A/N [4/4/2020] : Final Chapter! Let's gooooooo! No Beta, and I'm tired, so there's bound to be mistakes.

I hope you're all keeping safe and healthy and WASHING YOUR HANDS!

LATE HERO ACADEMIA

CHAPTER TEN

THE FUTURE

All in all, things were... well…Hajime couldn't really complain, for once. She'd finally cleared the air (kind of) with her parents, now knew she had two younger siblings, and that she could hold her own in a knife fight. She knew that she wanted nothing to do with the former, and nothing short of needing a miraculous kidney transplant or something would ever get her and her siblings together in the same room again. She also knew for certain that the people currently crowding Enso's shop floor were people she could depend on.

The group had looked at one another for a minute or two, then collectively shrugged their shoulders at Miwa and Hajime's family drama. What family drama? Who needed that? Why not just have more cake? Perhaps it was uncharacteristically polite of them all not to pry, but they didn't. In their eyes, and Hajime's own, the debacle was over and done with.

Hajime moved on with her life. Tried to ignore what was to come in the next few weeks and filled her time with helping Miwa. Heck, she even helped others. Supply runs to the shop were littered with good deeds.

So, she tripped a man with her stupidly long, strong legs while he fled from the woman whose purse he'd stolen? So what.

So, she helped a child fetch their lost ball from a tree in the park? That didn't mean anything, people helped (annoying) kids out all the time.

She chalked it down to random acts of kindness stemming from the disruption of the last eight weeks in her life. (What Hajime failed to notice was the gratitude of those she helped, nor did she see the growing number of thoughtful gazes of those witnessing her kindness.)

So, while Hajime couldn't complain—she'd surrounded herself with lunatics, Miwa would tear the planet asunder in her defence, and did she mention the knife fight?—things didn't quite feel right. There were two weeks left in the Mature Heroics course before they 'graduated' and moved on with their lives. Things were getting real.

While sat on the train with Hiro before their penultimate class, Hajime gasped dramatically in realisation.

"What is it? Did you forget something?" queried the teen.

Hajime shook her head. Other than her phone, apartment keys, and some pocket change, she never brought anything big with her to class. She disliked cross-body bags on general because the strap would dig in over her chest, and carrying things meant effort, so she generally crammed everything she needed into a dinky wristlet or her pockets.

Hajime never carried a notebook with her during MH classes. It wasn't the type of class you took notes it, honestly. More so a lecture full of life lessons from the most jaded man in existence.

"I just realised something that goes against every fibre of my moral being and I hate myself for acknowledging it."

"Oh." Hiro blinked. "Is that really a bad thing though?"

Yes, it was, because Hajime had come to the sickening conclusion that once this was all over, she'd be lonely. That she was enjoying herself. She wasn't sure when those feelings had crept up on her and burrowed in deep, but they were there to stay now, and she was desperately wishing that wasn't the case.

After university it had been easy to accept her degree certificates and have a few photos taken. She'd made friends, sort of, with the people she house-shared with, but they weren't close or anything. Hajime hadn't spoken or seen any of her fellow alumni since they'd graduated, and she hadn't minded it. But if the MH Class scattered to the winds Hajime would feel something inside of her aching for their return. Because she would miss them. There she was, eight weeks into a course she had vowed to hate with every bone in her body, worrying about the people she would miss once it was all over.

Hiro was waiting on her answer. Hajime blinked back some of the wetness in her eyes and shook her head. "I… I guess not?"

She trailed after Hiro, disembarked the train, and then made the ten-minute powerwalk to Yuuei from the station. (It was the only way to avoid being late, but walking that quickly played havoc to your calves…)

They made it just in the nick of time, though Aizawa narrowed his eyes at the pair from the other end of the hall as they slipped into the MH classroom. He was moving quicker than usual, and they'd only just avoided being tardy because recently their teacher had realised his beloved yellow sleeping bag could split at the bottom into two little booty-things—for Aizawa, getting from the staff room to teaching wasn't such a chore anymore if he could travel in relative comfort.

Hajime didn't quite know how to classify The Thing Aizawa was inside; not quite a full-footed article of baby clothing, not a hazmat suit, nor truly a sleeping bag. The Thing was an amalgamation of all three. It also gave Aizawa no excuse to remove himself from cosy contentment. Yes, he stripped himself of his yellow cocoon while he was teaching but would immediately dive back into The Thing whenever he could. He'd look pleased as punch whenever he did. Perhaps it wasn't so much a 'Thing' and more of a 'Haven'

Hajime and Hiro were already in their seats by the time Aizawa had extracted himself and his clipboard register from the Haven. Hajime grinned as cheerfully as she could manage at him, knowing that it irked him that they were both scraping by in punctuality.

Aizawa didn't really need to call for their names any longer. They were a small class to begin with, and at this point in the Mature Heroics course it was easier to pick out who wasn't here than to ask who was.

"You know what this week is," Aizawa began gruffly. His fingers riffled through the looping scarves around his neck, tweaking their position against his neck and chest with the fastidiousness of a raven adjusting their plumage. "There's not going to be a lot teaching done today, and I wasn't sure how I wanted to go through with this."

He'd spelled it out for them last week: choose to undergo further training and become a Pro Hero or find a day job if you didn't have one already. Hajime, apart from her concerns about loneliness, hadn't put much thought into making a decision. Naturally she was inclined to say 'No, ta' and move on with her life, but there were blurry memories of her post-Sports Festival stay in Recovery Girl's med bay that were bothering Hajime. Masaki had set the cat amongst the pigeons this time, and Hajime was finding it easier just to ignore the fact that she had to make a choice soon.

