Chapter 120: A Night Together
When it comes to the secrets of the world, Barnes knew that damage control would have to be done before the secrets got leaked. Not after. Because if you're trying to do damage control when it's revealed that a rogue branch of the Japanese Government was illegally bribing, sponsoring, killing, or blackmailing American politicians, and that they've been influencing American politics to their liking for decades… then you're going to have a problem. How exactly do you spell it out to people?
How do you get the message out and ensure people don't mishear the words? Or make sure unscrupulous groups don't try to use it to their advantage? All it takes is for one man or organization to ever so slightly twist the words, and now you've got another case of crackpots believing Jews secretly rule the world. Or in this case, the Japanese. Instead of what it actually was: the corrupt and the wealthy.
So… how does one stop this from happening? Well, at the moment, Barnes had a sliver of an idea, as he sat waiting in a lone warehouse on the outskirts of Arizona. A few collapsible chairs and tables rested around him, as the Secretary of Defense quietly sipped on a coffee he'd bought. All the while, a group of his associates stood around on guard, waiting for their B team's arrival.
Which, if Barnes was right, should have been arriving in three… two… Quickly, he heard the roar of an engine come in from outside the warehouse. All of a sudden, the tires of a vehicle outside loudly squealed as the vehicle came to a stop. Taking a moment to wipe off his face, Barnes quietly focused on the struggle outside. The warehouse's doors shot open as the rest of Barnes's associates walked in.
Another dozen people in suits calmly moved forward as they brought in a different group of people. All were beaten and bruised, their clothes ripped and torn, and they had thick bags placed over all their heads. But out of all of them, the most shocking person to walk in was a catholic priest. Adorned in his usual clerical clothing, the Latino slowly walked toward Barnes. Chuckling faintly as he looked over the men, Barnes turned toward the priest.
"Father, you are truly something special," Barnes complimented, before fishing out a wad of cash from his pocket, "Here, for your trouble."
Holding up his hand, the priest pushed the money away and shook his head.
"I simply did what God would have wanted," the priest replied, before eyeing the men he'd brought with him, "I trust these putas will be dealt with?"
"They will," Barnes confirmed, an eerie chuckle escaping his lips. Hearing the words, the priest swiftly turned to leave, and Barnes gave him a small wave.
"Oh, and tell Christine I said hello," Barnes quickly commented, to which the priest smiled and waved back. Soon, the man was gone, his departure signaled by the warehouse's door slamming shut. Now knowing they were alone, Barnes looked toward one of his agents and quietly motioned toward one of the masked men. The agent nodded and quickly walked to the first man. Without a word, she pulled the bag off his head, allowing the first man to see.
"Avery Tew," Barnes greeted, a mischievous smirk plastered on his face. Slowly, he watched as Avery looked around in a daze, his eyes adjusting to the light of the warehouse. The man was pale white, and his face was covered in scars. His hair was brown and cut short, so short he seemed almost bald. What's more, his quirk gave him the ability to turn parts of himself into an odd kind of crystal. And as such, parts of him sparkled at certain angles.
"What the fuck?" Avery muttered, his eyes still surveying the room. Eventually, they fell onto Barnes, and the man quickly began to glare.
"Where am I?" Avery demanded, while Barnes began to lean his chair back.
"That's not important right now," Barnes replied calmly, before drinking the last of his coffee. As he did so, Avery looked him over, a slow sense of recognition striking the man.
"...Wait… you're the Secretary of Defense," Avery commented, as Barnes placed his cup on the table. Slowly, Barnes nodded before setting his chair back down.
"I am," Barnes confirmed, before he simply stared at Avery. A faint chuckle escaped him the longer he looked the man over. How long had it been since he'd seen someone like Avery? Forty, fifty years?
"You know this all feels so strange," Barnes commented, causing Avery to raise a brow, confused. Holding up both arms, Barnes gestured to the man and again chuckled.
"A real, genuine racist sitting before me. I've seen so few of you assholes it's like seeing a dinosaur at a museum," Barnes stated. It was a common misconception that racism had died out after quirks showed up. This just wasn't true. Racism was still around, lurking in the fringes of society, but it wasn't as prevalent as before. In this day and age, it was a lot harder to justify hating someone because of their skin color after quirks started turning people blue, pink, green, orange, and rainbow.
Because… really? You're going to make up a slur for the singular guy whose skin is blue? When it's harder to justify something, it becomes impossibly difficult to convince others to agree with you. So instead, the world's bigots turned to groups they could more easily "rationalize" hating. People they could more easily villainize, such as mutants with more animalistic or horrific-looking quirks. It was easier to villainize the child born looking like a demon than it was a black kid.
In a sense, quirkism was the public bigotry, and racism was the quiet one bigots kept to themselves. Avery, as he stood, was an outdated relic that, for whatever reason, just kept on kicking. Unlike the others, he wasn't quiet, nor did he hide his beliefs. As if to prove the point, the man's face flashed red with anger, possibly due to being compared to an extinct animal.
"You stupid, fucking nig-" Avery angrily began to say, before one of Barnes's agents slugged him in the jaw. All while Barnes busted out laughing.
"Truly astonishing," Barnes laughed, while wiping a tear from his eye, "You were gifted the miracle of life, and you chose to be racist. Truly, there can be no bigger fool."
And how would there be a bigger fool than Avery? He was the head of a criminal gang that hid out in the forests of Maine. Periodically, he and his group would go out and commit a string of murders to further goals that would result in… something. It was all just a string of random ideals founded by hatred, cobbled together. No actual plan existed. He just hated people. Avery hated black people, he hated asians, he hated South Americans. Hell, he hated the Irish. The Irish! What was this, the 1800s? They'd gotten nowhere in two decades and only stayed out of jail thanks to some people finding them useful.
"But we're not here today to discuss all the little things you hate," Barnes stated, while turning toward one of his agents.
"Samantha, if you would," Barnes prompted, the woman quickly walking away. Avery would watch, still confused, as Samantha brought over a car battery. Seeing it, Barnes smiled as Avery's eyes went wide.
"W-what are you doing?" Avery questioned, while Barnes looked back with mock confusion.
"Oh? I thought you'd recognize this little device," Barnes replied, as Samantha placed the battery next to Avery. At the same time, two other agents walked up to the man and yanked him to his feet.
"It's the same car battery you used to kill Charlotte Wright, Tyler Berkowitts, Emilo Montoya, and Douglas Green," Barnes explained further, "Or can't you remember the New England Electric Hangings?"
It was a truly horrific murder scene. In a single day, it had made front-page news across the country. Two black teens, one Latino child, and one old Jewish man were found dangling from trees. Around their necks were wires hooked up to an old car battery. According to the autopsy report, the battery sent an electric current through all of them, but it wasn't strong enough to kill them.
Instead, it added more pain to their suffering as they hung. Officers on the scene even reported smelling cooked flesh for a mile. Needless to say, Barnes felt it a fitting punishment for Avery. Besides, normal torture just wouldn't work. Avery's quirk made his skin crystallize when under stress. The only thing that would hurt him would be electricity. Rather quickly, both his agents had pulled out the same wire noose Avery had made and began wrapping it around him.
