Mirror’s Mentor

“Thank you for asking Joyce.” Miracle smiled the same smile she’d rehearsed in front of the mirror for the better part of a decade. She was dressed in what James described as her ‘work duds,’ her intern Kid Volcano stood next to her trying his best to look menacing and failing adorably. “But no, Desolator’s presence didn’t complicate matters. I’m not sure what his goal was, but he didn’t interfere with our efforts to save civilians.”

“Can you describe the fight against Conquest?” Joyce asked with a smirk.

“I picked him up and threw him against the ground several times.” Miracle announced.

“Thank you~” Joyce grinned. It was the answer the viewers had come to expect.

Kid Volcano was starting to tremble. He’d been leaning forward a bit to make his chest look bigger. It wasn’t a comfortable position if you weren’t used to it.

Miracle shrugged, better to end this quickly before Kid ate dirt. “Maybe one day I’ll give you an exciting story Joyce. Anything else?”

“Oh! The new hero rankings are coming up at the end of this month. Are you excited?”

“No? Nothing’s really changed there has it? I’m sure I’ll be low 50s again.” Miracle smiled. “It’s fine.” It really was, her quirk’s complications doomed her to relying on her interviews and results for rankings. If she were only as good as an average top 10, she’d be pseudo-underground rather than top 100. She’d never have a viral fight or an awe-inspiring stand captured on a phone. She could only be ranked based on her (admittedly incredible) results. But that didn’t matter to her. She did well enough to give her son a comfortable life.

“I’m just happy to be number 1 in St. Louis.” That number WAS important. That the people she protected trusted her even more than the national number 1 meant everything to her.

“Uh—” Joyce seemed flabbergasted.

Miracle’s brow furrowed. “Is something wrong?”

“Haven’t you heard?”

Kid Volcano was audibly straining. He really needed to work on his quads.

“Heard what?”

The reporter began to speak “A--” Kid Volcano teetered forward. Miracle activated her quirk to catch him. The camera went dark.

---

Dawn came lazily over the streets of southern Kyoto. Rose-hued light cast itself haphazardly against shuttered windows. Streetlights flickered on and off again, their sensors not quite able to decide whether their guiding light were still needed.

DING

Christopher closed metube as the bus rumbled to a stop. He collected a long thin black and gold bag from the seat next to him and slung it on his shoulder. Christopher nodded quietly as he passed the bus driver and exited the bus. He was lost in thought. The video of his mom replayed in his head.

‘Desolator encountered my mom before they fought?’ It was hard to believe. He thought he knew everything about Desolator’s career. Yet, he’d never heard of him even visiting St. Louis prior to killing his mom.

Christopher set foot on the red-hued streets of southern Kyoto with a thud. He shook the recent video from his mind and tried to focus on the now. He wasn’t here to dig up the past, he was here to start his internship so he could, one day, make it right.

Christopher looked around. To his right, the proud white stone of an 811 stared at him; its red-green lights advertised cheap coffee, cigarettes and other essentials available for purchase 24 hours a day. To his left were plain red-brown houses, baring squat residential walls and small wooden gates. Across the street, were yet more red-brown houses, virtually indistinguishable from each other.

Christopher frowned. He read the address on the 811’s glass door. He checked the text he’d received last night: this was the place.

Christopher sighed. He was 90% sure that the Sugiyama Dojo was not an 811… should he go in just in case? Ask the cashier for ‘Smokin’ Sexy’? Christopher took a step toward the store.

Woof

Christopher froze. A massive black dog materialized from the other side of the 811 and padded towards him with the self-important swagger of a well-trained but thoroughly spoiled pooch.

Woof

The dog repeated, sniffing the air happily. Christopher took a step back. Was this a stray?

Woof The dog wagged his tail as he got a nose full of Christopher’s scent.

Christopher relaxed. It wasn’t growling at least. “I don’t have any treat--”

A black dragon leapt from Christopher’s chest and landed in front of the dog. Hitomi crouched in a menacing posture. She bared her teeth.

HISS Hitomi warned.

The big black dog hopped in surprise, then growled a low powerful growl. GRRRRRRRR

Hiiiiiiissssssssss Hitomi continued, softer this time. Her tail went down. The black dog ears lowered, he licked his lips rapidly, his tail went down a fraction of a hair.

Grrr

Hisss

Their tails went down another hair. Then, in perfect harmony, as if there was a tail angle that signaled a truce, they approached each other.

