Unfortunately, the good mood shared by the group didn’t manage to last for very much longer.

While an hour was enough time for the nervous energy that existed between new friends to alleviate, for the most part, there was a point where it would hit a hard cap. Today they’d spent hours together, with no real breaks in between, and some cracks were starting to show as the different personalities clashed.

It was a natural thing; people eventually grew tired, or in some cases, annoyed at each other.

“Why do you always look away from me?” Tsuyu said quietly, frowning. “You keep doing it.”

The confrontation caught most of them flat-footed.

“Um, sorry,” Eijiro said quickly.

I turned from looking out the window at the city speeding by, mind pulling the pieces together.

“That’s not a reason,” Tsyuyu said, outright frowning now.

Eijiro lifted his hand up to scratch the back of his head, and the expression of discomfort on his face was obvious. The fact that the red-headed boy still wasn’t looking at her and the obvious reluctance to engage on the topic was telling.

This hadn’t been the first time Tsuyu had spoken up about something she’d noticed about each of them throughout the day, but when it had happened previously, Mina had immediately jumped in to distract, joke, or otherwise energize the discussion away from the obvious source of tension.

This time Mina didn’t speak up, likely tired after maintaining that energy level throughout the day, and the mood grew awkward.

“Did I do something wrong, Eijiro?” Tsuyu said into the silence, wringing her hands together. “You don’t have an issue looking at Hisoka, Momo, or Mina; it’s just me.”

Eijiro opened his mouth, then closed it, before returning his gaze to the floor, looking completely trapped. Momo looked distinctly uncomfortable at her name being brought into the discussion.

Mina just watched it, unwilling to place herself in the hot seat once more.

“I didn’t even realize I was doing it,” Eijiro said halfheartedly.

I couldn’t help but notice that he was a terrible liar—Tsuyu seemed pretty upset at this point and didn’t seem to believe him either.

“Um,” Momo began but failed to find the next part of her explanation.

I spoke up before the situation could worsen.

“You haven’t done anything wrong; You just have a tendency to make extended eye contact even outside of conversation,” I said plainly, ignoring the growing tension. “It’s hard to dismiss it entirely once you’ve noticed it, and it is most likely the reason he’s avoiding looking in your direction.”

Tsuyu turned to meet my gaze, but her feathers were ruffled enough that the direct answer wasn’t quite enough to soothe things.

“Mina has been doing the same thing all day,” Tsuyu said, frowning, “Eijiro doesn’t look away from her.”

“They have a prior relationship as they attended the same school,” I answered, “Eijiro has likely grown accustomed to her quirks in particular.”

Eijiro looked relieved to no longer be the only one speaking, but Mina wrinkled her nose.

“Relationship is a bit strong of a word—we just hung out sometimes,” Mina snickered, “Besides, didn’t I catch you giving me a thousand-yard stare this morning?”

I nodded—she had caught me watching her, but bringing it up now wasn’t exactly useful. Eijiro immediately threw me under the bus in an attempt to move the conversation away from himself.

“Hey,” Eijiro said lightly, “Hisoka did that to me as well—I turned around, and bam, he was right there.”

Tsuyu, whose hurt feelings were the entire reason for this conversation, looked like she didn’t appreciate the diversion away from the main topic before It had sufficiently been answered.

“I have noticed you do that as well,” Momo admitted, “You did it earlier with the Midnight figure.”

I was more than aware of my predilections towards getting lost in my thoughts, but the goal was to return the group to a functioning level that preserved cohesion. I didn’t want to destroy a second possible trip before we had even finished the first one.

“My flaws are irrelevant to our current discussion,” I said plainly. “I believe we were discussing why Eijiro’s abnormal behaviour was occurring and why Tsuyu was upset about it.”

Mina winced as the subject was dragged firmly back into the light, and Eijiro realized he wasn’t getting out of it that easily.

“I make too much eye contact? That’s all it is?” Tsuyu said hesitantly, glancing around at them. “Eijiro?”

