Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Apparently in Japan, any rescuing of people without a “hero license” is “illegal” and known as “vigilantism.” It’s even vigilantism if you don’t kill people, I guess. Which is why my very short attempt at relaunching my career has landed me here, in apparent;y one of the most secure buildings in the country, across a table from a very large mouse-man and a very tired Eraserhead --as he announced himself when arresting me-- both of whom apparently have some kind of “Bring-Your-Own-Hot-Drink” party invitation that they don’t seem inclined to share with me.

Alright, this isn’t a great first impression to make with anyone, but in my defense, I got really bored.

“This is Miss Taylor Hebert,” says the mouse principal to Eraserhead, “and she’s going to be your teacher’s assistant and sidekick from now on.”

From the way Eraserhead coughs into his coffee -- heh, coughee -- I guess this isn’t something that was discussed before this very moment.

“I- what- she’s- Nedzu!” he sputters.

“No, I’m Nedzu. I’d think that after nearly two decades you’d know that, Aizawa.”

“Nedzu, you can’t just assign this girl to be my sidekick,” says Eraserhead -- Aizawa? -- who apparently has decided to ignore “this girl’s” presence in this conversation. What a wonderful start to our working relationship.

“Actually,” I butt-in, “from the way Nedzu-, uh, sensei-- explained it to me,” and this gets another glare sent to the principal, cool, “Since technically this school is an agency, and you work for this agency, and he runs this agency, he kind of… can?”

Aizawa takes a few minutes to think about this, which leaves Nedzu staring at me across the table like I’m a painting and he’s trying to figure out if my image is something floral or something phallic.

I don’t know why that’s the simile that pops into my head, but here we are.

Finally, Aizawa groans and puts his face in his hands. “Fuck,” he says, which is kind of rude.

“Think of it this way, Aizawa! Now you’ll have someone to lighten both of your loads, and you get more time for your little naps!” And with this, he leaves us to bond. Oh joy.

Aizawa sighs and removes his face from his hands. He grabs a sheet of paper left on the table, which from context clues seems to be a list of interview questions that the principal has helpfully left for us.

“First question, I guess. What’s your quirk?”

“...Do you want to know what it currently is or what it should be,” I say, “because currently the answer is basically nothing.”

With a larger sigh than earlier, his face falls back into his hands.

“Explain.”

Oh, this will be interesting.

“Well my… quirk used to be insect manipulation. Then I was involved in a… villain attack and I got shot in the head,” twice, I don’t say. “The most I can do now is tell if there are bugs in the room. There aren’t,in case you were wondering, it’s oddly clean in here.” Really, that’s the most truthful I can be without people getting “concerned,” usually.

It doesn’t work.

He now seems to be attempting to push us hands through his face, and is making a noise that almost makes me want to find a doctor for him. He mumbles something and all I can catch is “broken quirk” and “my problem” before he looks up at me again, right in the eye as he slams back the rest of his coffee in a way that people who aren’t me probably find intimidating.

“Normally,” he starts “I wouldn’t suggest someone recovering from a traumatic brain injury to the extent that they lose quirk functionality becomes a hero, but since Nedzu thinks you have potential and I’m stuck with you, I’m going to save the time I would’ve spent trying to comprehend your situation and just come back to it later.”

“Moving on -- do you have any heroic experience besides your recent vigilante escapades?”

Do I have any heroic experience?

Do I have any heroic experience?

Short answer is yes, long answer requires more half-truths.

“Well, I was part of a teen heroics program” after being a supervillain and subsequently turning myself in “back in the states” in another dimension “from ages 15 to 18.”

Nailed it.

“Do you have a contact number for this program?”

Nevermind.

“I do not.”

“And why not?”

Because it was in another dimension, and oh yeah, “It was destroyed.”

“The contact number was destroyed?”

The world was destroyed.

“The program was completely destroyed in the attack where I was injured. My dad and I moved to Japan for its medical technology.” That’s what I assume, anyway. I have no idea why Contessa would’ve dropped us here otherwise, besides her damn “path to victory.”

Fucking thinkers.

“Of course it was. And you’re how old, now?”

“21,” I say, and hey, a whole truth! At least, if you ignore the fact that this world is 200 or so years ahead of mine. It took forever to get my “correct” birth year down, but a TBI makes a very convenient excuse.

He sighs. I wonder if he gets enough oxygen with how much air he expels. He looks at his list again, sighs, again, and asks,

“Why do you want to be a hero?”

And I just

Stop.

It’s like, I know why I wanted to be a hero at 15. I was the bullied girl, the naive kid who’d had some hurts, which got me a power, and there was really barely any consideration for a path besides becoming a superhero, until one was forced onto me. And I know why I wanted to be a hero at 18, because I’d done some shitty things and I’d atoned, a bit, and just wanted to keep doing good, be good, and of course save as many people from the oncoming apocalypse as possible.
But now?

Now, I could just… stop, if I wanted. I could live a relatively normal life, get a safe job, spend time with Dad. There’s no apocalypse or endbringers anymore, that I know of, and there are so many other heroes to deal with them if there are.

Am I just bored?

Do I not know how to be normal anymore?

I don’t think that’s it.

“I guess… I guess I got a second chance. I know really well how rare those are,” I start. “I tried, for a while, to just do nothing, but I don’t think I can. I don’t think I’ve ever been able to stand by and do nothing, y’know? It wouldn’t be fair.” I look up at Aizawa, and he still looks exhausted, but he also looks… sad, I guess. A pretty familiar kind of sadness, of a guy who’s seen some shit. A sadness I think I’ve felt before.

“Life’s not fair, kid. And nothing’s forcing you to make this choice, but it seems like nothing will turn you away, either.” He drops the questionnaire back on the table before standing and stretching. “Welcome to the team, I guess.”

I stand as well.

“I think Nedzu-san already said I was in, but… thanks.”

He rolls his eyes at me before turning to leave.

“C’mon, kid, I’ll get someone to drop you at your place.”

Wait, no, already? Shit.

“Should- uh, shouldn’t we talk more about the position?”

He looks back at me and grins in this really wide, disconcerting way.

“No.”

Chapter Text

A man in a gas mask and cowboy hat drives me home. He’s not one for small talk, apparently, but he’s polite enough is fortunately not too awkward. Unfortunately, I have plenty of time to think about the shitstorm waiting for me.

I take a deep breath before opening the apartment door and… yep, this is going to be fun.

“Uh… hi, Dad,” I say, stupidly.

He’s sitting in one of the kitchen chairs, arms crossed. His face is only slightly red and I have no idea if that’s because he’s calming down from his rage or only just starting to get worked up. With my luck, it’s probably both.

“Taylor Annette Hebert,” he starts, and the middle name is never a good sign. “I should congratulate you.”

It isn’t what I expected, and therefore not what I had practiced with in my head. This makes it much scarier.

“Dad…”

“After all, it’s not every day that I get a call that my daughter has received a wonderful position at the biggest hero school in the country, after demonstrating her talent with a short vigilante career .”

Damn that rat.

“In fact,” he continues, “It’s really surprising considering as far as I knew, said daughter has been at her part-time job at a corner store.”

He looks down at my outfit, and I remember that I never had time to change. It’s black active wear, layered for protection, with a black leather jacket and a black face mask. Not a usual conbini uniform.

“Dad, I can explain-”

“Explain what, Taylor? I thought we were done with this, sneaking around and going who-knows-where at whatever-o’clock, to attack people .” He stands. “I guess it’s really lucky this school picked you up before you found another group of sad teenagers to form a criminal empire with.”

