Isao always travels light. He says that it's because he isn't a materialistic person, that attachment to physical objects will just bog you down. A real Hero should never need anything more than the clothes on his back and an unwavering heart.
To anyone looking on, though, they'd likely wager a guess that it's because someone has to wind up carrying Atsuko's extra bags.
One bulging duffle bag beneath each arm and a suitcase handle looped around his wrist later and Isao seems finally done with scurrying in and out of the bus with his and his sister's bags, apologizing profusely to each stuck-out leg and nodding-off old-timer he ducks and weaves between. With a hiss and a great groan, the bus lurches forward like an ancient workhorse, slowly rolling away as Atsuko runs alongside it for a few seconds, giving a bubbly wave to her former neighboring inhabitants as they begin the long journey back downhill.
Atsuko returns to Isao's side a moment later, sighing contentedly. "Aah, I'm gonna miss those guys..."
Wash had offered to make a whole production of their entrance into Shiketsu - practically a parade put on by the whole office and its sidekicks, escorting them personally through the gates and ensuring their every need would be met. Just recalling it makes Isao's skin crawl.
So instead, here they are. A significantly more low-key school debut, thanks to Isao shooting down proposal after proposal. He was firm on one topic, even with all of Atsuko's pouting: they will be here as ordinary students. That's it.
Just the perfect target for vultures.
Sure, they aren't allowed on Shiketsu school grounds, but the bus stop outside of Shiketsu's old stone walls is hardly school grounds. From alleyways and bushes, benches and sidewalks, what was once an empty side street suddenly becomes flush with the hustle and bustle of parasitic life.
Just typical, Isao grimaces.
Wash's hero agency was well known to be the leakiest one in Tokyo, and it wasn't just because of the suds. Someone had almost certainly let slip the time and day the Mitarai kids would be arriving, and the throng of buzzing reporters that surrounds them is proof of as much. They crowd in closer, extending microphones and cameras, pushing and shoving to be the first one to get the exclusive scoop while Atsuko neatly tries to keep them all organized.
I knew we should've taken the 6AM bus.
Isao sucks in a deep breath, Atsuko suddenly glancing towards him with a familiar panic in her eyes.
"ATTENNNNNN-TION!"
The miniature riot freezes, reporters staring blankly at the clearly less-impressive catch between the two siblings.
"FORM A SINGLE-FILE LINE - NO CUTTING! MY SISTER AND I WILL FIELD ONE SINGLE QUESTION EACH!"
Sometimes a little volume is all it takes. The group slowly shuffles into an awkward line, shame crossing the features of the ones who know better, and soon the mini-interviews begin.
Atsuko handles all of her questions with a perfect smile, a shining beacon of charm and grace, but Isao...
"Why did you decide to attend Shiketsu rather than U.A., far closer to your father's office?"
"No comment."
"What are your thoughts on Scrub breaking box office records as the most popular Hero-led film to date?"
"No comment."
"Is there a particular reason why you haven't gone for an early license alongside your sister?"
Even Isao could hear the quiet, cringing breath of air his sister sucked between her teeth at the blunt question.
"No comment."
Several reporters sigh as many of them begin to pore through their notes, looking for just the perfect single question to ask Atsuko and Atsuko alone. The one suddenly shoved in front, without the advantage of preptime and clearly not good at thinking on his feet, can only shoot off a random question from the hip to Isao.
"Think you're gonna enjoy your school year, kid?"
Beneath his helmet, Isao's face splits into a broad smile.
"Yes. I hope so."
Naturally, Isao has been on top of every possible dorm issues weeks beforehand. An extensive correspondance between himself and Mrs. Teel resulted in her faxing over a copy of the dorm contract well in advance, after Isao's incessant phone calls to the school's enrollment department connected him to her.
A good start is one thing, but Isao wants this to be perfect. Not a single speedbump could be allowed to make their transition into Shiketsu's school life anything less than flawless, something he feels budding confidence in as he and his sister pass by a delinquent-looking student being lectured in the hall by a matronly woman. Doubtlessly for his ridiculous hair. That 'do can't possibly be permitted by the school regulations.
