Mind Games (Rebuild) - Chapter 3 (Patreon)

“Well, nothing you did was against the law, and you didn't use your quirk, so I think we're done here, kid.” The detective sighed as he looked down at his notepad, then reached up and scratched his head before turning a serious gaze back on me. “That said, try not to get yourself in any more of these situations unless and until you get your hero license at whatever school you end up, okay?”

“I understand, sir. Thank you for your understanding and leniency,” I replied, making a bow that was, strictly-speaking, just a bit too deep.

As expected, the deference was over-emphasized to the point where the cop turned away awkwardly rather than deal with it.

“And for the love of the gods, kid, don't stream it next time. Almost caused a damn panic,” he muttered, walking away without further comment. Even if he kept muttering under his breath and I caught various pieces of it, none of it was explicitly directed at me, just gripes against his teenagers, his job, villains in general, and more.

On the one hand, that was good advice.

On the other hand, I'd gone up fifty-thousand subscribers, over a thousand of those paid, in the last three hours. Both numbers were still going up, for that matter.

Regrettably, I am disinclined to acquiesce to your request. The spirit of capitalism flows too strongly through my veins.

In more ways than one, too. I was seriously trying to give this whole 'hero' thing a try, despite the painstaking hypocrisy of the world I found myself in now. Or, well... the world in general, I guess. Some things never changed. The more important thing, though, was that I was actually spreading the society-approved message of not being a hero without a license. It made it damn hard to indict me when I had footage of my actions seen by over a hundred thousand people at this point, didn't use my quirk (that they could prove), and followed the party line on what I'd said and done.

Yeah, it sucked ass, but there was a logic to the entire thing, and I got that.

Or, at least, I was trying. Trying hard to get it.

Even if I didn't agree with it.

That was why it was an available mission goal, though. In a world so well-trodden as My Hero Academia, much of the 'content' The Company peddled had become 'same-y.' In other words, while the vast majority of Contractors they sent started out in 1-A (or, rarely, 1-B), they tended to buck the system into some level of vigilantism sooner or later.

So one of the challenges was to not do 'A Vigilantism' for your tenure at UA, with a reward of fifty credits per semester if you achieved it.

There were exceptions written in for the USJ Incursion and the Training Camp Attack, but even then the rules were strict about the level of engagement you could bring to bear. No lethal responses, specifically. Nor could you initiate a fight against a villain that wasn't threatening you or a classmate personally.

And, of course, there was a prohibition on resorting to villainy as well. Legally-speaking, the difference between vigilantism and villainy was your intentions. Both violated the prohibition of quirk use.

“Hey, Shinso-kun?”

I blinked, looking up at Mina as she approached. The two girls who'd been involved with Gigantomachia were standing off to one side nervously. “What's up, Ashido-san?”

The very pink pinkette grinned and giggled. “Just wanted to let you know I was walking my classmates home. Thanks again for saving them, and I'm glad we got to meet. Oh, and I'll check out your channel!”

The last was said as she waggled the card I'd given her in the air, a professional little number I'd had printed up to hand out just for occasions like these. “I'm glad to hear it. Don't feel like you have to donate or anything, either. Just having another viewer will help my numbers.”

“I'll make sure Sachi and Mariko check it out, too! See you!” Mina waved, gesturing to the other girls as she backed away and then turned to run off with a final wave.

Bemusedly waving back, I sighed tiredly.

Looking up, I couldn't help but hope I could schedule that camping trip soon. I wasn't much of a country kid, but the city I'd grown up near had always been small enough that I could see the stars at night. Tokyo's abundance of nighttime illumination made that a virtual impossibility. Thankfully, Japanese transportation being what it was, I could get out of the city for a weekend without much problem, as long as I didn't want to get really remote.

“Uhh... hey, got a minute?”

I shook myself, inwardly rebuking my lack of focus for spacing out two times in as many minutes. I'd need to work on that. Looking at the boy who'd spoken, I had to wonder at how he'd reinvented himself so dramatically in so little time.

Limp black hair hanging loosely in a rough cut just past the ears but short of the shoulders. Dim red eyes drooping slightly with a somewhat melancholic expression. A build that could be charitably described as 'average,' at best. He looked every inch the normal Japanese student, right down to the slightly-rumpled shirt and slacks.