Normally Hajime wouldn't bat an eyelash at such trivialities. It had never been her aspiration to be a Hero. She hadn't looked up to them as a child and she didn't favour them as an adult. But there was something that Masaki had said which was niggling her; he'd spouted on about being in a position to help people who can't help themselves, and it had struck a chord with Hajime.

She was someone who, more than two months ago, couldn't help herself. Now she was holding her own in a Quirk-predominant environment. Hajime was, and she dreaded the thought as soon as it entered her mind, in a position where she could help others now. So… should she?

Aizawa was still talking while Hajime had her horrifying little epiphany. "This is how we're going to do things; I've got print outs waiting for me at the office, so while I go and collect them, clear this room of your desks. Push and stack them at the back of the room, then take your chairs and set them in the corridor outside. However, leave two chairs inside. I'll need those."

Before anyone else could ask about why chairs were necessary for the corridor, he said, "You'll be sat outside reading the handouts, and these one-on-ones are likely going to take our whole session. You'd better sit down. In fact, I'm going to grab a coffee before I come back, so go and get yourselves something once you're done with clearing the room; we'll be going in order of your seat numbers, so the first five of you better get moving."

With that, Aizawa had clambered back into his Haven and was waddling away. Sentaro, Washi, Hitomi and Komori (hand in hand and totally loved up), and Hiro followed after their teacher. They were the first five students to receive interviews. The rest of the MH students set to work shifting tables and chairs.

Everyone looked a little bit worried, despite their easy smiles and complacent chatter. Hajime had expected more speculation from some of the more vivacious students about who was going to dive into Heroics. Hideaki and Suge were known to nose into conversations or offer bold opinions, yet today they were quiet and reflective. Suge seemed rather distracted as she tried to shift her desk around, if Hajime was interpreting the distant look on the older woman's face correctly.

Hajime kept watch as Suge helped to move the first few interviewees desks too.

Suge would have Ichi and Ni wrap tightly around the metal frames of the classroom chairs in order to lift them effectively. Sometimes her hand-snakes would lose their grip, and Suge would struggle to keep her hold on the seat. Sometimes it drooped low enough to graze the top of her foot. Sometimes Souma (who could easily lift a stack of chairs with his muscular frame) would grab the chair before it could slip from Suge's grasp and gently prise it away from her.

He thought he was being helpful, but Hajime clocked the irritated sneer her older friend shot at Souma's back.

Suge, like Hajime, had most likely faced her inabilities with a blasé attitude for most of her life. Hajime certainly did, because she was past caring about what people thought of her—because people would always hurt you in the end and it was better not to show them they could hurt you. That didn't mean that Suge was happy with what her body could and couldn't do: she'd never use chopsticks the way that able-bodied people would expect. Lace up shoes were a no-no. Trying to shift furniture that couldn't be heaved about with shunts from her hips and legs was difficult, especially if there was a precise affordance needed to do so.

Hajime could see why Suge looked frustrated. She wanted to do something herself despite herself.

It made Hajime wonder though (not including her own ignored dilemma) if many of her classmates would go ahead with an internship. Suge had always struck Hajime as a barely contained whirlwind; always moving, always smiling, always chatting, never running out of steam. Suge would make a great Hero because of her winning personality and perseverance alone, but was that enough when you became frustrated at your body's abilities and how others perceived you?

The chairs were all in the hallway, bar two. The students had, intuitively, lined themselves up in numerical seat order. The first five students had returned bearing snacks. Aizawa had his coffee and a stack of staple-bound printouts containing dull Pro Hero Legislature and a rough overview of what internships included.

The time to decide was nigh, and Hajime was just a tightly wrapped up in her denial as ever.

Hajime flinched whenever the classroom door opened and someone walked in or out.

Sentaro had seemed mutely smug once Aizawa had released him from the interview. So had Washi. Hajime took it as a sign that they were both going ahead with the initial plan to become Pro Heroes.

"He's going to look up potential Pros who are interested in taking us on for internships," Washi had told the others. For once, Sentaro didn't grumble when Washi spoke; the older man had only been telling the truth after all. They had strong Quirks and would no doubt have an abundance of offers.

Hitomi and Komori were a different story altogether.

"May we come in together?" Hitomi asked their teacher, clutching tightly to Komori's hand with her own. "It's just, we have a plan, but we'd like to discuss it with you if you don't mind?"

Hajime was torn.

All of these people, who'd she'd disliked and dismissed, were getting on with their lives. Whether that was stepping up to the plate or returning to the occupations they had prior to this mad experience, or even opening up to new experiences. Her classmates were moving on while Hajime was still stationary.

Everyone was curious about what Hitomi and Komori had discussed. While Hiro was called into the dreaded room, they explained their plan.

"Our relationship is very new, but we work well together," said Komori. "We're thinking of setting up a business together: I'm good at finding things and Hitomi can see your future, though only a little-"

"What my better half-" (Komori scoffed) "-better half, I mean it, meant to say, is that our Quirks are useful in stable ways. We're hoping to set up an agency that works alongside Pro Heroes, the Police, and the general public and aid them in any way we can. We're not Pros, we're not the authorities, we're just freelancers, I guess?"

"It sounds interesting." Souma did, for once, sound interested. "But what exactly would you be doing?"

"Whatever needs doing, we guess? Private investigation work mainly? Komori can find objects if they resonate metallically or can be pinpointed by the metals she senses—sort of like how negative space works in art, it draws your attention to what's really there?" (No one really understood what she meant by that, but they nodded along supportively). "I can anticipate what our clients need, or how they'll react to open negotiation with my Quirk. So, I'll be the one dealing with them while Komori does most of the leg work."

