Tardy Slip
It’s nearly the end of the school day. Sitting in his desk at the back off the room, Gyoyu flicks his pencil back and forth between his fingers. At the front of the room, Michelson-sensei stands on a step-ladder with a laser pointer in his hand, indicating details on a slide that explains some stuff about taxes. Honestly, Gyoyu doesn’t understand it completely yet, but he’s been swiftly making notes so he can figure it out later. Takata can probably help.
Glancing to his right, Gyoyu sees Ikuno-chan staring blankly at the screen. He can practically smell the smoke coming out of her ears as the gears inside grind together and try to comprehend any of the words coming out of Michelson-sensei’s mouth. His American twang seems to trouble some of the other students, but Gyoyu’s absorbed enough delinquent media to parse his accent at least. “Hey,” leaning closer, Gyoyu can see Ikuno’s notes have fallen far behind. She blinks and looks over at him, as if snapped out of a trance. “Study group after class?”
When Ikuno starts chewing on her abnormally rubbery lip, it makes a really bizarre and unsettling sound. Gyoyu flinches as she grinds her teeth against her impenetrable skin. “Okay,” the answer comes without her classic volume. Ikuno-chan is so confident in her physical abilities that she is very boisterous about it, but when it comes to academics she sometimes struggles to ask for help. Gyoyu was like that a lot in middle school, so he knows how she feels. He gives her a quiet thumbs up back.
“And that’s why vehicle tax is handled at the prefectural level,” Michelson-sensei concludes, switching off his laser pointer. With a click of his remote, the screen pulls back up into the ceiling. “Any questions?” Isao’s hand shoots up immediately. “Yes, Isao-kun?”
“Would a Support Gear gadget such as a quirk-propelled land-surfboard qualify as a vehicle for tax purposes, and if so would the individual hero or the hero’s agency be required to pay the tax for the vehicle, as may be applicable?” Grabbing the pencil properly again, Gyoyu readies himself to write some more rapid-fire notes.
“Excellent questions, Isao,” nodding his head, Michelson-sensei rubs his mustache and twirls the tip. “Support Gear intended for transport qualify as a vehicle, as per Japanese law, only if the gear is the size of a standard car or a larger motor vehicle. You would not be required to pay vehicle tax for a surfboard like that. And,” he raises a stubby finger, “Whether the individual hero or agency is on the hook for taxes is based wholly on who got the ownership papers.”
Isao nods along, his pen audibly scraping against the paper as if trying desperately to strike fire with a piece of flint. Gyoyu sticks his tongue through his teeth, nearly matching his class rep’s speed.
Soon after, questions exhausted, the class is dismissed. Sighing in relief, Gyoyu stretches his back and then folds into his disaffected slouch, nodding for Ikuno to follow him. Outside in the hallway, he waves down Takata, catching up easily with the tentacled crawl of his roommate, who has to carefully evade the feet on all sides. “Hey Takata-kun, you want to study with me and Ikuno-chan?” forgetting not to sound eager, Gyoyu clears his throat and brushes his hear, looking away out the window with feigned disinterest.
“Can’t,” Takata answers simply, in a matter-of-fact voice, as if Gyoyu should know that. He’s usually kind of prickly, so Gyoyu doesn’t think much of it. Must just be how country boys are.
“Alright. Catch ya later.”
“… Sure.”
Seated in one of the first-year study rooms in the dorm building, Gyoyu goes through each page of notes with Ikuno, allowing her to copy his jotted facts and anecdotes and doing his best to explain them. “So, see, these are the levels of government,” he says, “And these are the kinds of taxes that go to each of them.”
“Ooookay,” with a long drawn-out expression of uncertain understanding, Ikuno nods her head. “Thanks, that’s super helpful! You know you’re really good at writing fast in class, I noticed that. You totally race with Isao-kun whenever you two are taking notes.”
Chuckling, Gyoyu rubs the back of his head. “I do?”
“Oh yeah. Can you do hand exercises for writing? Could you train me to write faster?” getting more excited as she finds ways to twist the subject towards physical training, Ikuno leans closer in her seat.
“Uh,” leaning back a little, Gyoyu tries to think of a good excuse to avoid this. It’s not like he practiced, he’s just good at it- well, okay, he practiced in school. Spared by a knock at the door from trying to explain that it’s a skill issue, he jerks upright and looks through the glass. Standing on the other side is Isao himself, glaring through his helmet with his hands on his hips.