I shrugged. “Sure, everything okay?”

He grimaced slightly, looking away, before firming his expression and turning back to me, bowing slightly. “I'm Kirishima Eijiro, thank you for saving my classmates!”

I huffed a laugh and dipped my own head without rising from my seat. “Hitoshi, nice to meet you. And you're welcome, inasmuch as I did anything anyone could have done.”

Kirishima shook his head, black hair sweeping this way and that. “No way! What you did, no one else... I mean, I didn't-”

He bit off what he was about to say and I sighed, extending my hand and patting the stone bench. “Sit.”

“Oh, um... I mean-”

“Sit.” I reiterated myself and gave him a mild glare. “If I'm helping you out with a problem, I'd rather not have to stare up at you while I'm doing it.”

This time, when I slapped my hand against the rough stone, he hastened to comply.

Then proceeded to sit in fidgeting silence.

“So, you were watching that whole thing with the giant guy?” I asked, the prompt fairly innocent and neutral.

“Y-yeah,” Kirishima nodded, clearing his throat. “I, um... I was just... standing there and you stepped past me and talked him down from hurting my classmates. You just... you acted like it was just an ordinary conversation, but it probably saved their lives with how the stone was falling around them from that building.”

I hummed loud enough for the mic to pick up. “It's not as impressive as you make it out to be. All I did was walk up to the guy and take his attention off them, then gave him what he wanted.”

The black-haired youth snorted, combing a hand through his hair as he slouched over and hung his head. “But no one else did that. You did. So, um... I guess my question is... how'd you do it? Weren't you scared?”

“Of course I was scared,” I replied with a slight scoff. “You'd have to be an idiot not to be scared.”

Kirishima's head jerked up, staring at me in surprise. “B-but... then, how'd you do it?”

There was an old saw I could use here, but the truth was different. At least, for me. “Are you afraid of what's going to happen to you if you act? Or are you more afraid of what's going to happen to the other people if you don't act?”

Kirishima stared at me blankly.

I shrugged and pulled a bottle of water from my pack, taking a gulp before sighing. “Fear is fear, man. Even the top ranked heroes feel fear. Endeavor, All Might, Mirko... well, okay, maybe not Mirko. She's just a badass.”

Eijiro laughed suddenly, seeming to surprise himself.

I grinned, then sobered slightly. “The point is... heroes might look tough, and they are for the most part, but when they look at someone in a burning building? Or being held hostage by a villain or something? They're the hero. They have the training, the skills, the quirk... they can deal with the danger. The person they're trying to save? They don't have any of that.”

Kirishima breathed in, nodding as I enumerated my points and examples, silently hanging on my every word.

I took another swig of water. “The 'trick' to being a hero at all... to being worth the title, in my opinion, is to be afraid for someone when they're in danger, so they don't have to be. If you're a hero, that fear is your burden to bear, not theirs. So, no... fear isn't something that should stop you from moving forward. It's the thing that should tell you when you most need to move forward.”

“Dude,” the other teen breathed out, the sound an acknowledgment of a profound truth.

Eijiro stared into the middle distance, his eyes unfocused for a long moment.

“Dude,” he shook his head, still seeming in awe.

I clapped him on the shoulder, startling him out of his trance. “Fear is a good thing, never doubt that. But just like with your quirk, it's what you do with it that matters. Focus on the ways it helps you, on the ways it keeps you ready to acknowledge and face danger for others rather than how it can keep you from achieving your goals.”

Kirishima, staring at me, swallowed and rubbed his eyes as he sniffled. “T-that is, like... the manliest thing I've ever heard! So fuckin' manly, I can't even!”

I chuckled awkwardly and scratched the back of my head as the other teen fished his phone out and insisted on swapping contact information.

After a moment's hesitation... I gave in.

It might be... nice, to have a friend, again.

After closing out my contact app, I blinked and stared down at my phone. “No, I did... oh, shit.”

Kirishima blinked, looking at the upside-down device from his perspective. “What's up?”

I smacked my tongue and gave him my best dead-eyed stare. “So, the good news is that my phone was in my pocket, which means it didn't catch you on camera. Bad news? The audio was apparently still running to my streaming site.”

