the fervor of the crowds. She didn’t need to be inspiring. All she needed to do was show up, make the villain fall over themselves laughing, and put them away quickly and efficiently. Her quirk, no matter how strange and terrifying in her own mind, was something she treasured. It was her way to help those who she couldn’t help in other ways. Her capabilities in rescue work were limited to simply distracting victims in pain while medics worked around them. She left the actual rescue work to actual rescue heroes. So, she never found herself talking to victims for an extended period of time. 

That was until she met Aizawa Shota, the underground Hero Eraserhead.

They ended up working on a missing person case together when one of his lead suspects emerged in her district. They spent an extensive amount of time simply talking to people. A distraught wife, a suspicious older couple, a delivery boy who claimed to have spotted the victim, and others. It was... a different sort of heroics than she had experienced before. There were no villains to take down, and no one to humiliate at the end.  Instead, a worn-out husband hugged his sobbing wife, with genuine smiles on their faces. There was only one arrest made, a small-time villain with a mind-control quirk using some people he kidnapped to move common drugs around the city. She wasn’t even the person who arrested him. The police ended up doing that. She wasn’t mentioned in the news for it either unless one counted the phrase ‘underground heroes take down drug smuggling ring’ as a mention.

It was fulfilling in a different way than her daytime arrests were. Of course, she still went out during the day, but she found her nights absorbed in the world of underground heroics. A place where subtlety was key and information was king. She honestly didn’t fit in very well at first, but she somehow managed to wedge her way into Eraserhead’s circle of contacts. She even managed to convince him to start going out more in the daylight, using his quirk-erasing fighting style in combination with her own to directly take down dangerous villains. This emergence from the underground led to more people knowing of Eraserhead the Erasure Hero, much to his annoyance.  

Then, suddenly, they both got teaching jobs. With their days occupied by children, the nighttime heroics were all that they shared once more. It felt... more natural than she expected it to be. Maybe, in another life, she would have started as an underground hero and never left, perhaps with a different name. At night, her colorful clothes were replaced with dull greys and blues. She kept her hair in a ponytail instead of it being set free to wave in the wind. She felt like a completely different person, and it was... satisfying.

Maybe this was more her style, after all?

“Midoriya-san, Izuku-kun. We’d like to follow up with you about the incident last week. Izuku-kun has told Eraserhead that he would be able to shed some light on the circumstances.” She gave Midoriya-san her serious face, though it was hard to tell behind her unadorned mask. 

“I... I don’t see how big a deal this can be.” The mother admitted. “Izuku has had problems at school, but-”

“I!” Izuku suddenly vocalized. “I t-told Eraserhead I would tell him.”

“You both know who did this, don’t you?” Emi asked. Next to her, Shota simply began eating his noodles. She glanced the other direction, where the girl, Paul, was stooped under the bar. Was she... cutting ice?

“...It’s hard to believe, you know.” Inko replied. “I never imagined that Bakugou-kun was capable of such things.”

Izuku winced over his tofu. “I don’t think... You can’t blame Kacchan, you can’t.”

“And why not?” Shota finally replied. “You’re not stupid, Midoriya.”

“He-” Izuku swallowed. “He can be a great hero. I know he can.”

“With behavior that led to those injuries?” He pressed.

“He doesn’t treat other people like that.”

“Just you.” Shota finished.

When Izuku said nothing, Shota simply slurped at his noodles. “Why does he treat you like that, Izuku-kun?” She tried in his stead. Both the Midoriyas snapped their heads simultaneously in her direction. 

“I... it’s because I’m, uh, Quirkless, mostly,” he admitted.

Not new information. Emi nodded as she finally pulled down her mask to sip at her tea. One of the lessons Shota told her about interacting with people: remind them of your humanity sometimes. It was a way to get people to relax around you when you weren’t a hero all the time, but a person having a conversation with them. 

“Hurting and abusing someone for being quirkless isn’t acceptable, you know.” Emi stated. “With this information released to the heroics schools, Bakugou-kun would have a hard time getting into any Heroics program in the country, let alone the prestigious ones.”

“... Isn’t that, uh, counterproductive though?” Izuku tried to respond. “If he can’t get into a heroics course, then what will he do? I don’t think he could do much else with how he is...”

“That is a concern, isn’t it?” Shota replied. “What a boy not able to do heroics would do when his quirk seemed to be his whole personality.”

That seemed to be the case, at least. When Emi spoke to the Aldera principal, the only thing he could talk about seemed to be how strong the top end of his graduating class was this year. Katsuki Bakugou was brought up without prompting by the man at least once. Apparently a competitive boy, he was vocal about his desire to get into professional heroics.

“So, please. I know he can be a great hero. I...”

“What did we talk about earlier, Izuku-kun?”

“Uh...?”

“I thought you also wanted to be a hero, did you not?”

“Y-yes.”

“You being injured all the time is illogical.”

“...yes it is.”

“So-” Midoriya Inko interjected. “What do we do, then?”

“The school year is almost over. Have you put in your application intent forms yet?”

Izuku shook his head. “We were going to do that in a week or so, I think.”