Hah, glad I'm not sharing a class with HIM!
But like the dying of a song, the rolling of his suitcase's wheels against wooden flooring lulls to a halt as they step out from the elevator, a sign in front of them making it about as clear as it can possibly be:
MALE DORMS <— FEMALE DORMS —>
The pair exchange a wordless glance.
Even with his helmet on, Atsuko could always seem to read his expression regardless, so Isao isn't surprised as, lowering the shoulders supporting her stuffed duffle bags, his sister speaks up.
"I guess this is it, huh...? Talk about exciting!" She tries a smile, small but true, and Isao inclines his head back.
"We'll still be under the same roof, Atsuko." A little robotic, but objectively correct. "If ever you need anything, I-"
Fwip.
She hugs him, and Isao doesn't know what to do. Atsuko remains there for a second, arms wrapped around a stiff Isao, and just lets the moment pass in silence. His hand finds a way to her back, giving his sister a short-lived pat on the shoulderblade.
"Have fun, Isao! I know it's hard for you," Atsuko teases, pulling back after squeezing him tight. "I'll text you when I'm all settled in!"
She hefts her many bags, lugging them around the corner. And just like that, she's gone.
... it's fine. No need to get wrapped up in the sentimentality of the moment.
Taking in a deep breath, Isao turns on his heel, and makes his way to his assigned dorm. It isn't a long walk, though the only company he has is the rattling of his small suitcase's wheels, and he soon comes to a silent halt in front of the door, already slightly ajar. Seems his roommate got here before him.
Room 215.
His knuckles tap brisk against the door just once before Isao reaches for the handle.
"Oh, no! Carefu-"
CLANG.
Splash.
Isao's head, dragged by an unseen force, stares down at the metal pail that now lies at his feet, oozing dark liquid like a bleeding body. A trickle slowly rolls down the side of his helmet, following the murky water that just spilled all over him to the floor.
Across the room, a throaty, deep chuckle emanates from a small red reptile as a mortified boy turns away from his bed, sheets covered in the debris that comes with unpacking a travel bag.
"I'm so sorry...! I swear, I just turned my back for a moment before..." He trails off, blinking at Isao's helmeted face. The reptile's apparent schadenfreude tapers off as well, a foul expression crossing its formerly excited face as it notes the lack of effect its little booby trap had.
Isao frowns.
"Is THIS how you greet new roommates wherever you're from?" Like someone shaking water out of their ear, his head jerks to one side, flicking muddy water to the floor. Arms fold in front of him, slipping free of the suitcase's handle, fixing the other boy with a stern gaze. "Because I'm highly disappointed."
"Not at all! I...!" But before the sad-eyed boy can continue, the beast curling around his feet cuts him off with an undisguised growl.
"Leave your presumptions at the threshold. One day soon, this space shall be ours and ours alone."
The boy sighs wearily, shaking his head.
"Please, ignore him. This is my... quirk, The Adversary. As you can tell, he's, well, adversarial. Not very much I can do about him... I thank you for your patience." He tries for a smile, apologetic. "Again, I'm terribly sorry. My name is Kirisuto Hiro."
Huff. A construct, hm? He'd read a little about them - most notably the #7 Pro Yoshizumi's Suit. Isao exhales through his nose, eyes darting between Kirisuto and The Adversary. "You have my sympathies, then. Apology accepted."
Isao's thumb depresses a button, collapsing the extendable handle of his suitcase as he reaches to lug it above and across the puddle pooling around the room's entryway. It lands roughly atop the near bed, still taking enough care to ensure the wheels don't touch the sheets.
"Isao Mitarai." Zzzzzip. He tugs at the zipper, revealing the highly organized clothes, basic toiletries, and school supplies within. "I'm willing to overlook your quirk's prank once, but any further incidents will go straight to the dorm monitor. You'll need to get it under control if you want to become a hero."
Suitcase prepared for unpacking, he turns once more, facing the odd pair across the room with arms stiffly folded behind his back. "Are we entirely clear?"