Okay, ouch.

“That’s not what vigilante means here, Dad. I was just scaring off muggers and other assholes. I wasn’t really hurting anyone,” that much. “I was basically doing hero work.”

Wow, really strong argument there.

He doesn’t buy it.

“That’s really not much better, Taylor. When you told me you took that job, I was so happy for you. You were finally healing enough to start moving on from our old shit. I can’t believe you went behind my back, again! You’re not 15 anymore!”

I certainly feel like I am.

“You know I couldn’t tell you, Dad! This is exactly why! You never would’ve let me go back out there if you knew.”

“Oh, imagine that! A man doesn’t want his one-armed defenseless daughter to go fight and/or do crime in an unfamiliar country! How incredibly rare!”

“I’m not defenseless, Dad! I trained in hand-to-hand for years!”

“Yeeeah, and then you got part of your brain blown out , so forgive me if I don’t have the most faith in your abilities. You don’t have your bugs anymore, Taylor. You can’t be Skitter, or Weaver, or-or the other girl anymore. You were strong, yes, but then everything happened and you think you have that strength back but you don’t . You’re just you, on your own, and I can’t lose you again!”

Oh.

That’s what he’s concerned about.

Shit.

God, it’s so hard when your dad is an actual person with valid concerns and not just an argument machine.

I have to take a few moments , to figure out what to say.

“Dad, it’s not like that,” I say, much calmer and more placating. “I promise you I’m taking my limits into account. I’ve been doing things as safely as possible -- I’m still fast and agile, even with the arm. People underestimate me still, and especially these days, and we both know what happens when people underestimate me. I have a baton and my pepper spray, and I don’t need anything else. I don’t want or need to be how I used to be. I’m moving forwards, I promise.”

He tries to take some deep breaths.

“I know you’re not defenseless, sweetheart, it’s just… I thought we were done . We were both going to be safe and normal and happy and get nice, normal, safe jobs. We don’t have a Panacea who can patch you up anymore, Taylor. You’ve already lost an arm to this kind of life. I don’t want you to come home without the other one, or not come back at all.”

“Dad, I’ve always come back.”

“Yeah, sure, except you wouldn’t have if someone hadn’t cared enough to bring you back. There are so many times you nearly died out there, Taylor, and I can’t just believe you because you say so. You shouldn’t be out there on your own.”

“But I’m not on my own! I’m going to be working at a school, with someone directly supervising me while I train again.”

“A direct supervisor that I have not met and don’t know the track record of. And even if this guy’s a teacher, we all know your record with authority. Just- I can’t approve you doing this again, Taylor. Even if you think you can, I know I can’t.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing that I’m an adult now, and I don’t actually need your approval. I’m not wasting this chance, Dad. I would’ve wanted your support but it’s not the first time I’ve gone without, I guess.”

And with this I make my way to my room, definitely not stomping. By the time I change into another set of activewear and come back out, Dad’s gone too. Probably to calm down.

And after all this tension, I need out. So I do the only thing I can.

I go for a jog.

Chapter Text

In the last few years, jogging has gone from training and fitness to a kind of meditation. Or, sometimes, the opposite of meditation. It’s really a toss-up as to whether my mind will drift to the many, many not-so-great things I’ve done or just get caught on the feeling of my sneakers slapping the pavement and the cool breeze brushing through the hair on my arms. Arm? Arm-and-a-half. Today seems to be mainly focussed outwards with little radio-static snippets of my argument with Dad, that annoying inner-voice telling me unhelpful things like to consider his point of view (which I have) and that I’m not good enough to do this anyway (which I am.)

Look, it’s not like I just started vigilante-ing immediately after being released from the hospital. I really did try to find something else at first. I mean, besides learning japanese and my physical and occupational therapies. I got a conbini job, genuinely, although I didn’t need it with whatever Contessa-stipend we’re on.

Ugh, Contessa . She apparently visited a lot in the early days of my recovery. She set Dad up with an apartment, fake ID, fake quirk registration, shit like that. I still have no idea why she left us here. I used to think it was a punishment, dropping us in the cape-capital of this world, watching others with the life I’d never get to have while keeping me away from every friend I’d ever made. But then, why would she try to keep us comfortable like this? And why bring Dad over with me? Hell, why keep me alive at all?

Fucking Contessa.

But now, at least, my brain is steering back to the original topic.

No matter what, I don’t want to mope around at the corner store for the rest of my life. And really, there aren’t many hobby or career options around here that are both interesting and not hero-related in some way. I tried to think of what I did before the apocalypse but 15-18 was pretty much all capes all the time. The best I could come up with was design. I liked making my own costume, didn’t I? And maybe I could go into support or something. But it didn’t feel like enough. I wanted, needed something more… hands-on.

And here I am.

Eraserhead catching me last night was a fluke, honestly. See, my MO is (was) to either sneak up on petty crime already in progress or to play a potential-victim role. Dad was right, a young, disabled woman (such as myself) out on her own at night looks like a pretty promising mugging target, and we don’t live in the most high-profile neighborhood. Unfortunately for the perps, I have weaponry and the element of surprise. I’ll make myself look all sad and helpless in front of someone sketchy, lure them into an alley, then pepper spray them in the face and knock them out with my baton when they try something.

Actually, looking back on it, not the most “legal” or “moral” strategy, but you work with what you have.

Understandably, Eraserhead had seemed like a proper sketchy person. And he actually had been looking for me, since there weren’t that many people fitting the perps’ descriptions of “one-armed woman in all black” running around, so of course he followed me, and I’m proud to say I got a couple good hits in before I was almost immediately arrested.

I slow and stop as I finally reach one of the major landmarks in the area. I’m not sure of its actual name, So I’ve just been calling it “trash beach.” No one really comes here since it’s, y’know, full of trash, but it kind of reminds me of the later days in Brockton Bay. It has decent boardwalks and docks and if I close my eyes I can almost pretend I’m home.

Well, besides the smell.

Turns out, the beach isn’t actually empty today. There’s a man and a boy out there, and it looks like they’re… cleaning? Huh. It seems like a lot for two people, but it’s nice of them to take the time to work on it, assuming that they don’t give up. A project like that would require a lot of patience. Plus, I can feel all of those bugs from here, so a lot of willpower as well.

I rest on one of the benches looking out over the trash beach and just watch them for a while. The man towers over the boy, who’s probably his son. Either the man is extremely tall or the boy is very small. Judging by the refuse around them, it’s a bit of both. It’s cute.

It must be fun to do a big project with your dad like that.

I take a swig of water, stand up, and head home.

Chapter Text

Today’s my official first day of working with Aizawa. Nedzu is having me work as a teacher’s assistant first, so that we can “get to know each other” before we’re anywhere near a field operation together. That’s good, since I apparently need a hero name and costume. I want to start fresh, so I can’t use either of my previous personas. I’ll have to come up with a new one. That sucks since I’m absolute shit at coming up with names for myself, but that’s a problem for future-Taylor.

I arrive at the front gates of the school, and Aizawa is waiting to escort me inside.

“Good morning,” I say.

He grunts at me, paper coffee cup in-hand and face buried in his scarf.

Alright then.

We pass through the main building’s doors, under an air-curtain. There really doesn’t seem to be any bugs around. Usually in any building, and especially one of this size, I’d be able to feel ants, flies, spiders, maybe some roaches or termites, but there’s absolutely nothing. I can see nothing outside of my main senses. It’s… off-putting. I guess Nedzu just really hates bugs?