The door slid open. Hajime winced. Again.

"You've made the right choice, Hiro." Aizawa clamped a hand on the teen's shoulder before ushering Souma in for his interview.

Hiro licked his lips, eyes darting between his peers' questioning looks. "I'm, I'm not doing it. I entered the Support Department to make support items for Heroes, and I'm going to keep doing that. One day… m-maybe, if it's not too late, I, er might change my mind…"

"There's nothing wrong with turning it down," Nanako told him. "That's what I'm doing."

"Me too," muttered Subako. In a growling voice much like the warning buzz of a swarm of wasps, they continued; "I might have a Quirk suited to this kind of work, but I'm not suited to it."

Tsuchiko shifted in her seat. She wound her arm around the crook of her fiancé's elbow. "Actually, we've both decided to take a step back."

"Mm," Call-me-Bob agreed. "We signed up thinking it would be cool to be a couple who work together, but honestly, just getting married is going to be work enough." Tsuchiko's hold on him intensified. "It's not a bad thing, but why should we throw the added stress of Heroics into married life?"

Tsurutsuru and Hideaki had jobs and prior commitments, so therefore saw no point in following Sentaro, Washi, and a newly released Souma into Pro Heroism. Nanako and Tsurutsuru's interviews were short. Suge was called into the room next.

Hajime wondered what her friend was planning to do. If only she could be a fly on the wall during her and Aizawa's conversation.

"So, let me get this straight," Aizawa rasped, tapping his pen against his clipboard, which rested precariously against his knee while he crossed his legs. A quick sip of lukewarm coffee soothed the scratchiness in his throat. "You don't want to go into Heroics, but you want to be someone's hero."

"That'sss not what I ssssaid," Suge replied in agitation. Her pronunciation slipped a little as her frustration shone through. She glanced around the room restlessly, trying to get her thoughts in order.

She thought she'd made up her mind, that she'd be doing the right thing if she became a Pro Hero, but what use was another gimmicky Hero if Suge could be making a difference elsewhere? There had to be thousands—tens of thousands!— of kids and adults who struggled like she did because of their Quirk. What about those who didn't have Quirks, too?

Suge had thought a lot about this over the past week. She knew Hajime, knew what the early years of her life had been like, and Suge hated what her friend had experienced. Suge was also dispassionate about the limitations of her Quirk. While she'd never wish to Ichi and Ni to simply vanish (she'd never wish for that), there were times when having hands—actual, functioning, tactile hands with opposable thumbs—would be better than two snakes.

She'd come to terms with her Quirk though. Finally. After many years of frustration and rejection. But Suge was thirty-two. She had more than a quarter of a century's worth of dealing with ableist bullshit to know that adding a Hero with snake-hands to the roster wouldn't make a lick of difference.

Someone with political nous, who could work the field and liaison with governments, Pro Heroes, and the public (like Komori and Hitomi had said earlier) was invaluable. The world needed more mediation, and Suge Yato had decided she was going to be the one to galvanise people's outdated ways of thinking.

"I think," Aizawa drawled, once Suge had stiltedly told him of her plans, "that you're going to trounce the world."

"Aww, Senssssei, you flatterer."

It wasn't long before Hajime was being called in to Aizawa's makeshift interview room, but she stubbornly refused to move from her seat int eh corridor.

"I'm sorry, I'm, er, still trying to make up my mind. Would it be okay for me to be called in later?"

Aizawa ground his teeth together slightly but agreed. "You have until I'm finished with Hotai, and no longer."

Hajime had, at most, forty-five minutes until she made up her mind. Ignoring the worried glance of the others, she fished her phone out of her pocket and made her way outside. She needed some advice and knew exactly who to call. The problem was, would they even pick up?

Staring at Masaki's details in her contact list dazedly, Hajime's finger hovered over the call button. She gnawed at her lower lip. Something didn't feel right. She put her phone back into her pocket. Scrubbed her hands through her hair.

She really didn't know what to do. It would be so easy to just go back to what she was doing before. Employed via nepotism by Miwa as a shop assistant and sometimes-model. It would be very easy, if she put the effort in, for Hajime to scour advertisements for another, better-paying job (though whether she would get said job thanks to her Quirklessness would be another matter). It would not, however, be easy to waltz into that interview room and tell Aizawa she was actually insane and had mixed opinions about spandex.

Hajime thought of Masaki again.

She couldn't really remember what he'd said to her, back in the infirmary. Just that he'd looked sad over what she'd said, which, coincidentally, Hajime didn't remember saying either. It had Hajime thinking though. Why was he disappointed? Had she told him about how scared she was to go any further? Had she been arrogant?

Hajime paced back and forth, hand brushing against the pocket her phone was snuggled in. Realistically, if she called Masaki now, he'd likely be on duty. Manual was a lower-ranked but beloved Hero; he was kind, willing to help everyone.

It was admirable, Hajime supposed, that one person could be so selfless. She wasn't sure she could be the same way if it came down to it. Manual kept on giving and giving, and from what Hajime had witnessed he didn't expect anything in return. No mention of ratings, not wanting to be the best. Just wanting to help people. The question was, who helped Manual—who helped Masaki—when selflessness wasn't enough?

"Itou, I thought I told you that you had until I was finished with Hotai?" Hajime startled. Where had her time gone? As if he could read her thoughts, Aizawa said, "Takahashi and Usakichi came in together, and Hotai didn't take long to make up their mind. I'm waiting on you now, Itou. Clocks ticking."

