Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Kurage Emi’s wall air conditioner is getting old. Her Quirk makes her moderately resistant to shifts in the weather, but she still enjoys coming home to a climate-controlled apartment. Lately, the fan in her unit has been audibly struggling. She resolves to buy a replacement before it completely breaks down, which would be harder to address.

Her next day off falls on a weekday, but she still fully covers her hair with a headscarf before she leaves home. This way, she won’t accidentally sting anyone, and maybe people won’t recognize her as pro hero Aurelia. Emi doesn’t get stopped as often as Hawks did… and still does… but she’s the co-leader of Starboard Office. Her face is in the news. It’s troublesome.

She should be used to the attention by now; counting internships, she’s been active in heroics for about half of her life. In her defense, she was a sidekick until three years ago. Before then, civilians only had eyes for Hawks. She would get a chance to catch up with him as he indulged his fans. Now, she’s the one who sets the pace on patrol. Well… until the sidekicks grow impatient. Today she can take her damn sweet time, and she intends to do so. If she can speak to as few people as possible, all the better.

Emi drives to the department store so she won’t have to carry the new aircon on the train. To her satisfaction, her scarf matches the hue of her Sakura; there’s a greener blue one in her closet that doesn’t, a gift from a fan that she’s too lazy to separate from the rest. A toddler waves to her after she parks. She smiles and twiddles her fingers in response. Babies are fine from a distance. Up close, they all want to stick her hair in their mouths, which would be deeply unpleasant for everyone involved. Even the venom from her bangs could be deadly to an infant.

There’s a strange comfort in entering a store so large that each floor needs a map. The customers are too overwhelmed to notice a celebrity in their midst, and the staff members are focused on their own assignments. Emi hates working with people who are absorbed in their own lives, but existing alongside them is fine.

She peruses the aisles blissfully uninterrupted by everything but the store’s intercom jingle. Maybe she can find a wedding gift for Keigo among the extensive selection. He’s as indifferent to his own needs as ever, so she should shop for his fiancé. A massage gun could work… but on second thought, it looks too much like a sex toy. Their bond may be far from a typical boss-employee relationship, but they’re not close enough for that.

The home electronics section gives way to video game displays. Emi never got into gaming consoles, but she recognizes the mobile game being advertised in one corner, a collaboration with Jinshu splashed across the shelves. She could message him… or not. He operates out of Sendai, so the last time they spoke was at the Hero Billboard Chart Awards. All they did was exchange congratulations about their rankings and make vague noises about the Hero Network Pride committee. It’s great that the younger top heroes are using their time in the spotlight for good, but older pros like them don’t have the energy to join. They have other priorities, like wondering how they’re considered part of the old guard at the tender age of thirty-one-ish.

After some aimless meandering, Emi drifts her way to the air conditioning area. She couldn’t say how; she had to ride no fewer than two hidden escalators to get here. The only other visible occupants are a perky sales rep and a dark-haired woman with a soft pink hair clip pinning back a portion of her bangs. One look at the salesperson’s wide smile and she knows which of them she’d rather face. The other woman is cute, anyway, like a kindergarten teacher whose optimism has yet to be snuffed out by her charges’ Quirk-related megalomania.

A split aircon display is set up against the back wall. Emi sidles up next to the dark-haired woman to inspect the demo wall unit. It looks the same as the one in her apartment. She pulls up a picture of her unit’s model information. They seem to have the same capacity. That’s all, right…? She just has to purchase something like this and hire a technician to replace hers.

“I’ve had some problems with this unit in the past,” the woman comments as Emi is about to reach for the product pamphlet.

She blinks slowly. “Oh?” Maybe she should have done more research before coming here.

“Ah! Excuse me, that was uncalled for,” she flails, flushing. Emi notes with amusement that her face is turning the same color as her hair clip. “It’s just-- um, there’s a sensor that can malfunction, so then it drips water…”

“That does sound troublesome.”

“Yes, if it’s installed above any electronics--”

The sound of shattering glass elsewhere on the floor precedes a blaring villain alarm. Emi stifles a groan. Why does this store have to get attacked on her break day? She leads her agency, so she doesn’t get paid overtime. Besides, the only support gear she’s carrying is the single stinger dart in her watch. This fight will be a pain…

“Head for the exit,” she orders, raising her voice so the salesperson hears her too. She yanks her scarf off and stuffs it into her coat pocket.

The woman’s mouth drops open. Emi wonders if she should be pleased or offended that she didn’t recognize her before. Up close, it’s kind of obvious that her eyelashes and brows are composed of translucent cilia.

Her train of thought is interrupted by the tell-tale crash of a robbery in the next section. Right. Duty calls.

She finds the sturdiest-looking aircon unit and climbs onto the shelves. Aurelia may not be able to fly, but she’s trained to use height to her advantage. The element of surprise shortens fights, and less fighting means less expended effort. She’s here to shop, damnit.

The kitchen gadgets are on this floor, which explains why the trio of villains broke in on an upper level. Handheld appliances are easy to carry away and resell once the serial numbers are filed off, much like firearms. The tallest robber, a woman with spindly arms, is shoving them into a gunny sack as her companions break open the locked cases.

Aurelia’s best option is to knock the stockiest villain out with her watch dart, throw her scarf at the woman to stymie her stealing, and drop the remaining thief before any of them can react. Hopefully none of them are venom-resistant. She’s not equipped for a battle of attrition.

Ugh, they’re being so loud. All the better to mask her ambush from above, but their confidence is galling. She readies her watch and scarf.

A breeze rises in the store as two angels take down the would-be thieves for her.

Nope, those are just her coworkers.

“Took you long enough,” she sighs, rewrapping her hair.

“Hey, Kurage-san! What are you doing here?” Midway greets. She uses her bulky white wings to keep the stunned criminals pinned against the floor. That’s careless of her, but Aurelia isn’t her direct supervisor.

Emi settles more comfortably on the shelf. “Shopping.”

“Duh, I could’ve guessed that. What for?”

“Stop bothering the nice lady,” Windsweep jokes as he cuffs their captures. “You can catch up at the office tomorrow. Keep an eye on these three while I escort Emi-san to the witness area.”

He offers Emi a gloved hand. She slips down to the floor on her own, but he half-spreads a dark brown wing to hide her inelegant dismount from the villains. Tobito’s always been a good kid like that.

“Thank you for starting evac,” he says as they board the first hidden escalator.

“It was no trouble.”

The small cluster of witnesses lets out a collective murmur when Emi and Windsweep join them by the police line. The dark-haired woman is at the front of the pack; she smilingly makes space for Emi beside her.

“Windsweep-sama, if you would please make your report first,” a policewoman calls. She shoots Emi an uncertain look.

“I’m not on duty,” she explains. “I’ll wait with everyone else.”

“Understood. Thank you, Aurelia-sama.”

“Otsukaresama desu,” the woman from the aircon section greets. “I’m a little embarrassed-- my niece is a big fan of yours.”

Emi lifts the corner of her mouth. “No worries.”

“Oh, my name is Taisei, by the way.”

“Hajimemashite. I’m Kurage. Would you like me to sign something for your niece?” She wouldn’t usually offer her autograph, but something tells her Taisei won’t ask for it.

She fumbles to take a palm-sized notepad out of her purse. “If you wouldn’t mind! Her name is Akane.”

Emi flips to the next blank page, which comes after a block of addresses and a shopping list. Under her name and Akane’s, she draws a lion’s mane jellyfish, since it’s red.

“Thank you so much.” Taisei coos at the drawing before she puts her notepad away.

“Of course. Sorry that your shopping experience was interrupted.”

Villain attacks range from nuisances to catastrophes, but every city dweller should be resigned to them. Despite this, half of Emi’s typical incident cleanup consists of comforting and apologizing to civilians. It’s… harder, after All Might’s retirement, but even her lackluster reassurances eventually settle people’s nerves.

Taisei fiddles with the strap of her strawberry-shaped purse. “Well, I was just browsing. Some of the rooms in my home are due for a refresh, and wallpapering around an obsolete aircon unit wouldn’t make sense.”

“I see… I didn’t consider that. I don’t have much experience with this.”

“I could help you,” she volunteers.

Emi considers the building behind them and feels her resolve draining. “That’s kind. I think I’ll call today a lost cause, though…”

This is why she tries to get ahead of her apartment upkeep: if her schedule is delayed by a bad day or a villain attack, she won’t be stuck with a miserable living situation. She doesn’t have the willpower to do a deep clean.

“I’ll, um, I’ll give you my phone number,” Taisei says. “If you have any questions, you could text me. Or-- I could come shopping with you next time?”

From any other civilian, Emi would assume this is a grab for more personal time, but she can’t interpret Taisei’s earnest words as flirting. There’s no harm in accepting a new contact.

“Thank you.”

They’re the last two people to be interviewed by the police, who accept their testimony without further questions. Fortunately, Taisei appears ready to continue about her day; Emi has more or less run out of appropriate conversation topics. Now, how to exit gracefully…?

Windsweep finishes his chat with an officer and doubles back to rescue her again. “You’re still here, Emi-san?”

“Taisei-san and I were just released by the police.”

“Wasn’t Taisei-san on the floor that was broken into?”

“Kurage-san told us to leave as soon as it happened, so we didn’t see much,” she asserts with a nod.

“Well, that’s good. My apologies for the interrupted shopping experience.”

Emi shrugs fractionally. “I was only browsing, though I’m giving up for today.”

“I should head home,” Taisei demurs.

“Stay safe.”

“Thank you, Windsweep-sama. Safe travels to you as well, Kurage-san.” She bows and walks away.

Windsweep follows Emi to her car. She should reprimand him for leaving Midway to patrol alone, but the company is okay. They can be Emi and Tobito, rather than Aurelia and Windsweep, for a few minutes.

“Emi-san, did you meet Taisei-san just now?”

“Yeah. She gave me her number in case I need shopping advice.”

“She seemed nice,” he ventures.

“I am not Hawks,” Emi says. “You can’t manipulate me into dating… or join my wedding party, either.”

He frowns, turning his head away from her. “I understand why I can’t be his best man, but he could have made me a groomsman, at least.”

“It’s not too late to ask.”

“I couldn’t.”

“You definitely could.”

“Similarly, you definitely could ask to see Taisei-san again,” he retorts petulantly. “You wouldn’t even have to leave the city.”

“I wish I could fire you,” she sighs.

“No you don’t.”

She doesn’t. Tobito is a longtime hero partner and friend; besides, if she took full control of the agency, she’d have to do more press conferences. They split the responsibility of leading Starboard Office because Hawks burnt himself out… kind of literally… trying to do everything himself. Tobito puts up with the media, and Emi keeps an ear out for team-up opportunities from her contacts. They embody the cooperative spirit of the new heroic age.

Emi gives herself an incredulous look in the mirror that hangs in her genkan. She must spend too much time around the PR department if even her thoughts have a businesslike air. Keigo warned her this would happen; she marks it as an instance of his questionable advice hitting the mark.

When she opens her fridge, she remembers that she ran out of miso paste yesterday. Great. Time to move up her planned grocery trip. It’s late enough that she’d rather order takeout tonight, but she can run to the store after work tomorrow.

Emi shops at a family-owned supermarket where none of the employees and few of the patrons give her a second glance. The opening hours accommodate her unusual schedule, and the store organization doesn’t change without warning. She can be in and out in under fifteen minutes if she wants.

Unfortunately, she forgot that it’s a weekend, so the shop is busier than she expected. The cart return is empty; she sighs and picks up a basket. She’s strong enough to carry her own groceries.

Apples, carrots, daikon… oh, she should buy seaweed crackers for the break room pantry. Arame stress-ate the last bag after the interns left. He’s more resistant to high school bureaucratic shenanigans than most… such as Sugidama… but Emi probably shouldn’t have made him deal with all three of their schools.

She maneuvers around an elderly couple price-matching citrus fruits and a high schooler restocking snacks from a stepladder. The dry goods shelves are all crammed full of products, the price tags jammed together in almost uninterpretable rows. Most of the time, she just locates the right product type and buys the cheapest one, but Arame is particular about seaweed and kelp. He prefers a certain brand…

“Eek! Ane-san, that’s Aurelia!” a young voice whisper-squeals from down the aisle.

“Don’tcha already have her autograph?” comes a hushed rebuttal.

“Not a picture, though!”

“I wanna pi’ture too!”

Emi summons a tired smile and turns to address her fans. She starts her sweep at eye level, so she can pass the motion off as browsing, and ends up looking at Taisei’s mortified face.

“Oh,” she begins before she even notices the four children clustered around her, “Taisei-san. What a coincidence.”

“Hello, Kurage-san,” is her strained reply.

“Is it true that you saved Ane-san yesterday?” pipes the first kid, a girl with crimson hair in two thick buns.

“Akane-chan, manners,” Taisei chides.

Emi wanders over and kneels in front of the kids, leaving her shopping basket on the floor. “I didn’t save her, Windsweep and Midway did. I was just in the same store.”

“But you helped, didn’t you?”

“I guess. I didn’t have to fight after all, but I was ready to.”

The girl beams. “With your hair, right?”

“Yes, if I had to. It’s hard to use my hair directly because it has to be attached to my head.”