The dog approached Hitomi cautiously, nose twitching furiously. Hitomi mirrored the motion. Her snout trembled with anticipation as she tried to gain the scent of this new comer. Their noses collided. They took in each others’ scent. Their tails started to wag.

Christopher walked back towards the bus. It was time to go home already? Damn. He’d just have to start his internship tomorrow.

The bus thundered off as Christopher turned. He blinked. He looked back. The dog and Hitomi had planted their nose firmly upon the other’s anus and were taking great audible sniffs of air, their tails wagging a kilometer a second.

Christopher looked at the bus schedule. 20 minutes until the next one. Damn.

Having satisfied themselves with the other’s scent the two broke apart and Hitomi bowed quickly before darting away down an alley. The big black dog shot after her like a rocket.

Christopher sat on the bench. He didn’t want to miss the bus.

A shrill whistle from the front of the 811 sliced through the air like a blade.

Christopher reluctantly tore his eyes from the green bus schedule and looked towards the 811’s front door. There, standing regally in his plain white T-shirt and jeans was the professional hero Smokin’ Sexy, RN Ryusei.

Christopher sighed. There was no escape.

At the sound of his master’s call the big black dog trundled out of the alley towards Ryusei. Hitomi followed close behind. She nipped at the big black dog’s tail as they ran together.

---

Smokin’ Sexy blinked at the sight of the little black dragon (currently the size of a chihuahua) chasing poor Anko nipping at the old dog’s tail.

Ryusei reached for his blade, only to watch Anko turn and playfully chase the black dragon. The black dragon hissed happily as it loped away from Anko only to renew its pursuit the moment the dog’s back was turned. They repeated this play several times before Anko, exhausted from the exertion, waited for the black dragon to dart for his tail again and then he SPRUNG HIS TRAP! He sat on the little dragon with a heavy thud.

Anko panted heavily, he hadn’t gotten this much exercise in a while. The little dragon peeked out from the folds of Anko’s fat and looked over towards the bus stop plaintively. Ryusei followed the dragon’s gaze. There, sitting on the bench was a young man dressed in a Shiketsu uniform with goggles strapped to his head and a red and gold sword bag on his back.

The young man was Christopher Cain, his intern… but he shouldn’t be here! They were supposed to start on the 4th—wait…. Ryusei looked towards the eastern sky, where the sun was beginning to rise. He’d thought that was the sunset. Shit!

“Don’t look at me.” Christopher scolded the little dragon. “If I get him off you’ll just bite his tail again.”

The dragon whimpered.

Ryusei felt misplaced pity stab into his chest. He slapped his knee. “C’mere boy!”

Anko barked in protest. He was convinced that as soon as he got up the little dragon was going to bite his tail again.

“Anko.” Ryusei repeated sternly.

The big shaggy dog hesitated for just a moment, before beginning to slowly shift his weight off the dragon. As soon as the dragon was even a little free it squealed in triumph and bit Anko’s tail!

Anko yelped and plomped himself back down on the dragon. The dragon looked smugly up at Ryusei from its furry prison, tail still in its mouth, as if thanking him for the opportunity. Ryusei sighed.

Anko whine-barked at Ryusei, ‘see?!’

“Yeah, okay,” Ryusei looked at Cain, “can you...”

“I’ll try.” Christopher snapped his fingers to get the dragon’s attention, then pointed sharply at his neck. The dragon hissed plaintively. Christopher repeated the motion. The dragon sighed. It released Anko’s tail, then turned as thin as a string. Anko yelped in shock and charged behind Ryusei for cover. The string-dragon flew around Cain’s neck and hung there as a necklace.

“Sorry about that.” Christopher stood. “She has a mind of her own unfortunately.”

Anko, still in cover behind Ryusei, eyed Christopher suspiciously. Ryusei pat the big dog on the head, “no worries, been a while since he’s had a playmate.”

Anko growled. The necklace on Chris’s neck hissed.

“Down.” Ryusei and Chris ordered simultaneously.

Anko lowered his ears. The necklace quieted. Ryusei stifled a laugh. Christopher sighed. His tolerance for bull shit looked dangerously low. Better to just get him to the dojo and set some goals for this internship… where was that worksheet Aiko had sent over again? Ah, whatever, he’d find it.

Ryusei started heading down the alleyway. “Alright, c’mon, let’s get you settled.”

Christopher followed. The dragon necklace squirmed as it tried to keep Anko in view. Anko kept glancing back every other step. It felt as if the two were about to play again the moment Christopher and Ryusei had their backs turned. High wooden fences surrounded the pair as they made their way towards Ryusei’s dojo. Ryusei glanced at Christopher.