"K-keep your hands off me!" Avery shouted, the man now thrashing about as he tried to break free. It didn't work, and soon, both agents had the noose around his throat. For added measure, they placed a box under him and set him atop it. It was high enough that his toes could ever so slightly hold him up, but low enough that he still basically floated.
"Now, I'm only going to ask this once," Barnes began to say, as he slowly walked closer to Avery, "Where is he?"
A look of confusion flashed on Avery's face as he struggled to keep still. But in a split-second flash, Barnes saw a look of remembrance flash through his eyes. See, while this was another name on Barnes's list, Avery was by no means a big fish. That didn't mean he wasn't useful for select people.
"W-where is who?" Avery questioned, his feet nearly slipping off the box. Barnes, in return, just shook his head and snapped his fingers.
"Samantha?" Barnes queued, and the agent connected a cable to the battery. Instantly, Avery began shrieking in pain. His skin crystallized into a faint pinkish gem, but that only made things worse. For a solid minute, Barnes let the man scream before he had Samantha disconnect the battery. Looking up at Avery, Barnes continued to walk around.
"Three days ago, Attorney General Thomas Roberts came to you, seeking protection," Barnes stated calmly, remembering a few recent events. Roberts had been the main target for this week. The plan had been to poison some of his food and make it look like he died of natural causes. However, the plan failed. Someone had given the plan away and saved Roberts at the last second.
Within hours, Roberts had disappeared from the face of the Earth. Then Barnes had gotten intel that Avery was helping Roberts out. And you know, Barnes had an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. After all, he'd get the info he wanted and would remove an unscrupulous group from the playing field. Barnes wouldn't have to worry about racists peddling some conspiracy about the Japanese ruling the world, if they were dead.
"On account of your close relationship, you provided Roberts the key to a secret bunker hidden somewhere in Maine," Barnes continued, before coming to a stop in front of Avery. Quietly, the Secretary of Defense looked the man in the eye.
"Where?" Barnes demanded, while Avery began to sputter.
"I d-don't have any secret bunker!" Avery shouted back, causing Barnes to groan.
"Samantha?" Barnes again queued, the agent connecting the battery to the wire. Again, Avery shrieked in pain as the smell of burnt flesh began to fill the room.
"You know this was the more tame interrogation method I had chosen," Barnes commented dryly, "In fact, worse ones are on the table."
A few ran through his mind as Barnes pondered over them all.
"Evans, could you get the ink?" Barnes eventually asked, before he looked back at Avery, "He'll only take a moment. In the meantime, could you tell me what your least favorite race is? I want to know exactly what color to use when we tattoo every part of your body."
"I-I'm supposed to be scared of a tattoo?" Avery asked, shocked, and Barnes shrugged. The man's quirk would likely protect him from the needle; thankfully, that's what narcotics are for.
"Maybe. The ink's really old. It might have lead inside it," Barnes replied casually, "Not to mention, we do have some of your associates here."
Slowly, Barnes gestured to the other men in the room, the ones they had yet to remove the bags from. If intel was right, each man was part of Avery's gang, and each one was as racist as he was.
"How do you think they'll react to the scar-covered, drugged-up minority that kidnapped all of them?" Barnes asked in a low whisper, while Avery's eyes widened, the man now realizing exactly what Barnes meant.
"I will turn you into the very thing you hate, and set all your good buddies upon you," Barnes told him, just as Evans came back with a barrel of ink, "Then, once they're done with you, and you are by some miracle still alive, I will drag you to a different warehouse and do this all over again."
Carefully, Evans dropped the barrel right next to Barnes, before walking away to grab the tattoo gun. With it becoming clear to Avery that he was running out of time, Barnes slowly crossed his arms and looked into his eyes.
"So, where is he?" Barnes demanded. Looking between the barrel and the rapidly returning agent, Avery's mind thought over every possibility. Desperately, his mouth opened ready to speak, only for the warehouse's doors to shoot open.
"Right here," a voice replied, as Barnes's agents all drew pistols. A dozen men in suits charged into the room, all armed to the teeth. Within seconds, both Barnes's agents and the unknown assailants had weapons pointed at each other. There, Barnes heard the clacking of feet walking forward. The noise got closer until Barnes spotted the man responsible. It was a rather old man, one covered head to toe in wrinkles. His face was somewhat pudgy, with a faint grey beard covering his chin.
Atop his head was a fedora, covering the man's white hair. And even though they were in the middle of Arizona, the man had a large, thick wool coat, with a dark black scarf wrapped around him, along with grey cotton gloves.
"Johnny," Roberts greeted calmly, the man walking forward.
"Tommy," Barnes greeted in return, a cold fury lacing his words. Slowly, Barnes began walking around the table. Soon, both men stood face to face in the middle of the warehouse.
"What are you doing here?" Barnes demanded, with Roberts scoffing.
"Come on, don't pretend you don't know," Roberts told him tiredly, "Your attempts have gotten sloppy. I mean, why the hell did you think I wouldn't know it was your doing?"
"Considering the poison, you weren't going to know," Barnes rebuked, as they both heard every agent in the room shift.
"What is this even supposed to be? Some grand moralistic crusade? It's idiotic, Johnny," Roberts told him, while Barnes slowly glared.
"Why bother with any of this? You're tearing down the very system you helped build!" Roberts exclaimed, with Barnes quickly grumbling back. Swiftly, both men drew guns on the other. Barnes held his H P30, and Roberts drew a Walther PDP.
"I didn't build this!" Barnes shouted back, "I built the system that valued the lives of the innocent! Not this corporatized shill!"
"The Hero System has brought more money to this government and this nation than even the military industrial complex! It's brought stability and prosperity to those innocent lives!" Roberts loudly countered, "You're throwing away this nation's future as a superpower!"
Tiredly, Roberts paused for a brief few seconds. Bringing a hand to his face, the man rubbed his brow and groaned.
"What is this even for?" Roberts questioned, with Barnes looking back at him, disgusted.
"What is this for…" Barnes muttered aloud, before chuckling, "...You know, back when I was a boy, I used to live in this small apartment."
As he spoke, Roberts began to grumble.
"Oh, always with the stories," Roberts muttered, while Barnes ignored him.
"It was just me, my brother, my sister, my mother, and my father. All stuck in this tiny little Louisiana apartment. It was all we could afford back then, during the depression. And my father, bless his soul, would work himself to the bone to make ends meet," Barnes explained further, as his eyes moved across the room. He never thought about his family much; he'd outlived all of them.
Only his brother had a kid, but he died young. It felt… odd, thinking about memories from so long ago.
"But sometimes, sometimes we'd make just enough money to afford a small treat," Barnes told him, calmly. Roberts looked back thoroughly disinterested, but he didn't have a choice but to listen.
"Once a month, we'd scrounge up the money to buy a twenty-pack of McNuggets. Just McNuggets. No drink, no fries, no ice cream, nothing. It was the cheapest luxury we could afford, and it was still too expensive for us most of the month," Barnes added, though he didn't feel he emphasized the point enough. McDonald's was the cheapest food available at the time, and it was still too expensive for the majority of the public. Barnes's father was a nuclear engineer, and even he was struggling to afford it.