“My hair can sting people even after it breaks off,” Akane says. “That’s why I get homeschooled with Obaachan, Ojiichan, and Ane-san, because it doesn’t hurt them.”

Emi glances at Taisei, who flushes, before remarking, “That’s good. My parents are immune to my stingers too, but I just wore support gear like this scarf when I was in school.”

“Oh, it’s like my gloves!” the boy standing next to Akane interjects. His hair is slightly lighter and stringier than Taisei’s.

“Mamoru-kun’s fingers are sting-y,” explains Akane. “Kandou-tan’s hair stings more if they have big feelings, and Isotan’s skin is like Mamoru-kun’s fingers except all over.”

Kandou is the tallest of the gaggle, with a feathery apricot-colored bob and long, wispy eyelashes. They flick Akane’s ear from behind. “Stop giving away my secrets, Akka.”

“But it’s Aurelia,” she protests. “She gets it.”

“Let’s not take up too much of Kurage-san’s time,” Taisei says in an attempt to corral them. “Isota-kun, did you have something to say?”

Isota, the smallest, gives her a gap-toothed grin. “Take a pi’ture with us, Aurelia-san? Please?”

Emi can’t help but smile back. “Alright, but only if we take one with Taisei-san too.”

The kids are satisfied with two group photos, one taken by Taisei and one chaotic selfie. They keep a careful distance from Emi, arranging themselves in pairs on either side of her, but usher Taisei to the center with their hands more than with their words.

“Ane-san doesn’t get stung once she’s your friend,” Akane whispers.

“Akka, that’s rude,” Kandou mutters beside her.

“It’s Aurelia.”

“You can’t keep saying that!”

Taisei intervenes, “Akane-chan, what did we say about our heroes?”

“To trust them with our lives, not with our secrets,” she grumbles, scuffing her shoe on the floor.

“Especially not other people’s secrets,” she adds gently. Maybe she would be a good shopping companion after all. “Will you apologize to Kandou?”

Akane shuffle-turns to them. “Sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” they say. “We’ll work on it. I know you really love Aurelia.”

Emi is getting tired of sitting on the ground, so she rises to her feet. She exchanges a commiserating glance with Taisei, the look of someone who wrangles younger humans daily. Mamoru and Isota have already gotten distracted; they’re trying to read all the snack labels on the shelf behind them.

“Thank you for your time, Kurage-san,” Taisei concludes, echoed by the kids. She straightens the cuff of her sleeve and retrieves her shopping cart. “And, um, your help.”

“It was nice meeting you all. I’m looking forward to Taisei-san’s help with my aircon… I’ll let you know when I’m free.”

She jolts in surprise. “Ah, I’ll wait for your message.”

With a final nod, she collects the gaggle, guiding them out of the aisle. Emi picks up her basket. She scans the packages that the boys were reading and finds Arame’s favorite. It’s on sale today.

Aurelia is on morning patrol the next day and then needs to catch up on reports, so she changes out of her uniform after she finishes her rounds with Undine. She settles at her desk in the shared presidential office, hoping for an uninterrupted hour. The afternoon sunlight is tempting… full-height windows have their downsides. How Hawks managed to get any work done when his desk was by the wall of windows, she has no idea.

She rubs her eyes. The smuggling operation they broke up last week might be connected to one of Chargebolt’s cases. Just thinking about teaming up with him makes her head hurt. He’s a good kid, like all of Tsukuyomi’s cohort, but his energy is too much for her. She’d rather deal with Cellophane or Jackie.

“We should have poached Tsukuyomi before he went further underground,” she grouses to Windsweep when he stops in to grab some papers.

“So he could take over any jobs with his graduating class?”

“Yes.”

“He’s following his dreams. Besides, they say working with youngsters makes you more lively.”

She gives him a baleful look. Windsweep’s only two years Tsukuyomi’s senior, so he’s well able to keep pace with that class. Hawks can match their enthusiasm, but he’s closer to her level when it comes to being in touch with SNS trends. Aurelia wonders if she can drop this case on Undine… not that her sidekick is any better with pop culture.

“You know Youka would hate teaming up with whoever you want to avoid,” Windsweep chides. “You two are too similar.”

“But I’m more senior… I’ll offer it to her first.”

Starboard Office’s building has two aboveground levels, the ground floor and the partial second floor. The second floor walkways overlook the open office, so it’s easy for Aurelia or Windsweep to check if someone is at their desk. Conversely, it’s easy for employees to see them coming and try to escape, which is what Undine attempts upon spotting Aurelia heading for the stairs.

“Yoshiku-chan,” Aurelia calls, too amused to act stern.

“Bathroom,” she tries.

“I’ll be quick.”

“Kurage-san, you never say that when it’s something good.”

Undine braces herself against her desk with one hand and cards the other through her hair. Her computer is open to a blank email. The window doesn’t fully cover her chat with Shiogama, whose reception shift must be slow today.

“Would you like to run a team-up with Chargebolt?”

Her face gives her answer away.

Aurelia sighs. “Then I’ll take point.”

She contacts Chargebolt directly instead of going through the Hero Network. He tends to be more responsive to texts than formal requests, but it’s late in the day, so he might read her message and forget about it. Hopefully this strategy buys her time to prepare.

After a stop at the break room for a snack, she returns to her desk. The facilities team has sent out a reminder about HVAC and boiler tune-ups for the cool weather season. Right, she should replace her aircon at home sooner rather than later. Her next day off falls on a weekday, but she met Taisei during the week, so she could be available then. Emi sends her a text.

The desk phone beeps; Shiogama announces, “Aurelia-san, I have Red Riot calling about the Dabi copycat case.”

“Thanks… hello, Riot.”

“Hey Aurelia! I just had lunch with Fumikage the other day, actually, and he says hi!”

“Thank you. What happened with the Dabi copycat?”

Red Riot, well used to giving reports, doesn’t waste any more time on pleasantries. His team confirmed that the copycat was working alone, but they had connections to a Quirk gang that Riot will investigate further.

“So they didn’t have anything to do with Dabi; they were only imitating him to make themself look better in front of the gang. Super unmanly,” he huffs. “Hey, does Hawks know about this case?”

“No, but I would’ve sent him to do interrogation if the copycat was holding out.”

Riot laughs so hard he snorts. “Man, I would not want to be them. Hawks is scary enough when he’s not talking about the League.”

“That he is.” Aurelia feels a sense of misplaced pride over his ferocity. “Keep me updated. I’m coordinating with Chargebolt for another job, so I might be in the area soon.”

“Oh, awesome. Even if nothing comes up, we should grab lunch or something while you’re here.”

“Sure… I’ll let you know. Thanks, Riot.”

“No problem! Talk to you soon.”

She hangs up and leans back in her chair. Red Riot is fine company, but if he brings Ground Zero, she’ll have to spend more time on emotional fortification before her trip. Tolerating loud top heroes is her specialty, and yet he always pushes her limits. At least he gives his work his all. She prefers dependable coworkers.

Oshizemi knocks on the open door, tablet in hand to voice, “Are you busy, Aurelia-san?”

“No…,” she answers with a frisson of dread.

“It’s time to go over the media appearances for next month.”

Aurelia waits for an emergency call to save her. None comes.

Oshizemi, who isn’t the head of PR for nothing, plays her recording of Hawks saying, “Duty, honor, blahblahblah.” They beckon her to bring up the spreadsheet. “We’ll start with interview requests.”

Since Aurelia is the pickiest about PR, she always reviews the media appearances first. She demands ample time to prepare for public speaking, despite her considerable experience, and anything that can be delegated will be. Her time is better used on field work. Oshizemi is in charge of negotiating her back up to a reasonable number of appearances.

They wheedle her into accepting one recorded interview, a group volunteer day, and a merch deal discussion. The end-of-year rankings could be swayed by her choices.

“And sometime before Hawks-san’s wedding, I’ll host a refresher on privacy and personal relationships.” She turns to Aurelia… it’s hard to read from her insectoid head, but she looks expectant.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Oshizemi agrees. “Thank you for your time. I’ll speak to Windsweep-san next.”

The Professional Supervisory Hero Association sets limits on the number of consecutive patrol hours a single hero can serve, but it doesn’t restrict office hours. The board probably understands… from experience… how much paperwork is filled out last-minute. Aurelia doesn’t understand how she fell behind on her ProSHA forms. Arame took perfect care of the interns’ waivers and work-study records; he should have noticed the permanent staff’s missing information. Or maybe Sugidama was in charge of that…? It must have fallen through the cracks.

By the time Aurelia finishes submitting her files through the convoluted ProSHA portal, she’s ready to clock out for the day… or evening, she amends after glancing through the windows. The office lights prevented her from noticing the waning sunlight.

The desks in the open office are almost deserted, the main source of noise a custodian starting to clean the restrooms. Starboard Office is too small to have a night shift; their territory is usually covered after dark by the underground heroes in the area. Emi isn’t due to be back until morning patrol, but she carries a uniform briefcase downstairs with her. The spare she keeps in her apartment is in the wash.

Her ears prick as she approaches the sidekicks’ desks. Hanan, their in-house vet, is at her computer. Her hijab is a solid neutral beige; she must have been called out to consult today. She wears patterned scarves when all her work is at the agency.

“What are you still doing here, Hanan-san?” Emi hasn’t seen any late-night scheduling approvals, so the medical staff should all leave at the same time as the office workers.

“Oh, just responding to a question about the deescalation I was part of earlier today.”

“It’s late. Do we need to make one of those for you?” She points at the flier taped to the wall that bears Hawks’s official headshot above the text “BANNED from the office after 5 PM. If seen after-hours, contact Aurelia, Windsweep, or Shindan.”

Hanan laughs. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll leave as soon as I finish this sentence.”

“I’ll wait for you, then. Do you need a ride home?”

“No, thank you. I’m meeting a school friend for dinner nearby.” She yawns behind her hand. “Besides, you must be eager to go home yourself.”

“Well, no one is expecting me.”

She finishes her email and turns off her computer as promised. Emi walks her out the door, where they part ways.

The parking lot that the agency shares with the neighboring office building is empty except for Emi’s car. As she’s getting into the driver’s seat, her phone buzzes with Taisei’s confirmation of her availability.

“Let’s go in the morning. The store is usually less busy before lunchtime 🪸,” her message reads. The coral emoji at the end is reminiscent of Aurelia’s jellyfish SNS signature.

Emi thinks about Taisei searching for Aurelia’s official social media accounts, maybe at Akane’s behest. She then realizes she’s smiling.

It’s overcast on the day of their outing, but Emi wakes up in higher spirits than usual, so she doesn’t mind the weather. She picks out the anomalous teal headscarf and a silver pin to attach it to her shirt. If the wind picks up, she doesn’t want to have to chase after it.

She spots Taisei soon after she enters the department store, waiting beside the main escalators. Her hair clip is blue today, with an ornament that resembles a pearlescent bubble. She brightens at Emi’s approach.

“Good morning, Kurage-san. Did you sleep well?”

“I think so. Shall we?”

Taisei leads the way to the air conditioning section. She takes a much less circuitous path than Emi did. Is this escalator really marked on the map…?

They discussed their strategy in advance, but Taisei reiterates her advice while they reinspect the aircon offerings. Compare the warranties and service guarantees. Check the noise ratings. Consider how the aesthetics harmonize with her living space. Purchase price may not be an issue, but maintenance costs can add up.

“If you have multiple units in your home, the remote control package is handy,” she tacks on at the end of her speech. “It can even connect to a mobile app.”

Emi shakes her head. Better not to add another point of risk if her phone is stolen or hacked. If she needs to adjust the temperature of her apartment while travelling, she can just ask someone from Starboard Office to head over. Tobito and Shindan know where the spare key is… and Keigo can pick locks.

“I think I’ll go with this one,” she decides.

The salesperson materializes out of nowhere. “Good morning! Is there anything I can help you with today?”

“Actually, yes,” Emi responds, feeling like the protagonist of a psychological horror game. That is… not ideal, as her life usually falls into the action genre.

“She’d like to purchase this split system air conditioner,” intervenes Taisei.

“Wonderful. This price includes the wall unit and the matching condensing unit; is that right?”

“Yes, I’m replacing both.”

The salesperson scans the barcode below her chosen system, unlocks the corresponding case, and hands Emi a boxed wall unit. “The condensing unit is fairly bulky, so let me find you a shopping cart.”

Once they locate a cart, Emi passes Taisei the indoor unit to place inside. She grabs the condensing unit’s box before the salesperson can struggle to lift it.

She dismisses their weak offer of assistance. “Don’t worry, it’s only fifty kilos.” That’s lighter than some adolescents.

Taisei makes a squeaking noise, but when Emi checks to see what’s wrong, she’s looking at a spot on the floor. Maybe she saw a bug.

The closest checkout counter is only three baffling turns away, and the salesperson rings Emi up. “Would you like me to help coordinate the installation of your new split system?”

“I’ll have to check my schedule later, but I should be able to handle things from here.”

“Then feel free to contact the installer at your convenience. Enjoy!”

They take the elevator down to the parking lot, where Emi loads her purchases into her car. Taisei returns the cart while she wraps the boxes in furniture blankets over the folded-down backseat. They reconvene on the sidewalk.

“Thank you again for coming along today, Taisei-san.”

“Of course, though I’m not sure how much I helped.”