“So whose quirk is that? The dragon I mean.”

“Inigo’s.”

“Oh! Isn’t he one of Popsy’s gaggle?”

Christopher nodded.

“You like that quirk?”

“No.” Christopher bit. The necklace hissed. Christopher averted his eyes. He hadn’t wanted to say that. “It’s fine, just has some drawbacks.”

“Ah, mental or--”

“Why didn’t you send me the dojo’s address?” Christopher interrupted.

‘The type of drawback you don’t want to discuss, got it.’ “You can’t get there if you follow the phone’s map. It was easier to pick you up at the 811.”

Christopher’s brow furrowed. “You can’t find it on the phone?”

“Yeah, I don’t know what to do about it, maybe why I don’t get any students.” As he spoke the dojo came into view. The dilapidated wooden building with shudders hanging by a single hinge and a sign that looked like it hasn’t been cleaned for years. The door’s paint was peeled in several places.

“… Yeah, that must be it.” Christopher agreed.

“Eh, I’ll get around to fixing the phone shit eventually, for now hero work’s enough to keep me going.” He opened the rickety door and held it open letting Christopher enter ahead of him.

---

Christopher stifled a gag as he entered the dojo. The smell! Stale beer, cigarette smoke and… spoiled milk? Yup that was spoiled milk. The dojo didn’t look much better than it smelled. A wide wooden floor was ‘decorated’ by a still rolled out futon. Off to the side was a small kitchenette with a full-sized fridge that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned since the last Emperor died.

Christopher felt Hitomi squirm as he suppressed the sudden urge to flee.

“I meant to clean up before you got here.” Ryusei commented as he walked past Christopher, his brown bag of cigarettes, beer and milk still in his hand. Christopher’s eyes followed him as he walked towards the fridge, tracing the outside wall past an ancient Tenacious D poster hung waist high…. Why was it hung so low?

Ryusei put his bag in the fridge, cigarettes still in there, and turned. He held his arms out wide. “Make yourself at home! I’ve got…” Ryusei looked around helplessly. Like he didn’t know what he had.

“Beer?”

“15.”

“Right. Milk?” Ryusei held up the bag.

“No thanks.” The smell of spoiled milk made that a horrifying prospect.

“… Water?”

“Sure.”

“Great I just need to--” Ryusei looked around. “I had a cup somewhere around-- OH! Bathroom!” Ryusei walked towards the back, disappearing behind a corner Christopher had failed to notice midst the carnage of this dojo.

Christopher took in the entirety of the dojo again. No-one would blame him if he left right now. Who’d choose to work here for a month? But… that was it wasn’t it? He hadn’t chosen to work here. He HAD to work here. He had to if he was ever going to get the experience to finally make things right. A tongue licked his hand.

Christopher looked down, half expecting the floor to have developed a taste for human flesh, only to see the big black shaggy dog Hitomi had been playing with earlier sitting next to him.

The dog whined. Christopher pat him awkwardly. The dog panted happily at the attention and offered his chin. As Christopher scratched the increasingly satisfied dog under his chin. Christopher restrained a smile.

Ryusei returned, holding a dirty glass.

---

“Okay, just need to get this washed and then-- huh.” Ryusei tilted his head upon seeing Anko nuzzling against Christopher’s leg. He’d expected the kid to be gone by the time he got back. He wouldn’t have blamed him. The dojo was even worse than usual. He’d put off cleaning anything for a month because he was going to clean up before Cain got here anyway. That hadn’t worked out. Didn’t matter, fact was, the kid was still here and now… he was going to have to train him.

Ryusei felt his stomach drop a little, the reality of being a mentor began to set in. He was going to be responsible for this kid. ‘Dammit Aiko… wait! The worksheet! Bless you Aiko!’ Ryusei walked over to his futon and fished out a piece of paper from under his pillow on his way to the kitchenette. He came to the sink turned the water to hot. Dilapidated pipes protested loudly at this fresh abuse.

Ryusei ignored the horrifying groans of his home’s long-abused infrastructure. He focused on the worksheet Aiko had given him back when she foisted her student onto him.

The sheet was a short answer format quiz. 5 short lines of black type separated by a wide field of white begging for Ryusei’s answers. In big black bold letters on the top of the page, Ryusei read the words “DO THIS BEFORE CHRIS GETS THERE.”

‘You know me better than that.’

1. Why are you a hero?

‘… skip.’

