The warm water of the bath was a welcome refuge to Souta's whole body. It wasn't that his muscles really ached anymore, since Super regeneration took care of that problem shortly after it could happen, just that it all made relaxing a lot easier after a day of real hero work.
He sank lower, letting the steam envelop him, his mind was already replaying the day's patrol and reflecting on his actions and mistakes.
An immediate thought; Mirko's training methods were undeniably… direct. "Crude," even, by some standards.
Yet, he couldn't deny their effectiveness. Needing to rely solely on his physical prowess and ice, finding his own rhythm on the ground, learning to use more than just what he alone could do, had pushed him in ways his usual overpowering combat style never could.
It was taxing, at the time, but it was helping him in making use of a different kind of strength, with a more fundamental understanding of his body's capabilities with One For All as the foundation of it all.
His thoughts began to drift a bit, something that tended to occur when he was tired and he was able to really put his guard down. Memories, somehow most of them sharp and vivid but tinged with an odd sense of detachment, flickered at the edges of his consciousness.
They weren't really his, yet by now they were inextricably woven into the fabric of who he was. And who he was becoming
He couldn't help but ponder about the divergences again.
Toya, his eldest brother, was here, a person that appeared more and more in those memories with the time, a crazy psychopath openly killing dozens of people, was now cooking in the dorms, became a lifeline for Fuyumi and Natsuo, and a true parental figure for Souta. This was just too much of a contrast, here in this world, compared to that murderous villain who had appeared in those other memories.
Then there were the smaller, but still apparent changes in his own world. Based on those lingering recollections, his Class, 1-A, was different. Minoru Mineta and Mashirao Ojiro, names and faces clear in his mind's eye from those other memories, as well as his own, simply disappeared from the overall picture. Well, in the latter's case he was taken from the school after what had happened to him.
Sometimes, Souta couldn't help but question if it was even the same world, or if those memories were about something else. These thoughts never lasted long though, as most other things had remained the same.
He needed to accept that his own presence in this world, would inevitably bring change, the more he acted out in the open. Souta knew that because he appeared and took one of the class's spots,Mineta was not able to get into the Hero Course, if into U.A. at all.
But then there was also Ojiro. Someone who had now a completely different life compared to those memories. Just because he was here?
Some other details were blurred, of course; it wasn't as if he possessed a perfect, photographic recall of a life he hadn't fully lived.
It was precisely for these instances of uncertainty, these potential changes and deviations, that he maintained a notebook. Hidden deep within his belongings back home, it contained concisely written entries detailing the most major events he remembered, the truly critical junctures.
It was a dangerous record; he could never adequately explain its contents if discovered and deciphered. To mitigate that risk, he'd made it deliberately opaque. Major plots were noted with minimal detail, often just keywords or cryptic phrases, and, crucially, written in a chaotic mix of different languages and even writing styles.
Before the influx of these memories, such a feat would have been impossible. But they had come with echoes of skills, including an unexpected fluency in several tongues. Japanese was his native language, and he'd had a decent grasp of English from his schooling in this life.
But the memories gifted him near-native fluency in German and Spanish as well as some skills in French. It appeared the person whose memories he inherited – reawakened? – had spent a significant amount of time traveling, immersing themselves in languages and cultures before… before being confined, seemingly trapped in a hospital for a long period.
Souta tried to make use of as much of every useful fragment as he could.
A ripple in the bathwater as he shifted brought him back to the present. He glanced at his phone, resting on a small stool beside the tub. 22:45. He'd been soaking and lost in thought for longer than intended and needed to sleep soon to still receive his needed rest.
With a sigh, he pulled himself out of the cooling water, dried off, and tidied the bathroom a bit, a habit ingrained from years of shared living. He headed to his spartan room, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up.
---
In her own room down the hall, Mirko was also still awake, though she wished she wasn't. Her current condition, the damn Quirk-induced sensitivity, kept her more antsy and restless than usual, sleep proving elusive. She did some light stretches, trying to work off the excess energy, then flopped onto her bed with an inward groan.
She thanked whatever deities might be listening that the week was already more than half over. Wednesday was done. Just Thursday and Friday remained of the internship. She could manage that. Probably. Dealing with those extremely heightened senses, all while trying to be an acceptable hero coach was truly testing her limits.
---
It took a while longer, but eventually, all the lights in Mirko's quiet residential house dimmed. Outside, the city hummed its own nocturnal song, but within, its two current inhabitants, mentor and intern, finally managed to succumbed to sleep.
---
Thursday morning's training session had been as grueling as the last – of his own accord, of course. He could always increase the percentage of his full cowling, but wanted better control.
Today's ban?
Souta's ice abilities for the day.
He'd been forced to rely on his Full Cowling for his movement and his blue flames for the combat part, a combination that was powerful but lacked the fine control and utility his ice often provided.
Of course, with the ice banned for the day, withstanding the heat of the flames took more out of him. He had also by now noticed a slight misunderstanding he was under initially. It wasn't as if the fire quirk of his brother had no fire resistance, just that it took time to grow and reach acceptable limits.
During a water break amidst the wreckage of what used to be a training square, Mirko had just finished stretching. "So, Axiom Peak, where are we taking the chaos today? Any preferences, or should I pick a random dot on the map again?"
Souta had paused, then said, "Hosu City, if it's alright with you, Mirko-san."
She'd raised an eyebrow. "Hosu? Been a bit of a hotspot, these last two weeks, if I remember right. Any particular reason?"
"Just a feeling," Souta had replied, his expression unreadable.
Mirko shrugged. "Alright, 'a feeling' is as good as any other reason. Hosu can always use more heroes kicking villain ass. Let's go."