Eijiro clapped both of his hands onto his cheeks, loud enough for the noise of impact to carry up the train cart—then he did it once more. Apparently satisfied, he turned to make proper eye contact with her for the first time in several hours.

“Yes—you don’t really look away, and it was starting to freak me out a little bit,” Eijiro said outright, owning up to it. “I’m sorry I didn’t speak up. I thought it might make you feel bad if I said anything.”

I found myself once more impressed with Eijiro as he found his footing and spoke up.

“I feel bad now anyway, and now everyone thinks I’m stupid.” Tsuyu said quietly, looking away. “Can you just tell me to stop staring next time?”

“I don’t think you’re stupid, Tsuyu,” Momo said encouragingly.

“Neither do I,” I agreed.

“I’ll tell you next time,” Eijiro promised before laughing sheepishly. “Now, can we talk about something that doesn’t make me sound like an ass?”

“Topic not found,” Mina said sadly. “Please widen the search parameters.”

Eijiro sighed.

I watched the train pull away, taking Eijiro, Mina, and Momo away from the station.

I turned to Tsuyu, who was the only other person in our group who lived in Musutafu. She had been quiet since the conversation that had occurred, most likely feeling embarrassed.

“I didn’t realize that you lived in Musutafu as well,” Tsuyu said as they watched the train pull away.

“My aunt allowed me to move closer to the school to cut down on daily travel time,” I said. “Were you born here?”

Tsuyu shook her head slightly, sending her newly coloured hair waving about.

“I was born in Nagoya,” Tsuyu croaked, “My family moved us here last year.”

“Was your aspirations to join U.A part of the reason they chose this location?” I asked, checking the time on my phone.

The dinner Aunt Hayami and I would be attending tonight was in the Hamakita ward, roughly an hour from here, which left me with a couple of hours before I needed to link up with Hayami at her house.

“I don’t know,” Tsuyu admitted, “They told us it was for work, but they no longer work for the same company now.”

“Are you still hesitant to discuss your intentions to remain at U.A with your parents?” I asked, watching her.

“Yes,” Tsuyu mumbled.

I considered her for a moment, wondering if offering further advice would upset her.

“I have several hours left before I need to meet with my Aunt,” I said eventually, “If you would like, I could accompany you to speak with your parents about this? I can’t promise I’ll be of any help in convincing them, but I can act to assist you.”

“Today?” Tsuyu croaked, looking a bit nervous.

“I assumed your discussion about staying at U.A would be a priority, which is why I offered,” I admitted. “If you would like assistance on another day for this task, we can discuss a more appropriate time—if you do not want my help, that is perfectly fine as well.”

“I’d like your help,” Tsuyu managed.

I nodded and gestured to the platform—Tsuyu turned, and I fell in step beside her. The otherwise busy platform felt almost spacious compared to the sheer number of people in the Tokyo station. After we had stepped out onto the street, the crowd thinned out further, and the undercurrent of tension I’d felt at being surrounded slowly started to fade.

Musutafu was densely packed, much like most of the urbanized sections of Japan, but there were blocks of land settled amongst the taller, more built-up areas that were noticeably less so. Parks with large green trees and more traditional housing were present in these areas, short and more squat houses—some even possessing small yards when the room was there.

You could still turn and look in just about any direction to find a much taller building scratching the sky above, but the change in architecture was nice nonetheless. More often than not, the houses were purchased quickly by the more affluent and then rented off to those looking for a more traditional space.

“Do you live in one of these houses?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“No, we live in an apartment,” Tsuyu said, eyeing him nervously.

I watched her stretch out a finger, indicating one of the taller apartment buildings on the edge of the housing area and nodded to show I could see it.

“I’m currently in a similar building,” I nodded, “In the opposite direction from the station.”

“Do you live with your Aunt?” Tsuyu said, referencing what I’d told her earlier.