“The best we can ask for you to do is to pull either you or Bakugou-kun out of school for the last few weeks before the break starts, but I feel like you wouldn’t appreciate that.”

Emi frowned. “Are you sure you don’t want to do anything about the bullying?” She sighed. “We know Aldera won’t touch their golden boy, so what are we going to do about this?”

Shota sighed. “Do you want to attend school for the rest of the school year?”

Izuku swallowed. “I do. U.A. wants my final exam grades and I need to take them.”

“U.A.?” Emi had to ask. “Ambitious for sure. I can see why you want to finish, at least. Though, couldn’t U.A. make an exception for him?”

Shota sighed. “No. That’s not how it works. Besides, I don’t think a charity case is what you’re looking for, is it?”

“N-no, sir. I can do this on my own.”

“At least promise us to do your best to protect yourself.”

This wasn’t the sort of solution that Emi was looking for. No arrests and the kid was probably still going to be bullied at school. It was like nothing had changed at all...

“Excuse me?” Paul arrived at the table, making the group jump slightly. “Hello? I, uh, I can take the bowls, please.” She collected the empty bowls of udon before asking another question. “Did anyone want dessert?”

Emi giggled a little. “Actually, something sweet sounds wonderful right now. Can we get those little donuts with the pandan sauce?”

“Of course!” Paul smiled as she steered away the dishes.

Shota sighed. “Well then. What can we say that hasn’t been said? Bakugou Katsuki wants to be a hero. Midoriya Izuku also wants to be a hero. Midoriya Izuku wants Bakugou Katsuki to be a hero. From what we know about Bakugou Katsuki, he is ill-suited to be a hero. From what we know about Midoriya Izuku, it would be difficult for you to make it as a daylight hero, at least. What sort of resolution can we expect?” He leveled a glare at Midoriya. “If I see you in my class, things will change one way or another.”

“Y-yes sir.”

“In the meantime,” Emi added. “It wouldn’t be a bad idea to train your body, Izuku-kun. You’re not a stick or anything, but you could stand to build some muscle before the entrance exams if you’re dead set on entering a heroics program. Not only U.A. but my wonderful Ketsubutsu as well, I think. We wouldn’t mind having you around, you know.” BE encouraging. Hopefully, Izuku’s reverence for heroes would help him stand up for himself...

“Midoriya-san.” Shota addressed the mother, who blinked.

“Yes?”

“Now that you know, do your best to keep your son safe.”

“I... I will, Eraserhead-san.”

-----

“Why was I not satisfied with that interaction?” Emi could feel herself glaring at the road as her hands tightened around the steering wheel. “Why did it feel like we failed?”

Shota’s gaze was soft. When she glanced over at him, he was staring down at the styrofoam box of donuts and pandan sauce.  “Didn’t I tell you, Emi? Sometimes, there are people that don’t want to be helped.”

Chapter Text

Paul noticed that Boss had stopped on a particular section of the sidewalk. “So, this is the spot.” 

“Here?” Paul looked around at the rather nondescript street corner. The thin road led down a few shops, lined with a few trucks and possibly a gathering at the end of the street... no, not really. Just a few more people crossing than normal.

“Yep.” The man craned his neck. “There should be something happening right about-”

“Oh, if it isn’t Paul and Merlin!” A man wearing a tracksuit over a thin white undershirt approached. In his hand was a rather ancient camera, the large black lens glinting in the sunlight.

“Goro-san!” Paul cheered at the appearance of the middle-aged mochi maker. Like them, Goro enjoyed the rather dubious hobby of ‘bystanding’. Most people who actively participated in following around heroes called it ‘hero-watching’, but Paul personally thought ‘bystanding’ was a much funnier name. It involved traveling around and tracking the locations of various Pro Heroes. While some, like Mount Lady, provided real-time location on their website, others didn’t and had to be tracked by third parties. All Might, despite his fame, was actually hard to keep real-time track of due to his sheer speed, according to Goro. Still, Paul didn’t need to track anyone, because Boss always knew where the shows were gonna be. Made it nice and easy.

boom

An explosion rang out in the distance.

“Yes, there we are.” Boss nodded and they made their way toward the sounds of combat. “Should be a good show, I think.” He made a shady face.

Of course, Boss always acted shady, so Paul shrugged it off and took his hand, growing to make her stride longer. “Let’s go!” She made to take Goro’s hand as well, but he waved her off good-naturedly.

Goro peered up at the uphill they’d have to scale. “I’ll meet’cha up there.” Goro nodded. “These old bones aren’t as spry as they used to be. Don’t want to miss the show, do we?”

Paul pouted. “All right, fine.” As always, Boss was easy to drag along, mainly because he probably was floating off the ground by an inch or so. Maybe. If he wasn’t, then he had pretty long legs because Paul had never had problems with his running speed before.

Boom

The sounds of explosions were getting louder, and there were definitely more people around than on the first street. Some were running away of course, but others seemed to either want to watch as they did or simply ignored the ruckus. Paul dodged around a businessman before she caught sight of the rather insidious-looking pile of slime currently being exploded by what appeared to be a middle-school boy. Explosions were leaping off of his palms, ripping away the slime for only a short time before it wrapped around him again.