"Ma made a decision already?"

Aizawa snorted. "Hotai has been dead-set on being a Hero since week one, what did you expect?"

That made sense. Ma had a vision; they wanted their children to be able to look up to 'Mummy Man', and making that reality was what had led Ma into participating in the Mature Heroics course. Their young children were beginning to start nursery school soon, so Ma could feasibly work day patrols during school hours until the twins were older and able to care for themselves.

"C'mon Itou, it's not so difficult. You don't even have to tell them what you want to do. Keep it to yourself for all I care," said Aizawa, steering her back in the direction of the MH classroom. "It's as simple as 'Yes' or 'No'. Don't think, just answer. Hajime Itou, do you want to be a Pro Hero?"

Her answer had him smiling like a mad man.

"Welcome to Week Ten." Aizawa looked tired.

That was not to say that he never looked tired, in fact, exhausted seemed to be his default expression. Any opportunity to sneak a nap was taken, but today… today he exuded the energy of a man who was beyond sleep. It was manic; the picture of someone desperate for a snooze, but propping their eyelids open with matchsticks because who needed sleep if you could mainline coffee for forty-eight hours?

It was sort of worrying. Hajime expected him to collapse at any second.

"I've called in a lot of favours this past week. Be grateful." The MH Class nodded. As if they were going to agitate a person already on the edge. "Here's how we're going to do things today: those of you who declined and have prior employment or commitments, you will be the support team for your peers who are seeking employment or need advice. Those of you who are seeking… different avenues, I've arranged for a guest to speak with you. And for those of you aspiring to be Pros, I again have another guest ready to lead you through persona creation and internships."

Washi raised a hand and waited politely (that was something Hajime never thought would happen, Washi Ofuda being polite of all things) for their teacher to acknowledge them. "Have we received offers or are we going to have to ask for suitable placements?"

"Some of you have received offers, thanks to the festival we held. Some of you are going to have to inquire about positions, or at least ask your guests if they have enough clout to wangle a placement for you."

The door to the MH Class slid open, and two very familiar presences slipped inside. The last Hajime had heard of Present Mic and Midnight, they had been screeching at the top of their lungs during her match with Minamoto. Excitedly at first, and then in horror, shortly followed by Midnight calmly taking the mic and requesting medical assistance in the field.

Sure enough, Midnight's eyes caught Hajime's, and a coy little smile was aimed at the latter.

Hajime scrubbed at her neck with the nail of her index finger. Was it getting hot in this classroom or was it just her?

"Yato, you're with Present Mic. Go… talk it out I guess?"

Suge stood from her desk, shoving her chair underneath it neatly with the side of her right calf. Present Mic grinned cheerily at the front of the room, waiting on her to make her way through the rows of other desks to him.

"How's coffee and a chat sound?" the Pro Hero asked.

"Fine by me, so long as you don't mind me recording our conversation." Suge glanced dramatically at Ichi and Ni. "I'm not a traditional note-taker."

Present Mic, cackling, allowed Suge to lead the way to the cafeteria.

Softly, Aizawa crouched down beside his lectern. He smacked his head against his folded knees once, flexed his fingers as they knotted themselves in his long scarf, and sighed. "This was a bad idea." He straightened up. "Midnight, take Minamoto, Ofuda, Souta, Hotai, and Itou… somewhere, please."

"With pleasure," she responded with a purr.

Whispers from the remaining MH students erupted throughout the room. Eyes followed Hajime Itou as she collected a small notebook and mechanical pencil from the surface of her desk and hurried from the classroom. She was followed by Ma, a leisurely-but-beaming Sentaro, a mildly surprised Washi, and an indifferent Souma.

"I had no idea she was going for it," Hideaki announced to the curious people in the room. While not as close to Hajime as Suge and Ma, they had been desk-mates for the better part of two months, which obviously meant that they'd connected. Hajime hadn't said anything after her interview with Aizawa, which the others assumed meant she was going back to civilian life after all.

Hardly surprising, given that she was Quirkless.

A small part of the MH Class, which had viewed Hajime holding her own throughout the Sports Festival, which knew what she had gone through as a child, and that had grown to know Hajime Itou as a person, had hoped that she would continue. It was a small, fragile belief that was easily overlooked in the grand scheme of things, especially when these were such frightening times.

That hope had kindled though; Hajime Itou had stood and would continue to stand alongside those considered the strongest in their class.

Souta, Minamoto, and Ofuda were monsters; cunning, powerful, and swift, respectively. Ma, not so much, but the unknown capabilities of their power made them a force to be reckoned with. So, Hajime standing alongside them was a welcome surprise. The MH Class would lend her their full support.

"Itou is a wildcard," Aizawa stated. "However untested she may be, she's adaptable enough to persevere. We all know now what she was capable of during the Sports Festival—when she's pushed—but what can she do of her own volition?"

It was a scary thought to think. The Quirkless minority had been overlooked because, well, they were Quirkless. Stereotypically, they had nothing to offer to society because of such deficiencies. Hajime had blown that well and truly out of the water a few weeks ago. Sure, she'd lost during a knife fight, but who would have thought a Quirkless person using logical solutions to Quirk-based problems could be such a stimulating thing?

Hajime was doling out her own brand of hope; she symbolised all that society thought was wrong but would in turn use that to her advantage to fight new wrongs. It was… humbling.

Meanwhile, Hajime had the sinking feeling that she'd made the wrong choice. She was unaware of the new admiration her peers (and a small selection of the general public) held for her, and ultimately more concerned by the fact that Midnight had led them to Yuuei's Support Department in order to talk costumes.

