Chapter Text
The cool of the night condensed his huff, a soft white cloud promptly vanishing into the black fabric of the sky.
The clock marked 2:37am and Metal Bat, hurled in his balcony, was still unable to get some much needed sleep. Stupid, he was always tired as hell and today wasn’t the exception. Yet his brain refused to collaborate- as usual. He sighed again lowering his head into his arms, which folded on the balcony’s rail.
He wasn’t smart. He disliked thinking about things, because thinking about things usually made him sad. And he knew all too well that, in the face of adversity, all you can do is keep going. There was hardly ever a point in dwelling.
That’s the only way he’d managed to keep Zenko –and himself- alive. Not just alive, but also, healthy. And yes, happy.
…at least she was happy, of that he was pretty damn sure. He swallowed. Badd was pretty sure she was enjoying a more or less normal childhoood – as normal as it can be when your parents are dead and gruesome monster attacks are a daily occurance. After all, it wasn’t his sister’s fault that his own childhood had been cut short. He’d sacrificed his all, for her sake. She deserved that, and so much more.
That’s why he’d always kept fighting, no matter what: he simply couldn’t afford to lose. His entire existence was built on the undeniable fact that if he strived hard enough, he would win.
And yet, that one time, it did not work.
He was able to survive the brutal punch down by that demigod Centipede monster. A pain far more intense than he’d ever experienced before, bones shattered and blood streaming away from his battered body. And then, after blazing his Spirit in that accidental Combo attack, he took another massive punch and it proved to be too much. He fainted. As much as he acknowledged that it wasn’t really his fight to finish, and how crucial his own assistance was in order to get the monster slaughtered, the truth is he’d lost.
And this new development bothered him.
His eyebrows shot up in surprise when a sudden weight pushed on his lap, right hand lowering to softly stroke Tama’s fur, a flurry of whiskers against his wrist. He absently scratched her ears and shoulders, desperately trying to distract himself from those pestering thoughts and go the hell back to sleep, to no avail.
Smashing was the one thing he was good at, and he’d failed. The thought whirled in his head, every attempt to squash it more futile than the other.
And if he failed at smashing things, how could he possibily protect Zenko?
But, of course, he would not give up.
Maybe, just maybe, he could practise a bit. Test his own abilities. Together, with a willing buddy.
Which would be alright if a lot of his, uh, colleagues, didn’t suck. The ones with a somewhat compatible fighting technique, at least.
They tried to drag him to Silverfang’s dojo at some point, which infuriated him. He’d been told, in multiple instances, that his fighting style was crap and he desperately needed to polish it. Sometimes in full bluntness; and others, in a -very fake- paternalistic concern.
Frankly, fuck them all. He’d learned how to fight monsters, and tend to his sister, and their house, and somewhat keep up with school- all by himself, starting at the tender age of 12. Nobody had ever showed up to help when he needed it most, when he’d go hungry every day and had to feed his sister with whatever he’d get from the school cafetería, when he’d spend entire nights trying to keep their house livable, when things broke and he had no money to repair- let alone replace them. When the services were cut, due to lack of payment, and he had to go out to get water every day. Only now, when he no longer needed any aid for he was strong, had a well known name and had managed to climb into the (ew) highest hero class, now they pretended they cared. Blergh.
But yeah. The whole losing bit still stung, and a little training would not hurt. Test himself, fully on his own terms, like he’d always done. The monsters were becoming stronger and the raids more frequent by the day. Practising a little could be an amazing thing indeed.
He just needed a sparring partner.
But, whom?
Tatsumaki and Flashy Flash were a Big Fucking No. Darkshine was traumatised, and he respected the man needing his own space (what could a dumb meatheaded teen like himself possibly say in order to help, anyway?). Tanktop dude…. His students hated him, and he probably did as well. Puri was a rapist. Genos was alright but he was always glued to that bald guy he didn’t really know (not that he knew the Cyborg all that well, either). Most of the others were alright too, but either their fighting styles were just too different from his own, or they were way too public, when the last thing he wanted was everybody and their grandmother knowing that he needed to get better. Dog dude rarely left his post, and was permanently surrounded by people. He’d have no privacy with Atomic Samurai either, cool as the old guy was.
He just didn’t want to see any self-satisfied smile when he gave up to their wishes (which he didn’t, but they’d surely think and say so). That would be insanely embarrassing, and he could not bear to hear their fake encouragement either. The ironic bit was, the dojo geezer would be kind of a perfect choice since he’d himself trained the jerk… but he’d retired (and his students were gossipy, no doubt).
On that line of thought maybe, just maybe….
Yeah, no.
No, no no, what the fuck, no.
There's no way he’d ask that jackass to help him train. Absolutely no way.
He shook his hands in the air, as if physically trying to dissipate the idea into nothingness.
However… there was actually one hero who was pretty damn alright. How did he not think about him before?
He was wise and quiet. A private and discreet man, much unlike the others. Moreover, he owned an inmensurable strenght, of an even stranger nature than his own Fighting Spirit.
King was a super cool dude. Badd couldn’t repress a small grin when, opening their messaging app, he saw the man was in fact online.
Fingers brushing Tama’s soft fur again (who looked up to him as if imploring to go back to bed, since she loved curling up next to the hero), Badd breathed in deep and typed.
“Yo, King”
The answer came quickly.
“Hey”
Badd felt suddenly uneasy. Weak, in a way? Exposed? However, there was no backtracking now. He straightened his back.
“I was wondering. May I crash at your place tomorrow afternoon? Wanted to ask you bout some things”
King took about a minute to reply.
“Sure kid. See ya”