“No, she purchased an apartment for me to stay in on my own,” I admitted, “I don’t think I could ever see my aunt living in an apartment—her taste in accommodation is much more extravagant.”

“I didn’t realize you came from an affluent family,” Tsuyu said, blinking.

“I wouldn’t expect anyone to notice such a thing given the lack of clues,” I said, glancing over at her. “I haven’t mentioned it either.”

Tsuyu croaked, and then after a beat, spoke up again.

“It’s not very big, the apartment, I mean.” Tsuyu said, uncomfortable. “Just so you know what to expect.”

“Thank you for the consideration,” I replied.

Tsuyu blinked, and they fell back into silence once more as they approached her building. I slowed my pace to match her suddenly more hesitant one. The elevator opened as they stepped into the bottom floor, and the family of three strode out without giving them a second glance. Tsuyu caught the door before It could be closed, and then they stepped inside, riding it up to the correct floor.

“You seem nervous,” I said as they stood at the door.

I could hear the sound of voices from the other side, muffled.

“I am for multiple reasons,” Tsuyu said, swallowing, “I’ve never brought anyone home before; I’m wondering if my they will like my hair—I still haven’t decided on how to bring up the subject of U.A.”

Tsuyu fumbled with her keys as she spoke before she managed to get them into the lock, clearly flustered. Before she had even managed to turn the keys and unlock the door, it opened from the inside.

A woman who looked remarkably like Tsuyu stuck her head out, eyes wide.

“Tsuyu, I thought I heard your voice—your hairs different!” The woman said, surprised before both of her eyebrows shot higher up high on her forehead. “You’ve brought someone with you—who is this?”

The door opened wider, and Tsuyu looked like she was struggling to figure out how to answer the questions as the momentum was stolen from her completely. I could hear the sounds of footsteps behind the woman, but her body blocked the person from view.

I spoke up to fill the beat in the conversation.

“My name is Hisoka Higawara; I am one of your daughter’s classmates,” I said simply, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too; my name is Beru Asui.” Beru smiled, the width of her mouth stretching across her entire face. “Tsuyu—your hair looks lovely; I thought you said one of your friends was getting it done?”

Tsuyu opened her mouth to answer the question, having finally found her bearings.

“Dad!” A boy’s voice called out from just behind the woman, sounding sly, “Tsuyu brought a boy home with her, and you know what that means!”

“A boy?” A man’s voice called back, sounding about as confused as I felt.

Had the voice correctly identified the topic of their upcoming discussion? It seemed like an impossible feat with so few clues, but perhaps they had a quirk that allowed for such feats of induction.

“What does it mean?” A girl’s voice said, sounding much younger than the first.

“It means she’s having a baby.” The boy stage whispered.

“Samidare—” Tsuyu croaked, looking horrified.

“Samidare, don’t tell your sister that,” Beru said quickly, but she looked far too amused.

“A baby?!” The man that was most likely Tsuyu’s dad yelped.

The sound of heavy footsteps thumped up the hallway, and Tsuyu acted quickly, stepping forward to push the door shut, seeking an escape from her embarrassment—Beru croaked in surprise as the door was closed in her face.

Tsuyu looked horrified as the door opened a second later, her strength completely failing to keep it shut—a man’s wide, toad-like head pushed through the opening to look down at them both, confused.

“Why’d you shut the door, Tsuyu?” The man said strangely before looking down at me. “A boy indeed—”

“This was a terrible idea,” Tsuyu said, flushing, straining to squash her dad’s head between the door and the frame. “I’m going to be super busy killing my brother now; you should probably go—”

“No killing in the house, Tsuyu,” The man said firmly, using his much greater physical strength to open the door wider. “Who are you, and what’s this about a baby?”

I nodded at the question.

“My name is Hisoka Higawara; I am one of your daughters—” I greeted the man, but Samidare called out from inside.

“Boyfriends!” Samidare giggled, “He’s one of your daughter’s boyfriends! Eat him, dad!”