"One day, my father had to stay at work for a few more hours. So I was sent to pick up the food in his stead," Barnes explained calmly, his gun moving a smidge as his hand made small gestures in the air.
"I bought our food, kept the box close to me, and started heading home," Barnes stated, "Then the cashier had to say those damn words."
It was just four words, but they screwed up everything in just five seconds.
"We're out of stock," Barnes muttered aloud, the memory playing in his head on repeat. What made it worse was that the cashier didn't expect what happened next.
"There was already so little food to go around, and that McDonald's was filled to the brim with starving folks, desperate for a meal. Within seconds, the place had devolved into a riot. People started tearing out the furniture, breaking down the windows, beating up the cashiers," Barnes quickly explained, the memories flashing into his head.
"Anyone who had even a fry to their name was eyed up by everyone in the room. I tried to leave that place as quickly as possible. But in the end, I was just too slow. A man grabbed my arm, desperately trying to yank the nuggets from my grasp. He beat on me, and I fought back. In the end, I struggled against this man for an hour," Barnes stated, as he mentally remembered the entire scene. Even now, it still haunts him.
"There, in a moment of desperation, I grabbed a shattered piece of glass from the floor and stabbed him in the throat," Barnes told Roberts coldly. That got a look of surprise from the Attorney General, the old man's eyes widening only slightly.
"I killed a man, over a twenty-piece McNugget," Barnes stated solemnly, a sigh escaping him, "What's worse, when I got home with my blood-stained hands, and finally ate the food I'd fought so hard for… it was the greatest meal I've had in my life. Even now, as I sit and eat some five-star gourmet meal, my mind always goes back to those McNuggets. To that moment of desperation."
There, Barnes went quiet as he tried to ignore the memories. Roberts looked back at him calmly, a faint sigh escaping the man.
"I'm sorry you had to go through with that," Roberts told him, "But times are different now."
"Are they?" Barnes questioned, "I look around now, and I see the exact same issues that plagued this nation before the depression, forming all over again."
Corrupt leaders were taking advantage of the political system and furthering their own power base. Entire corporations had the world wrapped around their fingers through the marketing of heroes. This was all backed up by a growing fear and a rise in terrorism. It all reminded Barnes of the days before the depression, before the US fell to anocracy, before the world economy collapsed, and before billions were thrown into suffering.
"I'm not letting this nation go back to those days. Never again," Barnes proclaimed, while Roberts scoffed.
"You're going to cause the exact same economic collapse. Do you even know how many jobs revolve around Hero Society? Do you know how many people rely on that system?" Roberts warned him, as the agents around them shifted again.
"You're tearing the system apart, but you don't have a replacement for it!" Roberts exclaimed, while Barnes' gaze again looked over the room. A replacement, Barnes mentally scoffed. He wasn't getting rid of the hero system; he was bringing it back to how it was supposed to be.
"You forget, I'm playing the long game. Have been for centuries," Barnes retorted. Again, Roberts scoffed, this time saying nothing. Both men's gazes moved over the room cautiously. Neither man said anything, but both could see the situation they were in.
"It appears we're at an impasse," Roberts noted, and Barnes slowly nodded in agreement.
"You call your men off, I'll call off mine," Roberts told him, while Barnes tilted his head to the side.
"And old Avery?" Barnes questioned, motioning to the man with the turn of his body. The still dangling criminal looked toward Roberts desperately, but Roberts didn't bother looking back.
"Kill him, don't, I couldn't care," Roberts replied with a shrug, "He's of no use to me now."
Likely, he wouldn't be any use to Barnes either. He knew Roberts wouldn't hide out in the same bunker Avery got him. Not when Roberts knew Barnes was on his trail. Any info Avery had now was essentially worthless. So cautiously, Barnes dropped his gun. Roberts slowly did the same, and their agents all followed suit. Behind Barnes, Samantha kicked out the box Avery stood on, causing the man to hang. There, Roberts turned and began heading for the door.
"I'd suggest you stop trying, but I know you won't listen," Roberts commented as he reached the warehouse's door. Opening it, Roberts took one step forward before glancing back at Barnes.
"Johnny," Roberts said calmly, while tipping his hat.
"Sammy," Barnes replied, watching as the Attorney General walked out the door.
"Another terrorist attack in Japan this week. And from what I hear, they've hit another fifty dead," the news anchor commented, as Boris lounged on his room's bed watching his phone, "Honestly, it is astonishing how out of hand this has gotten."
"It's saddening to see, but ultimately this was expected," another anchor agreed, as Boris quietly thought the same thing. Why couldn't more countries be like Russia? Russia didn't have this corruption. Here you were free. Here, they had President Volkov keeping order throughout the country.
"The West is filled with nothing but degenerates. People who threaten the very safety and security of our home," a third anchor muttered, "If their lawlessness continues to go on unabated, then we'll be at risk."
"Tell me about it. I mean, look, this recent attack was in Miyazaki. Supposedly, the Ninth Circle, because it's always them, raided a large corporate headquarters, and started throwing people out the window!" the first anchor added, reading off the paper he'd been given. Instantly, Boris's eyes widened in shock. No matter how many days passed, this cult's depravity never seemed to end.
They should have been killed off like dogs weeks ago. Instead, the West continued to struggle against them. What would be next? A new terrorist cell inside Germany? Poland and Ukraine already had dictators terrorizing their countries. The Baltics were all just puppets of the US, and Finland was a nation forced to join them. This cult had started in Japan, but any new threat could easily come from Europe. It was a terrifying thought.
"My word," the second anchor muttered, as the third slammed his hand against the desk.
"Horrid bastards, the lot of them," the third anchor stated, the other two slowly nodding.
"If no one else is willing to say it, then I will. This has gone on for long enough," the second anchor began to say, his tone slowly getting louder, "They refuse to change! If the world is to know safety, then this world order must be replaced!"
"We're in total agreement. Better to liberate them now, then let this corruption fester any longer!" the first anchor said in agreement, with Boris hearing the rest of the station's news team begin to cheer in agreement.
"They will resist, but so does a disease against medicine. To President Volkov I say, for the good of the world, take us to war!" the third anchor demanded, causing a loud chorus of cheers to erupt throughout them all. And why wouldn't they? It needed to be done! Free the West from its chaos now, and Russia would remain safe. There was no other option! Right as Boris thought this, though, he soon smelled his mother's beef stroganoff coming from downstairs.
Moments later, he heard his mother yell out to him.
"Borya! Dinner is getting cold!" his mother yelled, causing Boris to scramble out of bed.
"R-right, coming, mama!" Boris replied, the teen rapidly booking it down the stairs. Rushing into the kitchen, he found his mother already sitting at the table. With food ready, Boris quickly sat down next to her. Quietly, the two began to eat, as Boris's mother glanced toward him.
"So… how was school?" she questioned, as Boris swallowed his recent bite.
"Good, good," Boris replied calmly, "The Professor was a bit of a stickler again."
"I'm sure he was," his mother muttered tiredly, while shaking her head tiredly, "You could always report him to the school."