I’m getting distracted.

“So,” I say, just to break up the nothingness , “What do you teach?”

“Homeroom,” Aizawa says.

“Alright,” I say, because apparently I’m the one who needs to keep the conversations going.

“What about other subjects?”

“Nope,  just homeroom,” he says.

Okay. Maybe this is some cultural difference, where homeroom is something you can actually teach. At least I don’t need any specialized knowledge.

“When will I get to meet them?”

“Meet who?”

“...your students.”

“What students?”

“The ones in your homeroom?”

“Oh, them. You won’t.”

“Won’t what?”

“Meet them.”

“...why not?”

“I don’t have any.”

Uh???

“You don’t… have a homeroom class?”

“Nope.”

“And you’re a homeroom teacher?”

“That’s correct.”

Is this a hallucination? Do I have a fever?

Hesitantly, I ask, “Where did they go?”

He turns to me with one of his disconcerting grins.

“I expelled them all,” he says.

“..all of them?”

“Yep. They didn’t take things seriously enough, and I expelled them.”

I…

Don’t know how to process this. What am I even going to be teacher’s-assisting?

We walk in silence for several minutes, which may be what he wanted anyway.

We stop in front of a door. It’s tall and wide, which makes sense because people in this world are often giant. The door is marked “Teachers’ Lounge.”

“I’m warning you now,” he says, “ that the people inside this room are limelight heroes and teachers, and so, above all else, they are… extroverts.”

And then the asshole shoves me into the room.

Thankfully, there are only two people in the Teachers’ Lounge. Okay, maybe this won’t be so-

“Oh! Aren’t you adorable!”

Bad. This is extremely bad, actually.

A woman with rather large… heroic assets wraps me in a way-too-tight side hug.

“She’s so young! So vibrant! You said she was a vigilante before? What passion!”

She’s unceremoniously grabbed by Aizawa’s scarf and swung into a nearby rolling chair, where she crosses one leg over the other with a pout.

Obviously, this is a common occurrence.

“Eraser,” she purrs, “You know how much I love your scarf, but now isn’t the time! Just let me greet your darling new sidekick!”

“Yeah, Eraser,” says her companion, a man with very tall hair. Is it a wig?
“It’s not everyday we get a new listener hanging around! Especially you. I don’t think you've ever had a ‘kick before, yeah?”

Aizawa sighs and retracts his scarf. “Don’t traumatize her on her first day,” he says. Glad to know all other days are fair game.

“Hebert, this is the Voice Hero, Present Mic. The one who assaulted you is the R-Rated Hero, Midnight. They are, unfortunately,” he sighs again, “My friends.”

Do I need to think of an epithet too?

“Eraser,” says Present Mic, “ I cannot believe you! 15 years, and you only introduce me as your ‘friend’?!”

“Yeah, Eraser,” Midnight giggles, “He’s your best friend! ”

“Your BFF!”

“The absolute closest .”

“Two best guy-pals!”

Am I missing something?

“Enough,” Aizawa sighs. He really must do that a lot. “I don’t know why I thought they would actually behave for once-”

“Oh but Eraser,” Midnight interrupts, “I’m always on my best behavior!” She winks at me, which means ‘I Absolutely Do Not.’

Aizawa ignores her. “Midnight is our art history teacher. Mic teaches English. I might loan you out to him on occasion.”

“It’s nice to meet you both,” I say, because they do seem nice, if overwhelming. Then, the thoughts that have been percolating in the back of my mind finish brewing, and, just, what the fuck are they wearing ?!

Mic is wearing all leather, which is probably decent armor-wise, but has to restrict motion somewhat, not even thinking about what it’s like on a hot day. I’d bet his stiff shoulder pads restrict movement as well. That metal thing around his neck, are those speakers? That’s got to be incredibly heavy. I guess it’s only experience that let’s him move around in it so easily. And this isn’t even mentioning the hair. I really hope it’s a wig or something, otherwise it probably takes so much time to style and set, and that’s time that could make a difference in a disaster.

Even worse is Midnight, what the hell is going on with her chest? I doubt fabric does that, normally, did she get it specially made like that on purpose? Why? Maybe it’s fake? Not fake as-in plastic surgery, but fake as in foam pads? Otherwise there’s zero support there, which is difficult to deal with when fighting. The top of the bodysuit in general is skintight, and the material looks really thin, which means probably very little armor. Plus there’s basically nothing protecting her chest, which is where all those really important organs tend to be. And do her heels really need to be four inches? How has she not broken an ankle with those? 

If these are the faculty’s costumes, I have no idea what mine will look like. Will I have to wear it in class? Does the support department even have synthetic spider-silk? It’s not like I can make my own anymore. Hopefully they’ll let me be part of the design process.

Oh shit, the conversation’s been going on without me. Tuning back in-

“Oh, Hebert-chan, you’ve been so quiet,” says Midnight. Yes! Nailed it!

“Why don’t you tell us a bit about yourself?”

“Oh. Yeah. Hm. My name is Taylor Hebert. I’m, uh, from America. I wasn’t expecting to be… here, really, but it’s been nice so far. Oh! And my quirk has to do with bugs.”

Mic stiffens.

“Oh,” he says, “Bugs, huh?” He seems very strained.

“It was, uh, nice meeting you, Hebert, but I haaaaave some papers to grade goodbye!” And he runs back out the door.

Was it something I said?

Chapter Text

After the… encounter with Aizawa’s friends, he takes me to the support department, which is apparently just the Tinker Zone of the school. Inside are several teenagers who are too engrossed in their machines to look up at us, and… a shirtless man. 

A shirtless man wearing a giant robotic animal head.

What is with this school?

“Hey, Eraser,” says the mecha-furry, “Is this the new kid?”

“Power Loader,” Aizawa grunts in greeting, “This is Hebert, my new sidekick. She needs some kind of costume before I can start her training.”

“Well, Miss, you’ve come to the right place! Now, usually with the kids’ costumes, we outsource the base design to one of UA’s partner agencies, but Eraser’s costume and support items are actually handled in-house by yours truly, so yours will be as well!”

I’m trusting my life to the shirtless man, what a joy.

“It’s, uh, nice to meet you,” I say, “I’ve actually done a bit of costume work myself, in the past.”

“Oh, perfect! So many heroes come in and have no idea what they want, or they have outrageous demands, so it’ll be nice to work with someone who knows a bit about the process.”

He sets down at a desk, inviting us over as he takes out a sheet of drafting paper, pre-marked with a generic human silhouette.

“Now, kid, what’s your theme?”

“My theme?”

“Yeah, y’know, your theme, motif, what makes you stand out from the crowd? Usually it’s something that has to do with your quirk, but if you’ve got a different idea, I’d love to hear it.”

“Uh, well, my quirk is bug related. I can sense them, I mean.”

“Huh,” he nods and turns to Aizawa, “You keeping her away from Mic then?”

Aizawa smiles. “They’ve already been introduced.”

“Well then, hope Nedzu’s ready with the insurance.” Power Loader nods at me again.

“Bug sense, huh? Interesting. Gotta keep it in mind for the design, but nothing has to be finalized just yet. Gotta start with the basics, right?”

“Right… actually, I’ve got a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Do you ever work with synthetic spider-silk?”

“Spider-silk, huh? Not my usual material, but it shouldn’t be too difficult to obtain. I just so happen to know a supplier. How much are you thinking?”