Hajime had, in wild abandon she'd killed almost as instantly as it had taken hold of her, thought of a suitable Hero name. What she didn't get was why it had to be such a big thing? Midnight was turning their guest lecture into a christening of sorts. Only, this christening had a lot more snacks, spandex, and sassiness than it did babies.

Their 'guest lecturer' for the day had already arranged internships for Souma, Sentaro, Ma, and Washi. Hajime was the odd woman out, she supposed. Souma had been assigned the Pro Hero: Wash. Both of their Quirks could physically manipulate elements, in turn damaging or lifting heavy items (such as people). It was rumoured that Wash could hold several people in the air with their Quirk, so Souma would have his work cut out in order to step his Quirk abilities up a notch.

Washi would be paired up with the traditional-looking enigma that was Yoroi Musha. Mayhaps their background and disciplined aspects of traditional culture would work in the favour of that particular mentorship.

Finally, Ma and Sentaro's mentor, the Pro Hero: Edgeshot, would be acquiring a hot-headed intern and a bandaged enigma. The latter had expressed interest in Minamoto due to the fact that they could both use their bodies as weaponry but was also intrigued by Ma's Quirk. Though Sentaro was limited by how quickly his hair would grow back in, he was skilled with he blades his hair could produce. Edgeshot used his body, quite literally, as a weapon; flattening and extending parts as necessary. They had a mutual respect for one another's proficiencies. Ma was an unknown, but powerful. Edgeshot dealt in secrecy and mystery—his aesthetic was that of a ninja—so what effect could someone possibly trained in the ninja arts have on a person with such a mysterious air?

What irked Hajime a little (more than she'd care to admit), was the fact that all of these Pros coming forward to claim her classmates were extremely popular. Top-ten ranked Heroes, in fact. It rankled Hajime a little that all of her, able-Quirked, male peers and Ma had internships lined up for them while she was going to have to do a little begging. Or rather, she'd sic Midnight on someone if she could stop herself from stuttering around the woman for more than five minutes.

The guys and Ma also had pretty fitting names. Midnight was running a bit of a round-robin, asking each of them to take turns and share their Hero names so that she could either applaud or veto their creativity.

Ma had always had a name in mind. Midnight admired their determination.

Sentaro was to take on the mantle of 'Épéiste' continuing the theme of his foreign-sounding Quirk name with a Hero persona to follow suit.

Souma had come up, with a little help from Midnight, 'Stratus' after the name given to low-levelled clouds; given enough time and effort, maybe Souma could manipulate the clouds one day?

Washi's Hero name had been a little more difficult. His Quirk, Talisman, posed a bit of a problem. Had it been called anything else, then he may have been able to use 'Talisman' as a working name. 'Omamori' gave off the wrong impression; Washi Ofuda was a not a good luck charm, and he wasn't limited to making those kinds of items with his Quirk. Midnight, after a quick rethink, proposed the name 'Charm'. Washi could charm people with his dramatism and his Quirk produced a variation of traditional paper talismans, or charms, to ward off unwanted spirits (or Villains). It seemed fitting.

"And now, finally, what about you, Mega Milk?" Try as she might, Hajime hadn't been able to shake Midnight's nickname for her ever since the t-shirt she'd borrowed from the Pro Hero.

Hajime toyed with the sticky note she'd written her name down on in hurried characters before leaving Enso that morning. "'Hajimeru'," she said finally. "My name means 'start', 'Hajimeru' means 'to commence'. I thought it was fitting, seeing as I'm finally doing something with my life."

Were Hajime's eyes playing tricks on her, or was Midnight tearing up a little? "It's beautiful!" the Pro cried, scrunching up her body to clasp her hands under her chin mock-adoringly. "Transcendental! An auspicious start!"

"…Sure…"

The others were all sorted, so while Midnight ushered them into a corner to think about uniform and gear designs, Hajime was tasked to find herself an internship mentor. An online and frequently shifting list of all of Japan's Heroes, ranking from Number One all the way down to who-knows-where, was pulled up on Hajime's phone. She scrolled through it listlessly, tapping on occasional names that were of interest and reading their profile before scrunching up her nose and exiting back to the ranking board.

"Any luck?" Hajime shuddered as Midnight's cheek brushed close to her ear. The Pro had slung her upper body over Hajime's shoulders to get a closer look at the list.

She shook her head. "None."

Midnight hummed. "I think, if he weren't about to grey prematurely, that Aizawa would take you on as a student. He likes them cynical."

Hajime wasn't so sure that Aizawa would be the one with grey hair in that situation. It would likely be her from all the mind games he played. "I was thinking someone smaller, rank-wise. I… I shouldn't have to, but I need to play to my strengths. I can't fight back with the same skill as the others, so I should stick to small-time Heroes."

"Oh, don't limit yourself, darling." Midnight swished a manicured hand about in a sort of 'pish-posh' manner. "Though I get what you mean. It's not about being big, it's about what you do with it."

(Could a hole open in the ground and swallow Hajime up, please? Before her face could get any redder would be perfect.)

"Ma-Manual," she found herself stuttering. "He'd be perfect."

The Pro Hero shifted on her feet. She stalked sensuously to the other side of the table Hajime was sat at so that she could stare the latter down. A knowing smile lifted her glossy lips. "To you, I'd say he already was."

Miwa was giddy. It was worrying. Hajime had arrived back to Enso to find her Aunt hopping around the shop floor gleefully. She nearly turned on her heel and took the next train back to Yuuei.

"Did you have a good day?" her relative almost sang.