"...Maybe…" Boris hesitantly replied. Continuing to eat, his mind slowly drifted back to the news. To think the world would fall so quickly… It was unthinkable. The great All Might, a symbol of peace and justice, was now relegated to a walking skeleton. Boris couldn't help but pity him. At the same time… what would the Symbol of Peace do in this situation? With the world growing so dangerous… Should war come, All Might would doubtlessly support whatever action Russia would take.
They were going to save the West, bring peace and stability to chaos, whether they wanted it or not. They had to. If they didn't, then all of Russia would be at risk. Boris's friends, his neighbors, his mother… all could get hurt. Boris didn't want that. He couldn't let his mother get hurt. But the only way to ensure that didn't happen was…
"...Is something on your mind?" his mother asked, her voice interrupting his thoughts.
"No, mama… I…" Boris quickly began to say, before he hesitantly stopped. He tried to think up a good lie, but his mother could already see what he was trying to do.
"Borya, what did I teach you about lying?" his mother asked, causing Boris to falter.
"...I want to enlist in the army," Boris cautiously told her. The statement shocked her, as she froze mid-bite.
"...The army?" she questioned, and Boris hesitantly nodded.
"I…I know it's so sudden, but…" Boris began to explain, taking a deep breath, "I want to keep you safe, mama."
He ran a hand through his hair then, while his mother slowly set down his fork.
"The world is becoming a scary place, and I don't want you to get hurt," Boris added cautiously. He knew his mother was a bit of a worrywart, so he wouldn't apply for the Russian Ground Forces specifically. But the Air Forces were a tantalizing prospect. If not them, then the Russian Navy would work perfectly. In truth, though, there was only one branch that Boris dreamed of joining: the Russian Space Forces.
More specifically, he wanted to crew the Zhukov. The Russian Government had already announced they were accepting applicants. The official launch date was still a long time away, but even just the chance of crewing the ship was enough for Boris. He'd keep his mother safe with the first military spacecraft. If that wasn't enough protection, he didn't know what was.
His mother, meanwhile, continued to look at Boris, shocked. Slowly, tears formed in her eyes, and the woman couldn't help but sniffle.
"Mama?" Boris asked, quickly becoming concerned that he had said something wrong.
"It's fine… I'm just… I'm proud, Borya," his mother slowly replied, a fond smile becoming clear on her face, "You would make your father proud."
Slowly, his mother stood up from her seat. Carefully, she hobbled to him, and her arms stretched out wide. Without another word, the two hugged. Boris would keep her safe.
"Explain it again, a final time," Cài Mei stated tiredly, the old woman sitting in a small office chair. Across from her, Cháng looked back worriedly. Behind him sat a large whiteboard, plastered with photos and news clippings of the bombing of the Port of Shanghai. Right now, the two were in Cài's office in Beijing,
"Madam-" Cháng began to protest, before Cài cut him off.
"Again, Cháng," Cài demanded, her assistant slowly looking between her and the evidence. He'd gone over it a dozen times already, but she had to hear it again. There had to be something she was missing. Some key piece of evidence she couldn't see.
"...Alright," Cháng reluctantly replied, before clearing his throat. With a small presentation pointer in his hand, he directed her eyes to the first photograph, detailing an autopsy report.
"Around three in the morning, an unknown number of villains snuck into the Port of Shanghai. Armed with Japanese, Korean, Indian, and Taiwanese weapons, they killed off the port's local security and night shift workers," Cháng explained tiredly, his pointer moving to the other photos present. There were discarded assault rifles, the bodies of killed cultists, random casings on the floor, bits of blood, and crucified workers.
"Around three thirty, two police officers were called in to investigate the disturbance. Both were subdued by the villains and crucified. One died, the other survived, but was put into a medical coma," Cháng continued, the exhaustion slowly getting to him as he rubbed his eyes, "At the same time, the cultists responsible planted bombs across the dockyard and at four in the morning, detonated them."
Stepping to the side, Cháng showed off the only true pieces of evidence the police had managed to gain.
"The only evidence we've managed to find was the remains of a custom-made bomb, along with shell casings for several assault rifles chambered in five five six. As well as the bodies of nearly a hundred people," Cháng stated calmly, leaving Cài to look over everything. There was no security footage, no DNA samples showing the cultists weren't Japanese, no vehicles they could find, no fingerprints they could use, no hidden wire transfers of money, and only one eyewitness to the event.
All of this brought Cài to the one conclusion she despised.
"As far as the authorities can find, the Ninth Circle was responsible for the bombing," Cháng stated tiredly. To Cài, the entire assumption had to be wrong. It was too convenient, too suspicious. The entire attack conveniently gave President Li a good reason to start threatening his neighbors. It had to be a false flag. It had to be. Yet all the evidence Cài found said otherwise. The Indian, Korean, and Taiwanese governments all denied the claims that they funded the Ninth Circle. But that instead had the opposite effect they wanted.
Because now they were being accused of corruption. How, like Japan, they couldn't keep a keen eye on their military, and now their officers were selling away weapons. All the evidence pointed to one thing.
"I can't believe this… they've truly lost control of their own nation," Cài muttered tiredly, the old woman bringing her hand to her face.
"What does this mean for us?" Cháng asked, while Cài stayed quiet. She didn't fully know. Ever since she joined the GHDP, she'd been a staunch advocate for closer relations with China's neighbors. To further bonds between nations, and end the feuds that had gone on for centuries. But now, what was she supposed to do?
"...I don't know," Cài cautiously replied, "President Li is demanding the country be ready for war."
Weeks before, the GHDP had managed to thwart Li's attempts to pass a new "military spending bill". And instead got their own bill passed that excluded Li's goal of removing "dissidents". But that might have proved to be a mistake. With the extra funding being allocated, it made Li's calls for war become all the more vocal. Now, like everyone else, China was rapidly trying to create new weapons of war.
"That's insane," Cháng muttered, causing Cài to sigh.
"What's more insane… is that I don't think we can stop it," Cài replied hesitantly, sorrow clear in her tone.
"This nation was attacked, and innocent people have died," Cài noted sorrowfully, "If this truly was the Ninth Circle's doing, then their actions have turned every person in China against them. The people will be begging for war. Because if Japan can not, or will not stop this cult, then it risks more innocent lives dying," Cài added regretfully, as the woman dropped her wrinkled hands onto the table. By this point, what else was she supposed to do? If the cult attacked once before, they'd doubtlessly do it again.
And if they did, they'd add more fuel to the political fire. More and more voices would agree with Li's calls for war. All to stabilize and end a terrorist threat. And Cài couldn't stop it.
"In the end, we will have to get involved," Cài muttered, as Cháng looked at her incredulously.
"We'd be invading a friendly nation!" Cháng exclaimed, as Cài slowly nodded in agreement.
"We would be," Cài replied warily. They'd be invading several, in fact. If President Li's speeches were anything to go by, he'd be waging a war on almost half the world.
"How could you support this? After all the years spent building up relations," Cháng argued, misinterpreting some of what Cài meant.