Kirisuto's head bows, voice suffused in both regret and humble acceptance. "I'm afraid it might not be... as simple as that. His will is his own, and not mine to bind. I cannot change it. The Adversary's thirst for corruption sometimes seems impossible to slake, though I hope otherwise..."
"Hrm." Disapproving, but not enough to argue against his new roommate, Isao's helmeted expression gives no reply other than acknowledgement. "One step at a time. We should finish unpacking before anything else."
Once again, Kirisuto's head bows in a nod, and he turns back to his bed as the two boys begin to finish unpacking and organizing their necessities.
But the room has a third inhabitant. Slowly, scaled red hands latch onto Kirisuto's leg, then his knee, thigh, waist, until it clambers up the boy and perches on his shoulder like an unsightly growth, even as he tries hard to busy himself with unpacking.
The devil on Kirisuto's shoulder begins to speak into his ear.
"Earlier, you were staring, boy. That Rosethorn... Do you want her?"
Halfway across the room, Isao nearly chokes.
"A stubborn woman, yes. But one all the same. Soft in just the right ways, and uppity. Long have I waited to drag one down from her vaunted spot." A flame licks in the back of The Adversary's throat, lighting his mouth like a cavern of hell itself. "Or have one of the unripe delights of your class have caught your eye...?"
"No, I could ne-" But Kirisuto's quirk talks over him, even as he resolves himself with a helpless sigh. Perhaps he's just grateful it isn't burning him.
"You sense it too, don't you? Weak. Heaving for air, like a dying animal... This school is already damned, trapped in its death flails."
"Ripe for the pickings. Think... All of it - yours for the taking." Its fingers sink deeper into Kirisuto's shoulder. "Or do you desire a repeat of last time? The fear? The isolation?"
"That's enough," Isao's head turns away from his bag, glare going unseen as The Adversary's enticing voice continues to hang temptation just over its master's head.
"You need only cut loose. The slightest sin, and perhaps I'll denigrate to go easy on you... This time can be different. The slightest-"
"Didn't your parents ever teach you it's rude to ignore someone?"
His entire body turns, one hand still in his bag, as Isao forcibly inserts himself into the conversation.
The Adversary snarls, finally turning its baleful eye over to Isao.
"Hold your tongue!" And yet, beneath the snapped reply, there's the indistinguishable sound of a smile. "But you're used to speaking to your betters like that, aren't you? Amusing, that choice of words you can't help but run to. A poor, desperate boy, playing alongside the edges of his father's wide shadow..."
"I thought I told you that's enough." And still, one of Isao's hands curls into a fist, even as worry flashes across Kirisuto's expression. Again, he tries to open his mouth, but again The Adversary tramples over his voice.
"Oh, desperate indeed. Yet you're well-aware. That you'll drown in that shadow."
"Shut. U-"
"There it is," the Adversary hisses, reptilian eyes alight. "You want nothing more than to hit me, don't you? Beat me into silence? Is that what you call heroism? Typical, foolishly typical... Lashing out like a simple- MMPH?!"
In quick succession, three things happen.
Scour's hand stops rooting around inside the bag he was unpacking, suddenly whipping away from it with a cloth still held tight.
He strides forward, shoulders set in unwavering confidence, to the other side of the room.
And shoves his hand into the Adversary's mouth.
"Saying such foul things... disrespecting Shiketsu staff and students alike... and worst of all!"
The Adversary's eyes nearly bug out of his head, and its jaw clamps down on the towel wrapped around Scour's arm.
"Trying to ruin Hiro-kun's precious school life...!"
Scour's fist tightens, closing around the Adversary's forked tongue.
"I won't forgive it," and indeed, the stormy scowl in Scour's voice is impossible to ignore. "In the Mitarai family household, there's only one cure for such foul language - scrubbing it out!"
His quirk activates. A flood of bitter soap explodes from Scour's hand, filling the space around it instantly. The Adversary claws at Isao's forearm with all limbs, desperately twisting and writhing to pull itself free as foamy white begins to leak from the corners of its mouth, but the student's grasp is unshakeable.