BOOM

“Hm?” Paul grew slightly to see over the heads of the first row of bystanders to peer at the Pro Heroes on the scene. It was a single-lane street, and beyond she could see the towering form of Mt. Lady shouting about something or other, but she couldn’t really hear her over the sound of the combat and fires. “Hey, boss.” She asked down at him, who never seemed to have a problem hearing her no matter how far away she was. “How come Mount Lady doesn’t shrink down a little to fit in the street?”

“Hmm... I wonder?” Boss gave Paul one of the smiles that she liked, not the nasty kind but the happy kind. “What do you think, Paul?”

“Well, maybe she only uh... only has two sizes? Big and Small.” Paul frowned. “But that’s weird. I can grow as big as I want.”

“Well, not everyone is as talented as you are, Paulie.” He squeezed one of her rather large fingers, and Paul nodded. “Who else do you see?”

“Uh... the wood one. Kamui Woods. And the water one is fighting the fires. He uh...”

“That one is Backdraft. You’ve seen him before, remember?”

“Nope!” 

“The fire at the factory next to the old shop.”

“That was him? He was wearing black, though.”

“Both are pretty common colors for firefighter jackets.” Boss nodded. “Anyone else?”

“Uh, Death Arms is here! I wonder why he’s not grabbing the boy, though. Or Kamui Woods, either. He can just sort of reach in there with a stick, right?”

“He sure can. But he’s afraid of the boy’s explosions, I think.”

There was a sudden commotion coming from the other end of the street, and something seemed to fly into the slime’s head, sending it reeling.

“Oh! That’s Midoriya-san.” Paul noted.

“Indeed.” Boss grinned. Paul glanced down to see the spark of interest bloom in Boss’s eye. “How’s he holding up?” Normally Boss was good at suppressing the swirling trail of petals he leaked from around his feet, but now Paul spied the telltale sign of his magic working a bit harder than normal. Of course, no one else around them even noticed, given the rather daring exploits of Midoriya-san, but- oh.

“He’s gonna lose.” Paul looked a bit sad at that. “How’s he gonna be a hero if he loses at the first fight?” She started to reach over her shoulder, ready to materialize her axe.

Boss shook his head. “We’re just watching today, remember?”

“But...” But Boss was using magic! She could tell! Well, Boss always cheated at that sort of stuff, so Paul didn’t bother objecting. Still... Paul frowned.

“It seems cruel just to stand and watch when one could help, no?” Boss adjusted the hem of his uniform. “But this is an important step in the story. Of course, we can still say hello, if you wish.”

“Um... okay.” Paul nodded her consent.

“You want to help.”

Paul nodded at her Boss. “It’s silly. But you’re strong, right Boss?”

“For a given definition, yes, I am.”

“I’m strong too.” Of course she was, Paul Bunyan was always the strongest around! Though, that was back on the frontier. “Why do we always just watch?”

“There are laws about saving people these days, you know that.” Boss was right. She had to take a bunch of tests just to be allowed to work in the restaurant. The future was a strange place with lots of laws. That was a good thing, laws meant society, and society made people happier. “You have to be a Licensed Hero to fight villains.”

“Yeah.” Paul grumbled. “We could crush them all, though.”

“Of course we could. What do you take me for?”

Beside them, a blur shot past Paul and slammed into the pile of children and sludge. Boss extended the umbrella he was suddenly holding and Paul shrunk down, happy to hide underneath the shade from the shower of goo that began to rain down on them. She wrapped her arms around Boss as he scooped her up with his other arm.

“All Might!” Paul exclaimed. He wasn’t wearing his usual hero costume, but it was always exciting to see the Number One show up. In the modern day, he was what every hero aspired to be.

Paul could say that she didn’t want to be like All Might. His position, his goal, was something a little too outside of the existence that was Paul Bunyan. All Might was a different kind of hero, and that was what made watching him so interesting. Paul Bunyan couldn’t be All Might, because All Might represented stability. With All Might here, people could walk the streets without fear. He was a light shining in the darkness for Japan, representing an immovable wall that evil couldn’t hope to defeat. Everyone wanted to be the next All Might, the next paragon of Quirked humanity to maintain the status quo of good triumphing over evil. Paul Bunyan could never be that perfect sort of hero. She didn’t even want to try.

Paul idly compared him to the Boss... no. They weren’t really that comparable, were they? If All Might was what the modern hero was emulating, then Merlin Sylvester was an older sort of Hero. He was shady and kept lots of secrets, and he definitely didn’t have a television commercial or stuffed toy anywhere. He was the sort of hero that she was used to. Heroes, back then, didn’t mean someone who protected the current state of the world. Heroes were people who changed things. They weren’t always good, or always evil. They simply were... larger than life. They had impact . If you were that sort of Hero, then people definitely remembered you. It wasn’t like uh, Backblow or whoever, when no one could remember his name. After a hundred years, would anyone remember Blowhole, or whatever his name was? People remembered Merlin, the greatest wizard to ever live. The stories of the Knights of the Round Table influenced what people thought about when picturing a valiant knight and righteous king, and Merlin was always there, guiding King Arthur to glory. If you weren’t important, if you didn’t have that impact, then history would forget your name.