"I don't support it," Cài quickly replied, "None of what I said is what I want. It is just what I know will happen."
Slowly, she stood up from her office chair and walked toward a nearby window. Looking out of it, she could see the bustling streets of Beijing.
"This attack has already swayed enough party members to Li's side," Cài explained. The attack on the docks had more than swayed public opinion. Even those who hated Li agreed that something needed to be done about Japan. Else China suffers another attack.
"More than anything, I wish this attack were nothing but a false flag. But as of right now, the only credible source we have that could confirm this theory is lying in a hospital bed," Cài muttered aloud, the woman slowly placing her hand on the window.
"What now?" Cháng asked cautiously, watching as Cài's shoulders slumped forward.
"Now?" Cài began slowly, "We do what we can. Stall Li as long as possible, keep him from gaining total control of the military, bog him down in the bureaucratic process."
Turning away from the window, the old woman began walking toward her office door.
"But in the end, there is only one true outcome," Cài stated reluctantly, her hand grabbing the doorknob.
"China will go to war."
Winding through the rubble-covered streets of Musutafu, Mirko swiftly jumped off a building's wall. In front of her, a group of five men ran as quickly as possible. Each one carried a backpack loaded to the top with goods. They were the latest batch of looters Mirko had seen this week. And in all honesty, they were getting on her nerves. Because not only did they grab everything they could from the jewelry store they robbed, but they also stumbled upon some of the cult's abandoned weapons.
So three of the punks now had Type-89s with them, while a fourth had a captured Panzerfaust 3.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" one of the looters yelled, as two others blindly fired behind them. Bullets narrowly struck Mirko, the hero now ducking behind cover ever so often. The moment the bullets stopped coming, she'd jump out of cover, practically launching herself forward.
"Shut up and run!" a different looter yelled, as the group quickly took a hard right into an alleyway. Seeing this, Mirko loudly grumbled while coming to a sliding stop.
"Get your asses back here!" Mirko ordered, before effectively bouncing herself forward, "I'm not done with you yet!"
"We're gonna die!" a different thug yelled, hearing Mirko's proclamation. Coming in close behind them, the looters again tried to blindly fire behind them. This time, low Mirko had jumped up high and started leaping between the alleyway's walls. She'd bounce from one wall to the other, faster than the looters could track.
"Shoot her already!" the punk leading the group yelled, as the one in the back continued to shoot.
"I'm trying, asshole!" the rear thug retorted. Quickly, Mirko began looking for a way to finish this chase up. There on the ground, she spotted a lone crowbar, wedged between bits of rubble. Landing on the ground, she wasted no time grabbing the tool. Within seconds, she chucked it forward like a boomerang and watched as it struck the side of the rear thug's knee. It tripped him up, and he ended up landing and dragging the guys in front of him down.
Getting in close, Mirko heard the thug groan in pain, "Ah, my fucking knee!"
"Come on, is that the best you punks can do?!" Mirko shouted, watching as the looters clambered over each other in an attempt to get back up. In the end, the villain with the Panzerfaust ended up pointing the weapon toward Mirko. Much to Mirko, and the other looters' surprise.
"Take this bitch!" the villain yelled, while his buddies desperately begged him not to fire. Of course, he didn't listen and pulled the trigger. Within seconds, Mirko jumped up into the air, getting as high as possible while the rocket flew past where she had been. There, the rocket struck an empty building and blew up harmlessly. At the same time, the ensuing back blast from the Panzerfaust knocked three of the five looters off their feet.
None of them were moving afterwards. Seeing this, the looter with the Panzerfaust started to panic.
"S-shit!" the villain called out, just as Mirko hit the ground. The last two looters quickly scrambled to grab their fallen comrades' guns. But Mirko was far faster than they were. One looter looked up and found Mirko spin-kicking his head. He was knocked out immediately, leaving the last looter unable to protect himself. There, he found Mirko side-kicking him in the stomach, and he was sent backwards.
With the villains dealt with, Mirko took a sole breath. Looking around, she felt the adrenaline wear off, and the boredom return. Pulling out her phone with a grumble, she called up some other members of Musutafu's hero task force.
"Mirko here, got another five looters here awaiting pick up," Mirko stated, bored, the hero already wishing for another fight. All these guys did was run and shoot. It was boring.
"Understood, backup should arrive shortly," a voice replied on the other end, leaving Mirko to mentally groan. Shortly never actually meant shortly. Not these days, at least. After half an hour of waiting, she heard the sound of wings flapping through the air. Looking up, she spotted Hawks slowly descend toward her. Quietly, the hero looked over the villains and whistled.
"You did a number on them," Hawks commented, as some lone feathers slowly drifted to the ground.
"They pissed me off," Mirko replied, as his eyes fell on the three killed by the Panzerfaust.
"I can see that," Hawks noted, before the sound of engines was heard by both of them. Rapidly, an American MRAP rolled up outside the alleyway, the vehicle occupied by heroes responding to the scene. Seeing that everything was covered, Mirko turned to leave, ready to find the next big fight. There were rumors of an underground fight ring popping up in Musutafu, with the city essentially being a lawless zone.
It would be nice to see if those rumors were true. She'd crack some skulls together and help the city recover. It was a win-win in her book. But right before she could leave, Hawks had glanced toward her with his usual smirk.
"You could help with the clean up, you know?" Hawks told her, while Mirko rolled her eyes, "Might ensure you don't keep running into villains with RPGs."
"Then who would be there to stop the ones that have them?" Mirko questioned. She knew what she was. She was a fighter, through and through. Having her pick up bits of rubble when guys like these were around was just a bad move. Don't get her wrong, she'd help if absolutely needed. But who else would they want fighting villains? That was her whole thing! Slowly, Mirko continued to walk away, giving Hawks a small wave.
"I'll leave these guys to you for now-" she began to say, before Hawks interrupted her.
"I'm not filing your paperwork again," Hawks told her, causing Mirko to whip around in surprise.
"Oh come on!" Mirko yelled back.
"Hey, you beat them, you fill the report," Hawks replied smugly, leaving Mirko to grumble. An entire city in chaos, and they still expected her to do paperwork.
"...I'll get you fried chicken," Mirko angrily offered, while Hawks mockingly patted his stomach.
"Already had lunch," Hawks replied, grinning.
"Fuck!" Mirko yelled out, causing Hawks to snicker. With a groan, Mirko walked back to the villains and pulled out her phone. If filing another report meant the HPSC wouldn't start chewing her out again, then so be it. She just wished the process didn't have to be so long. So Mirko got started taking photos, documenting the villains she beat, and what they were doing.
At the same time, her ears heard someone new start walking into the alleyway. A pair of boots walked by, with each step being followed by the clinking of spurs. With a slight glance, Mirko looked over her shoulder. At first, she thought she spotted Snipe walking toward Hawks. However, a second look told her this was an entirely different cowboy.
"Ocelot," Hawks greeted, giving the cowboy a quick nod.
"Hawks," Ocelot greeted dryly in return, "Let me guess, another one?"
"Yep," Hawks replied calmly, while Ocelot drew a revolver from a holster, "Still far too many weapons left around."