Emi shakes her head, thinking of the salesperson’s intense friendliness. “Your help was essential… I owe you a debt.”

Taisei waves her hands. “That’s not necessary.”

“Still, let me buy you lunch.” To emphasize her point, she starts walking towards the restaurants down the street.

“If you insist,” she mumbles, tugging at the zipper of her jacket.

“What are you in the mood for? I’ll eat anything.”

Being picky about one-off meals doesn’t suit Emi. She needs to monitor her diet to maintain her physique, but things will even out in the end. Since she’s not always in the mood to cook, she’s good at choosing menu options that provide the right nutrients.

Taisei sighs wistfully as they pass a HeroBurger. “It’s been a while since I’ve eaten any fast food.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“I have to set a good example for the children, so-- oh!” She startles when Emi doubles back. “Kurage-san?”

She grins. “The kids aren’t here right now.”

HeroBurger is a joint venture between two prominent chains, catered to the urban population, which is more likely to recognize the references in their pun-filled options. Their base offerings irreverently allude to older pros, at least until their subjects’ legal teams get involved. The promotional items are sanctioned collaborations with newer active heroes. Right now, the special is Beansprout Beyond Bites; they look like plant-based “chicken” nuggets.

Emi guides Taisei to an ordering kiosk so they can browse the menu without holding up the line. There are twenty different sauces alone, from Texas Smash Barbeque to Prominence Burn Sriracha.

“What a big menu,” Taisei comments under her breath. “Um-- Fierce Fried Wings?”

“The HeroBurger team asked Hawks before they named that one. He thinks it’s funny.”

“Well, if he’s okay with it.” She manages a soft giggle.

After further deliberation, she orders a Fat-hamburger with Luna Ring-cut fries. Emi chooses a random sauce on the All Might beef burger.

Taisei frowns. “Is that one not a pun?”

“I think it refers to his muscles,” she explains, flexing her arm to illustrate.

“I… see…”

This is the kind of restaurant that gives out numbered tickets but serves orders nearly as soon as they’re entered. Emi has barely registered Taisei’s indecipherable expression before their food is ready. They take their trays to the seating upstairs, crowding around a tiny table purported to fit two people.

Emi dreads eating in silence, so she asks, “Akane-chan mentioned that you homeschool her. Does that include mealtimes too?”

“Oh, it’s more like a boarding school situation for most of the children. My sister lives nearby, so Akane-chan usually goes home after class.” Taisei pushes her fries to the edge of her tray, inviting Emi to sample them.

She’s tried them before, but she takes one to be polite. “You’re a teacher?”

“My parents run a special education program for children with venom and related Quirks. Many of the students stay overnight on weekdays, and some live with us full-time. I’m their foster caretaker; my parents do the majority of the teaching.”

“That’s admirable. Quirk accommodations are hard to come by at public schools.”

Emi was fortunate enough to have a Quirk with simple protective gear requirements, allowing her to attend a normal school. Jellyfish Quirks run in her family, so her parents knew how to handle her needs. She never worried about hurting undeserving people until she started hero training.

Taisei picks up her burger. “If you’d like to refer a student, feel free to message me. The program introduction is online: look up Taisei Preparatory School, and our website should be the first result.”

“I see… it’s a family operation in name as well,” Emi remarks.

She makes an affirmative sound muffled by her food. Emi figures it’s time for a break to actually eat. Most people don’t carry on conversations throughout a meal… unlike on-call heroes, they have time for table manners. The All Might beef burger isn’t especially delicious, but she takes her time chewing. This sauce is underwhelming. Next time, she’ll try the Thousand Sheet Pierce island dressing.

It’s been a while since she ate fast food with someone one-on-one. Tobito and Keigo have classier tastes, so she only ever indulges when both of the sidekicks drag her along. She used to do this more in high school. She’d grab lunch with a classmate during a study break, or a pick-me-up on the way back from a work-study shift. That’s ancient history… at the ten-year reunion, she discovered that she was one of the last graduates still working as a pro hero. Of those who actually entered the hero industry, all but two had already burnt out or retired.

Emi glances at Taisei, wondering how she views her career prospects. Does she plan on working for her parents until they retire? Foster caretakers are in high demand, but her Quirk is perfectly suited for the program they run. She might not do as well with a different group.

Well, those are overfamiliar thoughts. Emi is an acquaintance, not a colleague. She spends so much time around people she’s known for years that she’s relearning these boundaries.

“Kurage-san, what is your favorite part of your job?”

This is a common interview warm-up question. “Knowing at the end of the day that I helped people.”

“Just at the end of the day?”

“Sometimes, hero work is… hard. Physically and mentally. But it’s worth the effort if I make a difference to others.” She grimaces. “Fans are sometimes overzealous about showing it.”

Taisei presses her lips together, hiding a smile. “I can imagine.”

“Do you have a favorite hero, Taisei-san?” This is usually one of Emi’s first questions to civilians, but it seemed superfluous at their first meeting.

She ducks her head over her tray, gaze trained through the scalloped line of her bangs. “Not at the moment, but I think I might be starting to agree with Akane-chan.”

Aurelia has plenty of fans, but this admission might feel more special than the rest. She shuffles the trash on her tray.

Outside, the clouds have begun to part, letting the sun paint the lunch crowd in a watery film. Workers in business suits shade their eyes as they step into the light. A woman with a stroller adjusts her baby’s hat. Two high schoolers playing hooky dance around the corner of a store. Emi assesses the area for threats out of habit, with the detachedness of a teenager at a zoo. Nothing stands out… and if she hasn’t noticed something, the current hero on patrol will take care of it.

She returns her attention to Taisei, who sits with a small smile.

“What’s on your mind, Taisei-san?”

“Actually, um-- if you’d like, you can call me by my given name. Since the school is named after my family, I’m used to it.”

“Oh, sure.” She blinks. “What… is your first name?”

She flushes. “I forgot that I didn’t-- sorry. It’s Kibou.”

“Taisei Kibou-san has a nice sound.”

Kibou nods fractionally, still pink in the cheeks.

“You might have seen online, but my given name is Emi. I don’t mind if you keep calling me Kurage.”

As a public figure, she’s often addressed by her hero name even when out of uniform. Using her government name is already friendly. She can count the number of acquaintances who do that on one hand.

Eventually, the meal closes with Emi and Kibou picking at the fries. They each hold one end of the last piece and tear it apart. Emi gets the shorter side. She munches morosely; Kibou mirrors her. The point of fast food is to encourage churn, but they separate with a shared expression of reluctance.

“Right… back to real life,” Emi sighs.

“Thank you for the meal. Let me know how the installation goes.”

“I will. Have a safe trip home, Kibou-san.”

Emi finds a place on her apartment floor to keep the aircon packages for now. She sets a reminder on her phone to schedule the installation later. This part seems straightforward compared to purchasing a system, but she can ask Kibou if she gets confused.

Last month, Emi was strong-armed into accepting an advertisement deal, and the photoshoot is scheduled for a day when she would otherwise be on desk duty. This, the offers and the coercion, happens to her more often than anyone else in the agency. Photographers love Aurelia’s delicate aesthetic. Stylists don’t love how her Quirk contaminates their tools and makeup products. For general appearances, like talk shows, she brings her styling things from home; most stylists at shoots get advance notice to carry a single-use kit.

Sometimes she keeps her scarf on as usual, but this team is ambitious enough to request that she leaves her hair down. This also means she has to show up early.

“You’re definitely a hero,” the makeup artist comments once she’s introduced herself. “I can tell by the dark circles.”

Her eyebags are only so prominent because her hair is paler than usual. She hasn’t eaten a lot of shellfish lately, so some of the watery blue color has leached out; this decreases the concentration of her venom. The support gear she uses to dispense stings is at full capacity, so she can make concessions for civilian safety. Too bad it makes her look even more fragile in their eyes.

Back when Hawks was the darling of the nation’s cameras, Emi did some modelling at the marketing team’s suggestion. She was never as comfortable as Keigo, nor as willing to contort herself for the enjoyment of others. The only reason she took this particular offer… other than the urging of PR… is that half the proceeds will go to local wildlife preserves.

The crew stuffs her into a lily-white gown meant to represent trash floating in the ocean. It makes her look like a swooning maiden. Her back crawls.

Or that could be the touch of the makeup artist, who traces a scar on her trapezius with a clean brush. “We could cover this with foundation.”

“Don’t,” Emi hisses through gritted teeth. “It’s from hero work; it’s nothing to hide.”

She winces. “Of course.”

Normal hairbrushes and combs are ineffective on Emi’s hair, which gets caught in bristles and tangled around teeth. It responds to some hairsprays and gels, but many products just slide off. The hair stylist ends up donning gloves and arranging the strands by hand. He’s wearing a cologne that smells like a clothing store. Emi feels a headache coming on.

“This ad is really something to look forward to. My friends and I are always excited to see lesbian representation onscreen,” he remarks as he finishes.

She blinks at him. All she does is be gay and go about her life; the real role models are the ones who make queer advocacy their platform.

“Thank you, and you’re welcome,” she says instead.

The photographer arrives soon after Emi’s appearance has been primped to the satisfaction of the costuming team. She has a severe face. With a brusque nod to Emi, she heads to the set to prepare her camera. Appearing after her is a monkey heteromorph who introduces themself as the ad campaign’s media director.

“It’s such an honor to work with you, Aurelia-sama,” they enthuse with their hands clasped in front of their chest.

She readies a diplomatic response. “Thank you for inviting me.”

Emi isn’t a professional model, and the director has a strong vision, so they order her around with detailed instructions. The advertisements will promote the company’s bottle recycling program. She should draw attention to the product as a spokesperson, not her usual self. Being a spokesperson feels a lot like pandering.

“Please raise your arm so the sleeve of the dress trails down more.”

She lifts her forearm high enough that the bottom half of her face disappears behind the gauzy fabric. “Like this?”

“Er, well…”

Of course, they mean for her to dangle her hand somewhere below her chin, but she forces them to say the words. She’s not here to entertain anyone. They would have to compensate her a lot more for that.

The next set of poses involves her holding various empty Yuuhi products. She stretches and bends to support the bottles while keeping their labels visible. At least the dress sleeves are too drapey for her to twist into extreme positions.

“If you could, please balance the bottle on your palm and hold it at the level of your shoulder.”

She bristles as she complies. After this, she’ll never drink this beer again. Oshizemi will have to blacklist Yuuhi’s alcoholic lines. Alcohol is a risky product to attach a hero name to, and if publicizing an adjacent initiative is this full of indignities, she can’t imagine why anyone would take the dive.

“Do you want a break after this one?” the photographer asks, not unkindly. “We have three more to go.”

Not knowing what they have three more of, Emi accepts. An assistant hands her a water bottle, Yuuhi’s brand of course, in exchange for the prop beer. She sits down right where she is on the set.

The photographer stretches and leaves for the restroom. A man with a clipboard grabs the director’s attention before they can bother Emi. The assistant returns, holding a selection of snack pouches. Emi thanks her and chooses the one she’s least likely to spill over her clothes.

“How are you feeling?” the assistant inquires. “This shoot is longer than usual, and I know our director can be, um, exacting.”

“I’m fine. I don’t mind following orders for a few hours.”

“Only for a few hours, though?”

“Everyone has limits.”

She cracks a smile at that, as if Emi is being funny on purpose and the joke has landed. “We’ll do our best not to reach yours.”

Things don’t escalate to that point, but Emi leaves the photoshoot with a complimentary probiotic beverage and a moderate headache. She dodges the director’s attempt to ensnare her in a conversation. The photographer ignores her by mutual unspoken agreement. She avoids the hair stylist. It’s only noon… she can clean up at work.

There’s a trash can in the lobby of the photo studio. Emi looks at the Yuuhi drink.

No, she’ll just give it to someone else.

Midway banks as she approaches the agency office, projecting her voice over the wind, “Are we going through the skylight today?”

“No need,” Aurelia responds, tired of being subjected to dramatic drop-offs. She knows Midway does it because she enjoys seeing Aurelia’s skirt billow open like her namesake.

“Fine, fine. I’m taking us to the back.”

The basement training facilities have a direct access hatch for use in emergencies, but the back entrance is barely ten steps from the door to the stairs down, so they walk into the building after landing on the ground. Aurelia yawns as she heads for the changing room.

Midway follows behind her. “Hey, Kurage-san, are you gonna start your report right after this?”

“No… I have a dentist appointment.”

“Huh? But what if we ran over time?”

“It was the first available slot.”

“I guess…”

Emi turns her head to strengthen her side-eye. “Mika-chan, have you scheduled your annual dental cleaning yet?”

She shrinks into her wings. “Not yet.”

That’s her problem to deal with. Emi doesn’t nag like Tobito. Mika has heard all his lectures about personal upkeep, so she understands what she should do.

“I’ll check my email later if you want to confirm any details about today.”

Mika is still in the shower when Emi finishes changing into street clothes, so Emi leaves her alone. Her dentist’s office is a few blocks away, along one of the patrol circuits; they’re flexible with rescheduling on short notice, an essential for heroes. Emi has enough trouble finding the energy to show up to an appointment, never mind the time.

This is a routine visit, so it doesn’t last long. The hygienist cleans Emi’s teeth and praises her for flossing more than last year. The dentist, after making a quip about being punched in the face, pronounces her cavity-free. The goodie bag toothbrush is personalized with the practice name printed along the handle.