The black-haired boy blinked, slowly turning to regard my phone in disbelief.

I chuckled awkwardly. “Congrats, you're internet-famous?”

…

“Shinso-kun? The Principal has asked to see you.”

I blinked, looking up from my work at my homeroom teacher.

Of course, there was the immediate smattering of whispers and snide comments that was common to pubescent children. Mostly, I let it roll off my back. The combination of my own maturity, my ability to lean on my talents, my disconnection with the large part of the student body, and my preoccupation with the 'real world' issues I needed to deal with meant that I very much did not have the fucks to give about the opinions of fourteen-year-olds.

Harsh? Maybe, but it's what worked for me.

Glancing at the time, I grabbed my bag and shuffled my things into it before standing. “I'll take my things with me, sensei. It'll save me from interrupting your next class if I have to come back for them.”

The three-eyed man wearing a very custom-fitted pair of glasses, abruptly closed his mouth on the objection I could sense forming. “Alright Shinso-kun. It probably will take at least fifteen minutes.”

That's the trick. Tell them why it'll be in their interests to let you do something, but don't make a production out of it.

Presenting someone with something that would save them hassle instead of creating more of it was automatically more likely to get a pass.

Absently, I checked my stats on my social media and streaming sites of my choice. Somewhat worryingly, the numbers were still going up, if not quite as fast. Quadrupling my original subscriber counts was one thing, but going beyond that?

There was a point where success became enough to induce a vertigo-like sensation and you began to worry if you were about to fall.

Ugh.

I took a deep breath and sighed it out, tucking my phone away as I approached the front office. A quick conversation with the secretary had me passing into the back rooms and knocking on the Principal's door.

Mr. Sawata was a slightly chubby man visibly past his prime, though not completely out of shape. His purple hair was going gray on both his head and the large purple wolf-like ears that stood out from either side of his head, matching the color of tired eyes. The suit he wore, though, was clean and crisp, and his burgundy tie was neatly wrapped underneath a starched collar. Even more than that, his posture was adroit and, even if he had a few wrinkles, he hadn't yet given in to the extra weight his age and habits had earned him.

In terms of personality? I didn't know him all that well. From what I understood second and third-hand, he was a tough, but fair type of principal. More importantly, he was something of a politician. Being in charge of an institution like a school put you in the unenviable position of answering to both local elected officials and the greater body of parents. Beyond that, you might even have pretensions towards a higher office in the educational sector. Which meant either running for that office or making deals and doing favors to get an appointment.

So any issue that needed his personal attention was likely one that would impact his own career or the reputation of the school he was presiding over.

Both of which were essentially the same thing.

Discreetly, my hand still in my pocket, I hit the 'record' function on my phone before giving the man seated behind the desk an appropriate bow. “Mr. Sawata, you asked to see me?”

“Yes, Shinso-kun. I don't think we've ever had reason to meet privately before,” Sawata state, offering me a smile. “Now, I know we're both busy people, so I'll cut right to the chase. I've been informed that you have something of a streaming channel that you're running.”

I blinked, then shrugged. “No idea what you're talking about, sir.”

Sawata paused, then frowned. “You mean to tell me that you're not 'Bootstrap,' the titular star of Channel Bootstrap?”

My eyebrows rose. “Oh, him? Nah, I watch him on occasion. He's kind of-” I made a vague motion with one hand. “Pedantic? And he likes to hear himself talk too much.”

Sawata's frown deepened. “Young man, I'd like for this not to be tedious. The stream that went viral yesterday included a portion where you identified yourself as 'Hitoshi' to a student from another school.”

I leaned on stress defense, just a bit, to keep my face cluelessly blank. “Sir, if this is about someone making a false accusation, I've had to deal with this kind of thing before. Back in primary school a bunch of kids pulled pranks and then told the teacher that I'd used my quirk to force them to do it.”

That, at least, gave the Principal pause as he stared at me and drummed his fingers. The only other giveaway to his tension was a slight twitching of his oversized furry ears.

“That's going to be your position on this matter, then?” He finally asked, leaning back in his chair.

