Why Should I Smile? (Ch 4) (Patreon)

I stand outside the school for a minute, feeling a bit dazed at the fact that I’m finally free of the hellhole. “Well. What now?” I have the entire morning to myself since I’m meeting Mt Lady at two o’clock. And since she can’t reschedule her patrol at the last minute I can’t just show up early…

“Hmm.” I hum as I start walking, pulling out my phone at the same time. If I recall, analysis tests start getting administered at nine AM, and by all reports don’t take longer than a few hours…

Shrugging, I change directions, heading towards the building I marked on my map app. It’s an hour and a half walk, but it’s not like I have anything better to do. I ignore the few hero fights that I pass, idly noting that it seems to be a busy day today. Then again, the only ones involved are lower-ranked heroes, so maybe they just don’t get reported on as much as higher ranked or new heroes? That would make sense, given the smaller size of the crowds and lack of collateral damage.

I do reach the building without any problems on my end though, taking in the surprisingly large structure. I stand there for a moment before shrugging and climbing the short steps up to the entrance. Given what goes on here, the building probably has an actual reason for being so large, instead of it just being an aesthetic decision.

The lobby is as spacious as one would expect, and there’s a veritable crowd cluttering up the space, nearly all of them dressed in some sort of professional manner. Doctors in lab coats, what I think are counselors or therapists in calming colors, and a few even wearing business suits.

I weave through the crowd, making mental notes of the conversations I hear. Some complaining about how they need to do this, a few bragging about how easy getting their license will be. The people in suits are discussing what ‘talents’ they might be able to recruit in whispered voices, evidently trying not to be heard by those around them. For the most part, it seems they’re successful. But I have far too much experience making myself small and avoiding peoples’ notice, so it’s no surprise they don’t see me as I brush past them and finally find myself in front of the receptionist.

The woman has fluffy pink hair that doesn’t go past her shoulders, though it looks like parts of it are missing in random spots. She gives me a bright smile, her teeth tinted with the same shade of pink as her hair. “Hello, and welcome to the Analysis Brokers building. Are you here for a quirk analysis or to apply for a license?”

“Applying for a license, please.” I answer, making note of the slight twitch in her smile at my monotone voice. But she’s a professional, not letting the lack of emotion faze her. Huh. With how my face is now, I suppose I would be considered as being unable to be fazed. Would that be cheating if I entered a contest for being unamused?

“Great! We have a lot of applicants today, so you’ll be split into a group according to whichever level of license you’re applying for.”

From what the website said, there are actually different levels of analysis licenses. They range from lead, the lowest, and steadily climb in ranks from there all the way to titanium. In that order, they go: lead, copper, bronze, iron, steel, silver, gold, platinum, titanium. I have no idea why they seem to be based off of some kind of fantasy adventurer’s guild setting, but it doesn’t really matter to those applying, I guess.

I shrug at her unspoken question, not entirely sure which level I should try for. “I’m told my analysis is impressive, and creepy, but I’m not sure if that’s really true.” Her smile stays on her face as she types something into the computer in front of her.

“That’s perfectly ok, a number of applicants don’t know what level their skills are at. We can take that into account when deciding what group to divide you into. Though it would help if you have a sample of previous work…?”

Must be common for people to keep their work with them, I think as I pull a half-filled notebook out of my bag. I hesitate before handing it over though. I wasn’t planning to work on any previous analysis for anyone other than Mt Lady today, so hers is the only one I have on me. But just handing over the personal information of a new hero’s quirk, as well as several theories on what she might be able to do seems rather rude.

“Um, is it really ok to just hand it over? Shouldn’t I get their permission first?” Somehow the receptionist’s smile seems to widen.

“That’s a good worry for the members of our organization to have, and is actually one of our core rules. Given what we do, it could be incredibly dangerous for that information to land in the hands of the wrong people. We do have a secure database dedicated to all the quirks our people analyze, which means the person you’ve analyzed is already likely in our systems.”

Her smile turns playful as she eyes me. “However, if you still feel uncomfortable, you can analyze my quirk to showcase your skills~.”

I debate what to do for only a moment before firmly putting away Mt Lady’s notebook and pulling out an empty one along with a pencil. “I think I'll analyze yours, I doubt they’d appreciate me simply handing out their information without permission.”

She blinks, taken aback before smiling again. “I understand.” She rolls back her chair and spreads her arms to the side, her lips wriggling in amusement at some sort of hidden joke. “Go ahead and analyze away!”

I hum for a moment before jotting down a quick sketch to work as a baseline. The first step to any analysis is observation, after all, so I quickly make lines coming off from both her hair and teeth, putting question marks next to them. “Now, your quirk clearly alters your hair and,” I lean forward, taking a quick sniff before nodding my head and making a small note, “it smells sweet. Judging by how parts of it seem to be missing, I would assume that means that it is relatively easy to remove parts of it?”

She nods, the grin still on her face. “Your teeth are tinted the same shade as your hair, which implies not only is it edible, but you personally partake in it at least semi-frequently.” I move and gently take her hand, bringing it up to my face as I examine her fingers, ignoring the blush on the woman’s face as I gently brush my own against her fingertips.

“Your fingers have a slight amount of grainy substance stuck to them, likely sugar or sugar-adjacent.” I release her finger and point to her hair. “Are you comfortable with me feeling your hair to feel its texture?”