“Relinquish yourselves to your class representative, rulebreakers!” Isao announces sternly. Gyoyu’s face curls into one of confusion. He opens the door and steps out, Ikuno sidling out beside him. The study lounge is totally empty. It was when they got there too, but Gyoyu just figured they were the first ones back. An explanation comes when Isao next scolds them, “You two are due at the Parent-Teacher Conferences! What are you doing here?”
Face going pale, Gyoyu stammers, “W-wait, that was today? Shit!”
“LANGUAGE! Yes, as your class representative, I was sent to collect you two tardy rulebreakers before your interview- hey-”
“Sorry! Gotta run!” bolting past Isao’s attempt to grab him and jostling the class rep as he passes, Gyoyu sprints back towards the school building.
“NO RUNNING IN THE HALLS! WALK WITH PURPOSE!”
Shoving open the door to homeroom, Gyoyu leans on his knees after staggering inside. He heaves out through deep breaths, “Sorry I’m late, Smokin’-sensei! I forgot about conferences today!”
Seated inside the room are Smokin’ Sensei, seated in his desk in his best wrinkled suit and with a token attempt to brush his hair today. Gyoyu wondered what occasion he’d dressed up so nice for, but he’d figured it was just a date with Popsy or something… the whole school had been buzzing with rumors about the two of them getting together. Beside him is… Blast Burn? The Atsushi hero is dressed in her Shiketsu security uniform, one leg folded over the other, and her fierce eyes are trained on Gyoyu. It feels like being held under the gaze of a fire-breathing dragon.
The most dreadful of all, though, is the worried and disappointed look on his father’s wrinkly face. The reading glasses are out, from looking over Gyoyu’s grades and student reports. “Kamiya Gyoyu, sit down,” his father tells him, and Gyoyu obeys.
Smokin’ Sensei clears his throat, turning into a brief, hacking smoker cough. “Pardon. As I was saying, the two grades next to the physical education courses like Heroics and Combat,” the inexperienced teacher rolls his hand, avoiding the others’ eyes as he tries to explain, “One is Kamiya-kun’s bracket within the class, and the other is his grade within the bracket. He’s in the bracket for those without enhanced physicality, and he’s doing well in his bracket.”
“Mm,” Gyoyu’s dad hums, rubbing his beard. “But he is struggling in mathematics and economics.”
“I wouldn’t say struggling,” sensei wheedles, “More like doing… okay.”
“These are important things to learn. You must focus, so you can do well in your career,” dad insists, turning to face Gyoyu. “And if you are injured in hero work, you always say your fallback is the family garage. You will need to be ready to run the business side of it, or you will need to find a very smart wife.”
“Dad…” Gyoyu starts to protest in embarrassment, then withers under his father’s gaze. There’s too much love and genuine concern for his future in it to argue. “Yes, dad.”
“And now let us talk about these behavior issues,” setting the report down, Gyoyu’s dad folds his hands in his lap and addresses Atsushi-san. “Is his… role-playing causing problems?”
“Keeping up appearances for a hero role is one thing,” Blast Burn answers, “But he has repeatedly shown up late to classes and other appointments as part of his ‘persona’. Kamiya-kun may be maintaining good academic scores despite his eccentricities, but I’m not here about the academics. His behavior presents a security risk. Every time he’s late, the staff grow complacent. It’s just Gyoyu, they say. And if something serious happens, and he’s in real danger or otherwise indisposed, it will be like the fable of the boy who cried wolf. Word could reach me too late, delaying a critical response.”
Gyoyu looks down at his lap. His father doesn’t bother to scold him. It must be clear from his face that he understands. Closing his eyes, Gyoyu slides down to the floor and bows low. “I apologize, Blast Burn-san. I did not understand how my behavior was impacting your job. I will stop being fashionably late, and I promise I was not late to this meeting on purpose. It-” he pauses just before he starts offering an excuse. “It was inexcusable.”
“Thank you for taking this seriously,” the schools security chief reaches down and raises Gyoyu back up, with a smile. “Back in your seat, now.” As he does, she returns to her own calm, seated position. “I’m satisfied that the message has been received.”
“Since he’s being mature about it,” leaning back in his seat, Smokin’ Sensei shrugs, “I won’t put any marks on his record about it. I’m glad we cleared the air. Now, about these math scores. Makura-sensei’s been working on some new programs to help students shore up weak areas. I’m going to have Kamiya-kun reduce his club time to attend until his grades improve…”
Things carry on around Gyoyu, but he mostly tunes it out. He’s left thinking a lot more intensely about how his actions affect others.