2. What gets you out of bed in the morning?

‘Hunger.’

3. What goals do you have for the rest of your career?

‘Make rent.’

4. What made you want an intern?

‘You forced him on me.’

5. What do you think your intern will learn from you?

Ryusei looked at his fridge which currently housed some leftover rice and a half liter of spoiled milk. ‘How not to live when he grows up?’

Ryusei sighed. He placed the worksheet on the counter as the water finally rose to temperature. He carefully washed the glass he’d just fished out of the bathroom. That worksheet didn’t help at all. He still had no idea what this internship was going to look like.

Ryusei finished cleaning the glass and turned the tap to run cool. The pipes protested this abrupt change. He frowned. He always patrolled when he wanted to, stopped whenever he’d done enough to make rent and put food on th--

“His name’s Anko right?” Christopher’s voice cut through Ryusei’s reverie.

Ryusei glanced over as he began to fill the glass with water. Cain was sitting cross legged on the ground, one arm around Anko scratching behind his ears. Anko was in seventh heaven, leaning against the young man’s chest his right leg gyrating.

‘Dammit Anko, you’re too easy.’

“Yeah.”

“Think I found his spot.” Christopher observed while he fumbled with that long bag he’d brought with him.

“He’s full of ‘em.” Ryusei agreed, he turned off the faucet and brought the glass of water to Christopher. He handed the glass over to his young intern.

“Thanks.”

Ryusei sat cross legged across from Christopher. He glanced at the bag. “Whatchu got there?”

“Oh… well,” by way of answer Christopher opened the bag, revealing an ostentatious dragon-hilted sword in a handsome black scabbard. Just looking at the sword made Ryusei feel poor.

Ryusei frowned. He didn’t want a neophyte carrying around an actual sword. He held out a hand. “May I?”

Christopher rose to a kneeling position. Ryusei raised an eyebrow. Christopher handed the sword over in a manner that made it clear he’d seen at least one samurai movie.

Ryusei managed not to laugh at the kid’s antics. It was a near thing, but he made it! He took the sword. He held the blade with the reverence one would give a paper cutter. Ryusei unsheathed it. His eyebrows rose as the sheath revealed the jet black blade interlaced with an LED nano-mesh that a less experienced eye would’ve dismissed as acid-bath decoration.

‘Doubles as a flashlight huh? Hrm, works I guess. Now let’s check this edge.’ Ryusei tested the edge, rubbing his thumb along the blade’s side and sliding it off where the edge should be. He didn’t detect even the faintest hint of a katana’s razor like edge. It hadn’t been sharpened. Still as dangerous as a bokken, but what else would he give the kid?

Ryusei smiled. He resheathed the sword and handed it back to Christopher. “You want to learn kendo?”

Christopher put the sword to his side. Ryusei really wanted to know which samurai movie he’d watched to pick all this shit up. “I dunno,” he admitted. “I didn’t really… uh… plan to be your intern?”

“I wasn’t your first choice.” Ryusei finished. “It’s fine I get it.”

“Sorry. Anyway, my friend found out I’d be interning under you and got me the sword for my birthday and I just figured I’d bring it. I’m not really much use if someone gets up close, but maybe if I learn I can change that?”

“Maybe.” Ryusei nodded. He wasn’t convinced. What was he going to be able to teach the kid inside of a month? How to draw? Fuck. Maybe he could teach him a single strike, but what good would that do?

Ryusei felt his eyes wonder to the opposite wall. There stood the faded wooden name plaques of the dojo’s past graduates. A name hadn’t been added to that wall for years. It took years to graduate this dojo. At least 4 before he’d trust someone with a real sword in a fight.

“Sir?”

Ryusei looked Cain in the eye. The kid was full of apprehension. He was worried that he wasn’t going to be taught anything while he was here. That this internship would be a farce. That he was wasting his time. They were awful expressive, those eyes. There was something familiar about them too, but Ryusei couldn’t put his finger on i--

‘The mirror!’

Ryusei’d seen that look of quiet desperation in the mirror almost 20 years ago now. When he’d first started at Shiketsu. He saw that look every morning when he washed his face. He knew he wasn’t cut out to be a hero. He felt he was just wasting his time trying. He feared that any moment people’d find out he was a fraud.

‘Fraud, huh?’ Ryusei smiled. Every swordsman started out as a fraud wearing a blade. Whether Cain wanted to learn kendo or just wear a sword comfortably to make his enemies ask questions… “It’s worth a shot.”