“Oh, Ane-san, isn’t that Aurelia?” she hears as she passes through the waiting room.

Emi looks to the side. Kibou and the boy who somewhat resembles her, Mamoru, smile at her. He waves with the hand not clutching Kibou’s. She’s lifting her hand in return when a villain alarm blares outside.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” she laments, already on her way out the door.

A woman with some kind of bedazzling Quirk is vandalizing a storefront across the street. What a literally petty crime. Of course she has to cause trouble in the middle of the day, when people are trying to get things done. Emi presses the panic button on her watch.

“Hey,” she calls to no response. “I said, hey.”

The siren is too loud, more overpowering than the regulation alarm. If someone from Starboard Office isn’t already on their way, Aurelia will have to have words with the team.

With a sigh, she grabs the customized sample lip balm from her goodie bag and beans the villain in the back of the head. “What are you doing?”

“None of your business!” she declares, scowling. “And who are you?”

Emi considers the strategic value of removing her scarf. Then, she thinks about how she’s on sick time right now. “I asked my question first. Why are you attacking a store so close to a hero agency?”

“Speak up!”

“I work there,” she continues without raising her voice, “so I happen to know who’s on patrol… and you should stop before a hero arrives.”

“Haa? Who d’ya think you are, telling me what to do?” The vandal puffs up.

A shadow falls over her head. Emi shrugs… and watches the villain shriek as two feathers drag her upside-down by the ankles.

She stays dangling a respectable few meters in the air while Hawks lands on Emi’s side of the road. “Someone on this block needs to get their villain alarm checked. I’ll mention it to the police.”

“Could you bring me that round lip balm over there?” Emi points at the sidewalk. A feather deposits the sample into her palm. “Thanks.”

The woman makes noises about being ignored. The feathers shake her until she grows green and desists. Hawks mercifully hoists her back upright.

Now that the situation has been mostly resolved, civilians are returning to their usual business. An employee in the bedazzled store calls a cleanup crew. Down the street, restaurants reopen and a man carries a package into a konbini. Also, as Emi discovers, Kibou and Mamoru have stepped out of the dental office.

Hawks smiles beatifically and wiggles his bushy eyebrows until Emi caves to his will. Resisting him would be too much trouble.

“This is Taisei Kibou. She helped me buy a new aircon for my apartment. And that’s Mamoru-kun.”

“Ah, your kid?”

“My nephew,” says Kibou.

Mamoru squints up at Hawks. “Who are you?”

“Manners,” she sighs.

“I’m Aurelia’s sidekick,” he chirps, all smarm and no shame. He relishes being semi-retired.

“Aka-chan is right,” Mamoru decides. “Aurelia really is the coolest.”

Kibou sighs again. Hawks chuckles into the collar of his flight jacket. Emi adds a tally to her mental record of his transgressions. She’ll have her revenge when, not if, he reaches ten offenses. He’s at eight.

Ignorant of this fact, he gives her a mock salute. “I have this handled, so you can return to business as usual.”

A police car arrives to transport the villain into custody. Emi takes pity on her and stands between Mamoru and the street for their impromptu meet-and-greet.

“Are you here to see the dentist, Mamoru-kun?” she inquires despite the obvious.

He nods reluctantly. “I hafta get my teeth checked.”

“That’s good. Your teeth are important.”

“But it’s scary,” he mumbles.

“Then you’re being brave by coming,” she informs him as sympathetically as she can. She may not be intimidated by medical procedures, but everyone has their fears.

Kibou flashes Emi another smile and sets a hand on Mamoru’s shoulder. “Well, we need to get to his appointment. Enjoy the rest of your day, Kurage-san.”

“You too.”

Emi goes home to a quiet apartment. She looks into her hamper and sighs. Might as well do a load of laundry before dinnertime.

On her next break day, she wakes up to a phone call from Keigo.

“Come suit shopping with me,” he half-orders like they’re in the field.

She sighs. “Do you know what time it is, Keigo-kun.”

“I’ll pay for brunch,” he offers unrepentantly.

“Why me…”

“Rumi’s going with Fuyumi-san, so you’re the next best option.”

“What about… hm,” Emi mutters. “You need more friends.”

So she ends up in a wedding boutique, nursing a vending machine green tea while Keigo and the dressmaker talk shop. His suit has to be bespoke, of course, to accommodate his wings. It doesn’t have to have golden accents, but he’s the one getting married… and the customer. Emi already refused to buy a new dress for the occasion.

Keigo isn’t very traditional, but his fiancé’s family is, so they’re holding a formal ceremony, reception, and afterparty. Emi doesn’t want to know how much money they’re spending. She thinks Keigo would have agreed to elope with paper rings, but he wants to give his fiancé the luxury treatment… in front of almost everyone they know, as well as some trusted reporters. He’s still a showman at heart.

She couldn’t imagine staging such a production to celebrate signing some papers. Then again, she couldn’t imagine spying for the old HPSC, and he did that too. They’re around the typical age for marriage; he’s not a prodigy in this right. Normal experiences, by their standards, are good for him. And… he could stand to do more paperwork. Emi’s vengeful desk duty assignments aren’t enough to make up for his previous negligence.

“Did you have to do this when Rumi-san and Fuyumi-san got married?” she queries while the dressmaker is checking the storage room.

Keigo waves a hand. “Nah. Rumi got Tatsuma to go with her, and Fuyumi-san had Rei-san.”

“You should start calling her okaasan.”

“Not until after the wedding, at least,” he hedges.

“You brought her son back to the family. She can’t expect anything else.”

“Wait until you have to interact with a girlfriend’s parents.”

“I have,” Emi says, “once.”

She dated a woman for just over a year before Hawks broke the top five. Her parents were from the Fukuoka suburbs, closer to the city center than Emi’s, and begrudgingly impressed that their daughter would bring home a pro hero. Emi met them the one time; she was dumped a month later. It wasn’t a surprise. She’s a high-maintenance friend, never mind partner.

Her eyes slide to the drama king she chose to follow as soon as she graduated from Ketsubutsu. Some people are worth the bandwidth… more or less.

Keigo eventually finishes his business at the boutique, and they can have brunch at last. He picks a hipster joint full of bar stools and felt letter boards. The hostess asks for his autograph. Then she shyly slips Emi an extra paper napkin with a phone number written along the edge.

Emi takes her seat, folds the napkin up, and opens the trash pocket of her bag.

“And you call me shameless,” Keigo murmurs.

“I don’t feel like wasting my time…”

“Not even going to give her a chance?”

She gives him a flat look. He grins and changes the subject.

“I heard that you and Taisei-san text sometimes.”

She narrows her eyes. “Who told you?”

“A little bird,” he replies with a shrug, which means either treachery from the sidekicks or eavesdropping. She’ll have to check her office for feathers. “Let me know if you wanna add a plus one to your RSVP-- for the wedding, not my bachelor party. You’re still going to that, right?”

“I guess. Someone has to.”

Keigo sticks his tongue out. “Hey, I have multiple groomspeople, no thanks to you.”

“Leave me out of it…”

Tobito must never know that Emi was invited to be Keigo’s groomsperson. He would make so many passive-aggressive comments. She’s not interested in arguing with him… but he didn’t watch Keigo struggle through flying solo in the early days.

“I’m glad you gave dating another chance,” she says.

“I don’t know if I would call what we did ‘dating’ at either point,” he replies, a deflection to hide his pleasure.

“Dating is about getting to know each other. You did.”

Keigo rests his cheek on his palm. “In a roundabout way. I thought dating involved more holding hands and stuff.”

“You should know this… it’s just like hanging out.”

“Emi-kun,” he muses, “I get the sense that you’re not a romantic.”

She doesn’t reply. He’s probably right; their field kills some of the magic of romance, because any other hero is theoretically a coworker. The mental health toll doesn’t help either. Between that and the long shifts, finding dates with exceptional patience is a necessity. It’s hard to date outside of the industry with such a demanding job. Well, if Keigo’s situation could work out, anything could happen.

“Even if I’m not a romantic, I still have hope,” Emi remarks with a shrug.

He cocks his head, eyes luminous and piercing. “Hey, isn’t that Taisei-san’s name? ‘Hope’?”

Autumn in Fukuoka brings relief from the sweltering heat, the humidity receding to pleasant levels. Emi rides the train to her monthly therapy appointment. She gives up her seat for an elderly man, shuffling to grab onto a handhold by the doors. She consults the information screen. Another line has been delayed three minutes by a minor incident. Uravity beams at her from a static advertisement.

Her therapist is a distant relative of Sugidama. Rather than a cat’s head, she has cat ears and a penchant for ending her sentences with feline sounds. Emi started working with her about three years ago, some weeks after she took the helm of the agency.

“Keigo-kun asked to go suit shopping with me,” she begins.

“As in tagging along with your suit shopping?” Sakabayashi asks.

“No, for me to come with him for his wedding suit consultation.”

“Was that surprising?”

Emi shakes her head. “He has other old friends, but I’m the only one who could show up on short notice.”

Ten years ago, she might have suspected that he was scheming, but nowadays he’s transparent when he wants to spend more time together. His therapist convinced him to be more truthful.

Sakabayashi takes a note on her legal pad. “Did something bother you about it, nya?”

“It reminded me… how he’s always forging ahead and showing us a path forward. But in this case… he’s not doing something unusual. I’m just… I feel behind.”

“We’ve talked about your admiration of Takami-san.” Her ears twitch. “Ah, will he be changing his name?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, that’s a digression, mrrp. You often compare yourself to him. What would you say he’s done that you haven’t?”

Emi averts her eyes, scanning the familiar warm-toned furniture and hanging embroidery hoops of the office. Admitting this in the privacy of her own mind is one thing, but discussing it aloud is another.

“Found love,” she finally says.

“Is that something you find yourself valuing?” Sakabayashi asks, pen unmoving.

“Not before… but now, maybe a little.”

After therapy, Emi usually distracts herself from her thoughts by staying out for an activity. The city is beautiful at this time of year, and fanservice via social media appearances is easier if people approach her on the street. Then she doesn’t have to compose her own post.

The Fukuoka Hero Museum in Momochi is hosting a special exhibit on All Might. Yoshiku mentioned that her old classmate wanted an excuse to visit so she could see it. Emi wonders if they’ll get a team-up request from Shine-On Agency soon. Acer’s Quirk is a double-edged sword by the sea, but if she’s determined…

“One adult ticket with the special exhibit included, please,” she tells the attendant.

“Ah, well, um… did you know that pro heroes get free entry?” they hedge.

“That’s nice. Here’s the fee,” she replies as if her autograph isn’t on the board of signatures posted behind them.

Of course, several visitors stop her on the way to the temporary exhibit wing. She’s the number fourteen hero, so she can’t avoid recognition in a place built to acknowledge the people in her industry. There’s no point in denying her profession, either. She takes some pictures and signs some museum maps. Good enough.

All Might’s exhibit begins with a life-size mural of him in a confident pose, grinning broadly. Emi can almost hear his booming laugh. The introductory paragraph on the wall describes him as Japan’s “enduring symbol of peace, a beacon who makes people feel safe by just being here.” Below it, a quote from Yagi Toshinori commits the proceeds to a children’s hospital network.

Kids nowadays probably know All Might best as a historical figure whose merchandise still fills shelves. The older ones might recognize him as an old alter ego of UA’s vice principal. Even the younger generation of heroes, who took the torch out of his hands, remembers him as a pillar on a TV screen.

As a hero in the “old guard,” Emi thinks of All Might, and the responsibility he entrusted them with, as his legacy. She and Keigo are the youngest currently active pros who have worked with him directly and as equals. They saw what he did to keep the public feeling secure. He took too much of the burden on himself, and they let him. Now he has to rely on them to keep the peace while he mentors the next generation.

She wonders how many years will pass before Hawks, and by extension Aurelia, fade into the background like Yagi. That might be nice. Fewer reporters would try to talk to her or invade Keigo’s privacy. They’re well off enough to retire… but they have more work to do.

Emi may be reluctant to stand in the spotlight, but she’s not a quitter. She chose this path, again and again, and she’ll see it through. But to learn from her forerunners’ mistakes… she has to make time for herself too.

A teenager pleads for her autograph as she’s walking out of the special exhibit. After she signs his water bottle, she asks him to take a picture of her in front of the All Might mural.

She captions her social media post “quieter than the original… 🪼” and tags Yagi’s account.

Volunteer activities are Emi’s favorite kind of media appearance: no interviews, no posing, and no brand deals. She just has to show up to help people. Today’s goal is to clean a beach, so she can even wear her hair up rather than fully covered.

“You look happy, Kurage-san,” Yoshiku observes as she slides into the backseat.

“Do I?”

Hanan nods, using her passenger-side privilege to skip to the next song on their shared playlist. “You’re uncharacteristically lively this morning.”

Emi pulls away from the curb to avoid responding, but she can’t deny the abnormality of her energy level. She prefers to save her effort for hero work; off-duty, she’s been compared to a zombie and UA’s principal Aizawa.

“Oh. You’re excited because a group from Taisei Preparatory School will be there,” Yoshiku says. She must have checked the attendees on her phone.

“Oh,” Hanan echoes. She’s too polite to twist around in her seat, but she does lean her head over her shoulder. “Taisei-san’s family runs a school?”