-----
Now, it was just shy of 10:00. They were on a bullet train, about halfway to Hosu, the landscape blurring past. The two had opted for the bullet train, because of the distance between both cities.
Right now, Souta was reviewing some hero law case studies on his phone when he abruptly stiffened. The phone clattered from his suddenly numb fingers.
Mirko, who had been observing the passing scenery with restless energy, noticed his sudden change immediately. She looked back at him, her usual challenging grin faltering. "Kid? What's wrong?"
Souta didn't seem to hear her. His eyes were wide, unfocused, staring at the empty air just in front of him. His heterochromatic pupils were visibly shaking, darting frantically as if watching some unseen, horrifying event unfold. A sheen of cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
"Axiom Peak!" Mirko's voice cut through, sharper this time, laced with genuine concern. "Souta! Snap out of it!"
Her voice finally seemed to penetrate the haze. Souta blinked hard, his gaze snapping back to her, then to his surroundings, a look of dawning horror and desperate urgency on his face. "Sorry," he mumbled, already fumbling for his phone, his hands trembling slightly. "No time... I need to..."
He scrolled rapidly through his contacts and hit call. It rang twice, a lifetime in the sudden tension, before it was picked up.
"H-hello?" Midoriya's slightly breathless voice came through.
"Midoriya!" Souta almost shouted, his usual calm completely shattered. "Where are you right now? Are you in Hosu City? By any chance, are you in Hosu City right now?" His words tumbled out, frantic. "And your friend – the one we talked about – what was your decision?"
There was a moment of stunned silence from Midoriya's end, then, "S-Souta-kun? Yes, I'm in Hosu with Gran Torino-sensei! And my friend... I decided I have to try and stop him, and if I can't, I'll help him, but in the right way. The way a hero should!"
A wave of immense relief washed over Souta, so potent it almost made him sag. "Good. That's good." His voice regained some of its focus, now sharp with command. "Midoriya, listen to me very carefully. Find Iida. Find him now. It's a matter of minutes, maybe less. He's in mortal danger."
The fluster in Midoriya's voice vanished, replaced by a steely focus that mirrored Souta's own urgency. Souta wasn't one for jokes or melodrama; if he said this, it was deadly serious. "I understand, Souta-kun. I'm moving now!"
"Keep your comms open if you can, and continue to share your location with me, I'll send reinforcements if I can!" Souta urged, then hung up.
Midoriya was already scrambling, explaining the situation in rushed, clipped sentences to a skeptical but observant Gran Torino – not even thinking much about the last part of the call.
The old hero, seeing the genuine terror and resolve in the boy All Might had chosen, and recalling the boy's unusual progress with One For All, decided to trust his protégé's instincts.
Souta, meanwhile, didn't pause. His fingers flew across his phone again, dialing another number.
"Yo! Souta! What's up, man?" Kirishima's cheerful voice answered.
"Kirishima," Souta cut in, his tone leaving no room for pleasantries. "Emergency. Life and death. We don't have time, just answer."
The cheerfulness in Kirishima's voice evaporated instantly. "Understood. What do you need?"
"Your current location. Exact and right now."
"Uh, okay, I'm in..." Kirishima rattled off an address in a city several prefectures away.
Souta listened, a silent curse forming on his lips. Too far. "Okay, got it. Stay put if you can. Don't move from that spot." He hung up, leaving a very confused and suddenly very serious Kirishima on the other end.
"Alright, intern," Mirko finally spoke, her voice dangerously low, her arms crossed, red eyes narrowed. She had been watching his frantic calls with a mixture of annoyance and growing alarm. "You want to tell me what in the goddamn hell is going on? And why you're ordering your classmates around as if you're going to war?" She was, of course, referring to the two phone calls, both of them would appear too weird to be a joke to anyone who heard them.
Souta paused, taking a deep breath, forcing himself to meet her furious gaze. "Mirko-san, it's an emergency. A critical one involving my classmates. I don't have time to explain fully." He looked her straight in the eye. "I need you to trust my judgment on this, just for a little while. And I need full freedom for my next actions." To underscore the gravity, he added, "To make it on time, we will need my… contingency."
Mirko stared at him, her jaw tight. The mention of his "contingency" – that weird distortion that had saved her life in the bank – gave her pause. She knew that Souta appeared to have some secrets, but beyond those secrets, was real fire power, that she was sure of. He also hadn't steered her wrong yet, and the raw urgency in his voice was undeniably concerning. With a frustrated growl, she finally nodded. "Fine. But this better be damn good, Axiom Peak."
The next second, a swirling vortex of black and deep purple mist, unnervingly familiar to Souta but shocking to Mirko, tore open the air in front of him. It stabilized into a dark, pulsating gate.
Souta gestured towards it. "This way. Quickly."
Mirko, despite her shock at the sudden, impossible portal, didn't hesitate. She trusted her gut, and her gut said the kid wasn't bluffing.
Both of them stepped through.
They emerged into a busy street, right beside a bewildered Eijiro Kirishima and a very large, very round Pro Hero who could only be Fat Gum. Both were staring at the newly arrived duo as if they'd sprouted third arms.
Fat Gum recovered first, his usually cheerful face serious. "Whoa there! Kirishima here just filled me in that his pal called about something life-or-death. Didn't expect a house call, especially not like that!"
Souta wasted no more time. "Hosu City. Now." He focused again, and another, larger warp gate ripped open before them, this one showing a chaotic, smoke-filled street he recognized from news reports and his own unsettling premonitions. He gestured them all forward. "Let's go."
And together, the unusual group stepped through into the heart of the storm.
-----
Alright, i will continue the story in a similar direction as before with some slight changes, while trying to lessen the impact from ai drastically. If i have the time, i will also be starting to work on slowly improving the extreme ai made chapters.
Thanks for your patience ;)