Quietly, the two looked over the villains Mirko had beaten. At one point, Ocelot began to spin the revolver he drew, tossing it around in odd tricks. Neither said anything for a second, and Mirko found it slightly suspicious. Both Hawks and Ocelot eventually started walking away. Still, they said nothing, not until they left the alleyway.
"Anything on our missing person?" Ocelot asked, as Mirko's ears still picked up his voice.
"Nothing," Hawks replied, with Mirko hearing his large aviator jacket shuffle as he crossed his arms. Ocelot groaned back in response, before the noise of him flipping his revolver was heard.
"Nothing? Then why'd you call me?" Ocelot questioned, while Hawks started tapping his foot.
"Because there is nothing," Hawks clarified, only confusing Mirko and Ocelot, "He's just disappeared."
Who, Mirko quietly wondered to herself. The two were acting far too suspiciously for this to be just a regular missing persons case. It bugged Mirko in more ways than one.
"I've gone through the sources you provided me, he's just gone," Hawks explained, while Ocelot again groaned.
"...Damn it," the cowboy muttered, while Hawks quickly ruffled his feathers.
"You assume he's up to something?" Hawks asked, before Ocelot holstered his revolver.
"Possibly. I doubt he's been having a good few months," Ocelot replied, his tone somewhat muffled as he brought a hand to his mouth.
"Yet the cult's still active," Hawks pointed out, instantly giving Mirko more questions. The cult? The Ninth Circle was involved with this? Just who were they looking for? At first, Mirko assumed it was the cult's boss, but then Ocelot spoke up again.
"Well, he isn't their leader. Old Reaper may be acting on his own accord while Night Owl's gone," Ocelot told him, leaving Mirko more confused. Night Owl… who the hell was Night Owl? Was he responsible for the massacre? By their tones, this guy clearly had some role to play. But… just what was going on?
For a trip that was supposed to be hard work, Uraraka couldn't help but enjoy herself. It was fun. Just her and Midoriya going around extracting animals. The journey between spots was tiring, sure, but the constant races made it fun. Both Uraraka and Midoriya made games out of everything they did. They tried to see who could get the most accurate shots, who would beat the other to the next spot, or who could find the rhino first.
There were other games, but these were the only ones Uraraka could remember at the moment, mainly because she was a bit busy looking down at the sleepy creature before her.
"Aww, look at the little guy," Uraraka cooed, clutching a baby white bellied pangolin, "He's so tiny."
Next to her sat a small cage with the baby's mother inside, who was also unconscious. Behind Uraraka, meanwhile, was Midoriya, the teen busy hooking up the fulton to a floating rhino. Pulling one of the straps tight, Midoriya looked toward Uraraka quietly.
"You know, I've never seen a pangolin before," Midoriya commented, the words soon surprising Uraraka.
"Really? I thought you did this all the time," Uraraka replied, as she glanced toward him. Midoriya practically lived for this kind of stuff, yet he'd never seen this animal once?
"I just never ran into one," Midoriya replied with a shrug, while Uraraka slowly smiled.
"Well, now you have!" Uraraka exclaimed, holding up the pangolin for Midoriya to get a better look. In response, he smiled back fondly before pulling the last of the Fultons' straps tight. Seeing that everything was in place, he stepped back.
"Ok, I should be finished," Midoriya commented, as he continued to back away, "Could you…"
"One sec," Uraraka replied. Swiftly, she bent down and placed the pangolin into its cage. Closing it shut, Uraraka watched as another small fulton popped up above the cage. There it drifted away, taking the pangolin with it. With that done, Uraraka clasped her hands together and let the rhino descend. It was only for a moment, as mere seconds later its balloon started pulling it into the air. Watching it drift up into the sky, Uraraka smiled, satisfied.
"...So, our total?" Uraraka asked, glancing toward Midoriya. For a second, the teen stayed quiet, as he mentally counted everything they'd found. After all, Cecile had said to extract anything they could find, not just the rhinos. So they had both been pretty busy.
"Four black rhinos, five white bellied pangolins, three Nigerian chimpanzees, and one baby African forest elephant," Midoriya eventually replied confidently. Quietly, Uraraka cheered, her arm pumping in the air. The mission wasn't even done yet, but with that number of animals, Uraraka was sure she'd be getting the big bucks. If only her parents could see her now.
"Not a bad day," Midoriya then commented, as Uraraka nodded in agreement.
"Y-yeah," Uraraka said, the girl very suddenly having to stifle a yawn. It had caught her off guard for a moment. She didn't exactly feel tired… Then again, jet lag was still a bit of a pain. And… actually… When did it get so dark? Looking up at the sky, Uraraka could see the vast reds, oranges, yellows, and purples of sunset. Slowly but surely, the sun was going down. She could have sworn they had more hours of sunlight left. Seeing Uraraka's confusion, Midoriya soon realized the same thing she did.
"It's getting kinda dark," Midoriya noted, as the teen turned and looked toward the sunset. Shielding his eyes momentarily, the teen soon dropped down to the floor. Removing his backpack, he began opening it up carefully.
"I think we call it here for today," Midoriya stated, and quietly, Uraraka nodded in agreement. Following his lead, she dropped down and pulled off her backpack.
"You have the tent, right?" Uraraka asked, only for Midoriya to pull out the tent's bag.
"Yep," Midoriya replied, the teen rapidly opening the bag up. Within minutes, the two started setting the tent up. It wasn't overly large by any means, and considering Midoriya had to carry it, why would it be? The entire tent was simple and small, having enough room for people to crawl into it, but not enough to stand. Little by little, it was set up as Midoriya began pushing the final pole through.
"Is it through on your end?" Midoriya asked, as Uraraka waited for the pole to poke through. Soon, it showed up, and Uraraka quickly grabbed it. Pulling it downwards to the ground, Uraraka soon brought the pole to its grommet. With her free hand, she grabbed a tent spike and her gravity hammer.
"It is. Let me just hammer this side down," Uraraka told him calmly, causing Midoriya to peek over the tent. Just as he did, he spotted Uraraka lining up her hammer.
"...That seems like overkill," Midoriya commented, with Uraraka shrugging.
"I've got to use it for something, otherwise I wouldn't have brought it," Uraraka replied, before swiftly bringing the hammer down. In a single strike, the spike was buried in the ground. With that done, Uraraka wiped the sweat from her brow and walked around the tent. On the other side, Midoriya had gotten a fire started and was busy fixing up two MREs. If Uraraka was reading the labels right, they were both plain beef stew.
After a few minutes, Midoriya had both meals ready and carefully passed one to Uraraka. She grabbed it carefully, her mind now catching up to her stomach, as she felt absolutely famished. Rapidly, both teens dug into their food. In any other circumstance, Uraraka was sure it would have tasted terrible. But right now, it was delicious to her exhausted mind. Showing another spoonful of stew into her mouth, Uraraka soon noticed Midoriya slowly stopped eating.
"...Whoa," she heard him mutter. Glancing toward him, Uraraka's brow raised as she noticed Midoriya now staring upwards.
"Hmm?" Uraraka inquired, her mouth still full. Wordlessly, Midoriya pointed up and gave Uraraka an awed glance.