“Samidare—” Tsuyu strained out as she lost her battle against the door. “I’m going to put you in the oven.”

“Yikes,” Samidare laughed.

The large man emerged fully, towering over them both and folding his arms, staring them both down.

“Hm.” The toad-like man hummed in expectation.

I nodded at the prompt.

“While I am I a boy, and I am your daughter’s friend,” I answered, “I am not her boyfriend—the connotations of the two are very different.”

Tsuyu had given up entirely at this point, staring up at her father in embarrassment.

“Hmm.” The man continued, longer and deeper.

I stared back at him, unsure what he was asking.

“Hmmmm.” The man said louder, leaning forward a bit and beginning to loom.

“Dad, stop it.” Tsuyu croaked indignantly. “This is Hisoka; he’s one of the boys who went with us to Tokyo today. Hisoka, this is my dad, Ganma Asui.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Ganma,” I said, nodding.

“Hmmmmmm.” Ganma noised at length, standing tall once more.

“How busy was it?” Beru asked interested. “It’s been a few months since I’ve last been there—they had half the station sectioned off back then.”

“There were so many people—we had barely any room to move around,” Tsuyu smiled, “The station was fixed as well; I couldn’t see any signs of damage.”

I’d have to look up the event they were talking about later. I wasn’t aware that there had been a recent attack at the Tokyo Station. I took a sip of the black tea Beru had made, enjoying the warmth of it—all the while, the short girl sitting at the other side of the table continued to stare at me with wide eyes.

“Satsuki, stop staring at him,” Samidare smirked, albeit it seemed to be his default expression. “Tsuyu will get jealous.”

The two older siblings glared at each other for a moment, and I could almost see the sparks.

“Why?” Satsuki mumbled.

“Ignore your brother, sweety,” Beru smiled before turning to look over my head at the man who’d taken place directly behind me. “Actually, it’s about time you two go play in your rooms.”

“Lame,” Samidare complained, “I wanted to see dad eat him.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Satsuki said, alarmed. “Right, dad?”

I took another sip of the tea; whatever brand Beru purchased was threefold better than the one I had stocked in my cupboard—Sajin’s taste in tea was terrible, and I would be doing my own shopping from now on.

“I’m not hungry right now,” Ganma said, hedging his bets. “I can wait until dinner.”

“Dad.” Tsuyu groaned.

Ganma let out a deep hum of a laugh.

“Go on, you heard your mother,” Ganma said, clapping his hands and rounding the table. “Rooms, now.”

Satsuki was quick to listen, but Samidare grumbled the entire way. Once the sound of both doors shutting had rung up the hallway, Ganma finally moved to sit down next to his wife, taking his own cup in hand.

He took a sip and sighed blissfully.

“I’m loving the time off,” Ganma admitted before taking another sip. “It’s so much more lively here; we miss you guys, you know?”

“I know, dad.” Tsuyu said, smiling. “It’s only a couple of weeks, though.”

Beru looked like she wanted to say more on the topic but glanced over at me before sighing.

“Feels like months,” Beru said, obviously not what she’d intended to say. “You’ve still got credit? You didn’t ring me this morning.”

“I have credit—a lot was going on, so I forgot to call,” Tsuyu admitted, “Hisoka even reported a thief who was stealing peoples wallets.”

“Brazen, these villains,” Ganma frowned.

Beru met the gaze of her husband but didn’t say anything, and for a moment, they were all quiet. My presence in the room was obviously affecting the normal dynamic here to some degree, and by the sounds of it, they didn’t get a lot of time together.

I was intruding on some of that precious family time, so it would probably be better if we dealt with this quickly.

“I apologize for bringing this up rather suddenly,” I said into the silence, “During our trip today, the members of our group discussed the recent attack on U.A. and how each of our parents or guardians responded to the event.”

Tsuyu croaked before sitting up straighter in her chair, realizing I was initiating the discussion she was worried about. Beru glanced over at her, looking hesitant, but Ganma was eyeing me now, realizing something was at play.