“Well, I used to have a whole bodysuit and mask, but I understand if that’s a lot.”

“‘Used to’?” Power Loader asks.

Oh, right, he doesn’t know about my complicated and somewhat tragic backstory.

Aizawa cuts in, thank god.

“This line of conversation is illogical. Let’s just start with a basic bodysuit for now.”

“Alrighty then, she’s your sidekick, Eraserhead.” Power Loader sketches an outline on the figure. It’s… disturbingly curvy.

“Uh, can we make it less skin-tight?” I ask.

“What? Oh, sorry. Skin-tight is the usual fashion for women heroes. Something about PR encouraging it. For a sidekick, yeah, we can loosen it up a bit.”

“And how about some armor panels?”

“Yes!” He finger-guns at me with his claw-tips. I decline to finger-gun back.

“Almost nobody wants armor or padding these days! Everyone thinks they need to be the next All Might, and sure, thanks to quirks, people tend to be more durable than they used to be a hundred years ago, but if you ask me, you can never go wrong with more protection.” He smiles. “I’d probably wear some myself if my suits didn’t take care of it for me.”

I guess if everyone had some level of brute, armor would be less of a priority, but quirks seemed to be relatively straightforward. Is it purely training that keeps them alive?

I look down at the costume sketch. It does have all the basics covered, with notes about materials and fit. It’s still in the early stages, but where it is now reminds me a bit of my old costumes. Kinda… bland. That’s probably good for Underground work, but even Eraserhead has a pop of color.

“There’s one more thing,” Power Loader says, “What were you thinking about prosthetics?”

Huh?

“Sorry, I don’t wanna overstep, but you had to be thinking about it, right?” He circles the right arm on the sketch. “We’ve got the funding for about any gadgets, within reason. Obviously something like a gun arm would need a lot of certifications, but we could easily put in like, a taser or something.”

Wait, hold on, what?

“Do I really need a prosthetic? Like, a robotic one?”

“I mean, yeah?” he says. “Don’t you want one?”

“Power Loader...,” Aizawa starts.

Do I want one? Maybe something to help with climbing, but a full-on robot arm seems a bit much.

“Can I uh, get back to you on that? Brainstorm some functions I want?”

“Sure, sure, take your time! But the sooner you get back to me, the quicker we can get started! Oh, and a color scheme too, choose your favorite bug or  something!”

I sincerely doubt that this man is a certified prosthetist.

Aizawa leads me out of Tinker Hell, and to a nice, empty lunch room where we both can catch our breath. Costume talk is necessary, but it’s also exhausting. Goodbye, shirtless furry man.

We eat lunch, talking through none of it. It’s not an uncomfortable silence, and it gives me time to think.

What I really need to think about is my hero name.

Here’s my list:

-

-

-

-

Oh look, it’s blank.

I have absolutely nothing.

I’ve never been good at coming up with names, okay? Skitter was assigned to me, and Weaver had been presented as one of a list of options and had been the most tolerable.

The hero names here are different than the ones back home, anyway. Not just the language --most of the names are english anyway-- but there’s kind of a different feeling to them. These aren’t just codenames, but almost something kinda… inspirational, I guess. Like that really famous one, “All Might”. It invokes something practically biblical. Or the second guy, “Endeavor”. To strive for something.

Not so much for the third and fourth, but still.

These are names that should sound ridiculous, costumes that look ridiculous, and yet, they kind of work.

I want a cool name like that, I guess.

And sure, I could reuse one of my previous names and no one would know, but I like the idea of a fresh start.

Aizawa knocks on the table. I look up.

It’s time to move on.

Chapter Text

Aizawa and I spend the rest of the afternoon sparring. It’s not as fun as it sounds, which is to say, negative levels of fun. I am seriously out of practice, having spent the last few months as an ambush fighter. If I still had my bugs, I could take him out easily, but I guess the point is that I don’t, right?

“Not bad,” he says. “Rusty, and you’re easily caught off balance, but passable if you’re fighting someone who hasn’t been trained. We’ll work on it.”

“Passable” he says, like he hasn’t wiped the floor with me.

It’s been a while since I’ve done a friendly spar like this. Good to know a lot of my instincts are still there.

“You’re used to relying on your quirk, but you’re light on your feet, and not afraid to fight dirty. You don’t telegraph your moves much, either.”

“You’re oddly approving,” I say, tossing him the baton UA lent me.

“Believe me, I was searching for your flaws. If you didn’t have potential, I would’ve gone to Nezu and had him terminate the sidekick program. You’re not a first year; you know how to fight, even having had your setbacks. It would be illogical to shut you down when you’re actually doing well.”

“Alright, Mr. Positivity. When can I get my baton back?”

“When we’re reasonably sure you won’t just run out and get yourself killed with it.”

Harsh, but fair.

After that, my first day is over. I don’t get the luxury of being driven back to my apartment this time, I have to walk, like a normal person.

Aside from the weird interactions with a few of the other teachers, today was nice. It did give me a lot to think about, in terms of my hero persona. It’s nice to not have everyone deciding things for me, but at the same time it’s a lot of pressure. “Pick your favorite bug,” Power Loader said. What does that even mean? How can I have a favorite bug when they’re all so useful? Like spiders, for example, there are so many different kinds, each with different strengths and weaknesses. Some are valuable for their silk, some for their bite, and some just bec-

SLAM

I fall on my ass, and so does the other guy.

“Sorry! I’m so, so sorry!” he says.

Once I reorient myself, I’m able to actually look at him. He’s young, can’t be older than middle school, with wide eyes, and dark curly hair. He looks familiar, like I’ve seen him somewhere before.

“Sorry,” he says, “I looked away from the street for just a second, I swear, but of course in that one exact second I managed to run into the only other person on the street, right? But you already knew that, because you’re the one I crashed into.

He helps me up, and he’s surprisingly strong, despite being a few inches shorter than me. What’re they feeding kids these days?

“Don’t worry about it, I wasn’t exactly watching where I was going either. Hey, are you alright?”

The kid is sweating hard, and he has a couple of fresh looking bruises. He’s looking around like someone’s going to pop out and attack him.

“Wh-me? Oh, I’m fine, don’t worry about me. I was just- out for a jog, that's all!”

A jog, huh? Jog… jog… Oh!

“You’re Beach Kid!”

He looks startled. “I’m what?”

“I mean, you’re that kid who cleans the beach, right? My route goes past there, and I watch you sometimes.”

Now he seems panicked. Oh shit, I said something weird, didn’t I? Back up, back up, beep beep beep.

“I mean, I take breaks near there, sometimes, and you happen to be there, cleaning the beach with your dad.”

He turns beet red. “Not- he’s, uh, not my dad,” he squeaks, and then mumbles out “though that would be amazing-”

“Oh, uh, sorry?”

“No, no it’s fine! But, anyway, I’ve taken enough of your time. I’ve got to go, nice meeting you bye!” And then he’s gone.

The rest of the walk home is quiet. I pass another couple of kids laughing about something, but that’s all. I reach the apartment, tired and ready to fall asleep, no matter how early in the day it still is.

I run into Beach Kid a couple more times over the next week. I mean, not literally run into, I see him from afar. Not that I’m looking for him! It’s just, you know that phenomenon, where you notice something once and then suddenly it’s everywhere? That’s Beach Kid.

Today he’s out running again, but it’s more of a sprint than a jog. He trips on a raised piece of sidewalk and goes flying, and so does a book he was carrying I run over to help.