Had it been a good day? Hajime wasn't so sure. Midnight had finished off their session with a quick recap about aesthetics. Sentaro and Washi could follow alongside adaptations of traditional wear, repurposing bulky style for motifs and functionality. Washi insisted on keeping billowy sleeves as part of his design, stating that they were needed to achieve the proper use of his Quirk (or, as Hajime saw it, so Washi could be dramatic). Sentaro needed his uniform to be sturdy yet flexible; free movement around his arms was necessary, and he needed the pieces and fabric to be able to flow with his body while he used his blades.

Ma could wear pretty much anything, so long as it didn't impede the movement of their bandages. Something loose-flowing or draping like a toga to keep the body from being immodest (though why that mattered seeing as Ma's body was wrapped up in bandages Hajime wasn't sure), would work just fine. A few protective plates here and there, and the look would pull together. Midnight suggest an 'androgynous pharaoh' theme.

Souma hadn't really had a preference. Together the group had narrowed it down to a few colours, like greys and blues. Prior Heroes (and up-and-coming students) with Air manipulation Quirks favoured blue, but so did water-based Quirk users. Eventually Souma chose grey, though wrote down a few notes for Yuuei's support department: he did not want a solid colour; clouds varied and so would the design. If dyed fabrics or paint jobs on his gear were discoloured or patchy, he didn't mind. Midnight also said he should include a small cape.

"Wouldn't that be dangerous? In case it gets snagged on something or it's used against you?" Hajime had said hesitantly and Souma's face paled.

"What if it was made of a lighter material? Something gauzy—like organza?" Midnight seemed to be on to something. "That way, it's easily ripped off during a fight, like my suit! Also, if it's floaty, it'll tie in with your theme."

And so, an organza cape was added to the design brief.

Hajime knew that her own design had to be unique to her, but well, she wasn't sure what made her unique. Her Hero name was all about 'starting' or 'commencing', but ironically, she'd had no idea where to begin.

Souma, repaying the favour for her input in his cohesive uniform design, said, "What about something based on racing signals? The flags they use during races to send messages to drivers?"

Minamoto scratched at stray stubble on his chin. "Like the check thing?"

"That's the finishing flag, moron," Ofuda snorted.

Midnight snapped her fingers. "That could work if we tweaked the colours. How about blue, white, and orange?" she asked, and Hajime choked on her spit.

A black and white checkerboard wouldn't work, and it wouldn't be entirely fitting. Hajime's skin tone and hair colour would be too mousy against the bold pattern, so all the public would see was a walking checkerboard. Blue, white, and orange were manual's colours though.

"What are Heroic colours, even?" Hajime said cryptically. The internet said blues, reds, whites, and yellow. Green sometimes, too, but all too often green was associated with villainy. "Could I try a red checkerboard then?"

"You don't want to go overboard with it though—tasteful highlights and all that," Midnight added.

Hajime's design brief followed the lines of racing signals, with the aforementioned red and white checkerboard. She had requested a slight platform to the boots she would wear, also red, knowing that it would help her feet in the long term. Wearing heels all day could really do a number on your posture (and not a good one), but so could wearing thin-soled flats. Sure, they were flexible, but wouldn't supported and comfy feet feel better during a long patrol shift?

(Hajime was beginning to think about patrol shifts now, what even was her life?)

Her suit, therein, would also be red, but with the checkered design striping up the outside of her legs and fading out around her knee to meet the tops of her boots. Flexible armoured plating, in a complementing shade of blue to the red, would protect the tops of her thighs, knees, chest, and arms. Midnight snatched the piece of paper Hajime was scribbling her design brief on and added her own adjustments. She wouldn't allow Hajime to see what she'd done, stating that it would be 'a surprise!'.

"Hajime? Anyone home?" Miwa called.

"I guess it was good?" Hajime answered, not entirely sure of her answer. "We got uniform stuff done, and Midnight is going to try and track down an internship mentor for me."

They hadn't spoken any more about Manual, but Hajime had a feeling that it wouldn't be the last she heard of that topic. Especially if Midnight dropped in to see the Pro Hero in person about internships. Hajime wasn't really certain if they were on speaking terms, seeing as what she could remember from post-stab wound was fuzzy (at best), and they hadn't spoken since.

Doubt curled inside her. Nasty thoughts—which she knew weren't true but she listened to anyway—like Manual leaving her alone now because she was Quirkless and unable to stop herself from being stabbed, or the traitorous whisper that she was just being silly for thinking he'd want to take her on as an intern, circled through Hajime's head. It wasn't true. Not one bit. She knew that deep down, but it didn't stop a frown from settling on her face.

Miwa glanced up from where she was checking over the money in the till, took one look at her niece, and raised one brow quizzically. "You're thinking too hard."

That was Hajime's invitation to stop doing so and to spill the metaphorical beans. "What if I'm a sucky Hero?"

This was a system they'd invented when Hajime was younger and still coping with her parents abandoning her. Miwa wasn't a mind reader, but she was meticulous about minute detail. Even the slightest unhappy wrinkle or hidden glint of sadness on Hajime's person would be confronted in the only way a no-nonsense curator and fashionista could manage: Bluntly.

If you couldn't share your criticism or constructiveness in a straightforward manner, then what was the point? People would only end up more confused in the long run. The same method worked for confronting pesky things like feelings. You could call Miwa brusque, or accuse her of being heartless, but by living as she did her honesty and openness was often overlooked. Finding the heart of the problem and talking about it with confidence had worked since Hajime was nine. It had worked throughout her apathetic teenage years, the multiple dodgy boyfriends Miwa had acquired and lost over the years, and still worked as Hajime, age twenty-two, fretted about her future.

