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ALL MIGHT WAVED to you from the common room, the television was on but he didn't seem to pay it any attention, just left it as background noise. The older blonde man sat alone on the couch, wearing a baggy white t-shirt and an unzipped blue jacket. Casual attire for the weekend.

"Hey," he said, you smiled with perked-up ears and walked over to him. "How was your first time patrolling as an independent pro?"

Shifting your weight on your feet, you shrugged, "it was alright."

"What's wrong?"

"There was this one weird thing that happened. Some stranger tried pulling me into his cult–or whatever he wanted to call it," you shook your head. "Based on my looks he hardly treated me like a hero even after I told him I was one. I didn't know what to make of it."

He cleared his throat with a rough cough before he explained, "The vigilantes especially tend to mistake the lesser-known heroes as one of their own, but that's not a reflection of your skill. Just a stupid mistake on their part."

Feeling better that it wasn't such an outlandish occurrence, you nodded at his explanation and rested back on the couch. "I can't believe we still have vigilante groups."

"We shouldn't, in all honesty, we don't need them anymore. These days they're more criminal than anything."

"I figured. I reported it to the police after my shift but they didn't seem to care."

That did sound like something they'd ignore, unfortunately. He breathed then patted your shoulder warmly. "You tried, that's good, I'm proud of you. Any trouble, don't be afraid to ask for help."

"Right," you agreed. "What're you reading?"

"Oh, ah—" he scrambled to come up with an answer. It was another guide on how to be a better teacher, he laughed nervously trying to hide it. It was the fourth time he bought a 'how to' book on mentoring and never failed to feel embarrassed when somebody noticed what he was reading.

« ——— ⋅. ᓚᘏᗢ .⋅ ——— »

"This place is huge," you thought to yourself.

Gym Gamma echoed the sound of your footsteps as you entered. Leaving your stuff on a bench, you leaned your hand against the wall to do some stretches. Shouta wasn't around yet but you were ten minutes early, you figured he was busy before coming.

While you did quad stretches you took in the setting, the large hanging fluorescent lights, and the stripe of one green and one orange panel on the walls to contrast the overall greyness of the building. The floors were entirely solid concrete and the space was huge, maybe larger than a football field. Naturally, you felt weirded out by the lack of people in the space. The gym was big enough for multiple classrooms to train in at once, it felt humbling to only occupy it yourself.

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐓 | 𝐬. 𝐚𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐰𝐚Where stories live. Discover now