Two boys come running up too, from behind, but they look less helpful and more like they’re what he was running from.

No, no, Taylor, we can’t project our own traumatic childhoods onto others. Maybe they’re just playing tag. In the street. At very high speeds.

I grab Beach Kid’s book- a notebook, it turns out, and go to help him up. The boys get there first.

“What’s going on here?” I say.

“Oh, nothing, Miss!” Says one of them. “My friends and I were just having a bit of fun, and it got out of hand. Sorry if we disturbed you!” He plasters on an obviously fake grin, clearly just expecting me to walk away and forget about this.

Nah.

“Is that so,” I say. I look down at Beach Kid, who has gotten to his knees at this point. They’re scraped and bloody, and so are his elbows. He has new bruises, too, from the last time we interacted. He looks more resigned than a kid his age should ever be.

“Everything’s fine, Miss,” he says, the two brats towering behind him.

God, I hate when I’m right.

“Right,” I say. “Here’s the deal. You two are going to leave this kid alone. That’s it, end of story.”

The brats scowl. “Aw, but he’s just a Quirkless Deku.”

Beach Kid flinches.

I don’t know what a “Deku” is, but it’s clear that the phrase is supposed to make me back down, probably for the same reason Contessa forbade it from being anywhere near my dad’s forms.

Fucking supremacists.

Fucking bullies.

A buzzing fills my ears.

“I don’t care who he is. All I care is that you two are going to scram . And if I ever catch you even looking at him wrong, you’re going to fucking regret it. Got it?”

They beat it.

Beach Kid looks close to tears. “Y-you didn’t have to do that,” he says.

“Of course I did,” I say. “You don’t deserve to be treated like that. Not by low lives like them. Not by anyone.”

“Even if I’m quirkless?” he asks, and my heart breaks.

“Fuck yes, even if you’re quirkless. You shouldn’t be treated like shit over something you can’t control. Fuck, it’s something that shouldn’t matter in the first place!” I want to punch every shitty adult that this kid has probably had, better yet, I wish I had my fucking baton back. This shit doesn’t start or end with those kids.

I hand Beach Kid’s notebook back to him. “Hero analysis for the future,” it said, volume 14.

“Big dreams, huh?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. I know it’s kind of a long shot…”

“The physical training is a pretty good start. That is, if you really do jog, and weren’t just running from assholes.”

He looks up at me, surprised. “You’re not going to tell me it’s unrealistic?”

“Nah,’’ I say. “Personally, I think it depends on how hard you can work, and I’ve seen you at that beach. Keep that up, and you’ve got a real chance.”

He sniffles, then starts fully crying. Not a lot of people really encourage him, it seems.

I take out my phone. “Here, if you want, we can exchange numbers. Maybe we can be jogging buddies,” I say.

He nods and smiles. It’s one of the brightest things I’ve ever seen. He takes his phone out too.

“I’m Taylor Hebert, call me Taylor,” I say.

“Midoriya Izuku,” he says. “Please take care of me.”

Chapter Text

I lean back against the couch in the teacher's lounge, sighing at the paper in front of me. I’m trying to brainstorm a heroic theme, and it turns out to be really hard. There are like, a lot of different kinds of bugs and bug-related terms. I’m surrounded by books, trying to find anything. A species name, a common name, anatomical terms, adjectives. Nothing has really clicked. Right now I’m looking through a long, long book about beetles. For a weird minute I thought about something simple like “Ladybug” but apparently there’s already a french hero that uses it. Red isn’t really my color anyway.

Someone sits down next to me, and I look up. Aizawa is here. It turns out that while I was agonizing, a whole bunch of staff members came in, including one I haven’t met yet, a tall, skinny guy with wild blond hair. He seems a bit nervous around everyone else.

“Hey,” I say, “How was your staff meeting?”

I wasn’t allowed inside. Official Teachers-Only Business, I guess.

“Annoying,” says Aizawa. “As usual. I have to put up with yet another new coworker.” He nods to the guy I didn’t recognize. Huh, guess there was a reason I didn’t know him.

I’m kinda jealous that I didn’t get a dedicated staff meeting. At least I’m not the only newbie.

“What are you up to?” Aizawa asks. I show him my list and he nods solemnly. “Can’t help you there. I didn’t even come up with my hero name. Ask Mic or Midnight later, they should be able to help. Actually, on second thought, don’t ask Mic. I don’t think he’d be able to help with any research.”

I don’t get the chance to ask why, because Aizawa’s new coworker decides to head over. Aizawa groans and hides in his scarf.

“Ah, Aizawa! Good to see you again.”

“It’s been ten minutes.”

“Indeed it has. Ah, sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met!”

He sticks out his right hand for a handshake before realizing and quickly switching to his left without comment.

I shake it.

“You’re Aizawa’s… assistant, is that correct?”

“Teacher’s assistant and sidekick, yep. Taylor Hebert.”

“Yagi Toshinori.”

“Are you a hero, Yagi?” I ask.

“I'm, ah, an assistant myself, actually. I can’t say to whom just yet, but I’ll be taking care of things for him while he can’t be here. I suspect we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, heh.”

“Mhm.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, where in America are you from? I spent a lot of time traveling there in my youth, you see, but I don’t quite recognize your accent…”

“Oh, I’m from Brockton Bay.”

“Can’t say I’ve heard of it, sorry.”

Not a surprise, since it apparently doesn’t exist in this reality.

“It’s just north of Boston.”

“Ah, now that one I’ve heard of! Yes, I can hear it now. Well, it was lovely to meet you, Miss Hebert.”

He turns to leave, and something about him seems...

“Oh, wait! I know you!” I say.

Yagi starts coughing, and- wait, is that blood?!

Oh my God?

“Are you alright? Should we call an ambulance?!”

He waves me off as his coughing subsides. “No, no, I’m just fine, I assure you. This is from an old injury of mine, I’m afraid.”

Must be some injury, if this is common, but I’ll let it go for now.

“Now, what’s this about knowing me?” he asks.

“Well, I don't know  you, per say, but I’ve seen you around before. You’re the one who helps Midoriya Izuku clean the beach, aren’t you?”

“You know Young Midoriya?” He’s shocked.

“We’ve, ah, run into each other a few times, and we’ve started jogging together. He’s such a sweet kid.”

“He really is a remarkable young man! Did he tell you that I barely help him with the cleaning, he does it almost all by himself?” says Yagi, practically gushing now. With words, I mean, not blood.

“Really? That’s amazing! You must be so proud.” It really is impressive. No wonder he’s so strong.

“I really am. Ah, since you know Young Midoriya, could you not tell him you’ve met me here? He’s not supposed to know about my new job, just yet.”

“Of course. Y’know, the first time I saw you two out there, I thought you were father and son. Isn’t that funny?”

Yagi starts coughing again. No blood comes out this time, though he does turn pretty red.

“I do like to think of myself as a mentor to him, but no, we’re not related. It really is very nice to meet you, Miss Hebert, but I’m afraid I must be off. I’m sure we’ll talk again soon.”

“Nice to meet you too, Yagi. Goodbye.”

And with that, Yagi leaves.

“Hmph,” Aizawa says. I’d honestly forgotten he was still here.

“What?” I say.

“I wasn’t expecting you two to have so much in common, is all.” He takes a sip of coffee.

“That Midoriya kid you were talking about sounds like someone to watch out for.”

“He really is a great kid. He wants to be a hero too, y’know.”

