Chapter Text
The low sound of a grunge album echoed through the store as you rearranged records in your small, unassuming shop - Static Pulse Records. A group of high schoolers had just floated through, apparently taking it upon themselves to organize the store the way they saw fit. Sighing softly, you tucked a flashy pop album - an indie project based off Mt. Lady - back in its spot before moving to the next box.
Your life wasn’t near as vibrant as the colored plastic in front of you, nor was it exciting like the heroes you looked up to. Your quirk was simple, but useful; you had the ability to repair any broken non-living object 5 pounds or under. Handy when it came to record scratches and rowdy customers stepping on boxes, but nothing you could make a name for yourself with.
You managed to fix the display just as the vinyl that was playing ticked into static. Instead of replacing it, you chose to put on your favorite radio show - Put Your Hands Up Radio. You had more than a few episodes downloaded, and made sure to tune in every week (shop hours do change that day).
The unrealistic crush you had on the Voice Hero seemed to grow stronger every day. You had damn-near every item of merch available, knew every public piece of information you could find, and had been following his hero journey since he premiered - when you were only fourteen, and he was twenty-two.
The familiar blast of Present Mic’s intro hit the speakers, his voice cranked to that perfect level of chaotic energy that somehow never crossed into ear-bleeding territory inside the shop, “Yooo, listeners! It’s your favorite Voice Hero, comin’ at ya live from the heart of Musutafu! We’ve got requests, deep cuts, and a whole lotta soul today - keep those hands up!”
You smiled despite yourself, cheeks already warming. Pathetic, really. A grown adult blushing over a pro hero the same way you did as a teenager. But, there was something about the way he threw himself into everything - music, hero work, even the way he yelled encouragement at civilians during rescues - that made your quiet little life feel a little louder.
The bell above the door jingled.
Two teenagers, no older than sixteen, walked through the door, sun setting behind them. The shorter one scurried over to you, a notebook clutched in his hands, “Um, hi! I’m looking for something calming? Do you maybe have any lo-fi vinyls?”
You grinned gently, trying to ease his obvious nerves as the taller boy walked - with perfect posture - to your small classical section in the back.
“I do!” You moved from behind the counter to lead him to the two boxes of your most mellow tracks, waving him along with one hand, “Here, follow me.”
You smiled warmly at the green-haired boy as you led him, your steps light and unhurried. He reminded you of a puppy that had just discovered the world was bigger than his backyard - eager, a little overwhelmed, but full of good intentions.
“Here we are,” you said, gesturing to the crates. “Lo-fi, chill beats, some ambient stuff with soft rain samples. I keep the really relaxing ones over on this side. Anything catch your eye?”
The boy’s eyes widened as he crouched down, flipping through the sleeves with careful fingers, “Whoa… these look amazing! I’ve been trying to find something that helps me wind down after training, but everything online is either too expensive or not the right vibe. Present Mic was talking about vinyls on his show last week - how they have this warmer sound than digital - and I thought, maybe I should actually check out a real store for once!”
Your heart did a little flip at the mention of your favorite hero. You tilted your head as you knelt beside him to help sort through a few options, “You listen to Put Your Hands Up Radio? That’s awesome. I’ve got it on right now, actually.”
The boy’s face lit up like you’d just handed him All Might’s autograph, “I thought I recognized it! I go to UA, and he’s one of our teachers! Present Mic’s teaching style is so intense but really inspiring. He always says music can be a weapon or a shield, depending on how you use it. I take so many notes during his classes - look!” He flipped open his notebook, pages crammed with tiny, frantic handwriting and little doodles of sound waves. “He did this whole segment on how lo-fi can help with focus and recovery after quirk overuse, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since because my friend Kacchan - well, he’s loud, and training gets overwhelming sometimes, and-”
He rambled on, cheeks flushing with embarrassment even as the words kept tumbling out. You listened with a gentle smile, nodding along without interrupting. It was endearing how passionately he spoke, like every sentence mattered.
“-and Iida’s here because he wanted something classical for posture practice or something? Anyway, sorry! I talk too much when I get excited.”
“Don’t apologize,” you said softly, patting his shoulder gently. “It’s nice to see someone care that much. Here - this one’s my favorite for unwinding.” You pulled out a soft cream-colored sleeve; gentle piano loops layered over each other, the cover art a simple rainy city street at night. “It’s got that perfect cozy feel. And if it ever gets scratched, bring it back. I’ve got a knack for fixing those.”
The teen took it reverently, eyes sparkling, “Thank you so much! This is perfect. I can already imagine listening to it after evening drills…”
By then, the taller boy - Iida, you assumed - had approached with two classical albums in hand, spine straight as a ruler. You led both of them back to the counter, the radio still humming with Present Mic’s energetic voice in the background (“-and that was ‘Echoes in the Static’ for all you night owls out there! Keep reaching for the top, listeners!”).
You rang them up with care, double-checking the totals and slipping a little free sticker of a cartoon microphone into each of their bags, “On the house. Tell Present Mic his biggest fan at Static Pulse says hi if you see him in class,” you added with a playful wink.
The freckled kid beamed, “I will! He’ll love that - thanks again!”
Iida gave a crisp bow, “Your assistance was most efficient and kind. We appreciate it greatly.”
As the bell jingled behind them, you leaned on the counter, watching the two UA students disappear down the street. Your cheeks were warm again, but this time it wasn’t just from the radio. Helping bright kids like that made the quiet days in the shop feel a little brighter.
You turned up the volume just as Present Mic launched into another segment, smiling to yourself.
Maybe one day you’d work up the courage to actually go to one of his live DJ events. For now, this was enough.