History forgot a lot of things.

Like the story of Paul Bunyan. 

It had been thousands of years, after all. The average person didn’t remember Paul Bunyan. Paul Bunyan wasn’t a person that had left any impact after this long. That master she met so long ago didn’t recognize her name, and this place was years and years in the future, and also not America.

Still, it wasn’t as if that mattered. Paul didn’t really want to be a hero, anyway. She just wanted to help.

“The police are coming,” Paul noted the sound of sirens. “Is Midoriya-kun gonna be alright?”

Merlin grinned, this time one of his scary smiles.

“Oh, he’ll be perfectly fine. Let’s go say hello while we can.”

“Did I miss all the fun?” Goro approached from behind them.

“It’s what you get for not letting me bring you, Goro-san!” Paul pouted.

“Sorry, sorry.” Goro held up his hand. “Still, I can get some good pictures of the aftermath, I think. I thought I saw Mount Lady at the end of the street, and I do spy the work of Kamui Woods as well.”

“Don’t worry, Paul.” Boss squeezed her shoulder comfortingly. “We’ll help out soon enough. I’m starting to get a little antsy, too. What do you say we go out and make an impact ?”

-----

His lungs were burning, his chest heaving. Next to him, the sound of a policeman drummed against his ears, but he was having problems paying attention.

Why had he done that?

When he first ran in to try and do something, anything... why? Kacchan’s explosions weren’t doing anything to the sludge whatsoever. He could have called out his suspicions instead of charging in recklessly- that the explosions should have been pointed at the villain’s eyes. But he knew, somewhere deep inside, that Bakugou Katsuki would not listen to Midoriya Izuku. So he charged, threw his bag at the enemy, and...

And lost. He lost, badly and completely. It was only the timely intervention of All Might that saved him from being killed by the villain.

“Ah, if it isn’t Sylvester-san and Paul-chan!” The police officer next to him suddenly spoke.

He looked up, and suddenly before him were the nice people from the restaurant.

“Hello, officers.” As before, Merlin-san’s voice was beautiful, and it was interesting that the first thing that Izuku thought of was that it was beautiful. In his arms was a surprisingly small Paul. Did that mean her default size was even smaller than that? Could she shrink even farther than what she ahd shown? How far could she take it? Did her mass change significantly if she did? He never got around to making more than a cursory entry on the pair, if only because the circumstances around them using their quirks were... unique. He definitely had wanted to go to bed pretty quickly after that night.

“Merlin-san!” Izuku quickly rose to his feet, but he was definitely still sore from his quick tumble with the sludge villain. He winced as he stumbled off of the curb.

“Ah, hold on there, Midoriya-kun.” Merlin swiftly deposited Paul to the ground and approached, wrapping a surprisingly well-muscled arm around Izuku’s waist and hauling him up. “You looked like you took a bit of a tumble there.” Izuku blinked at the coincidental wording the man used before he remembered his manners and stabilized himself, giving the man a bow.

“It’s good to see you, Merlin-san.” He couldn’t really say that he felt as happy as Merlin looked, though.

The man smiled at him as Paul managed to drag the police officer into their own conversation. “How was your first taste of being a hero, Midoriya-kun?”

“Is that what this was?” Izuku nearly wanted to wince. “I already heard it from Death Arms and the other heroes’ Merlin-san. You don’t have to worry about me anymore. I wasn’t... That wasn’t me being a hero or anything.”

Merlin simply tilted his head. “Why, sure it was.” He laughed. “Everyone’s first chance to be a hero isn’t always glamorous, you know.” His arms guided Izuku to stand in front of him, where Izuku found himself looking up at the foreigner. “Be glad your first foray was rough and disappointing, rather than tragic.” The man’s hand landed on Izuku’s shoulder, his other one twirling an umbrella. Why did he have that? It was a perfectly clear day... “The first step of being a hero is standing up for the beliefs you hold. The second step is taking responsibility for those beliefs and turning them into action.” The man lowered his umbrella and squatted slightly. “The third step isn’t up to you.”

“What does that mean, Merlin-san?” His speech was rather cryptic, after all. There were many more steps to becoming a hero than that.

“It means you’re well on your way, Midoriya-kun.”

“Boss!” Izuku looked up to find a now taller Paul starting to drag Merlin away. “They’re gonna be done soon.”

“Stop by when you have the time, Midoriya-kun. I’d like to keep up with your progress.”

“Progress?” He still wasn’t sure what Merlin was talking about, but it was nice that there was someone who still believed in him, even if he had a hard time believing in himself.

How was he supposed to turn that into action?

“Come on.” The officer sighed as Izuku turned his attention to the man, who was in a better mood that a few minutes ago. “Are you feeling alright, kid?”

“Yes sir.”

“Well, be safe getting home, alright?”

“Yes sir.” Izuku sighed, turning back only to find Merlin and Paul had already gone.

After he managed to slip away from the crowd of reporters and a rather irate Bakugou, Izuku wandered down a surprisingly empty street. He hadn’t even been walking for another minute before suddenly, from between two houses, emerged All Might.