"You're not going to be." Miwa was certain.

"But, suppose I am-"

"You're not going to be," Miwa affirmed. "Try and deny it, but you're starting to like this whole Hero thing aren't you."

Hajime ducked her head. She'd been caught.

It was true that she was coming to enjoy the Mature Heroics course, and that she was interested in Aizawa's lectures (he gave excellent lectures, and always made sure to give equal weight to either side of the topics and issues they covered in class), and that she was enjoying kicking the stuffing out of sand bags during the MH mandatory gym class. She'd come to enjoy meeting new people and making new friends. She'd discovered abilities she'd never thought she was capable of, considering Hajime was, technically, 'ability-less'.

What worried her, surprisingly, wasn't what people thought of her because of her lack of Quirk. If all people were going to be hung up on was that, then they should find better things to complain about. Hajime was worried about letting people down.

Call it an affect of being pushed out of one family unit and then trying desperately (and in vain) to enamour yourself into another. Not that Miwa had regretted taking Hajime in, thus prompting her need to ingratiate herself. No. It was more like Miwa loved her niece already, and Hajime went out of her way to make sure Miwa had no say in not doing so, although the older woman loved her unconditionally. Hajime was conditioned from a very young age into a people pleaser, and probably always would be one. It didn't show through her façade very often; Hajime made sure of it. She was Quirkless, not a spineless, hopeless case. Though during certain times of great stress, the need to make sure she was liked (and safe) rose up to the surface again.

"I think you need to take a step back and calm yourself for a minute while I give you some advice," said Miwa softly. "Can you take a deep breath for me?"

Hajime nodded.

"Feeling calmer? Okay, then I'll begin. You're not going to 'suck' at being a Hero. That's why you're going on an internship; to help you not suck. I bet all young Heroes suck at heroics before they become Pros. They're fast tracking a license for you so that you can learn on the job, and whoever you get sent to work with won't let you screw up too badly."

"That's just the thing though, everyone else all had internships arranged for them and no one even wanted to come forward for me. Is it because I'm Quirkless? Its because I'm Quirkless, right?"

Miwa wasn't going to beat around the bush. "It might be," she said, and Hajime's shoulders drooped. "However, would you really want to be paired up with someone who a) wouldn't care about you because you're Quirkless and wasn't invested in your learning, or b) only cared about you being Quirkless to better their charitable image?"

Hajime groaned. "That's gross."

"That's people." Miwa shrugged.

"Midnight asked me if there was someone I'd like to ask about an internship, and there was, but they haven't got back to Midnight yet or she would have rung me by now."

And, because Hajime's life had become a sick sort of cosmic joke six months ago, her phone rang. Only, it wasn't Midnight. It was Masaki. Miwa squealed, as Hajime ducked out of the shop to answer her phone.

"Um… hi?" 'Umm… Hi'? Was that the best Hajime could do.

"Hi. I've just had a really weird conversation with an R-rated Hero."

"O-oh?" Hajime was really killing this conversation so far.

"Mm," Masaki hummed. "I thought you didn't want to train with me anymore?"

Cheekily, Hajime huffed in response. "I'm entitled to change my mind. The question is, do you still want to train me?"

"Naturally, yes. You're bringing pastries this time though."

Hitomi and Komori's engagement party came roughly a year after they celebrated their new freelancer firm, Kotomi. That had been an exciting party itself, seeing as it was the first time in quite a few months that the first Mature Heroics graduates had all met up in person. They'd been celebrating the new office premises the couple had transformed into their agency-come-freelancing firm. Kotomi was a jumble of both of their names, but the characters on the metallic storefront sign could be read as 'beautiful'.

"We're beautiful together," said Hitomi as looked at the love of her life sappily.

They'd worked hard to negotiate contracts from Pro Hero agencies and the Government, but it had all paid off in the end. Komori and Hitomi had also taken on a recently unemployed Hideaki Kuchigiri as a member of full-time staff, which the latter couldn't thank them enough for.

("If you guys ever need a surrogate or whatever, I've been told I'm very fert-"

"We're fine thank you!"

"Yeah, if we wanted a surrogate, we'd have asked Souma actually.")

Souma had been suspiciously quiet and wary of the couple since that first party, often hanging close to Ma or… anyone else for that matter. The engagement party was in full swing, and the majority of the MH class had been able to switch off for the night and celebrate. Souma, Ma, Minamoto and Washi were all out of uniform and off the patrol roster that evening.

Tsurutsuru had catered the event free of charge. Minamoto and Washi were buffet table hoggers, egging each other on to eat as many finger foods as humanly possible. Ma had to bring the twins along and then leave early, all because their babysitter had cancelled, and it was soon to be bedtime. (Souma was left to Hitomi and Komori's mercy.) Nanako and Subako were still job hunting, Hiro was panicking about an upcoming midterm and bemoaned the fact that he was seventeen and not old enough to get black out drunk (if only to stop studying for a night), Tsuchiko and Call-me-Bob were making the last few preparations before they married in the following spring. They'd arranged, cancelled, then rearranged their plans to accommodate the small bump Tsuchiko's stomach was sporting.

Suge had turned up to the engagement party half an hour late, dressed in a power suit and a triumphant smirk, which settled confidently on her lips and the scaly gums of her hand-snakes like it was meant to be there. Ichi and Ni looked resplendent and glossy, their scales buffed to perfection. They'd shed recently.

"Things are going well," she drawled, drawing Hajime into a quick embrace. "I'm making a difference, I'm sure of it."