“It’s a program with special Quirk accommodations,” relents Emi.

“What kind of accommodations?”

“The students all have venom or similar Quirks. Some are--,” she changes lanes, “fans of mine, so I invited them to join us.”

Hanan comments, “This will be a good learning experience for them.”

Yoshiku adds, “Plenty of space for them to scream.”

They have different perspectives on children.

The beach they’re working on is popular in the summer, so Emi has patrolled the area during its busy months. It’s combed by machines before vacationers flock to the shore, but litter piles up during the off-season. Most of the cleanup participants are locals who hate to see the garbage: retirees, young couples, and college students.

Taisei Preparatory School has sent Kibou as a chaperone for half a dozen students. The two familiar faces are Kandou, their hair buzzed down to a peach fuzz, and Mamoru, who has a smear of
sunscreen across the bridge of his nose.

“Thank you for coming, everyone,” Tobito greets the volunteers, a model host. “We’ll start on one side of the beach and go as far as we can within three hours. Remember to stay hydrated and take breaks as necessary. If you have any safety concerns, please reach out to a hero from Starboard Office-- that would be myself, Aurelia, Undine, or Midway. Hanan-san can also assist with any bird problems. Are there any questions before we begin?”

Mamoru raises his hand. “Where’s Aurelia’s sidekick? The one with the red wings?”

Tobito suppresses a smile. “Hawks is on vacation today. It’s a shame; he’s good at distributing trash bags.”

Mamoru nods solemnly. “That’s okay. I can help.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Let’s begin!”

Emi heads for a pile of rocks in the corner. Mika enlists Yoshiku to help unearth detritus near the swash zone, since the latter can use her Quirk to keep a spot dry. Tobito follows a gaggle of retirees. Hanan traverses farther afield to converse with a group of seagulls.

The breeze and waves briefly overpower the other volunteers’ voices. It’s nice to be able to enjoy nature outside the city. She tugs a toy shovel out from between two stones.

“It’s blue,” someone murmurs wonderingly.

Somehow, Emi is always turning around to meet Kibou’s eyes. She drops the red shovel into her trash bag. “What is?”

“Nothing!” she squeaks, setting a hand atop her floppy sunhat.

“Ane-san, can you please open this bag?” Kandou requests from closer to the water. Their pink golf visor gives them a flamingo-like profile.

“I’ll be right there.”

She scurries away. Emi watches her for a second, puzzled, before returning to her work. There’s a pair of half-empty bottles tucked behind a rock. A toddler-sized sandal surfaces when she pulls at a protruding plastic strap. She finds ¥300 buried beneath a dirt-caked scrap of terry cloth. After some consideration, she pockets the change.

“Kurage-san? Heyyy, Kurage-san! Come grab the edge of this; we think it’s from a fishing boat!” Mika calls.

Emi leaves her half-filled bag on the sand and jogs over. Yoshiku is holding the waves back from washing over a volunteer who’s digging up a burnt orange tarp. Mika and Kibou are tugging one end of the tarp across the sand as more material is unearthed.

“Interesting color,” Emi notes as she reaches for an open spot.

“It reminds me of fall,” Kibou comments.

“Like the stalls at an autumn festival,” agrees Mika. “There’s one coming up in Daiyu Park.”

“Yes, we’re planning on taking the children there on a field trip.”

“Really? We’re gonna be on security duty at the night market!”

Emi grunts and frees the last section of tarp. “That means we can’t stop at any of the stalls for too long.”

Mika coughs guiltily. She always gets distracted at open-air market events. One time, she stopped to talk to a bee farmer for over fifteen minutes, only returning to duty when a villain tried to make off with the contents of multiple vendors’ cash boxes. Oshizemi chewed her out for so long that their tablet ran out of battery.

Yoshiku and the volunteer with the shovel join the effort to tow the tarp to the trash pile. It’s not that heavy, so Emi and Yoshiku end up carrying the bulk of the weight while the rest follow along.

“I’ll cover part of your route at the festival if you wanna walk around, Kurage-san,” Mika offers when she recovers from her shame. Her smile is wide and innocent. Emi, who didn’t succeed Hawks for nothing, distrusts it.

Kibou has no learned suspicion and no compunctions with musing, “Akane-chan would love to run into you there.”

“Where is she, anyway?” Emi tries to digress.

“On a family trip. She was sorry not to come.”

“There will be other volunteer opportunities with Starboard Office,” Yoshiku consoles with her typical bluntness, “but Kurage-san might not join.”

Each hero at the agency has their own preferred type of community service. Environmental causes like this beach are Emi’s. Tobito enjoys outreach to seniors and students. Yoshiku will do anything related to the arts, Mika athletics. Keigo is sensitive about food insecurity. Hanan, technically licensed on the level of a hero, tutors adults in Japanese. All of them solicit external volunteers for both optics and practicality. There’s no point in organizing events for the office alone to attend.

And… as established, Emi would rather not interact with more strangers outside of work. If she doesn’t have to join her coworkers’ activities for headcount, she won’t.

She still feels a prick of unease at Kibou’s understanding nod.

“I keep telling Oshizemi-san that we should put out a newsletter,” Mika says.

“PR doesn’t have the time,” rebuts Yoshiku.

“I could write it!”

“You can’t even write AMA posts on the agency account without a proofreader.” With that devastating shutdown, she moves on to the next section of the shoreline.

She’s right… Mika could use a refresher on kanji. Emi nods to the group and returns to her bag by the rocks. It’s where she left it, trash and all, although an enterprising crab is halfway to making a home in the terry cloth.

“Shoo,” she mutters.

It refuses to scuttle away. She sighs and doubles back to the rendezvous point for a trash picker. The crab’s arms wave reproachfully as she carries it to a different crevice.

Meddling wildlife aside, her remaining labor is peaceful. Kandou works their way up from the swash to the stones, while the rest of the group moves into the distance. Emi keeps an eye on them as she progresses. She may not have much childcare experience, but she’s been around kids enough to know that they always get into trouble when no one is looking. Providing adult supervision is part of the volunteer activity.

By the end of the allotted time, they’ve gathered a wall of trash for collection. Tobito makes them stand in front of the pile for the group photo. They’re worn out, but the group is all smiles as they pose together. Oshizemi will like this picture. The city will appreciate the cleaner beach. It’s a win for everyone.

Of course, the karmic balance of the world resets itself, and Aurelia is thrown into a wall during her next shift. Venom doesn’t work on a rampaging animatronic. Undine’s water restraints do, but Aurelia is already out of commission by the time her sidekick intervenes. Midway apparently airlifts her unconscious body back to Starboard Office for a medical evaluation.

“The good news is that you didn’t break any bones,” Shindan remarks.

She stares at them. He’s not moving, but the octahedron on the tip of his antenna seems to bob.

“The bad news is that you’re benched,” she continues blithely.

“No,” Emi says more out of habit than actual refusal.

Shindan ignores her. “Non-negotiable. At minimum, bed rest for three days. We can adjust if you start to feel worse.”

She blinks when her eyes start to ache from dryness, the motion sluggish. Their antenna sways in her vision.

“You can’t drive home, and someone will have to escort you. Hm, maybe Windsweep. I would keep you overnight, but I know how you are.”

“I have a panic button,” she mutters, mutinous.

“Which doesn’t help if you’re unconscious,” he replies like always. “No prescription needed, hm? Just be smart about the OTC painkillers.”

“Right…”

Windsweep bullies Emi into leaving the office as soon as Shindan finishes fussing over her. He hails them a taxi with a cabin barely large enough to accommodate his wings. The driver gives him a discount… at least, she thinks they do, but her memory is fuzzy.

He half-carries her into her apartment. They stumble through the genkan like a crab on a walk of shame. This is a familiar dance, a natural result of fighting crime for a living. Tobito helps her shed her uniform, don a nightgown, and ease into bed. Emi is unconscious before he shuts the door behind him.

She wakes up with a pounding headache. Her entire body feels like the world’s most reluctant weighted blanket. A wave of ennui sweeps over her. She waits for it to break.

Emi is no stranger to days when her limbs are leaden and she has to fight through every motion. Overusing her Quirk leaves her with a migraine; bad days make the simplest of actions arduous. Being able to predict when her body forces her to take a break doesn’t make the inaction easier.

Ow.

Her room is still dark, but her mouth isn’t completely dry, so she assumes she regained consciousness close to the time her alarm would usually ring. She’d better give someone at the agency proof of life.

Ow, ow, ow.

She paws around beside her bed until her fingers close around her phone, blindly dialling the first number in her contacts. The call rings. Emi squeezes her eyes shut against the sharp ache of its vibration.

“Hello?”

“Tobito-kun,” she rasps.

“Emi-san,” he answers with careful equanimity. “Shindan-sensei ordered you to rest for at least the next three days.”

“Well,” she clears her throat, “well. I’m calling out of work, so.”

“Oh, good. Would you like me to stop by after my shift?”

“Nngh… I’ll live, but thanks.”

Tobito makes a sound in the back of his throat, swallowing a lecture she’d ignore. “Very well. I’m here if you need anything. Get better soon, alright?”

“I’ll try.”

He hangs up, saving her the effort of pressing the button herself. She drops her phone on the nightstand. Her head hurts.

Enough time passes that sunlight pierces through the crack in the curtains over her bedroom window. At that point, she’s lucid enough to remember the bottle of painkillers stowed in her bedside table. Once the medication kicks in, she shuffles to the bathroom.

She doesn’t look at herself in the mirror. That would be too much. It’s already a considerable undertaking to double back for her phone.

Emi lives in a 1LDK, so the walk between her bedroom and the living area is short. She leans against the undecorated wall of the hallway as she slinks along. Although her headache has dissipated, she can feel the phantom of it pressing against her skull. She winces and stumbles into the kitchen.

Pick up the mug that Tobito left out for her. Turn on the tap. Wait. Turn off the tap. Drink. She lowers the mug to the counter by bending over. Breathe. Get up. Fill the mug again.

The next step should be sustenance. One of the shelves in her pantry is stocked with low-effort basics: instant noodles, soup packets, and even those nutrient blocks that taste like sand. Nothing looks appetizing… she moves on to the living room.

Emi may not spend much time lounging around her apartment, but she doesn’t have a guest room, so her couch is large and comfortable. A small mountain of blankets sits on one cushion. She squints. Tobito must have folded them before he left. At the top of the pile is her favorite, the one Oshizemi made of jellyfish granny squares from spite.

She crouches to set the mug down, collapses sideways onto the couch, and wraps herself in blankets. Being a moray eel sounds nice.

Ugh.

The only thing to do now is languish. She doesn’t have the energy to do household chores. Preparing food would be a hassle. She’s not supposed to look at a screen for too long. Shindan told her to rest, and that’s what she’s doing. The painkillers will wear off eventually, but maybe her motivation will return by then.

Yeah, right.

…

What time is it?

A knock comes at the door out of courtesy, because Hanan lets herself inside a beat later. She has two insulated bags slung over her shoulders. The one closer to Emi is patterned with photorealistic pigeons.

“I’m glad you’re still alive, Kurage-san,” she greets.

“I don’t feel very alive…”

“Well, maybe you’ll feel better after you eat something.”

She makes an effort to sit upright. “Did Tobito-kun send you?”

“He mentioned that you were home alone, so I came to check on you,” Hanan answers. “We shouldn’t let our leader suffer in silence.”

Emi rubs her eyes and resolutely does not draw comparisons between herself and Keigo.

She pivots her attention to the wall. “Is that your new aircon? It suits you.”

“They all look basically the same.”

“Still,” she says, “it reminds me of your costume.”

“No it doesn’t.”

“Not really, but if you applied some decals…”

Hanan putters around the kitchen while Emi dozes in her blanket nest. The appliances beep as she combines her unpacked ingredients. Despite Emi’s nonexistent appetite, her stomach growls when the scent of spices reaches the living room.

Time is less elusive with the sounds of cooking to ground her. Hanan brings the food over on the tea trays that Shiogama gifted Emi for her thirtieth birthday. She provides two spoons each, but everything can be eaten with one: a soup full of diced assorted vegetables, and a mixed rice dish with the chicken cut into small chunks. Emi’s serving comes with a sauce dish of vitamins and painkillers on the side.

“That’s minestrone, and that’s kabsa,” Hanan explains.

Emi frowns and tries to form a coherent thought. “Is that… a pun?”

“Hm?”

“Kabusaru,” she says, waving her hand to indicate Hanan’s hijab.

“Oh, like ‘covering’ my head. That’s a good one!” Her smile grows wry. “I thought you meant as in ‘being a burden,’ and I would have had to correct you.”

“Who hurt you, Hanan-san?” She means it as a joke, but Hanan takes her literally.

“No one, Kurage-san. No one would, not with all of you to take care of me.”

Emi knows that it was a challenge for Hawks to requisition Hanan’s intern visa, even as the number one hero. She knows some people still treat her like a foreigner. A combination of the bad day, the painkillers, and the food provided by good company dulls her anger. Being upset alone won’t change anything; her effort is better spent elsewhere. Maybe someday Hanan will ask her to go to war for her.

“I’ll pack the leftovers in the fridge before I leave. Is there anything else you’d like me to help you with?”