I shrugged again. “It has to be, Mr. Sawata. I'd like to think I'm smart enough not to get caught running a streaming channel while still in middle school. That kind of thing technically qualifies as a part-time job, after all, and those have to be vetted and approved by the school. If that was me doing some kind of hero-stunt channel, you'd be obligated to tell me to shut it down. I wouldn't want to put you in that position, sir.”

Recognition lit up in his features and Sawata nodded slowly as he thought the matter over.

Plausible deniability was as much of a lifeline for him as it was for me. There were over a dozen kids at this school who had small-time Herotube careers or other kinds of streaming hobbies that, by dint of monetization, technically counted as part-time jobs. I'd eat my own underwear if even one of them had actual permission from the school to do any of it, but as long as no one complained...

Unlike brick-and-mortar part-time positions, schools could conveniently ignore budding internet fame as long as it wasn't obvious who you were and where you went to school. Working in the community was different. People would see you coming and going in your uniform and connect whatever job you were doing with the school itself and, therefore, the reputation of the school.

And Japan was very reputation conscious.

Which I did not agree with. It was probably the American in me, but the idea that a school could or would control any amount of your personal time off-campus as a private citizen made me want to find a bald eagle and start warning people the redcoats were coming to take our liberty.

On the balance, though, wearing a mask, cap, and using a voice distorter app is probably cheaper than renting the eagle.

...not as fun, but cheaper.

Eventually Sawata nodded, smiling. “You're a clever student, Shinso-kun. Especially with what I've seen of your grades and what your teachers have to say. Quiet, doesn't make trouble, diligent with his work... outside of the unfortunate implications of your quirk, I'd say you would be a model student to recommend to a hero training school. Even UA.”

I smiled and replied with nothing more than a gentle nod.

“And you're right. If someone did complain, I would probably be forced to put my foot down about it,” he sighed. “It would be a shame, especially since... whoever that boy on the stream is seems to have a good head on his shoulders and the desire to do real good. The way he stepped up yesterday and helped those two girls proved that.”

Even if I didn't get the read from him that this was a trap, I decided to play it on the safe side. It was, after all, harder to implicate yourself if you didn't say anything.

I cleared my throat. “I'm sure he's just happy that no one was injured, sir.”

Sawata smiled widely and, I felt, genuinely. “For what it's worth, I hope that you get into your high school of choice, whatever it may be. And... oh, here. Someone contacted the school about that streamer. They seemed to think it was you and wanted me to forward you an information packet they had sent over by courier. Since it isn't you, though, you'll need to call them and explain that.”

Offering the sealed manila envelope, Principal Sawata met my eyes meaningfully for a long moment.

“I can trust you to take care of that, can't I Shinso-kun?” He asked, holding onto the packet for a few seconds too long as I reached out to take it from him.

“Of course, Mr. Sawata,” I smiled. “You're probably pretty busy. I can take care of that for you.”

He released his grip and I tucked the folder under one arm. “Good. I'll leave you to it, then. You have class change coming up. Do get back to me later when you get word about your high school. We make a point of honoring graduates of note to set a good example for the next classes.”

I twitched slightly, but understood there was a price to pay for everything. Having a UA attendee under his belt would definitely be a gold star on his record, especially if I got into the hero course like I planned to. Considering UA's intake for those courses was fifty people optimistically, it was a mark of excellence just to be invited to take the introductory exam. Especially when you considered they drew from all over the country.

If I made it, I would represent major political bragging rights to this man.

“I'll make sure you're given as much notice as possible,” I nodded with a smile.

“Excellent, keep up the good work then and I'll let you see yourself out,” Sawata replied.

I got up and opened the door just as the man sat up slightly and reached for his phone. As the door shut behind me, I didn't hear the pushing of buttons but words being spoken into the receiver. “Well, how did he-”

Then the door clicked shut.

I paused for a heartbeat, running my tongue across my teeth as my eyes scanned the office's exterior, weighing the pros and cons of lingering to 'tie my shoe' or something similar. In the end, though, I decided it was a bit too risky. In all likelihood, the person on the other end was probably connected with the packet under my arm, which meant I'd find out soon anyway.

My initial thought had been that a hero agency had wanted me to come in an interview, but that was an optimistic guess. It could easily be something as potentially-disastrous as Detnerat looking to sponsor a potential upcoming hero. Now, though, knowing that someone had likely been listening in on the speaker phone the entire time... I was leaning more towards hero. A few of them, like Aizawa, had neurotic compulsions about trust and logic.