“I am here!”

-----

All four of them were here today, for once. After the commotion with All Might and the sludge villain, Merlin and Paul still had to open up the restaurant for the night. It had been a good few weeks since Merlin had met the two others, as it had mostly been Aizawa and Fukukado joining each other or showing up alone. Both women were present at the same time, which surprisingly rarely happened. It was far more common for Aizawa-san and Fukukado-san to be there simultaneously, sometimes joined by Ueno, a razor-thin man wielding wireframe glasses and shiny black hair. Actually, it was even rarer for Ueno to appear at the same time as Kayama-san, the pro hero Midnight. It seemed as if the man avoided her at any cost, once even leaving the table before the pro could even approach. If Ueno was a Pro Hero, he made no indication of wanting anyone to know about it.

Still, all four of them were here, and Ueno appeared to be engaging Kayama in spirited conversation as Merlin approached with a tray of drinks. “Excuse me. How are we doing today?”

Ueno adjusted his glasses before regarding Merlin with an eager eye. “Ah, good timing, Merlin-san. I could use a drink right now.” Merlin handed Ueno his preferred  drink- a cuba libre with another set aside for a little later. He drained half the glass before speaking again. “See, this is such a good find, Kayama-san. I’m surprised no one told me they had good rum here.”

“What sort of rum do you even use, Merlin-san?” Kayama asked before she regarded Ueno’s drink. “I didn’t tell you to order anything, Ueno. You’re just a drunk.”

“It’s a three-year we get imported from I think... Barbados.” Merlin provided.

“Not bad.” Ueno muttered. “Better than any of the ugh, domestic rum we have at the bars around here. Hard to get good alcohol these days, it’s all made cheaply here instead of imported these days.”

“Well, we do our best here.” Merlin nodded. “The usual food, then?”

“Yes please.”

“Me too, I think.” Kayama yawned, stretching before noticing that neither Aizawa nor Fukukado had said a word.

How fun!

“Is there something wrong, Fukukado-san, Aizawa-san?” Merlin asked, dropping his smile for a look of concern.

“Have you spoken with Midoriya recently?” Fukukado spoke up.

Merlin nodded. “Why, yes I have.” He gestured over to Paul, who he knew could see him from behind the counter. She immediately switched to ‘bartender mode’, watching over the rest of the store as he talked to the customers. “This afternoon, in fact.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, when was this?” Fukukado actually looked a bit guilty about having to ask the question.

“Oh, he had just recovered from that incident with the slime villain, have you heard?”

“Sludge,” Aizawa corrected. “The media has labeled him a sludge villain, rather than slime.”

“Is there a difference?” Merlin asked. Maybe they would wonder about his foreign status a bit more.

“What did you talk about?” Aizawa asked instead. Ah, ruining his fun.

“I just asked him to stop in when he was feeling better is all. I imagine he will be bringing his mother by the shop in a few days, if I have my way. The boy has gone through enough for someone in his position.” 

“It’s good to see someone is there for him, Owner-san.” Fukukado nodded.

“Actually, you are Pro Heroes, is that right?”

“I’m technically not.” Ueno raised a slender finger. “Though none of these idiots would be able to work a payphone without me.”

“I resent that.” Aizawa mumbled.

“You’re a teacher. It’s a miracle you’re not using chalk and an overhead projector.” Ueno manipulated his glasses.

“Well, I have something a bit strange to ask.” Merlin gave them his best ‘silly me’ grin, mostly because none of them would buy it. “Paul saw what had happened with Mount Lady back during the incident. She had asked why I wasn’t going over to help, and I’m having a bit of a time explaining it. I was hoping if one of you were free you could come with us to help explain what heroes do and why I can’t go up and hit all the bad guys myself.”

“She really looks up to you, doesn’t she, Owner-san?” Fukukado smiled at him.

Ah, there we go, on the hook. Now to reel it in.

“Ah, I don’t know about that.” Merlin sighed, stepping away from the table. “Actually, I should go get your food. Sorry to bother you.”

Fukukado glanced at Merlin as he turned away. “Give me a location and time and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Ah, are you sure?” Merlin turned back to the woman, who nodded.

“Sure, no problem.” She sighed. “Paul is a sweet girl, and I can tell you work very hard for her.”

Merlin pulled out his order pad and pen, scribbling a quick note in English, which Fukukado had to glance at for a second before putting away. “Thank you so much, this will hopefully help her out with her moral issues given she loves coming with me when we go hero-watching.”

“It figures you lot would be bystanders.” Ueno shrugged. “What can I say, I used to do it too, before I got a job with these guys. You get sick of heroes real quick when you listen to them complain for hours a week.”

“I’ll take your word for it, Ueno-san.”

-----

“So you’ve gone and put it into the poor girl’s head that civillians are weak?” Emi growled a bit playfully at Shota, who by some miracle had found time to join her on the little excursion to a park with Paul and Merlin. Paul had found another girl to play with as Merlin watched from a distance, leaving the pair of Heroes to observe them. They were all wearing casual clothing, though Merlin’s choice of a thin, flowing scarf to wrap around his all-black outfit did remind Emi a bit of Eraserhead’s costume. It wasn’t terribly cold out, but Paul was wearing what looked to be a wool coat and beret, both in a forest green. “I can only imagine what sort of hero she’ll grow up to be with a quirk like hers. A strictly better version of Mount Lady, if I were to be frank, sounds completely ridiculous as a Quirk.”