“Tsuyu expressed a concern with me that you may attempt to convince her to remove herself from U.A,” I said outright, matching the man’s gaze. “I think that would be a terrible mistake.”

Tsuyu was watching me through her hair, dangling as it was towards the tabletop, eyes wide.

“Direct, aren’t you?” Ganmaru hummed, placing his cup down. “Tsuyu, what’s this about?”

Tsuyu took an audible breath and then spoke.

“Last night, after you put Satsuki to bed, I heard you talking about pulling me out of U.A,” Tsuyu admitted. “I’ve been worrying about it since then, and I spoke to the others in our group today about it.”

Beru tapped one of her long fingers against her lip before sighing.

“We were talking about it last night,” Beru said worriedly, “I think you should consider it—after everything that happened? It’s too dangerous to keep staying there, Tsuyu—two boys died.”

Silence reigned, and Tsuyu swallowed as the words she had feared were spoken. I waited for a beat, and when she couldn’t muster a response, I spoke up.

“I think that speaks positively of the school rather than as a detriment,” I said plainly, “It was a completely unprecedented attack; the fact that only two students died is remarkable considering that over one hundred and fifty villains were present.”

Ganma blinked, mouth clapping shut once before opening again.

“Hisoka—the school, completely failed to protect the students,” Ganma said, frowning. “Not only that, but neither Tsuyu, you, nor any of the students should have had to deal with something like that in the first place.”

I nodded in agreement—we shouldn’t have had to deal with it.

“There isn’t a single place in Musutafu that could defend against an assault of that magnitude delivered into the building by way of instant teleportation,” I pointed out, “It was a terror attack that came completely without warning and was likely planned months in advance.”

“That’s not the point,” Ganma said, off-balance. “The fact that all of those villains managed to do this—it’s a travesty.”

“I agree,” I said plainly, keeping my tone polite. “Those villains have a lot to answer for.”

Ganma blinked before shaking his head again.

“That’s not what I’m saying—” Ganma sighed, sitting back in his chair. “Look, if they can’t guarantee Tsuyu’s safety at U.A, why on earth would you expect us to let her stay?”

Tsuyu had wanted to avoid that situation I had painted on the train, so I held back from mentioning that he no longer had any real bargaining power—it wasn’t letting her stay; it was Ganma and Beru trying to convince her to leave.

I glanced over at Tsuyu to see if she was ready to speak up.

“A normal school can’t guarantee my safety either,” Tsuyu said quietly.

Beru was quick to lean forward and catch her daughter’s eye.

“Normal schools don’t get attacked because All Might is working there,” Beru said, concerned. “It’s not safe, Tsuyu; we don’t want you to get hurt.”

I turned slightly to look at her, and she saw the movement, meeting my gaze for a second, and I wondered if she would—Tsuyu turned back to her parents.

“Normal schools do get attacked,” Tsuyu said quietly, “Regardless of All Might’s presence—Mum, don’t you remember the Bamboo villain—he attacked that middle school. Normal schools are even less safe than U.A.”

I felt a visceral flash of satisfaction cut through me that I’d rarely felt before as she followed the connection between my presence next to her and the Pasana Middle School article we discussed earlier.

Seeing her source that recent interaction and using it to bolster her current argument—I barely managed to hold back a smile.

“There’s a difference between one villain and a hundred and fifty, Tsuyu,” Ganma said quickly, falling back on convincing her rather than defeating the argument itself.

It sounded convincing on its face, but it fell apart when you compared both outcomes and the sizes of the attacking group.

I spoke up, taking some of the weight off Tsuyu.

“The numbers, while scary, actually support Tsuyu’s statement; Six children and three teachers died during the Pasana Middle School attack while the villain was a sole actor. One hundred and fifty villains failed to do the same amount of damage during the U.A attack, and only two died.” I said plainly, “The reason for this is multifaceted—U.A students have a strong contingent of heroes protecting them while they are on campus. We also have access to world-class training and equipment—removing Tsuyu from that environment would actually decrease the likelihood that she would survive if a villain were to target one of the many other schools within Japan.”