“Of course he does. They all do. But like I said, he sounds like someone to watch, especially if someone like Yagi’s got his eye on him.”

“Oh?”

“Yagi’s been in the business a long time. If he’s calling himself a mentor to this kid, he probably thinks he’s something special.” He puts on one of his wide, creepy grins. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

Something tells me that may be one sided.

“Now let’s get back to your list,” Aizawa says. “I can at least tell you the ones that I think are stupid.”

And just like that, the great mood was over.

Damn names.

Chapter Text

Midoriya and I sit at a small table inside the smoothie shop. His is “healthy” with lots of greens and protein powder. Mine is peanut butter and jelly flavored. We’ve just spent the morning jogging, and apparently today is one of his Yagi-appointed break days from the beach. It looks better every day. I’d even say they’re almost done.

Midoriya still doesn’t know that Yagi and I have met besides the occasional wave when I pass by. Hopefully he’ll find out when he gets into UA in a few weeks.

I refuse to acknowledge the possibility of him failing.

Right now, he’s flipping through his analysis notebook while also scrolling through hero news on his phone, making notes when something catches his eye. It’s pretty impressive.

Then he stops.

“Hey, Taylor,” he says, “tell me about what happened to your quirk again?”

“There’s really not much to tell,” I lie. “I was in an attack, I got a head injury, and after that I couldn’t use my quirk.”

“But see, that’s what confuses me,” he says. “It’s incredibly odd for a quirk to be completely localized to a single part of the body like that. For your injury to completely obliterate the one area of your brain where your quirk was located, that’s like, a million-to-one odds.”

Don’t I know it.

“But also,” he continues, “didn’t you say that you can still sense the bugs around you.”

“Yes, but I can’t do anything with them.”

“But you can still feel them, which implies that your quirk wasn’t completely destroyed! Which, I’m pretty sure it can’t be, anyway. I don’t think quirks work like that. Like, sure, the body can be stopped from using the quirk, but the quirk factor in your DNA would still be intact. Even if-”

“Midoriya, what was your point?” As much as I like to hear his thoughts, I could feel that he was trying to get somewhere. Sometimes he needed a gentle nudge to get back on track.

He taps his pen against his notebook. “Right, sorry. What I’m trying to say is, what if your brain can rewrite the neurological pathways required to telepathically command the bugs?”

“...what?”

“Oh, to put it more simply: what if your bug control can come back?”

“No, no, I understood but… you really think it could come back?”

Disregarding the fact that Parahuman powers are not, as far as I’m aware, the same as quirks, do I want it to come back, completely? According to what my dad said that Contessa said, my powers were seriously fucking with my mind by the end, to the point that I couldn’t communicate with people or even recognize my allies. The only way to let my brain heal was to destroy my corona pollentia.

Who’s to say that if the base parts of my powers can come back, the fucked up part can’t come back with it?

“...Taylor?”

Shit.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

“Are you alright? You look kind of pale.”

“I’m fine, it’s just, thinking about that is kind of… complicated. Sorry.”

“It’s alright. Maybe.. Oh! We should do some tests to see if any of your control is back already! There’s this great forest near where I live, when I was little I used to do a ton of bug-catching there with K- with my friend, there were tons of beetles and millipedes and dragonflies! Oh, there were centipedes too, and spiders, but we should probably avoid those because they get really, really big, and their bites are the worst…”

He’s scribbling plans for tests and questions about my powers onto a fresh page in his notebook. He seems so excited and I almost don’t have the heart to break it to him…

“Midoriya?”

“Hm,” he says, not pausing.

“One problem.”

“Hm?”

“It’s the middle of winter. Most of the bugs are probably hibernating.”

He deflates. “Oh. Right.”

He taps his pen against his chin in thought.

“Well, there’s one other option I can think of, besides just waiting for spring. It’s not exactly the most legal…”

I used to be a supervillain. I think I can handle “Not the most legal.”

The Musutafu Insect Park is not the most beautiful nor most popular Insectarium in Japan. What it lacks in quality, however, it makes up for in convenience and affordability.

On a cold January weekend, it’s not the most desirable destination, unless you’re a kid in the middle of a “bug phase” or a student with a project. Or, you’re a budding scientist like Midoriya. And me, I guess. The lack of crowd suits us perfectly; no one to get in the way of whatever tank we want to look at. There were even neat little blurbs about fun facts or a bug’s significance in history or folklore.

Hey, nothing says we can’t have a learning experience while we were doing our testing.

The bored security guard didn’t give us more than a glance, seeing as we were obviously old enough to conduct ourselves properly. How ironic.

Midoriya had warned me that, technically, the goal would be to use my quirk illegally, on private property.

I reminded him that, according to my medical records, I was completely unable to access a quirk that could be used illegally, and there was no way that, if anything went too right, anything could be linked to something that I had done intentionally. If anything, it’s a Miracle of Modern Medicine that I was able to affect the bugs at all, since my Tragic Injury.

This was not reassuring to him, for some reason.

“Alright,” Midoriya said, starting to write in his notebook. “Date: about three years, eight months since the time of initial injury. First test: range. Taylor, how far can you sense these bugs?”

I close my eyes and reach out. The building isn’t that big, so I can feel probably every bug in the place, including all the ones that aren’t in cages. Gross.

“This whole building,” I say.

“Good. Test two: Can you differentiate between types of bugs?”

I can. Not super specifically, I don’t magically know the species name of every individual bug, but I can generally tell what type it is and what it can do.

“Interesting. Test three, follow me.”

We walk up to a display of grasshoppers. There are a couple inside, looking very bored with life.

“Test three: control one individual.”

Okay, I can do this. I can do this. Alright, bug. Move.

It hops.

Did… did I do that? I honestly can’t tell. I try again, and it does nothing.

“Test is inconclusive. Test four, can you control multiple, in a swarm?” We wander over to a display of crickets. With these, it might be easier to see if they all move at the same time.

I command them to move. About five move off to the side.

Okay, I’m pretty sure that one was me. Midoriya claps before writing in his notebook.

I want to try again.

This time, only three move.

What? Was that worse? That doesn’t make any sense.

There’s a pain in my head.

“Taylor, are you alright? Should we take a break?”

I don’t want to take a break. I want these crickets to move.

“You’re getting kind of pale again. I think we should be done for now.”

I don’t want to be done . I want to- ugh, my head.

“It’s okay,” Midoriya says, “we can come back to it later. Let’s just walk around and look at the bugs for now.”

“Okay,” I say. “Just look at the bugs. Alright.”

The bugs that they have are interesting. I learn that the dragonfly is considered a symbol of  victory, because it can only fly forwards. Rhinoceros beetles here are named after samurai helmets. Grasshoppers are symbols of luck.

It’s just…

“They’re so… limited. They’re in a glass box, and they can see outside of it and they know what they’re supposed to do, but there’s something blocking them and they don’t know why. They’re kind of like me.”

“Okay, Taylor, if you’re projecting onto the bugs then I’m really glad we’re taking this break.”

Alright, I guess I do sound a bit unbalanced.

“Oh!” Midoriya says. “Here, these are some of my favorites! This is the tamamushi, which I think is jewel beetle in english. They’re so pretty, they used to use their wings in clothing, and even on a shrine, which they called the Tamamushi no Zushi , which I think is really fun to say! I brought one home to my mom once, and even though she doesn’t like bugs that much she still agreed it was pretty! Then she made me let it go.”

The bug is beautiful. It’s an iridescent green with a red stripe down each of its wings, except when they hit the light the wings are golden. They practically glowed under the spotlight.