“I don’t think the girl could be convinced that her father was weak even if I tried to do that, which I didn’t.” Shota replied. “I imagine she thinks the world of him. And yes, if she grows up a little more mature than Mount Lady, she’ll be a fine hero, I think. Maybe in two years or so.”

“In theory, she could get into any high school whenever she wants, right? She did finish middle school in order to get her work permit.”

“I wonder.”

Merlin approached the two playing girls, letting the stranger play with his ridiculously long hair. “He’s interesting, no?” Emi nodded at the man.

“He’s suspicious.”

“And that’s why you chose to show up, in case he was a villain of some kind? Oh, come off of it. You and I both did our own background checks on him, he came up roses every time. If anything, a rich, eccentric British man with a child running an udon shop together would be a wonderful slice-of-life story, wouldn’t it?”

“It seems ideal, that’s fair enough. Still, her perception is warped.”

“Warped?”

“She claimed not to want to be a hero, yet everything else she wants points towards being selfless, altruistic, physically fit, and even a good hand with her own quirk. Do you think she changes sizes unconsciously?”

“Well, given how often she changes sizes at random, her control can’t be that good, can it?”

“It’s perfect.”

Emi raised an eyebrow. “Really? I doubt that.”

“I suppose you need to step up your observation game.”

Emi scoffed. “I’m not gonna waste time psychoanalyzing a waitress at an udon restaurant.”

“Well, if you did, you would have noticed that she always fits through every door.” Shota sighed. “She’s got enough control to let her do certain jobs using her size, and her clothing also changes size with her. That goes beyond a lot of the limitations of size-changing quirks. She also generally only changes sizes when no one can see her.”

“Isn’t that a limitation of her quirk, rather than a skill?”

“She practices. I can sometimes catch her doing it if the lights are dim, but her spatial awareness is fantastic.”

“That’s... scary.”

“Now imagine how scary the father is.”

Emi thought back to the man’s muscled arms and claims of being a swordsman. “I think I get it.” These two were more interesting than she had given them credit for. “Maybe he’s a retired pro?”

“It’s a possibility.” Shota admitted. “No concrete evidence but a lot of circumstantial pieces.”

“So, what do we do about it?”

Shota sighed. “Not much. They’re not hurting anyone. If anything, Merlin-san has been a boon for us. Maybe we push for Paul to enter a hero school, but I wouldn’t want Merlin-san to be forced to close his shop.”

“Couldn’t he hire other people?”

Shota tilted his head. “I’d say unlikely without a prior connection. Skill probably wouldn’t be relevant. The onle person I could say with confidenc he would hire would be one of us, or perhaps the Midoriya kid. He seemed familiar with them.”

“That would be a nice way for Midoriya to get out of that awful place.” Emi granted.

“Ah, excuse me, sir? Ma’am?” A younger man wearing a black cloth mask approached them, waving a gloved hand.

“Can we help you?” Shota squinted at the man.

“I’m looking for my daughter, have you seen her? About this tall, gray hair?” The man’s eyes quickly swept over both of them before disregarding them both.

A man looking for his daughter? He seemed quite calm for a panicked father. “No, I haven’t seen anything like that.” She glanced at Shota, who had seemed to come to a similar initial conclusion: suspicious. “Would you like some help looking for her?”

“No, that’s quite alright.” The man sighed. “Honestly, I usually can find her relatively quickly when she chooses to run off... Sorry for wasting your time.”

“I can imagine.” Shota nodded. He raised an eyebrow before nodding to himself, tapping out a code to Emi with his finger. The girl?

Emi could only sign an affirmative. Do we force it?

“Well, the only little girls we’ve seen in the park have been with that man there.” Shota gestured with one arm, the man following his point to indicate Merlin with Paul and the little girl with them. “There’s no one else at the park, as far as I know.”

“Ah, there she is. Thank you, sir.” The man bowed stiffly before walking over towards the group.

“Actually, he’s a friend of ours, we might as well say hi.” Emi gave her best grin as they trailed behind the man. She tapped at the back of Shota’s shoulder. Kidnapper? Abuse?

Unsure. Gun, right pocket.

The group approached the girls, who were drawing images in the sand with sticks. When they both looked up, Emi couldn’t help but notice that the other girl’s eyes snapped to the man, her body language quickly closed off.

“There you are, Eri. You shouldn’t run off, you know.”

The girl made no move to get up, only closing off even more.

“Ah, hello, sir.” Merlin brought attention to himself, as he was watching over his own daughter. “Can I help you?”

The man gave him a glance before approaching the girls. “Eri, come on, let’s go.”

“Sir?” The man recoiled as he suddenly found Merlin in front of him “It’s rude to ignore people, you know.

“What the-” The man grumbled. “Sorry, I’ve been looking for my daughter ,” He drawled, “and now I’ve found her. If you would excuse me.”