If Suge was sure of it, then the news and several frightened politicians certainly were. Aizawa sort of rued the day he encouraged her, but he couldn't be prouder at the sight of Suge Yato stomping all over Quirk Rights in her wickedly high stiletto heels.

Everyone could relax, drink, eat, and be merry, but Hajime. She was in uniform, having only been able to abandon her patrol thanks to Manual and another intern covering for her for a few hours.

Things had been tough after Masaki's fateful phone call. Hajime and everyone she talked to throughout the process had warned her that Pro Heroism wasn't easy, and though she'd balked and raved and cried a lot over the last year, here she was in her suit and plating. An angular red mask sat snuggly against her nose and surrounded her eyes. Her choppy hair had been sliced into a neatened shape by an experienced hand.

Hajime looked older. Mature and dangerous. Red was her colour.

She was stronger now than she had ever been before, both physically and mentally. She was a Hero to people. She felt like a Hero.

Wasn't that a shocker? The Quirkless girl given away by her own mother and father had accomplished everyone's secret dream; to be a Pro Hero, regardless of the hand life dealt them. Hajime hadn't set out for this to happen, in fact, she'd gone out of her way to hate Heroics. Quirks only caused pain. People with Quirks likely always caused pain.

The people in her life, like Miwa, Suge, Ma, the MH Class, her rival, and… Masaki, they'd helped her a lot. Hajime could trust them without question. She had no need for people like her mother and father, nor did she want them in her life. She was twenty-three, and she had things to do in and with her life. (If one of those things happened to be Masaki, then Hajime wasn't telling.)

Hajimeru had worked with Manual for roughly eight months as a full-time intern before he and the governing body for Heroics—as well as a small invigilating panel from the Yuuei staff roster—had deemed her fit for active service. That meant that Hajimeru was a fully fledged Hero. She teamed up with Manual, her senior and partner, for duties and could hold her own against Épéiste, Stratus, Charm, and Mummy Man. Her public opinion was skyrocketing, but Hajime wasn't in it for the fame.

Manual hated going out alone. He'd hated it ever since the Hosu Incident nearly two years ago now, when Heroes were being killed left right and centre, he'd misplaced his then-intern, and managed to lead a Quirkless civilian woman into danger all in one night. Masaki had never forgiven himself for that.

Just as she had thought before giving her answer to Aizawa, who funnily enough, was also lurking by the buffet table and watching Washi and Sentaro's antics with thinly veiled horror, Masaki needed someone to watch his six. Manual hated going on patrol alone, but Manual was selfless and would do so if it meant saving lives. Hajimeru existed to serve the public, sure, but she also offered a modicum of comfort for her senior partner.

Being a Hero wasn't easy. You had to be selfless, or you weren't being Heroic for the right reasons, or so Masaki had told her. Hajime could have quite easily turned Heroism down, took the easy road.

She told Masaki this, and he said; "In the end, do any of us ever take the easy road? If it is the right thing to do, if it can help, isn't that better?"

"No, but I suppose if I can keep an eye on generous idiots like you then my life's work is done, I guess," she'd retorted, and his eyes had softened in response.

Hajime's phone buzzed inside one of the handy thigh holsters included with her uniform. She fished it out, suddenly tense. Her patrol alerts were set to come through it, she had several missed messages, and now Masaki was calling her.

Hajime had a lot of cool (read: lethal) support gear in her arsenal. The checkered gloves she wore had hidden, though mild, tasers in the fingertips, activated only when she felt threatened or needed to quickly incapacitate an enemy. Handcuffs—and she'd tried her best to not flush along with Masaki as she found the 'surprise' Midnight had placed in Hajime's design brief, and failed—and zip ties to held bind fallen enemies, a rudimentary first aid kit, a wind-up torch, and a of sheet stickers she'd hand out to inquisitive children and well-behaved adults filled her holsters.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear my phone," she whispered apologetically into the receiver. Hitomi and Komori were raising a toast to the future. She had to be quiet.

"It's okay, it's just there's a house on fire and while I've got dousing the flames covered, I can't send my intern in on their own to rescue people."

Suge sent Hajime a questioning glance, and she smiled thinly back. If she didn't get there soon, then Masaki was going to struggle to keep civilians and his intern safe. "How far away are you?"

"From Kotomi's? Ten minutes or so? I've got emergency services on the way, but it'll be a while before they can help with an evac."

"Great, I'll start running, shall I?" She turned to Suge, who was chasing a curly straw around the rim of a champagne flute with her tongue. "I've got to go. Duty calls."

A/N [3/4/2020] :

In early 2018 I had an idea for an OC. That idea then turned into multiple OCs. Then it turned into a whole class of OCs and a vaguely plot-related BnHA fic to celebrate five years of writing fan fiction.

Thank you for sticking with me for so long, and for taking the time to read this story two years in (or any of my stories, really). I kind of didn't want this fic to end, but I'm not so invested in BnHA anymore, and I'd told myself that ten chapters was the limit. I'm always open to your interpretations and theories of Hajime's future adventures though!

I've really appreciated your comments and kudos, so, thank you once again for all your support.

-Yuilhan

Musical Inspiration:

"Quicksand" – La Roux, 'La Roux'

"The Walker" – Fitz and the Tantrums, 'More Than Just a Dream'

"Love Me For The Weekend" – Party Pupils, MAX, and Ashe, 'Love Me For The Weekend (with Ashe)'

"Blue Monday" – New Order, 'Singles (2016 Remaster)'

"Danger" – Jucee Fruit, 'Birds of Prey: The Album'