“There’s a saying with the tamamushi too. People say that statements are tamamushi colored, which means there’s more than one way to interpret them, ‘depending on how the light hits.’ Usually they mean it in a bad way, like with politicians being vague, but I think it’s more like how things are just complicated, and you never see all of anything at first glance, y’know? They’re multifaceted.”

Multifaceted, huh?

I reach my hand out, towards the glass. The tamamushi almost seems to reach back.

The next morning, I’m back in the teacher’s lounge staring at another piece of paper.

Midnight comes up behind me. “Hey there, Hebert-chan! Eraser said you needed some help with your hero name?”

“I don’t, actually,” I say. I show her the piece of paper.

She gasps. “I love it!”

The Multifaceted Hero: Tamamushi.

Chapter Text

Power Loader does a pretty good job. The costume is more… colorful, then I’m used to, but it fits right in with a lot of the other heroes. Also, I did choose a jewel beetle as the theme.

It starts with a basic blue bodysuit, made of spider-silk as requested, with iridescent green armor panels, as well as a matte set for stealth operations. There’s a helmet thing with headphones attached, and little antennas, as well as a pair of yellow-lensed goggles, presumably prescription. There’s also a red utility belt with a slot for my baton.

All over the costumes are a repeating symbol, a green oval with two vertical stripes. For branding, Power Loader says.

I guess.

There’s also a cape. Kind of. It’s this mesh thing, green with two red stripes, like a tamamushi’s wings. The right side covers my arm completely, while the left has a whole for my arm to go through. It seems to detach easily, so there’s not much risk of it getting caught in something, or grabbed by someone. Kind of like Faultline’s whole deal. It may be a bit impractical, but I kind of like it.

Looking at the costume as a whole makes me feel… good.

Now that I have my costume and codename, Aizawa deems me “ready” to shadow him on patrol.

We meet at UA at night. Just before we set out, he stops me.

“Now, this is your first patrol, so I’m going to set some ground rules,” says Aizawa- no, Eraserhead now.

“Rule one: You follow my lead.

Rule two: You are not the first one to engage. See: following my lead.

Rule three: You keep with me at all times. I will be slowing down for you. Do not go wandering off on your own. If you see or hear anything unusual, tell me. Do not go investigate without me.

Rule four: If we do get into a fight, hang back as much as possible. Defend yourself, obviously, but do not go out of your way to become a target.

And rule five, which encompasses all other rules, but I felt it needed emphasizing.

Do not. Do anything. Stupid.

Got it?”

“Yes sir, Eraserhead, sir!”

He sighs and rolls his eyes, but I can tell he’s almost smiling behind that scarf. He’s excited, and so am I.

He lowers his goggles. I adjust mine.

“Well, Tamamushi,” he says, and hearing my name gives me chills. “Let’s go.”

We practically glide across the rooftops together. Eraserhead and Tamamushi, phantoms in the night.

I can tell he’s taking a route that’s the easiest for me to climb. Maybe it’s time to talk to Power Loader about that prosthetic, at least something simple for scaling buildings and stuff. Ooh, maybe it can be modular, with different attachments. Like brass knuckles. Or a knife.

Eraserhead stops and motions for me to stay quiet. I creep up beside him.

Below is an alleyway with two people. I can’t make out much, but something shiny flashes in the larger figure’s hand. Speaking of knives, I guess.

“What do you mean you’re not buying,” he says, “I came all the way out here.”

“I told you, man,” says the smaller figure. “I called before you told me you raised your prices. There’s no way I can afford that shit right now.”

Ah, a deal of some kind. That must be why we’re still watching, waiting for more information.

“I came all the way out here,” says the seller, “risking my ass. And you tell me you’re not gonna buy it?!” He steps closer to the buyer, brandishing his knife. “No, you’re going to buy, or you’re going to go bye-bye.”

That’s when Eraserhead jumps down from the roof, using his scarf to slow his fall.

I settled for a conveniently located fire escape.

The buyer takes our arrival as a chance to get the fuck out of here. We let him go, and focus on the seller. He’s a big guy, with no obvious signs of a quirk. He’s also pissed.

“Heroes!” he spits, before charging Eraserhead. They exchange blows, and the guy starts looking increasingly frustrated. Probably because he can’t use his quirk.

That’s when Eraserhead (probably) blinks.

The man emits a blinding flash and deafening noise. From where I am, farther into the alley, and thanks to my goggles and headphones, I’m able to shrug it off pretty quickly, but Eraserhead’s not so lucky. He has his arm over his eyes, and he’s too stunned to register the man advancing towards him.

But I’m not.

I dart forwards and whack him across the back with my baton. He stumbles, then turns. He grins.

“Oh, so the little lady wants a turn.”

He lunges at me, slamming his knife into my side.

It knocks me back a bit, but the blade slips right off of my bodysuit.

Fuck yeah, spider silk!

He stumbles, and Eraserhead’s scarf wraps him up tightly from behind. He struggles, but can’t free himself, both arms pinned and knife dropped in the chaos.

The criminal is captured.

And Eraserhead looks pissed.

“If you ever do anything like that again,” Aizawa growls, back at UA, “I will bench you so hard you’ll be lucky to ever see your hero costume again, do you understand me, Hebert?”

Oh, fuck that.

“You needed help,” I say. “If I hadn’t-“

“ I’m a grown-ass hero, I can handle myself. You are a sidekick, and my responsibility. I let you out there tonight because I trusted you not to rush headfirst into danger. Obviously I will not make that mistake again.”

What?

“ What?!   You can’t be serious.”

“I don’t joke about this shit,” he says. “You’re lucky I’m giving you a second chance. If you don’t find some damn self-preservation instincts, you’re going to be learning right alongside the first years.”

Oh, that was ridiculous!

“I’m an adult,” I say.

“ Then act like one. ”

“What, acting like an adult is letting you get stabbed?”

“I wouldn’t have gotten stabbed. This wasn’t my first fight, Hebert. Villains have targeted my eyes before.”

“This wasn’t my first fight, either, y’know.”

“Oh? Please, feel free to share.”

“As it happens, in my first fight, I took down a major crime boss. One who could regenerate, and turn into a dragon.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit. I was fifteen.”

He stops. “Why the fuck were you fighting a crime boss at fifteen?!”

Oh shit, I probably said too much.

“Because- because none of your business.”

Shit.

“What kind of fucked up heroics program sends fifteen year olds to fight crime bosses, Hebert?”

“...I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Hebert-”

“I don’t.”

“Fine. Don’t tell me. But one of these days we are going to sit down and talk about what happened, because UA doesn’t operate like that.’

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Then he walks me home. It’s as awkward as you would think.

Dad’s asleep when I get home.

I slip into my room and peel up the bottom of my tank top. I already have a nasty-looking bruise forming on my side. It’s tender, but it’s not over any major organs, so probably no internal bleeding.

I’ll get it checked out in the morning.

Chapter Text

As the day of UA’s entrance exam approaches, I see Midoriya less and less. He wants to finish the beach before then, he says. Well, what he said was “had to”, I’m not sure why.

Power Loader commissioned a prosthetic arm for me, a basic 3D printed one. It came with a hook-like attachment for climbing and one that just looked like a hand. It’s the same shiny green as my hero costume. I declined something robotic for now, but I keep thinking about new attachments. Maybe a taser- ha, could call it a “bug zapper”.

Like, you’re getting zapped by the bug… girl.