Fire begins to spark at the back of the little dragon's throat -
but it gags, soap pouring down its esophagus and flooding into his fuel source as The Adversary's entire digestive tract begins to roil and rebel against it, plasma choking alongside its concentration.
THUD.
Splat.
The adversary lands in a puddle of soap that mixes soon with the foul water from its previous prank, hacking and wheezing white across the dorm floor.
Scour points down at Kirisuto's quirk with an accusing finger.
"REFLECT ON YOUR ACTIONS AND REPENT!"
"Insolent..." COUGH, COUGH. "Worm...!"
Wet flesh slapping against the floor, the beast's hind legs begin to push, dragging it into the shadows beneath Kirisuto's bed as it seethes in quiet agony, plotting revenge already.
Urp.
A few bubbles float out from beneath it.
Kirisuto watches on at the spectacle before him, expression washed over by emotion and emotion. Confusion, shock, and... concern. Even for his constant tormentor. Yet the moment passes, and, weak at the knees, he falls back to sit on his bed and can only do one thing.
A laugh, loud and clear as a bell, rings throughout the room.
The towel slips from Isao's arm, landing in the wet mixture ruining their room's floor, and clears his throat. He'll need to ask for a mop later.
"Hiro-kun..."
Kirisuto smiles up at him. Exhausted, fearful of what reprisal this will bring, but genuine. "Thank-"
"I'M DISGUSTED!"
The other boy practically leaps out of his skin.
"NEVER GIVE UP! What kind of hero would say such a thing - that he just can't change things?! You're here! You are in Shiketsu - does that count for NOTHING in your eyes?"
Kirisuto averts his eyes, retreating to his well of stoic acceptance. "Aah... even still. Enduring is all one can do, sometimes. This year, I heard they had a hard time getti-"
"SO?!" Isao's arms fling out to each side, widely gesturing. "It wants to corrupt you? Then be incorruptible! Don't sit there and take it - how can you expect to save others when you won't save yourself?"
"I..." With a sigh and a helpless smile, Kirisuto can't help but shake his head. "I think... you may not know me as well as you think you do."
Isao turns on his heel, stalking across the room and landing on his own bed with a whumph. He pats the mattress, inviting Kirisuto to sit with him.
"Then come. Let's get to know each other. For real." Even when Isao's being social, it comes across as a blunt order. Kirisuto gingerly stands, making his way over to sit next to him, sagging the mattress in the middle. A thought seems to cross his face.
"I suppose... I do have one question."
"Ask away," Isao says confidently.
"... does Wash really wash your mouth out with soap?"
Isao hmphs, folding his arms.
"Some traditions you have to start yourself."
Isao has been getting used to Shiketsu, piece by piece.
The first-day physical tests with his Hero classmates had been humbling, but he liked to think that it gave him the perspective that many of them lacked. An ordinary perspective, something similar to what so many civillians being rescued by Heroes felt. And he wasn't alone - plenty of the other students were in the same boat!
Maybe he was just licking his wounds.
Regardless, there is one thing that he's beginning to wonder about, now that he could begin to recognize his classmates other than Kirisuto and Atsuko by name and face.
When was the Class Rep election going to take place? Of course, he had nothing but the most stringent respect for Smokin' Sexy-sensei, and wouldn't dream of questioning his teaching methods, but it was beginning to eat at him.
His head tilted, inclined to look down at his younger sister as they made their way through the hall to class together.
"... Atsuko?"
"Hm? Whaaat's up?" Immediately, she fires back with a peppy response, eyes beaming up at him.
"I was wondering if-" Guilt begins to overwhelm him. Begging for votes? Like he was trying to stuff the ballot box? Never. Never! He shouldn't interfere with democracy like that. Isao's head quickly shakes, rattling his helmet. "Never mind. We're at class."
Indeed, 1-D loomed before the two, and Isao opened the door for his sister to walk through. Several students are already chattering as they enter - Isao's terminal need to be early coupled with his sister's more laid back nature means they wind up reaching class only relatively on time the days they walk together. Most notably is Yagami, who always seems to relish sitting at his desk every time she gets to class earlier than him(a rare occurance).