"Look," Midoriya told her. Slowly swallowing her food, Uraraka's eyes followed his hand and… oh… Uraraka's eyes widened in amazement as she looked up at the night sky. Bright stars shone down on them as far as the eye could see. With so little light pollution around, the entire night sky was clear for her to see. It was beautiful. The last time she saw the sky like this… was the first night of the massacre.
But that event had a much darker undertone surrounding it. This? This was far nicer. There was no cult to worry about, no villains lurking around. Just her, the stars… and Midoriya. She couldn't help but lie back on the ground. Uraraka set her food aside and quietly stared up at the night sky. Slowly, Midoriya followed suit and lay back next to her. Looking up, Uraraka quietly awed at everything above her.
"Shoot, what constellation is that?" Midoriya eventually asked, as the teen's arm reached out and pointed toward the sky. Of course, he pointed at nothing, as far as Uraraka could see.
"There's no constellation there," Uraraka answered, before he eyes lit up excitedly, "Oh! But to the right, you can see the Summer Triangle!"
"Where?" Midoriya asked, and Uraraka carefully pushed his hand in the right direction.
"Right… there," Uraraka told him. His finger now pointed toward the star Vega. Of course, when Uraraka had guided his hand, she noticed other constellations in the sky. Giddily, she pointed up at a new one.
"A-and over there you can see Serpens. While Draco should be… down by the horizon," Uraraka explained, while Midoriya watched attentively next to her. Curiosity covered his face as Uraraka continued to point out constellations. Over there was Hercules, Corona Borealis, and Ophiuchus. There were just so many constellations to see and find. But then that gave Uraraka pause.
"Wait… you're messing with me!" Uraraka exclaimed, causing Midoriya to briefly freeze.
"...What makes you think that?" Midoriya replied cautiously, only confirming Uraraka's suspicions.
"Oh, I don't know, Mister Trained Soldier," Uraraka replied quickly, while folding her arms together, "I'da thunk using the stars as a map was part of your training."
"...Some of it," Midoriya replied, and Uraraka saw him slowly smile bashfully.
"I knew it!" Uraraka again exclaimed, while Midoriya nervously chuckled next to her.
"I-I'm sorry, just… I like it when you get all… dorky," Midoriya explained, now causing Uraraka to freeze. Her cheeks slowly turned red, while Midoriya began to sit up.
"It's nice," Midoriya told her, as Uraraka noticed a tinge of red now on his face. Somehow, that only made her blush more. He… he liked listening to her… why did he have to be so perfect? Why did he have to be so caring and kind? Why… Why did she have to form a crush on him? Nervously, Uraraka smiled back, as a new thought struck her.
"Dorky, you say?" Uraraka asked, as she too sat up. With one hand, she pointed directly toward his face and smiled cheekily.
"Pot, meet kettle," Uraraka commented, while still smiling. If she was dorky, then so was he. And if Midoriya liked how dorky she was, well, the flip side was also true.
"Heh, yeah," Midoriya replied, while nervously chuckling. From there, both teens went quiet, as they stared back up at the sky. The only sound for miles was the cool breeze of the wind or the faint chirping of some bugs. Slowly, time dragged on, and Uraraka felt herself begin to yawn again.
"It's… getting late," Uraraka began to say, before yawning, "Should we…"
As she trailed off, she motioned to the tent behind them. Midoriya nodded back, before he too yawned.
"Yeah," Midoriya replied tiredly, while reaching for his backpack. Soon, he began to fish inside it for his stuff. Uraraka did the same, grabbing her nearby backpack. Though she paused for a moment, her eyes went over the hole torn into it. That rhino had been a very close call; it was good that the only thing damaged was her backpack. Opening the backpack up, she began to rifle through her belongings.
Not much was brought along. Just some dental products, and some desperately needed spare clothes. Not the fatigues Midoriya had brought along, actual clothes. Because while sleeping in their dirty fatigues was an option, it wasn't one Uraraka actually wanted to go through with. Especially when they didn't need to in the first place. So Uraraka grabbed the first plain shirt she could find, and pulled it out…
That's uh… that's a big hole… Uraraka didn't remember this shirt having a hole before. Looking into the bag, Uraraka spotted exactly where her clothes were piled up. They sat on top of her sleeping bag and… right next to the… hole… the hole the rhino made… oh…
"Uh… Midoriya," Uraraka said worriedly, before glancing over to the other teen. Hearing his name, Midoriya looked back at her quickly, with a toothbrush already in his mouth and his clothes already changed. Instead of his fatigues, he wore some plain black comfy shorts and a white t-shirt with the word… word, written on it.
"Hmm?" Midoriya questioned with a mumble.
"There may be a problem," Uraraka told him, while slowly holding up her backpack. Looking into the bag again, she followed the hole and mentally traced everything that would have been damaged. With how things were stacked, pretty much all her shirts were ruined. Most of her spare pants were fine, but a lot of those were torn up, too. Everything else was thankfully fine.
"That rhino from earlier tore up some of my stuff," Uraraka eventually explained, while still looking over everything. Her food was fine, her equipment was fine, the medical supplies were fine… all of that stuff was fine.
"Oh… shoot," Midoriya soon replied, before walking toward her to get a better look at the backpack, "What got torn up?"
"Some of my spare clothes…" Uraraka replied, her eyes still looking over everything. Slowly, though, she grabbed the sleeping bag stuck at the bottom. Pulling it out, Uraraka saw that the thing was torn up worse than her shirts were. Those had been speared clean through. The sleeping bag, meanwhile, had nearly a dozen gashes on it. Due to how it had been folded, the rhino's horn had ended up stabbing through the top, middle, and bottom of the bag simultaneously.
"And my sleeping bag," Uraraka muttered tiredly. And things had been going so well… It was fine. They still had a tent, and they were in Nigeria, during the summer. It wasn't like the night was frigid. Then again, the ground wasn't warm. The weather also called for rain at one point in the night, so that likely wouldn't help things. It was fine. She's gone through worse than this. It was what Uraraka was about to say, before she noticed Midoriya thinking something over.
"...You can borrow some of my stuff, if you want," Midoriya cautiously offered, "I've got some spare shirts you could use. And I don't need the sleeping bag."
"Oh no, I couldn't. I don't want to take it from you. It's your stuff," Uraraka quickly told him. She already bothered him with enough things before. But of course, Midoriya just waved it off. Without a second thought, he grabbed his backpack and started going through his stuff.
"It's fine," Midoriya told her with a smile. Continuing to look through his bag, Midoriya shuffled through his extra clothes. Only to come to a slow stop, as he held up his fingers and counted.
"One for her, one for me… then tomorrow would be another one for her and one for me…" Midoriya muttered to himself, as he furrowed his brow, "I'm not going to have enough shirts for the week…"
Cautiously, Uraraka saw him glance back at her. She knew some idea was running through his head. And Uraraka wasn't sure if she was going to like it. Not with how nervous Midoriya was looking at her. Then, before Uraraka could even protest, Midoriya grabbed the hem of his shirt and took it off. Instantly, Uraraka's mind went blank.