“Could you check my notifications?” she requests, blindly unlocking her phone. Hanan can be trusted not to start trouble in plain sight.

“You have seven social media mentions and a dozen DMs about your fight yesterday,” she reads. “Mm, Oshizemi-san CC’ed you on a press release, and Hawks sent you a GIF. You also have five texts.”

“Who are the texts from?”

Hanan pauses for a split second. “I assume this group chat is with your parents. Taisei-san sent three messages, and there’s one from Shindan-sensei that says ‘you had better not be on your phone.’”

“Send him a middle finger emoji.”

“I’m not going to do that.”

Emi sighs. “Please tell my parents that I’m alright and they don’t have to cut their vacation short.”

She hums, typing dutifully. “Would you like me to open the messages from Taisei-san? One of them is a video.”

None of her communication with Kibou is incriminating as far as she remembers, so she gestures for Hanan to go ahead.

“She sent you a bandage emoji and ‘Wishing you a swift recovery.’ I’ll play the video.” She holds out the phone so Emi can see the screen.

The camera opens on an elementary school art room, where a group of students gathers around a conglomerate of tables. Each kid has a paper-and-yarn jellyfish either in their hands or lying in front of them.

“What do you want to tell Aurelia?” Kibou’s voice prompts.

“Get well soon!” they chorus unevenly.

“We’re cheering for you, Kurage-san.”

Hanan taps the bar to start a new message. “How would you like to reply?”

“Thanks a lot. The jellyfishes look good.”

“I put a jellyfish emoji at the end too.”

Hanan leaves once she’s satisfied that Emi will survive until tomorrow. She claims she’ll leave her alone but tellingly doesn’t preclude a visit by someone else. Emi supposes that she can weather everyone’s fussing for a few more days.

The times comes when Aurelia needs to coordinate with Chargebolt in person, so she leaves Windsweep in charge and boards a plane to Tokyo. She takes a late afternoon flight, which gives her an evening to relax before her meeting. Her dinner is blissfully uninterrupted. She strolls around the block to stretch her legs after her meal. Then, she returns to the cool quiet of the hotel. The elevator lobby is empty at first, but she hears footsteps as she waits for the car.

“Is that you, Kurage-senpai?”

She lifts her head. “Amesoko-kun.”

They tuck their facemask under their chin and smile. “It’s been a while.”

“It has… aren’t you based in Kobe now? What are you doing in Tokyo?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” They gesture for her to enter the elevator first. “I’m hashing out the details of a case with Tenchou.”

Amesoko and Tenchou lead two divisions of their joint agency, Decadent. They were inseparable in high school, but now that they work in different parts of the country, it’s easier to tell them apart. Emi’s been dealing with the twins since their class collaborated with hers for a bunkasai, but sometimes even she struggles.

“I’m about to team up with Chargebolt,” she supplies.

“The Stun Gun Hero? He’s a bundle of energy. Careful not to get overwhelmed.”

She shrugs. “He’s no more energetic than you or Hawks on a caffeine high.”

“Guilty as charged,” they laugh. “Still, I’m impressed you didn’t get someone else from your agency to come in your stead.”

“I take responsibility for my cases.” When she can’t convince Undine to give collaboration a try.

“I get that.”

Ketsubutsu isn’t a powerhouse school on the order of UA or Shiketsu, but it holds its own. The students are taught to analyze their opponents rather than relying on raw strength, so the talent pool fluctuates between years. Natural gifts can only get a hero so far, but they extend careers. After the League of Villains, many hardworking heroes lost the motivation to continue competing. Without colleagues to shore up their standings, they fell behind. Amesoko and Tenchou have always pushed each other forward.

The elevator doors open, and Amesoko steps off. “Good luck with your case. Come visit the next time you’re in Kobe.”

“Sure. Good night.”

Most of Tsukuyomi’s classmates clustered together as pros, working for the same agencies or forming their own. Chargebolt shares an office with Cellophane, who politely goes on a coffee run when Aurelia shows up.

“Dude, we have coffee at home,” Chargebolt calls at his retreating back.

“No we don’t,” Cellophane volleys. “Mina broke the coffee machine again before she went out.”

Chargebolt groans and runs his hands down his face. “Maybe we should just ask Mei to make us one. It can shoot lasers or whatever too, I don’t care.”

Aurelia spots a stray rolling chair parked against a wall and pushes it up to his desk. “Ready to begin?”

“Oh, yeah! I have a map of the smuggling routes we extracted from the confiscated communications pulled up here. Let’s compare notes.”

The majority of the information comes from night-shift underground heroes who passed their intel on when the smugglers started daytime operations. From there, Chargebolt managed to plot out the course of the smugglers’ dealings, and Aurelia intercepted a group at the end of one path. Their next step is determining the best method to shut them down completely.

“These moves were unusually bold, even for a group with substantial connections.”

“A bunch of villains have made attention-seeking plays recently,” Chargebolt reflects, frowning. “A couple weeks ago, my intern got into a confrontation when a villain separated the first-years from the pack. Sparky said the woman didn’t even stay to fight them, just sicced some automatons on them as a show of force.” He sighs melodramatically. “Aizawa-sensei really chewed me out over that.”

“He should have. They don’t have provisional licenses yet.”

“Jinshu and Ataeru were there! We should’ve been fine,” he wails. Aurelia rolls her chair backwards so he doesn’t hit her when he flops over. “Anyway, we don’t think that was related to the smugglers, but I can send you the report in case.”

Chargebolt’s haphazard topic changes can be troublesome to navigate, but his instincts are good, so she accepts his offer. Maybe he’s onto something. She’s feeling charitable today.

“I also want to talk about protocols for aquatic action. We’ve been chasing leads into Hakata Bay, which could fall out of our jurisdiction if the conflict moves too far offshore,” she explains. Although her Quirk is suitable for water-based combat, she doesn’t want to interfere with the nautical authorities.

He crosses and uncrosses his arms. “We probably work in water less than you guys, but our policy is not to let a change of terrain stop us. It’s fine as long as the coast guard files the assist.”

“We’ll have to get the port authority involved if this turns out to be involved with commercial shipping.”

“Ughh, you’re right. What if we…”

They continue planning until Alien Queen pokes her head in and invites them to lunch. She appears to have freshened up after her patrol, an eye-searing neon windbreaker tossed over her equally blinding uniform.

“Sorry, I have plans with Red Riot,” Aurelia demurs, ready to replace one excitable youngster with another.

“Oh, right! Tell Eijirou we all said hi!”

There’s no time to double back to the hotel for a costume change, so she wraps the detachable layer of her skirt around her hair and resigns herself to being recognized. The locals are used to their neighborhood pros, but she’s a curiosity to them. She’s about to eat with one of the most flamboyant young stars anyway.

Red Riot is waiting for her at the curry restaurant he suggested, also in uniform. He hasn’t switched to his cold-weather outfit yet. Emi shivers just looking at him.

“I’m glad we got to hang out like this! I thought the next time we would see each other might be at Hawks’s wedding.”

“So you are going…?” The last she heard, Keigo was lamenting that Tokoyami’s friends didn’t love him.

“Well, it took a while for me to convince Katsuki, but I got through to him eventually! He kinda started a wedding gift competition with Izuku and Shouto, though.” He laughs ruefully.

Ugh. Emi still needs to find a present. She can’t lose to Deku.

“I’m really happy for them,” Riot says, probably meaning Hawks and his fiancé. “I know some people gave them a hard time, but they can finally have their super manly wedding.”

“You should write that in the guest book.”

He either doesn’t recognize or disregards her quip. “Maybe I will!”

“Their relationship started unconventionally,” understatement of the century, “but Hawks wouldn’t have dated normally. He never gave himself the opportunity.”

“I guess I never really thought about it. I mean, most people in my class got together in high school.” His eyes grow wide. “Wait, sorry, are you sensitive about being single?”

“Not particularly…”

“Phew, good. I remember Pixie-Bob got mad whenever somebody mentioned her relationship status at summer camp.”

Emi has only a vague awareness of what that sentence could mean, but she lets it go. Some mysteries aren’t worth investigating.

Red Riot carries the conversation. He talks about his agency’s ongoing efforts to explosion-proof their couch, and how his intern Uchiwa learned to emotionally manipulate Ground Zero before their week was up.

“Katsuki has a soft spot for kids like them,” he explains with palpable fondness, “even if he hates to admit it.”

“He can be difficult to understand.”

“Yeah, but it feels amazing to be able to read him. It’s been over a decade, and that trust still makes me tear up,” Riot admits with a chuckle.

He could just be sentimental. Despite his sturdy exterior, Red Riot is a pile of squishy feelings on the inside. But Emi thinks of the rush of gratification she felt when Keigo first confided in her, and she kind of understands.

She hides her expression behind a spoonful of curry. “Your hero partner is your partner in everything else too… I’d expect you to be used to that feeling.”

“I mean, he’s still bossy!”

Relationships are odd that way; people’s flaws can become endearing. Emi supposes that Ground Zero has redeeming qualities too, but those are harder to spot behind his bluster. Riot enjoys recounting his favorable first impressions of him. How long did the rest of his class take to feel the same?

Before they can joust over the check, the waiter brings two more dishes to the table. “Warabimochi, compliments of the chef. She’s a fan.”

“Please thank her,” Emi says as Riot lights up like a puppy at playtime.

“I used to eat warabimochi all the time with Fatgum and Suneater!”

Riot’s plate contains a chunk of warabimochi cut into a craggy shape, blended kinako and black sesame powder giving it the appearance of rock. Her warabimochi orb is left undusted, instead sitting on a bed of kinako with rivulets of kuromitsu imitating tentacles. It’s especially translucent, displaying the edible flower sealed inside.

Emi’s dessert is so cute that she has to take a picture. A glance at Riot confirms that he has the same idea. No doubt he’s sending his photo to Ground Zero, who will take it as a challenge to outdo the chef.

The round warabimochi reminds her of the hair clip Kibou wore when they went shopping together, so Emi texts her the picture. “Perks of being a hero,” she writes as the caption.

Kibou responds just before Emi boards her flight home: “Now I want to eat mochi at the Daiyu Park night market!”

She certainly won’t lack options, Aurelia muses as she reviews the event layout that was sent to the security team in advance. The food vendors will occupy an entire quadrant of the venue. Windsweep’s aerial patrol route had better overlap with Midway’s there, or they’ll lose her to the aromatic stalls.

“No you won’t,” Midway whines at the briefing. “I’ll stay on track, I swear. I have to cover for Aurelia.”

Hawks raises his hand. “If Aurelia needs someone to cover for her, I can--”

“No,” Windsweep insists, “Midway and I have it handled. You enjoy the festival with your fiancé.”

“He really won’t mind if I leave for just--”

“I haven’t made any plans to take time off,” Aurelia sighs.

Hawks changes tack. “Why not?”

“Because… I haven’t…?”

Everyone in the room gives her assorted expressions of disbelief. The sudden silence washes over her. She braces herself for the incoming tide.

“When was the last time you went to a festival as a regular attendee?” Hawks asks rhetorically, because he was there; they attended Hakata Dontaku together last May.

“You deserve to have fun!” Midway clamors.

“Taisei-san and the kids want to see you. Don’t worry about us,” Undine orders with rip-current intensity.

Windsweep folds his arms, and it’s settled. “Take half a night for yourself, Emi-san.”

She inhales, filling her lungs with sentiment. She doesn’t drown, so she pulls out her phone. “Fine. But only half the night.”

The night market is… loud. Throngs of people flood the space between the tables, their voices a cacophony of celebration. Aurelia keeps her hair covered as she walks her route. Sometimes she needs to squeeze through a congested spot, but for the most part, she lets the crowd buffet her along between the multicolored stalls. She envies the freedom with which Midway glides overhead.

A calligraphy demonstration’s audience blocks the way. Aurelia can’t thread between the onlookers, so she waits for an opening by the nearest vendor’s display. It’s selling woodcuts. The pieces closest to her are carved with frolicking animals. One of the pale shapes in the corner of a plaque resembles Zenko’s fox tail.

Zenko started her career as Endeavor’s sidekick. Aurelia worked with her a few times before Hawks’s admiration of the man waned. He would pester Endeavor while Aurelia and Zenko covered a different sector of the city. Forgotten by their bosses, they would steal away to izakayas after their shifts, eating side-by-side with their ankles hooked together. It was fun, because Tamakou was clever, but they never went on any real dates. Emi wouldn’t be able to stand Tamakou’s chattiness long-term, and neither wanted to move across the country.

A fling like that wouldn’t be worth Emi’s time now. She’s settled deeper into life in Fukuoka, and her actions affect all of Starboard Office. Casual flirting could still stir up rumors that she’s too old to inspire.

“Hey Aurelia, wanna clock out when you reach that tree with the chrysanthemum banner hanging off it?” Midway suggests over the shared comm line.

She shakes off her maudlin thoughts. “Sure.”

The logistics of bringing a change of clothes were too troublesome, so Emi will remain in uniform for her time off. She’s been commanded not to return to duty unless a villain attack “literally ruins” the festival.

Midway doesn’t descend from her soar for the switch-off. It would signal a change to any potential disruptors, and she’d have to find ground space for a runway afterwards. When Emi reaches the tree, the team verbally confirms the change of post. Then she’s free to wander.