She's probably just good friends with Hanasaki.
The last few latecomers shuffle in after the siblings, and pretty soon Smokin' Sexy himself was sliding the door shut after him, ambling over to his seat at the front of the room.
"Mornin', ki-."
"I'M HERE!" Stumbling in at the buzzer, Yasu slams the door open, smiling casually at his tardiness. "Sorry, teach! Hard to get motivated to come into class when it's not being taught by a babe. You get it."
"... morning, kids." The class (minus Yasu as he finds his seat) dutifully echoes back a good morning, sensei as Ryusei shuffles through his papers for the day. "I'm sure you get the routine by now. Nice and easy roll call, alright? Alright, let's get this started. Agnelli?"
"Present."
Smokin' Sexy went down the list, flicking a check by each name he passed. Eventually...
"Mitarai?"
Two voices ring back, and not in the usual KK or Ichigo way. "Here!" "Present!"
Atsuko's arm lowers, but... Isao's remains rigidly upright, even as his teacher continues down the name of lists. Somewhere around Yagami, his eye glances up from his list of names.
"Can I help you, uh... Older Mitarai?"
"When are we doing the class rep election, sensei?"
A sudden stir passes through the class - yeah, when were they gonna do it? Hadn't they waited long enough? Ryusei clicks his tongue, breathing in deep, and the pen twirling between two fingers comes to a halt. Knew I was forgetting something.
Slap! His hand presses down against the desk as Ryusei stands up. "How about now? Pretty sure you kids all know each other well enough at this point. Anyone who wants to come up and pitch themselves, you get a couple minutes each."
It'll probably be fine, he thinks. Doubt we'll be flush with volunteers, but push comes to shove we can just pick out the squarest kid...
Yet against Ryusei's expectations, that sent everyone into a whole new tizzy.
The first one to muscle to the front of the class was none other than Fumetsu, who boldly jabbed a thumb at her chest and puffed herself up. "OBVIOUSLY the first person who runs should be the winner, it's first mover's advantage! Nobody's gonna be as dedicated as me, the strongest and first invincible class rep in Shiketsu history!"
Isao's hand shoots up, and Fumetsu falters almost instantly. "Uhh..."
Not because she lacks faith in her platform.
"Helmet boy!"
She just never bothered to remember his name.
"What is your position on the school's choice to slash club budget funding significantly?"
All of a sudden, Isao hears a shuffling behind him as Yagami's hand shoots up as well. Fumetsu's face screws into a disgruntled expression. "NO MORE QUESTIONS! Remember: vote Fumetsu! Win!"
As she steps down from the front of the room, the whispers of the rest of the class explode into a dull roar as everyone tries to say their piece.
One after another, person after person went up. Yasu promised to dramatically shorten the permitted skirt length. Reiji said to everyone's faces that he wasn't running, but just wanted the chance to tell everyone to get aboard his next exciting crypto experience as ODA chastises him. Far in the back corner, Lixdite's gaze sweeps over everyone present with an analytic intensity, gears quietly turning in his head. Fridge Girl suddenly burst through the door, a frantic Flickfang just behind her, trumpeting "Fridge Girl is here too, now!"
Still, not all the candidates are total jokes. Yagami lightly weaves through the other students, resting at the front of the room as though she belongs there with casual grace.
"Good afternoon. I'm sure all of you know me by now, but allow me to reintroduce myself: Yagami Kirako. As the daughter of Kyoto's chief of police, I believe I possess both the experience and background to make managing our class a breeze. None of you will need to worry about the particulars, once I'm elected."
Isao's hand shoots up. "That's a fairly vague argument. Do you have a more specific platform you'll be running on?"
"Your inquiry's appreciated!" Yagami smiles, though more at... Isao's desk than him. "I am a staunch believer that extracurriculars are key in the formation of strong life skills and social networks that will give us a head-start on our careers, and so I promise to campaign for a continuation to last year's early internship program and less stringent curfew policies in the dorms."
Her head bows.
"Thank you for your time and consideration."
