This story follows a certain green haired boy around during his first encounter with death, and murder, and torture... and well, the bad side of the system.
During his journey, he discovers he can't die... he's immortal. Hundreds of thousands would...
"What the fuck Sora!? I thought you killed him!?" Ms. Manager exclaims, a look of unease and anger mixed into her features.
"I did..." he says quietly, kneeling down, beside Izuku. "I'll continue activating my quirk for another ten seconds." He looks up at his boss.
"Did you ever ask what his quirk was?"
"Of course I-..."
Her face scrunches as she reviews the very few talks she had with Izuku since he started his job.
"No... no I don't think I did,"
"Well, do you know his last name?"
She nods her head no.
"Where he lives?"
"No."
"What about his school?"
"... Nope."
"Why don't you have any information on him? We work in a hero café that is used to trade information and Intel. A café that's supposed to be completely secure, yet you never thought to do a background check on him?"
"Don't think you can talk to me like that! I took you in, turned a blind eye to your past, and gave you a job, I can take it away anytime I want." she exclaims, brows furrowed.
Tanso flinches, lowering his head.
"I'm sorry ma'am" Tanso reply's, releasing his quirk.
"Check his pulse," she says calmly. Tanso nods and takes Izuku's arm, placing two fingers on his wrist.
Five seconds go past, Tanso opens his mouth to deliver the verdict, but his index and middle finger feel an unexpected pulse, a slow and unsteady one, but, a pulse nonetheless.
"He's... uh, he's alive?"
"Then fucking KILL HIM!" she screams, walking over, before stomping her foot into Izuku's head. Once, twice, once more. Her face is full of pent up aggression and what you might call fear. She knows Tanso can kill quickly, and has the power to take down multiple heroes in a one room in just a couple of seconds. She knows because she saw it happen.
-Flashback- (Ms. Manager POV)
It was only a few months since she opened Your Hero Academia Café, and things were going fairly well. It was the fifteenth of January, and a large group of six, up and coming pro heroes came in to celebrate a successful infiltration of a fairly large villain group. It was the middle of the day when he came in wearing a surgical mask, grey sweatshirt, and black sweatpants.