Merlin glanced down to find the girl clinging to one of his pant legs, with Paul now suddenly over a meter taller than she was before. Emi blinked at the sudden change in size. That was... fast. Very fast. She didn’t even notice Paul was growing! “From the looks of things, the little one doesn’t want to go with you, no?”

“Merlin-san, don’t go aggravating the man.” Shota interjected.

“Please, just let me take my daughter and I’ll be out of your hair.” The man tugged at one of his gloves, slipping it off his hand.

Both Emi and Shota understood what was about to happen, given what they knew about how Merlin was with children. He surely understood what kind of person the ‘father’ was, it wasn’t that hard for a father to sense something was wrong.

“No, I don’t think I will.” Merlin looked as if he suddenly made the funniest joke in the world before the man’s hand shot up, slamming into the udon maker’s face.

“What?”

“Like I’d let you, creep.” Shota was always so cool, wasn’t he? His hair was standing on end as he used his quirk to stop whatever it was the man was going to do. He whipped around his capture weapon, wrapping them around the man’s arms before sinching them tightly. The man fell to the grass. He let his quirk drop before addressing the suddenly bound man lying on the ground. “Using your quirk illegally on another person is a crime, sir. You are-”

The earth exploded.

What felt like an earthquake rocked the ground beneath them as everyone backed away from the suddenly free man, Shota’s capture weapon melting into slag. Thick needles of rock suddenly erupted in all directions, whipping up a cloud of dust.

“The hell?”

“I see you won’t leave me in peace, then. You’ve got an interesting quirk there, old man! I’d like a peek!” He swung his now bare arms at Shota who was forced to duck away, his quirk hard to use with the swirling dust making it hard to see.

“Like hell!” Emi focused her own quirk on the man, who was suddenly beset with the urge to laugh uncontrollably.

“Like hell! Like hell she says! I can do that!” He began to laugh as expected, but instead of stopping, the man’s arms suddenly began to steam and pop. He swung at one of his own spikes while cackling, and his arm cleaved through the rock like a knife through butter.

“Shit, I can’t get close!” Emi was forced to back up. If she got disintegrated by the man’s arms, then there wasn’t hope for her to take him down with traditional means.

“Let me get my eyes clear and I can restrain him.” Shota growled.

“Wait- Merlin-san!” Emi looked up, hoping to not see the man skewered by a lance of rock.

Instead, Merlin was setting the girl down on a metal bench, over twenty meters away. Good, they managed to get out. Another wave of spikes emerged from the ground, forcing Emi to back away. One of them managed to tear into her arm, but she backed off with only a gash. “Any luck?”

“I can’t get clear line of sight.” Shota growled around the maze of spikes.

Wait, where was Paul?

“Excuse me!” Suddenly, Paul was next to her.

“Paul-san! You need to leave.” Emi told the girl seriously. She turned back to reapply her quirk to the giggling man who continued to wave his hands erratically. Shota was rubbing at his eyes, but the man was sending up wave after wave of earth spikes.

“But I can help!” Paul replied.

Emi glanced back at the near forest of rock appearing in front of her. “Look, I need to call for backup now. What did you think you can do?”

“This!” A new wave of dust spread over the area and Emi was forced to look away, before reapplying her quirk to the hysterical man, he had to run out of oxygen eventually, right?

She heard the crash of shattering rock.

The field was level. Every single spike between the man and Emi was leveled off at about three feet in height, leaving an obvious slash across the man’s chest. “Shota! This side is clear!” Emi cried before even checking to see what Paul had done. Shota dove towards her, finally catching the laughing man even as he began to heal his own chest wound.

Shota collapsed onto the man, staring intently at him with his quirk active. “I’m so glad I don’t have to deal with that dry eye anymore.” Shota commented. You okay, Emi?” He began working through his belt for tranquilizers.

“Where did you get that?” Emi was staring at the rather massive bronze axe that Paul was carrying.

“I can’t look away yet, what does she have?”

“An axe.”

“Well, it’s her axe of course.” Merlin approached carrying the shivering girl, a single horn jutting out of her head.

“Hehe.” Paul grinned before shrinking down again, the axe simply shrinking with her. “I’m good at leveling forests.”

“And why is she carrying an axe?” Shota growled as he jabbed the needle of his tranquilizer into the giggling, exhausted man.

“It’s mine! Look!” Paul simply let go of her axe and it-

“It just... disappeared.” Emi blinked.

“A bit of a trick I taught her.” Merlin replied. “Let me demonstrate.” He held out the hand not holding onto the girl, and suddenly he was holding an ornate staff- knurled wood surrounding a metal pole inset with gold and covered in ribbons.

“Wow!” The girl exclaimed. “Whas that magic?”

“It sure was, Eri-chan.” Merlin nodded. He sent a few motes of light dancing between the spokes of his staff and the girl- Eri, apparently- watched in fascination.

“Hey, Merlin-san. While that trick is very cool and I am definitely gonna have more questions later, for now could we get some of that healing, maybe?” Emi winced as she cradled the gash on her arm.

“Not yet.” Shota refuted. “If the man heals off the tranquilizers we’d have to fight him again, without the element of surprise.”