A text exchange sets her destination. She wades in the direction of the seating pavilion to meet up with Kibou and her charges.

For once, Emi sees Kibou first… or, well, she spots Akane and Kandou’s recognizable hair in the sea of children milling around. Kibou is facing another direction, clad in a haori-style coat and wide-legged pants. Her usual hair clip is swapped out for a hanakanzashi. She appears to be supervising a subset of the students on the field trip, the four whose names Emi knows, while they eat.

Akane looks up from the takoyaki in her hands. Her face splits into a grin when she spots Emi, who holds a finger to her lips with a wink. This only thrills Akane because she’s a fan; Emi’s wink is completely uncharming.

Emi waits until she’s within arm’s length of Kibou to comment, “Cute jacket.”

She whirls around. “Kurage-san!”

“I like the seigaiha,” she compliments the pattern.

“Thank you,” Kibou mumbles, twisting the strings that tie the front of her jacket closed. Her cheeks flush pink. “And-- um, thank you for the invitation to meet.”

“Have you eaten, Aurelia?” Kandou inquires politely.

“I had dinner, but I could eat. What do you recommend?”

Kandou, Akane, Mamoru, and Isota all try to answer at once. Emi waits for them to determine their own speaking order. They eventually share what they each are eating, and she decides to buy yakitori to munch on until they’re ready to move. She pays with the ¥300 she found at the beach.

The kids are more bundled up today than the other times Emi has seen them. Akane’s hair is tied into a single bun and tucked into the fold of a topknotted bandanna. Mamoru has a jacket with thumbhole sleeves pulled over his gloves. Kandou is wearing a beanie. Isota is cocooned in a gloved onesie, a hood with mouse ears drooping over his shoulders. Emi guesses that these are preventative measures against accidental contact. They also look like marketable side characters from a Miyazaki film.

“Have you seen much of the festival yet, Kibou-san?” Emi asks when it looks like the kids have all finished or lost interest in their food.

“The night market is our last stop. We passed some vendors on the way here, but we only spent time getting food so far.” She turns to the group. “Is everyone ready to go? Where should we start?”

Akane shakes her head, brows furrowed. “I don’t know what to look for.”

“Why don’t we find a present for Ojiichan’s birthday?” Kibou suggests.

“Tobito-kun’s birthday is coming up too. He’s patrolling overhead… but we can be stealthy.”

“Yeah!” Isota cries.

Mamoru asks, “Who’s Tobito-kun?”

“Pro hero Windsweep. He likes things with bamboo patterns.”

“So does Ojiichan,” Akane comments.

Emi smirks. “That sounds about right.”

The kids’ exuberance paints the market in a fresh light, amplifying every color and sound. For the most part, they seem to prefer travelling as a pack, with Kibou and her whale shark coin purse following behind. Emi watches as they admire the various stalls: calligraphy brushes, earthenware, and plush toys inspire the same enthusiasm.

“These are almost too beautiful to use,” Kibou marvels at a set of hand-painted bookmarks.

“Have you made much progress on your reading goals?” Emi asks. She remembers Kibou mentioning that she wanted to read fifteen books before the end of the year.

“I’m on track to finish, but I need to find more reading material. Do you have any suggestions?”

“Not really. I don’t read much…”

“Oh, then what do you do in your free time?”

She draws a blank. When she’s not at work, she’s usually eating, sleeping, or taking care of things at home. “I guess I don’t really have any hobbies.”

“None at all?”

“I’ve watched and read a few things, but I don’t have much free time in general…”

“Well then,” Kibou says, “I’m glad you could make it out tonight.”

The kids window shop more than anything. They bounce between tables and cheerfully declare the wares unsuitable for Kibou’s father. A few vendors entertain their complete interest, but never for long. Only the best is worthy of their teacher. In their defense, Emi hasn’t found anything for Tobito either.

A display of folding fans and hair pieces catches her eye. The design on the stall’s awning matches the pattern on Kibou’s coat. She drifts closer.

“Hey, Kibou-san.”

She confirms that the kids have all converged on their location before answering, “Yes?”

“What do you think of this?” Emi holds up a barrette sculpted to imitate a swelling wave.

“It’s lovely. I like the details on the crests,” Kibou appraises. “Do you often pin your hair under your scarf?”

“Not really. I thought this would look good on you.”

Her mouth drops open. “On-- on me?”

“The dark pink lines match your eyes,” she observes.

The hue of her irises is on full display now, when she’s staring at Emi from beside her. Kibou has large eyes. They widen farther when Emi holds the clip up to her hair to test her theory. This close, she can feel the heat of Kibou’s blush. Her lips start to form a shape--

“Oh, that was one of my favorites to make,” chimes the artisan sitting with the cash box. “It looks wonderful on her.”

Emi’s mouth twitches. “Yes, I was thinking of buying it.”

“Kurage-san,” Kibou protests weakly.

“The hair clips are ¥2400 for one and ¥6000 for three.”

She nods and reaches into the pocket of her uniform that contains her money for personal use. It’s on the opposite side of the cash she keeps to lend to civilians so that she doesn’t withdraw from the emergency funds by accident.

“Sorry, I only have ¥3000 and ¥200 in coins. Can you break a ¥1000 bill?”

“Oh, don’t worry, ¥2200 is enough. I’ll throw in a bag for free as well.”

“That’s kind of you.”

Kibou notices Mamoru wandering off and breaks away to retrieve him. Emi keeps an eye on Akane, Kandou, and Isota. Three out of four remaining in the same place is impressive, but she doubts their patience will hold out for long.

“Here you go. I hope your girlfriend enjoys it,” the artisan says.

Emi pauses for a beat before nodding. She must have misunderstood.

Once she and the rest of the kids catch up with Mamoru, she holds the bag out to Kibou. “This is for you.”

After a second of hesitation, she takes it out of Emi’s hands. Her fingers are cool and soft.

“Ane-san, we can put that in my backpack,” Akane offers brightly.

“Thank you, Akane-chan. I’ll carry it myself for now.”

They soon reach the end of the row. Mamoru grabs Kibou’s hand as they round the corner to the next section. Kandou snags the back of Isota’s hood. Akane presses closer to their side to avoid brushing against another group. This area is crowded, so their progress is slow. They inch along until Mamoru stops in front of a jewelry shop’s tent.

“Ane-san, what are those?”

“They’re for pinning clothes together.” She points at a scarf pin shaped like a wreath of coral. “Wouldn’t this suit Kurage-san?”

Isota hops twice in place. “Yeah!”

“It looks like my hair,” Akane exclaims.

“Good eye,” praises the shopkeeper. “That’s an imitation, but we have real coral pieces on this side.”

Kibou darts a glance at Emi. “What do you think?”

“I don’t usually wear anything valuable.” Her clothes often get damaged when she answers an emergency call while off-duty.

“Then I’ll go with this one,” she decides, opening her coin purse.

Emi catches Kandou straying towards the neighboring table, so she trails after them. They notice her following and smile hesitantly.

“I wanna buy something for my dad,” they explain, hands in their pockets. “He works overseas, so he doesn’t get to go to stuff like this a lot.”

She glances at a rack of hand-sewn accessories. “Does he wear a tie to work?”

“Yes! He’s an account manager,” they explain with the smooth cadence of ignorant repetition. To be fair, Emi doesn’t understand what account management entails either.

They don’t have to know that. She bluffs, “Sounds like a big deal. Guess we should look for a serious tie.”

Kandou nods solemnly, looking pleased.

For formal events, solid-color ties are the standard, but a pattern should be fine at an office. Emi waits for Kandou to evaluate their options. There are a surprising number of designs. If Tobito was the type to wear ties, she would buy him one embroidered to resemble fish scales.

Kandou chooses a tie with an understated trumpet motif. Under Emi’s remote supervision, they carry it to the register, extract the correct amount from their wallet, and thank the cashier. She gestures for them to rejoin the group.

Kibou welcomes then back with her arm extended to Emi. A ring box tied with an orange ribbon sits in her palm.

“Turnabout is fair play,” she declares.

Against an argument like that, Emi can’t win, so she scoops the box out of Kibou’s hand.

Mamoru gawks as she fits it into a hidden pocket. “How much can you put in your skirt?”

“A lot,” she answers coyly. Most of her support gear and first-aid supplies fit in the concealed portion of her uniform.

Akane tugs Kibou’s sleeve. “We still didn’t find anything for Ojiichan yet.”

“Really? I’m not sure if you’ve been looking that hard,” she teases, tweaking the knot atop the girl’s bandanna. “We’re almost halfway through the market already. Kurage-san and I are the only ones shopping.”

“I got something too,” protests Kandou.

Isota rushes to their side. “What, what?”

They extract the trumpet tie from their drawstring bag. Kibou waits for the kids to stop fawning over it before spurring them to continue walking.

“We have to keep moving if we want to find Ojiichan’s present.”

They’re browsing a doll stall when Isota shuffles over to Kibou with his arms held up in a silent plea. She hands her bag off to Akane, who carefully slides it into her knapsack, before hefting Isota into her arms.

“You’re growing big, Isota-kun,” she remarks. “Soon you’ll be too heavy for me to carry.”

“But Aurelia will still be strong ‘nough,” opines Mamoru.

Emi shrugs. He’s right.

“Kurage-san can’t carry anyone but Kandou until the rest of you get your hug certificates. She’s tough, but we don’t want to hurt her,” Kibou reminds the group, receiving a ripple of assenting hums.

“I want a hug certificate,” Emi chimes. “How do I get one?”

“Ane-san has to be sure you can be safe with your Quirk,” explains Akane, starry-eyed.

Kandou pretends not to care as much as her, but they add, “It’s an elective class. You get a certificate if you pass the test at the end.”

“Then you don’t hafta ask Ane-san to give hugs for you,” Mamoru adds; it’s seemingly so normal to him that he doesn’t elaborate.

Isota wriggles in Kibou’s arms. “Ane-san, I wanna give Aurelia a hug please.”

“Well, I can’t hug her and carry you at the same time.”

He ponders this philosophical concern while they walk on to the next vendor. Mamoru is starting to flag as well; he leans heavily on Kandou as they browse. This shop sells housewares with prominent bamboo patterns, so hopefully they can wrap the trip up before he grows too tired to walk.

“Can we hug Aurelia later?” Isota… maybe… garbles into Kibou’s shoulder.

“Okay. Please remind me then.”

Kibou scans the tables with the focus of a ship’s captain navigating to shore. “How about those towels?”

“I like them,” Emi agrees sincerely. “I might get one for Tobito-kun.”

She leads the way to the stacked towels, Akane toddling after her. Kandou tugs Mamoru off to one side when he doesn’t move to follow.

“We’ll wait here. Akka and Isota can pick,” they call.

Kibou gives them a thumbs-up behind Isota’s back. “Did you hear that, Akane-chan? Which of these do you think is best?”

She yawns, squinting at the choices. Emi gives her credit for not running her hands over everything. “We should get a tea towel-- Ojiichan drinks a lot of tea.”

“Tobito-kun sweats a lot because of work, so I guess I’ll get him a towel for that,” muses Emi, hoping Akane is too tired to take offense at her joke.

The towels come discounted as a pair, so Emi buys both, and Kandou opens the whale shark to pay her back. Kibou plots a route to the parking lot. With some prodding, the group gets moving.

Emi escorts them to Kibou’s car. The kids, worn out by all the walking, say goodbye through drowsy waves and mumbles. Isota has fallen fast asleep, head lolling against the side of his car seat. Akane and Mamoru slump together beside him. In the passenger seat, Kandou pulls their beanie over their eyes.

“We all had a lot of fun. Thank you again for joining us,” Kibou murmurs after she closes the car doors.

“You’re welcome. I enjoyed walking with you.” She glances at Isota. “Should I wait until another time to redeem his hug…?”

She blinks with her lips parted. “Oh, did you-- did you want it? I could just tell him that we hugged while he was asleep.”

“You don’t have to lie to him. As long as you’re gentle, you won’t accidentally pull my hair out of my scarf, so it’s safe.”

Hugs aren’t Emi’s strong suit. She’s more familiar with the restrained affection of shoulder pats and clasped hands. Fortunately, Kibou leads by opening her arms at waist level, leaving room for Emi to put her arms around her shoulders. Emi is taller by only a few centimeters, so she carefully lets Kibou’s head slot beside hers. Her hair smells like coconut. Emi likes it.

Tobito and Emi’s birthdays fall within the same week, so they always have a joint party. All of Starboard Office is invited, as well as some Hawks Agency alumni. Tokoyami usually makes the trip down, but he’s tied up with an investigation. He sends his regards and a box of fancy tea from Kyoto.

This year’s celebration is on Tobito’s actual birthday. They close the agency for the afternoon; Emi and Tobito wrap up business in the presidential office while the event committee decorates. The committee doesn’t need to be that big… but anything that the public sees needs PR approval, so part of the team is supervisory. They manage to go overboard anyway; the entire path to the large conference room is wreathed in paper cutouts, garlands, and streamers. Tobito is miffed.

“It’s not any kind of milestone year,” he protests to the group who opens the presidential office door.

“Yeah, it was cooler last year, when the day and your age matched,” Mika teases, brandishing a party popper.

“Twenty-eight is eight years into being an adult,” Keigo chimes. “That should count for something.”