Being a 'fly on the wall,' so to speak, would be a great way to gauge my character.

The remainder of the day dragged. There was temptation to open the packet, but my better nature won out and it stayed safely in my backpack where no prying eyes could take a peek. There were people who knew I'd been called in to see the principal, after all, and teenagers were often more curious than your average cat. Even then, opening something up to reveal an easily-recognizable hero logo would instantly shine a spotlight on me.

A roulette of options occupied my mind as I took my usual path home, winding through the main streets towards the small house that the Shinso family, such as it was, occupied. The most fringe potential option I'd come up with was All for One potentially offering me a job using a puppet of some kind to try and lure me into a life of crime. There was that...

Kunckleduster? I think that was it. Or whatever he called himself before his quirk got taken. The guy who got his quirk could potentially be posing as a hero, I think. I'd never gotten far enough in Vigilantes to know in that regard. But the 'Devil King of Crime' certainly had at least a few pro heroes who owed him.

The question is... would he bother? Or am I just being paranoid? AFO does love his twisted little games, and there's a chance I'm on his radar given I filmed Gigantomachia. But the reason I ran into him was because it happened in the canon timeline. People knew about it, they saw it and reported it. Hell, the giant probably leveled a hero's agency building or got into a slug fest with someone!

It wasn't as though Gigantomachia's continued existence or, presumably, his service to a 'master' was a secret. The big guy prattled on about him enough. If someone didn't know AFO was alive, then the obvious conclusion was that someone else had taken up the mantle.

That, and the fact that I wasn't an important piece in the game. Tenko/Tomura was Nana's grandson. Effectively All Might's nephew. Dabi was Endeavor's son turned villain and a major PR blow waiting to happen. They mattered.

I was a kid with a slightly-useful brainwashing quirk.

No, if anything it would be easier to have me dragged into a back alley and disappeared.

Which was when a telekinetic force suddenly slammed into me and pulled me off my feet. I blinked rapidly, finding myself somewhere in the shade between buildings with two looming figures over me... in an alleyway.

Fuck.

I dropped my bag and spun my head to take in the-

Weasel? He looks like a weasel... with green hair?

Something about that sent a bell ringing in my head, the villain's oversized hand lashing out to catch me between his webbed fingers. The impact came with a jarring shudder through my body. “Fuck! What the hell-”

The second, a much beefier guy with rows shaved into his hair and closed eyes, slapped a hand over my mouth. “Shut up if you know what's-”

That was enough, my power was able to take hold. Normally, I'd try to deescalate, but these guys were clearly not willing to listen. Besides, my 'mission' didn't start until high school and I had a self-defense clause anyway.

Buff Dude froze, waiting for an order, and that was enough to make his hand go slack.

Enough for me to have the slightest space to breathe. “Punch your friend in the face.”

Weasel's eyes widened as Buff's hand came screaming in, straight into his face. Even as he was thrown back by the blow, he took me with him a few feet until I was able to tumble out of his hand. Ignoring his squawk of confusion and outrage, I yelled, “Attack your friend!”

Then I fucking ran.

I didn't even bother grabbing my bag as I hoofed it for the alley entrance, hearing the sounds of combat behind me. A half-second later, I felt my control snap as Buff took enough of a hit to break him free.

But I was-

A fist slammed into my face this time as I barely saw someone step around the corner. I fought to stay conscious, but my vision was blurring and going dark as-

“-how many idiots does it take to catch a teenager?”

“-fuck up! His quirk-”

“-load him up quick!”

Then I was out.

~~~

How about some on-theme necromancy to celebrate the capstone of spooky season?

For real, though, this is me throwing people a bone on the free side of things. As some of you might have noticed, my general snippets thread complained that Mind Games was effectively dead after I posted the second chapter that had gotten lost in the shuffle for the last few... years. Very lost.

Anyway, I decided to cave in to peer pressure and refurbish the story. It's been a long time since it's seen the light of day and I have a very different support base here on patreon than when it initially premiered. So, consider this a test batch.

I'll have the votes out tonight for November and, likely, another story post sometime soon afterwards.

Happy Halloween Everybody!