“I can work around that, no problem.” Merlin nodded at Emi.

There was a sweet scent in the air. The familiar sight of petals filled the air around them, and Emi could feel her aches and pains melt away. Fortunately for Shota, the man remained unconscious under him as he pulled out restraints to bind his arms together at the elbows.

“Pretty...” The girl seemed to be in wonder. Emi had to admit, everything Merlin-san seemed to do was breathtakingly beautiful. Shota would probably have called him an ikemen back in high school.

Still, the gash was completely healed, and Emi could honestly say that Merlin-san was a miracle-worker.

“You’re unusually calm for someone who’s just a civilian.” Emi noted. “You haven’t trained with your quirk at all? Or are you secretly a British pro on vacation?”

“I told you, Boss is the strongest!” Paul cheered.

“Oh, I’m mostly an observer.” Merlin waved off the question. “I’ve only really helped out heroes a few times, and I’m never the center of attention. Though maybe I’ve been involved in a few scuffles here or there.”

“I’ve called this in.” Shota announced. “Police are on their way.”

“Honestly, I’m glad we were here with you today.” Emi nodded. “Do you come here often?”

“To this park? Not every week or anything, but it’s a place I’ve taken Paul to before.” Merlin sighed as the girl clung to his scarf.

“I’m glad we could be here for you, then.” Emi sighed in relief. “I can only imagine how that would have gone without heroes nearby.”

“I’m surprised no one came running.” Shota commented. “No nosy pedestrians or anything.”

“Apparently this is a pretty safe area. Not a lot of bystanders around, either.” Emi replied. “You know that as well as I do.”

“Yeah. It should have been pretty safe, but you never know with these types of people, do you?”

“You never can.” Emi sighed. “Are you alright, Paul-san?”

“Yep, not a scratch.” She grinned.

“You were very brave, but don’t make it a habit.” Emi sighed. “Because we were with you and I gave you vocal permission, it’s fine this time, but don’t go using that as an excuse to be a vigilante. You can’t be a hero if you do.”

“Does that count as giving permission, now?” Shota asked.

“Yes.”

“...Fine.”

“Okay, Fukukado-san. I... I don’t want to be a hero, anyways.”

“You don’t?”

“Remember, we talked a bit about this earlier.” Shota had to remind her of the conversation they had before the whole ‘sudden villain attack’.

“Well, I’m sure that you’ll be able to make lots of people smile in the future.”

The other girl, Eri, was buried halfway into Merlin’s scarf. “And what am I supposed to do with the little one? She’s asleep, I think.” Merlin stepped forward.

“We’ll take her into custody, I think.” Emi reached out to take the proffered child, but it seemed that Eri wasn’t as asleep as Merlin presumed.

“Mmmmmm.” Eri seemed to press her face back into Merlin’s scarf. “No.”

“You must have a pretty soft scarf there, Owner-san.”

“It’s made of lace.” The man deadpanned, clearly exasperated. He turned down to look at the unconscious man at their feet.

“I’ve got an ID on the villain.” Shota sighed as the sound of sirens began to ring and a few civillians wandered into the park, inspecting the damage. “Chisaki Kai, he’s a member of the Yakuza, the Shie Hassaikai.”

“Well, at least we know that we’re not sending Eri-chan back to anywhere involving the Yakuza.” Emi noted a group of twenty-to-thirty year old males hanging around the outskirts of the park. “Are we treating him like a lone actor for now?”

“Yes. Protocol means we send a mediator over to the head of the Shie Hassaikai and make sure that it was an isolated incident. They know that we can bring down heroes on the whole organization easily. They’ll talk.”

“And what am I supposed to do with little Eri?” Merlin glanced at the girl, who was grabbing at Merlin’s hair.

“Well, if we can take her, we’ll be putting her in protective custody.”

“No.” Eri repeated.

“Well, why not, Eri-chan?” Emi had to ask.

Eri screwed up her face. “You’ll die.” Her voice was soft.

Emi blinked. That was not the answer she expected. “What do you mean, we’ll die.”

“You’ll die if I touch you. I’m cursed.” Eri replied simply.

“Oh, and how come you’re letting Merlin-san touch you?”

“He’s a wizard, he can’t get cursed.” Eri mumbled. “See?”

“Eri-chan, you won’t kill me if I touch you.”

“You will.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“I’d be careful there, Joke.” Shota grunted. “If she’s taking it seriously, then we should too.”

“Then what about Merlin-san?”

“Unknown, but Eri has deemed him safe and you not so safe. Let her do as she wants.” He finished restraining the unconscious Chisaki. Emi noted the group of men had begun to move away as the police arrived. “You’ll both have to stay for at least a few more hours for the police investigation. I apologize for the inconvenience. The UA Agency will be reimbursing you for your loss of business tonight.”

“It’s gonna be a long day, isn’t it?” Emi groaned.

“It’s okay, Fukukado-san.” Paul was now a full head taller than her, giving her a comforting hug. “At least you’re not farming.”

Emi thought about it for a moment, observing the two men having a quiet conversation as police officers approached.

At least she wasn’t farming.