Yoshiku dodges the party hat that his feather pushes in her direction. “Kurage-san is turning 33 on the third. Isn’t that cooler?”

“And eleven times three is 33!” gasps Mika.

Oshizemi walks over and skims her fingers over her tablet. “I’m glad you can do multiplication, but the cake is ready. Time for pictures.”

Hosting a party at the office streamlines the process of posting to socials. Emi and Tobito pose for an endless stream of photographs: for the official Starboard Office account, for Keigo’s, and for Shindan’s blackmail scrapbook.

“Don’t fight it,” Emi advises when Tobito tries to sidle away. “She’s only ever used it on Keigo-kun.”

That was a long day. Hawks worked two full days back-to-back, including an “unsexy” meeting with Dabi, as they later learned. Shindan threatened to sedate him. When that didn’t work, they posted a picture of him hugging an Endeavor body pillow that was sent in by a fan.

Shindan’s present for his birthday this year may or may not be a body pillow of his fiancé. Emi had to call in some favors to get the fabric fireproofed.

Nozomi, the admin who alternates reception staffing with Shiogama, presents Tobito with the cake knife. “Remember when you were an intern and didn’t tell any of us that it was your birthday?”

“I didn’t want to make you feel like you had to do something,” he protests.

“And then Keigo-kun made us all sing ‘Happy Birthday’ over that supermarket cake,” Emi recalls, sighing.

Shindan nods contemplatively. “Hm, was that really more than a decade ago…?”

“Stop making us feel old,” Keigo gripes with an exaggerated frown.

Tobito cuts himself a square from the side of the cake and gives Emi a square from the middle. Then he relinquishes the knife to Nozomi, who divides the rest with military precision; she has ten years of experience with birthday cakes.

“Speech! Speech!” Mika clamors once everyone has a slice in hand.

Clearing his throat, Tobito says, “Thank you all for another great year. I didn’t prepare a message, so, uh, let me just say that I’m proud, as always, of the work we’ve done.”

“We’re proud of you too, Tobito-kun,” Keigo calls out. The staff murmurs in agreement.

“Emi-san, anything to add?”

“No… I made the right choice hiring you to do the talking,” she replies.

The room fills with laughter. Fukuoka is generally warm, but today the warmth pools cozy and light in the conference room.

Emi isn’t scheduled for a shift on her birthday, so she wakes up slowly. Thirty-three isn’t as bad as she worried it would be. She’s alive, and so are her friends. She’s still a hero. Most of the time, it’s even fun. Not a bad petition to her mind… Sakabayashi will hear about this in therapy.

Sitting up, she scrolls through the notifications on her phone. Aside from her parents and coworkers, Marine World Uminonakamichi has tagged her in a photo of the moon jellyfish exhibit celebrating World Jellyfish Day. The Starboard Office account posts a candid from the joint party, her smile as she unwrapped the agency’s shrimp-themed gift basket.

Kibou sends her birthday wishes through text: “Happy birthday, Kurage-san. Akane-chan said I should send you cake, but I saw that you already had one. Should I buy you a cupcake?”

“Thank you. No need to go out of your way if you’re busy.”

“We don’t hold classes on Saturdays, only educational activities, so I’m just relaxing at home.”

“Relaxing how?”

Kibou sends a selfie. She sits on a window bench with a closed novel in her lap. Her shirt has flowers stitched around the neckline. She’s also wearing the wave hair clip that Emi bought for her.

Emi moves to close their chat. Her finger fumbles and hits the video call button instead. She stares in baffled regret as the line rings once, twice…

“Kurage-san?” Kibou greets as her face appears onscreen. She’s in the same spot as the picture.

“My finger slipped.” She runs a hand through her hair, pushing it out of her eyes. Of all times… “Sorry. I usually look better than this.”

“I’ll take your word for it. I haven’t really seen you with your hair down.”

“It’s annoying to detangle… but I have it down in a recent promotion for Yuuhi.”

“Seeing it in an ad is different from a private call like this, though.” Inexplicably, Kibou’s face warms. Emi watches the color progress across her cheeks.

She wonders if Kibou’s Quirk has a temperature-sensitive element. Corals are notoriously affected by their environment. It would explain why Kibou seems to be cold so often.

“You’re a little older than me,” Kibou observes suddenly. “My thirty-third birthday isn’t until next September.”

“When in September?”

She bites the corner of her lip. “What are you going to do with that information?”

“Nothing villainous,” she replies, raising her eyebrows.

“Fine. It’s the twenty-second.” Kibou glances at something offscreen. “Excuse me, someone just knocked on the door.”

She sets the phone down face-up, giving Emi a view of the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the painted blue ceiling. Maybe this is a recreation room for the students as well as the staff. The distinction between educational and living spaces is probably blurry for a homeschool institution.

Kibou returns and lifts her phone back into place. “Sorry. A student came to ask about hanging laundry.”

“I guess the work of a foster parent never ends.”

“It’s like heroics in that respect,” she acquiesces, adjusting her sleeves.

Emi hums. “If I may, Kibou-san, why did you go into foster care?”

“I come from a big family,” she begins. “I often helped take care of my younger siblings and cousins when we were growing up. I guess… I guess I was good at it. And when you’re young-- for me, at least-- it’s easiest to say that you want to do what you’re good at.

“My parents started talking about opening a specialized educational program when I was in high school. It’s because of them that I began taking childcare seriously as a career option. Since my Quirk isn’t easily applicable to medicine, I chose to support them instead.

“Growing up, I could always depend on my family to accept me as I was. I want all children to feel as cared for as I did. So my parents and I became foster care certified, and the rest is history.

She folds her hands in her lap. “In the end, I don’t really have a noble reason. I just like helping children.”

“That sounds noble to me.”

Kibou shrugs and smiles unbelievingly.

“I should get up,” Emi sighs, passing a hand over her jaw. “Talk to you again soon?”

“Of course. Happy birthday, Kurage-san.”

The number two hero has innumerable demands on their time, pulled in every direction across the country to handle major incidents and boost public morale. Hawks used to travel constantly to juggle his commitments, and now Polarise is serving his time. His whereabouts are difficult to predict. Aurelia doesn’t know he’s in Fukuoka until he shows up to help her take down a villain causing havoc in the red light district.

It’s a neutral matchup for her. The woman has a compressed air Quirk, but the shockwaves don’t travel farther than Aurelia’s stinger darts, so she could make her opening with one good shot. She’s about to take aim when a splash of ice snares the villain from behind. Polarise enters the scene a moment later.

“Thanks for the assist,” Aurelia says.

“Of course. Mind if I join your patrol?”

She eyes the ice encasing the woman’s arms. Not her problem. “You can come… but I’m only out for another hour.”

“That’s fine,” he answers, matching her pace. “An hour is enough time to bond. We’re both the second-best man at Aniki’s wedding, so we should get to know each other better.”

“Second-best man isn’t a thing.”

He shrugs. “If I get married, I’ll have one.”

“‘If’?” As far as she knows, he and his partner are disconcertingly sweet together.

“Marriage is a complicated subject for our family,” he explains blithely.

Aurelia wonders if everyone in his family has this tendency to overshare. She was an honorary bridesmaid at Rumi’s wedding, as the best man’s plus one, and she spent the half hour before the ceremony listening to Fuyumi panic about her brother’s earlier reaction to Endeavor… and not even the older one.

Well, now she has to change the subject. “You have a cat, right?”

“I have three.”

“Who feeds them when you’re away?”

“Tenya, Ingenium.”

That’s something Aurelia has noticed about Tsukuyomi’s cohort… they’re on a first-name basis with each other. They trade barbs with barely any honorifics, bantering like colleagues who have worked together for so long that they’re inseparable. Hero classes tend to be tight-knit, but that group is especially so. It must be the shared trauma.

Having such close friends might be nice, though not at the price that Polarise and the others paid. The probing spotlight doesn’t suit Aurelia. She can work under scrutiny after years of experience… if she had had to face that amount of pressure from her first year of high school, she would have dropped out.

“Do you have any pets, Aurelia?”

“No. It’s risky with my Quirk, so I’ve never had one.”

Polarise hums, crouching to pick up an empty plastic bottle. “Denki has similar concerns, but he gets along fine with Hitoshi’s cats.”

“Hitoshi?”

“Oh, Mockingbird.”

She nods in acknowledgement. Mockingbird is one of the underground heroes who provided intel on those smuggling routes. He works closely with his former classmates; of course, they’re friends as well.

“Aaah, Polarise!” two middle school girls screech in unison.

He comes to a stop, waiting for their shrieking to die down. Aurelia relieves him of the bottle. She’s used to this too.

“Can we please, please, please take a picture with you?” one girl pleads.

The other holds out an English workbook. “And would you sign my notebook?”

“Sure. I can sign that, but I don’t know if it would help with your grades. I wasn’t very good at English.”

They giggle at his seriousness, thrilled by his lack of expression in the photo that Aurelia captures for them. Polarise tends to play to the public’s image of him… whether he means to or not. Ever since his fervid UA Sports Festival debut, he’s had to fight to be seen as himself. The battle is uphill because anything he does can be attributed to their assumptions.

The second girl hugs her notebook to her chest. “Thank you so much! Can I say also, I love all the couples posts that you and--”

A chirp in Aurelia’s earpiece signals an incident one street over. “Excuse me; I have to go.”

By the time Polarise catches up, she’s already neutralized the culprit, and Undine is ready to voice her complaints. “Tell Polarise that he’s lucky the police had a blowtorch on hand.”

“Okay. We have another ready for arrest here.”

“Understood,” she grumbles.

Aurelia turns to Polarise. “Undine is upset with you.”

“Oh. Maybe you shouldn’t link me into your comms.”

“Are you scared…?”

He shakes his head. Maybe his prudence is a product of his frequent team-ups with hotheaded former classmates. Getting into friendly scuffles with other heroes can go awry if the wrong reporter is present. “I’m here for you.”

Investigative work isn’t her favorite, but she can recognize ulterior motives. “You’re not just here to make friends, are you?”

Polarise folds with an awkward shrug. At least he saves her the trouble of interrogation.

“The only things I discuss with Hawks are work and my brother,” he admits, “so I was hoping to learn more about him before the wedding.”

This is a familiar situation… fans and reporters too slow to catch Hawks would often turn to his entourage. Aurelia couldn’t say much before for lack of knowledge, but now her reticence is in defense of what privacy he has left. He provides enough gossip fodder on his own anyway… not that Polarise strikes her as a gossiper.

“You want more material for your speech,” she realizes.

He looks as close to sheepish as she’s ever seen him. “Yes.”

Hawks reached his tenth strike when he lost Aurelia’s stapler yesterday, so she gladly provides Polarise with a collection of anecdotes.

Hero rankings are officially updated near the end of the month, before crime rates spike in December. None of the top 25 spots have changed since the mid-year report. Windsweep is obligated to attend the ceremony as number ten; Aurelia, still number fourteen, can stay behind to hold down the fort. Midway will network in her stead. Hawks and Aurelia have dealt with most of the attendees in one way or another anyway.

The way the Hero Billboard Chart tabulates rankings has changed since All Might’s day. There’s less pressure on individuals to shoulder everything. Agencies can nominate representatives to accept accolades on behalf of the entire team, which is how 22-year-old Nebula is sitting at number eleven. Assists are also given more weight than before, so consultants like Ataeru, the newly-minted number nine, don’t fall behind because of their low solo capture rates. Heroes in the upper ranks are expected to share the rewards and burden of success.

From Hawks’s debut to his semi-retirement, he was a top ten hero. Aurelia benefitted from his rank whether she appreciated the attention or not. She and Windsweep haven’t dropped out of the top twenty yet… they don’t even celebrate when the rankings come out. They care about what they’ve done for the community, not fame. They’ve had plenty of the latter.

Emi’s notifications are nonetheless flooded with congratulatory wishes and comments about the charts. Her parents are proud. Oshizemi is polite and to the point. Keigo is incomprehensible, because his message is composed entirely of dancing sea creature emotes. She leaves him on read in favor of opening Kibou’s text.

“Congratulations on maintaining your ranking. It’s somewhat refreshing to see so many queer heroes at the top of the charts,” she’s written. “The banner that Acer waved when Ataeru went on stage was cute.”

In some cases, coming out is a choice to cultivate an image. The new generation doesn’t all grab for popularity by projecting romantic availability. Most of the top 25 are dating other heroes, especially each other. The rest may not be “out” in one way or another. Ataeru and Acer recently had a very public mutual confession, which is the only reason the general population would know that Ataeru is attracted to women.

Emi sends back, “I’m glad they have each other. It’s nice to have a partner who understands what you’re going through.”

“Are you speaking from experience?”

“I wouldn’t date another hero I met as an adult,” Tamakou the exception proving the rule, “and all the people I interned with were guys, so no.”

“I guess things might get messy, dating your competitors.”

“I don’t think about the rankings most of the time. It’s just awkward to collaborate with someone if a date doesn’t work out.”

Kibou types for a few seconds before sending, “Like having extra high-stakes exes.”

“Right. It’s not funny if lives are at stake.”

“I think that’s heroic of you to say. Not every pro would be so professional.”

Emi responds with a bland, “Thank you.” She doesn’t associate with heroes who don’t have their priorities in order, so she has nothing to take credit for.