I avoided mentioning the automated defences as that would likely give the man an easy counter—both of those things had failed to stop them after all. I fell silent again, weathering the displeased look that Ganma was aiming my way.

It was clear that I was rapidly approaching the point of overstaying my welcome at this point.

“I want to be a hero,” Tsuyu said quietly, but her voice didn’t waver. “I want to stay at U.A.”

Beru, eyes watering, reached over the table and held her daughter’s hand, looking like she was second from an emotional tipping point. Tsuyu turned her hand over, cradling her mother’s hand.

“I’m starting to see why you brought him along—I can’t believe I’m losing an argument to a teenager,” Ganma said, exasperated. “Look—thank you for looking out for my daughter Hisoka, but I think this discussion is something we should do in private.”

I looked to Tsuyu to make sure she wouldn’t consider me leaving her in the middle of this discussion as a betrayal of some sort.

“Thank you for coming with me, Hisoka,” Tsuyu said, smiling slightly, “I think I can handle it now.”

I stood up and bowed.

“I apologize for overstepping my boundaries,” I said quietly. “Thank you for the tea; it was lovely—I’ll see you at U.A, Tsuyu.”

I let myself out the front door, spotting Samidare and Satsuki sitting in the hallway and listening to the conversation. Satsuki looked like she was caught with her hand in the cookie jar, but Samidare just smirked as I passed by.

I couldn’t help but smile; they’d shut the doors but stayed out in the hallway to listen in—it was like clockwork.

“See ya’ at U.A, he says,” Ganma complained, with a good-natured huff. “Samidare was right—I shoulda eaten him.”

“Darling, your accent is slipping.” Beru sniffled.

The door shut behind me, and I left.

I often found myself wondering what my life might look like had I never met Nanami in the park.

I’d learned so much from our friendship, and almost all of my goals had been a derivative of her own—I felt like I had subsumed her in a way; that I was living what Nanami’s life could have been if she hadn’t been robbed of the chance.

Nanami had wanted to be like All Might, and the other famous heroes splashed across our media; she had wanted to be a popular, well-known hero that everyone could look up to—she wanted to be good, in that strange way that people perceived the truly good to be.

Nanami had wanted to live an exciting life, to conquer the challenges in her path, and most of all, she had wanted to save the world.

Hisoka Higawara—me, the strange boy who hadn’t wanted much of anything, and here I was living a twisted echo of her own life, checking off the boxes she had built one after another like I had any kind of claim to it.

I was walking the path of a hero, not to save the world as she had or to be truly good. I attended the most famous hero school in the country and was now working towards becoming a licensed hero. I’d met with, spoken to, and learned from All Might, the greatest living hero in Japan, and I hadn’t even felt a fraction, of a sliver, of a shadow, of what Nanami would have, had she been in my place.

I was just selfishly living out a stolen dream as my hope of finding her alive slowly crumbled beneath the march of time.

“Hisoka?” Hayami said, swallowing and pretending to check her hair for the millionth time. “I—I think I’m ready, I just wish we hadn’t—I suppose I shouldn’t dally any longer; we’ll be late if we don’t leave now. Are you ready now?”

“Yes, Aunt Hayami,” I said quietly, “I’m ready to go.”

“Fantastic—this was a wonderful idea,” Hayami said restlessly. “I’m really looking forward to meeting Ume and Minato again, and little Momo, of course—this will be lovely, we’ll go have dinner, and nothing bad will happen.”

I waited patiently as she built up the courage needed to see her through the upcoming train ride.

“Momo is taller than I am now, so I don’t think you can call her that anymore,” I said in agreement, smiling at her. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting them as well.”

“Right, of course,” Hayami said, taking a deep breath and setting her shoulders. “Time to go.”