A few more students go up, but eventually, Isao manages to find himself standing at the front of the room, everyone else (especially his sister, with a beaming stare) looking back at him expectantly. He clears his throat.
"Good morning, class! I won't waste any of your time with lengthy preambles: I believe that I'm the best-qualified for the class rep role."
He holds up a finger for each qualification. "Firstly - as a detail oriented person, I'm capable of ensuring even my classmates' unspoken needs being met. I was my middle school's class rep for two years running, and have experience in all things related to the responsibilities of the role. I have every intention of making our first year in Shiketsu productive and safe, but I know that intentions aren't enough."
Isao looks out at the room in disarray, but he doesn't see crumpled up paper airplanes or knocked over chairs or Yagami sitting at his desk. He sees raw, unfettered potential. Potential he has the chance and honor to possibly bring out.
"I could stand up here all day and promise you the world, but promises mean very little during a campaign like this. I can only state the following: I guarantee that I have been and will continue to strive to provide the necessary pressure and growth to ensure we all graduate as the purest, truest heroes we can possibly be. I've spoken already with Flickfang-sensei about the preliminary club schedules to ensure that it doesn't interfere with the weekly study group sessions I have mapped out for the rest of the semester, and am more than happy to show anyone who hasn't committed seriously to working out before the ropes. Let's all train our bodies and minds together."
He steps down.
"That is all. Thank you."
"Yeesh! That the last of you, then?" Rubbing at his neck, Ryusei steps up to take Isao's place. "Guess that means we'll have to take a vote, but, uh, doesn't look like anyone's brought a..."
And just like that, all of a sudden, KK's there. But she's at her desk. But she's at the front of the room! Holding a ballot box and several slips of paper, she winks at everyone present. "Somebody ask to rock the vote? For ten minutes only, it's the Reset Presents: Democracy!"
The class all lines up in (mostly) order, everyone taking a slip of paper and scribbling their vote down on it before shoving it into the box. Their teacher rests the box on the lip just beneath the chalkboard, whipping up a piece of chalk to tally the results. A name quickly shows up on the board - Yagami. One tally next to it, two tallies...
Then another name. Mitarai.
And then, after a moment's thought, an Isao after it. He holds his breath.
The tallies climb and climb. At first, Isao is far behind, but it soon becomes a neck and neck race, even as a few other names show up beneath the first two, victory a clear impossibility for them at this point. In the end, though, the final results are...
Yagami - 9
Mitarai (Isao) - 10
Kamiya - 2
Fridge Girl - 2
Koru - 1
Sanizawa - 1
Ichigo is the first to react, quietly shocked. "Who...? But I didn't even..."
Yet her curiosity is drowned out by an explosion of sound, Isao's sister cheering alongside a couple pieces of halfhearted applause. A little shocked, Isao's head swivels back to Yagami, smiling in gracious defeat as she extends a handshake. He numbly accepts it before Atsuko pushes him to the front of the class amidst a chant of speech, speech, speech!
Near the back of the room, Gyoyu can't help but privately wonder if this'll totally screw with his persona. Should he be happy he got 2 votes, or mad that he tied with the fridge girl who doesn't even go here...?
Not so privately, Fumetsu has decided that democracy is a failed system.
Meanwhile, back at the front of the room.
"I... My thanks, everyone." Isao glances at Ryusei for permission to continue, who just kinda shrugs like eh, go for it, kid. "I never could've forseen such a close race. And yet... Letting something as foolish as this come between us is the last thing I wanted from this election. I don't want any of us to become 'sore losers' or 'sore winners' just based on the candidate we voted for."
A few murmurs of assent follow the comment.
"So, for my first act as Class Representative..."
Soap flows from Scour's hands into the wooden vote box, rendering each and every slip of paper within illegibly soaked.
"We are all strictly forbidden from discussing who we voted for!"
The class instantly erupts into protests. Regret overtakes his former voters.
Smokin' Sexy stares on at the proceedings, rubbing at the back of his head as the shouting grows in volume and Scour's attempts to call for order go ignored. Can he do that?
Really should've looked over that teaching manual more...