She hums for a moment and looks up in thought before turning back towards me and smirking. “Nope~. I want to see if you can keep yourself on the right path with only what you have so far.”

I nod. “That’s fine. In that case I would say that your hair is made up of either gum or cotton candy. I’m leaning more towards cotton candy given that if it was gum, you likely would have developed an almost instinctual habit to constantly be chewing it when growing up. Given you weren’t chewing when I entered and haven’t made any motion to pull any off during our interaction, that’s unlikely.”

She blinks before giving me a bright grin again and clapping. “That’s exactly right! My quirk turns my hair into pink cotton candy,” she looks a bit abashed as she says the next part, “and, well. I do have a tendency to eat some of it when I’m idle or thinking.”

Understandable, really. But I doubt simply figuring out her quirk is what’s truly expected. “Now, have you ever attempted to change the color or flavoring of your hair? Are you capable of washing it, or would it dissolve when it comes into contact with water like regular cotton candy? Does it grow at the same length as regular hair, expedited, or delayed?”

I have more questions, but the poor lady is looking a bit overwhelmed so I hold off until she can process what I’ve already asked her. After blinking a couple times, she starts answering, taking her seat again. “Wow, that was a lot. Um, I haven’t tried changing the flavor, how would I even do that? It does dissolve in water, but it grows much faster than regular hair, so it isn’t too much of a concern for me.”

She gestures to her hair. “It typically reaches my shoulders an hour after I shower, but then slows down greatly the rest of the day. If I don’t eat any, it will only reach my waist by the time the sun sets.”

“Hmm.” I jot down the new information, adding onto what I’ve already written as well as all the theories I’ve put down. “Very interesting. That would imply that your hair isn’t exactly like cotton candy, given that it seems that the water causes a chemical reaction when it comes into contact with your scalp. That’s likely the reason for the sudden growth in the mornings as compared to the rest of the day.”

I tap my chin with the pencil as I glance up before meeting her slightly clouded eyes. “As for changing the color and flavor, with traditional cotton candy it’s changed from its default white color by adding food coloring. Maybe if you were to massage it into your scalp during a shower you could get it to change?”

She doesn’t respond, blinking one eye slowly after the other before slapping her cheeks, the sudden noise quieting the conversations that have been happening around us. She gives me another bright smile. “Well, that’s certainly an impressive analysis! And that’s an interesting suggestion, I’ll definitely have to try it out.”

She starts typing onto her computer and this time it’s my turn to blink slowly as I realize that the…test?... is already done. Hesitantly, I hold out the notebook for her. “Um, there are more suggestions and analysis in here if you’d like to take a look?”

She seems to perk up in her seat as she gently takes it from me. “I’d like that very much, thank you for the consideration. I’ll make sure to return it to you in a few days after I’ve tried what’s inside. ”

I shrug, not entirely sure why she’s thanking me. It’s her quirk, so why wouldn’t I let her have the information on it? I do appreciate that I’ll be getting it back though, it’s such an interesting quirk.

After that she hands me a clipboard and has me fill in my information. Name, address, phone number, etc. I fill it all out easily, not even hesitating to write ‘N/A’ where it asks for a quirk like I would have in the past. I’m past caring what others think of me, it’s not like any more people hating me will somehow make me feel bad. I’ve already hit rock bottom, and I’ll stay there until someone finally digs my grave and I go down for the final time.

She takes the board from me, transferring the information to the organization’s systems, pausing when she reaches the quirk section like I knew she would. She clears her throat, looking at me apologetically. “Sorry, but I do need to know your quirk for our records, just to ensure there’s no conflicts should a quirk you’re analyzing affects yours.”

“Understandable,” I say with a nod. “But when I put ‘not applicable’, I meant that the section does not apply to me, not that it wouldn’t impact my analysis.”

For a moment she doesn’t look like she understands, but then her eyes widen and she covers the gasp that escapes her lips with one hand. “Are you saying you’re-”

“Quirkless, yes.” I let out a mental sigh, hoping that I’m not about to be thrown out of the building because I have an extra joint in my pinky toe. It would be fairly disappointing given that the analysis work Mt Lady is asking me for would be classified as ‘unofficial’. Which doesn’t have much of an impact on her, I don’t think. But it would mean…

I actually don’t know what it would mean for her to get an analysis from someone who isn’t properly licensed. It’s not illegal to analyze quirks, so maybe it’s just a matter of pride? Not to mention that I wouldn’t get paid by the organization for it.

After a few moments of shocked silence, the woman seems to collect herself and inputs my information. She gives me the same bright smile she had before, not revealing any of her inner thoughts. “Thank you for your application, when the tests start your name will be called. Please accompany the examiner who says your name at that time.”

I nod walking away to find a spot in the lobby to wait. Those closest to the desk that heard my quirk status make way, more than a few with looks of disdain or pity on their faces.

`~`

The receptionist watches the boy walk away, and once she’s sure he’s out of ear shot she pulls out her phone to make a call. It answers on the first ring, and she says only a single sentence before hanging up and putting it away, returning her focus to accepting applicants and organizing clients.

“We have a quirkless boy applying for a license.”

Gonna be honest, couldn't figure out a name for the analyst organization. If any of y'all got ideas, leave a comment.