"You can take this one if you need," Midoriya said, while bashfully holding out his shirt. All while Uraraka's face turned into an apple. He was just so… muscly. Oh, that was such a dorky word choice. But Uraraka couldn't think of a better one. Instead, she looked over Midoriya carefully. It took a lot of strength to wrench her eyes away. Pull yourself together, Uraraka mentally yelled. I'm supposed to be better than this!
This is the kinda thing Mineta does! And I… I'm not some perve! He's my friend! Not some piece of eye candy for your amusement! Quit being rude! Quietly, Uraraka lambasted herself and forced her eyes to look anywhere else. Unfortunately, they landed on his face… his nervous, bashful, concerned… dorky… adorable… cute face. Her face still a bit red, Uraraka quickly grabbed the shirt he was offering, and practically booked it into the tent.
"T-t-t-thank y-y-you," was the only response she gave, before zipping it closed, and slowly changing clothes. Putting the shirt on gave Uraraka a brief moment of calm, for one sole reason. It was bigger than she was expecting. It didn't look that big on Midoriya, but now it fits her almost like an overly sized hoodie. It felt… kinda nice actually. A bit baggy, but hey, what was she going to do?
Not to mention she was… she was uh… wearing her crush's shirt… And like that, she was back to being as red as a tomato. Swiftly, her hands moved up, practically slapping her, as they covered her red cheeks. Now changed, Uraraka waited a few seconds before stepping out of the tent again. While she did this, Midoriya had begun to pull his sleeping bag from his backpack.
Seeing Uraraka come out of the tent, he smiled at her and held the bag out. Cautiously, Uraraka grabbed it and looked the bag over. Then she looked back at Midoriya, the teen now putting out the fire and bringing the rest of their stuff into the tent. DD slowly walked inside it and plopped himself down near the entrance. As he did this, Uraraka's embarrassment slowly wore off, a new thought coming to her mind. They didn't bring any extra blankets with them.
There was a lot of equipment they had to bring along, and a lot they just couldn't. Blankets were one of the things they'd left behind. So… Midoriya would be sleeping shirtless, on the ground, without a sleeping bag… Uraraka didn't like that thought. Why should he be forced to give up all of this for her? It wasn't fair, not by a long shot. Slowly, Uraraka looked down at the sleeping bag she held.
It was a plain dark green and was wrapped up tightly into a roll. So the exact size wasn't fully clear… but… it seemed decently big. Not overly spacious, but big enough. Uraraka took a nervous deep breath but looked toward Midoriya, determined. He shouldn't have to suffer for her comfort.
"We could share the sleeping bag," Uraraka offered, now watching as Midoriya turned toward her. It took a moment for the words to register in his brain, but the second they did, his face lit up in a bright red blush.
"U-u-uh… n-no, it's fine, honestly. You don't need to-" Midoriya nervously began to tell her, only for Uraraka to walk up close to him. Maybe a bit too close for her liking, but right now, Uraraka didn't care.
"You shouldn't have to sleep on the cold ground," Uraraka told him, somewhat pleadingly. As she said this, a new plan came to her mind that would hopefully solve both their issues.
"Tomorrow we can head into town, we'll find a store, and we'll buy some more stuff," Uraraka explained calmly, while Midoriya quietly thought over her logic. It would give them both a chance to get some extra gear, and Uraraka wouldn't have to steal all of his stuff. And now that Uraraka thought about it, they could probably stop by a restaurant. They could get some actual breakfast instead of an MRE.
"We can handle it for one night," Uraraka told him, a nervous smile forming on her face. It was just one night. What harm would one night bring? Cautiously, Midoriya thought over the prospect, and Uraraka even heard him gulp nervously.
"I-If you say so," Midoriya reluctantly replied, causing Uraraka to smile widely. Stepping into the tent, Uraraka quickly unrolled the sleeping bag and placed it on the floor. With a somewhat nervous glance at Midoriya, she put on her sleeping gloves and hopped inside it. Behind her, Midoriya zipped the tent closed before nervously exhaling. Carefully, he got in next to her and slowly turned away. Probably for the best, Uraraka reasoned.
Though… she did feel kinda disappointed. Just… seeing him with those beefy arms… he was probably a great hugger. Again, her cheeks unknowingly turned red. With him so close, the two could just cuddle. And was that so wrong for Uraraka to want? His arms wrapped around her, the two of them close in the other's embrace… yes… of course it was wrong.
They both had dreams they wanted to achieve, and Uraraka couldn't get in the way of his… no matter how badly she wanted to. Slowly, she turned away from Midoriya, the two now back to back. With a small yawn, Uraraka heard Midoriya whisper behind her.
"Night, Uraraka," Midoriya told her, causing Uraraka to yawn back.
"Night," she replied, before closing her eyes tightly. From there, she felt sleep's embrace arrive surprisingly quickly. Her mind was filled with dreams so strange and random, she barely remembered what they were. But then her sleepy mind heard something. A slight shift of fabric rustling together. Hazily, Uraraka felt herself wake up. Tiredly, she blinked, her eyes adjusting to the darkness of the tent.
Confused as to why she woke up, Uraraka slowly looked around with half-closed eyes. Outside, rain pattered against the tent in a slow rhythm. So with nothing happening, Uraraka began to close her eyes again. Only for the rustling sound to come back. Now awake, Uraraka felt the tug of the sleeping bag as Midoriya shifted next to her. He turned himself around, his closed eyes now lined up with the back of Uraraka's head.
"M-Midoriya?" Uraraka asked quietly, hearing the teen shift in the bag again. A tired "Hmm" was the only response she got. He's still asleep, Uraraka thought to herself tiredly. The noise was just him, she rationalized. Again, she closed her eyes, ready to go back to sleep. And again, she felt the tug of the sleeping bag as Midoriya moved. This time, his arms unknowingly moved around her.
Uraraka suddenly felt very awake as she noticed the new weight wrapped around her. Tiredly, Midoriya had pulled her in close.
"...Mom…" he muttered tiredly, his tone too quiet to be awake, but it gave Uraraka pause the moment she heard the word. Quietly, Uraraka remembered their time on the beach together, back when she first learned he was in disguise. His mom… his mom was dead. Through just a simple mutter, his tone was filled with so much sorrow. So much longing. It tugged at Uraraka's heartstrings.
Seconds after he muttered it, Uraraka found Midoriya hugging her just a little tighter. He pulled her a little closer. Knowing this, Uraraka turned around as quietly as possible. She moved as little as she could, hoping she wouldn't stir Midoriya awake. Looking over his tired face, Uraraka thought to herself for a moment. Midoriya likely didn't know it was a dream… but… he'd probably like it if he got a hug back.
It might not be from his mom… but he didn't need to know that. Maybe just… a little bit of cuddling wouldn't hurt. Yeah, Uraraka rationalized. So with a quiet grace, Uraraka reached out and wrapped her arms around him. The action made Midoriya pull her closer. Faintly, Uraraka smiled. It… it was nice. It felt warm… cozy being next to him. With a tired yawn, Uraraka closed her eyes again and heard Midoriya mutter "Mom" one last time.