I’ll work on it.

I finally got to meet Recovery Girl, too, after that disastrous first patrol. She gave me some cream for my bruises, told me to take care of myself, and handed me some candy. She’s a lot nicer than Panacea was, but maybe that’s because I’ve never held her hostage. Ah well. I hope not to need her services.

Finally, it’s exam day. My instructions from Aizawa are to “sit there, be quiet, and not bother the judges”. Apparently, there are hundreds of kids that they need to keep track of, and that’s not even including the other courses. The judges are in a room full of monitors, files, and a fuck-ton of coffee. I’m kind of relieved that I’m not expected to do anything. 

I texted Midoriya “good luck” earlier. I didn’t really get a response besides a thank you and an All Might emoji. He’s probably super nervous about the exam, I hope he’s doing okay.

Speaking of, I catch Yagi’s eye across the large, large room and give him a wave. He waves back. He seems to also have been relegated to just watching, as a fellow newbie. I assume we’ll both be searching for the same green head of hair, among the masses. I kind of doubt we’ll spot him, but it doesn’t hurt to look.

If the guy Yagi assists is supposed to be a teacher, then I wonder why he’s not here. I guess he’s super busy. Or, like, he just doesn’t care.

Present Mic is onstage in the massive auditorium, explaining the exam to the kids.

“Robots, really? Isn’t that kind of… a lot?” I say to Aizawa. He snorts.

“Welcome to UA. When they say ‘Plus Ultra,’ they mean it.”

“Oh, just wait ‘til she sees The Gimmick !” Someone says. I can’t tell who.

Aizawa grins. “Wait ‘til the students see The Gimmick, more like.”

Nedzu quiets everyone as the exams begin. The monitors fill with aerial views of the testing grounds before zooming in on individual examinees, switching between them every few seconds. The judges burst into a frenzy, making notes whenever anyone does anything, Aizawa among them. It seems exhausting.

I think I catch a glimpse of green, but it’s gone before I can get a better look.

I hear murmurs of numbers, presumably examinees and point numbers.

There’s a lot of explosions coming from one of the screens. I don’t know if that’s supposed to be happening, but the judges are nodding and writing.

Nedzu is making a speech about bringing out the examinees’ true potential, but what’s heroic about destroying robots? It feels like they’re only measuring the ability to destroy things. I don’t even know if Aizawa could even pass this test, if he were one of those students. And what about students like Midoriya, who are plenty smart and strong and determined, who just lack raw power?

Sure, I could pass the exam with my full power. I could block the robots’ sensors, eat at their wiring, gunk up their joints. But that said nothing about who I was as a person, or if I could take someone down without killing them, since these kids were going all out.

I don’t get it.

Behind us, Nedzu starts cackling. I turn towards him as he slams his paw down on a big red button. The room starts to shake. I whip my head back towards the monitors as the teachers start wooping.

On several of the screens, one for each testing ground, gigantic figures emerge. Giant fucking robots taller than the buildings around them.

What the actual fuck, UA? This is a “Gimmick?”

Aizawa is grinning. The other teachers are cheering. Yagi looks just as startled as I feel.

Understandably, the students on screen are getting the fuck out of there. If this is supposed to simulate an S-class threat, I don’t blame them

“Is this safe?” I ask.

“Not to worry, Miss Hebert, the Zero-Pointer was designed with numerous failsafes. Its intention is to scare, not to harm. The students are all perfectly safe!” Nedzu says.

I don’t know if I can entirely believe that, but there’s not really anything I can do about it anyway…

There’s some chatter from the judges. I look at the screens, and it seems like a student has become trapped under rubble, right in the path of this “Zero-Pointer.”

I ask again, What the Fuck, UA? ! They call this safe?

I grip the arm of my chair tightly. Nedzu said there were failsafes, right? He doesn’t seem concerned, at least.

Everyone’s eyes are trained on one monitor.

Suddenly, there’s a blur of green. A camera focuses and that…

“Holy shit,” I whisper, because of course that’s Midoriya fucking Izuku running onto the scene. Except he doesn’t stop next to the girl.

Instead, he takes a giant leap towards the zero pointer.

When I say giant, I don’t mean “very big.” I mean giant , as in no normal human being should possibly be able to leap this high. He’s level with the thing’s head.

Then the room shakes, and on-screen, Midoriya punches the Zero-Pointer and it crumples , falling backwards and away from the girl.

Holy shit.

“Holy fucking shit,” I say, and it’s lost in the noise because everyone’s on their feet cheering their heads off. I look over at Yagi, and he has the biggest smile on his face.

And then screaming starts, because Midoriya’s falling, and it doesn’t look like he can catch himself. He’s almost completely limp.

Am I about to watch my friend die?!

A piece of robot shoots up- is that the girl from before? They pass each other,, and Midoriya just… loses all momentum, just before he hits the ground.

I sit back down. I didn’t even realize I’d been standing. The teachers are laughing and clapping.

“Now that ,” Nedzu says, “is the essence of a true hero! How many points for that one, do we think?”

The staff start calling out numbers.

“Points?” I ask.

“Rescue points,” Aizawa says. “It would be illogical to dismiss a student who helps others because they’re not as destructive as their peers. A heroic attitude is something you can’t teach, though martyrdom does need to be curbed early on. Rescue and Villain points are weighted equally. No doubt, that kid just got a lot of them,” he sighs. “With a quirk like that , he’s probably going into my class.”

Wait. “So he’s in? Just like that?”

“Oh, he’s in. How long he lasts, that’s another story.”

Right, I’m talking to Mr.I-Expelled-All-My-Students.

“Why wouldn’t he last?” I ask.

“Didn’t you see what that power did to him? Look.” He points at a screen. Midoriya is on it, and his legs look… not correct, and he’s holding his arm to his chest as Recovery Girl makes her way towards them.

That… that couldn’t possibly be from his quirk, could it? Even if he’d just triggered just now (holy shit), the Manton Effect, or something like it, should’ve protected him. Does that just- not exist, here? Can people hurt themselves with their quirks?

“Maybe this is a one time thing?” I say. I honestly don’t know if it’s the first time he’s used it or not. If he knew he had it, he’s never mentioned it, and he wouldn’t have been able to hide something like a broken limb that easily.

“Doubt it,” Aizawa says. “It would be just my luck. We’ll see soon enough if he can adapt.”

Later, I text Midoriya again. I want to ask about his quirk but… I never actually told him I work at UA? That I’m a teacher’s assistant, yeah, and that I work with a big grump, but not that I’m also training to be a hero and work at his dream school.

It’ll be a fun surprise.

I hope.

Since I’m not supposed to know how the test went, I ask him about it. Maybe he’ll be up for celebratory ice cream or something.

Not great -_-     is the reply.

Tired. Will talk to you tomorrow.

That’s… not a good sign, huh?

Chapter Text

I text Midoriya the next day.

>Hey

>How’d it go yesterday?

It takes him a bit to respond.

>...
>It went…

>Well. It went.

Hm.

>Good or bad?

>I think I did well on the written exam

>That’s good! What about the practical?

>...

>...

>...

>The practical was

>not what I expected

>Idk if Im allowed to legally tell you what it is?

>I had to sign a lot of forms lol :)

>That sounds intense

>It was very intense!

>And scary lol

>But I’m fine!

Considering he broke three limbs, I don’t think he’s that fine. But I can’t exactly call him out on it without revealing I was there.

>Taylor…

>...

>Nvm

>What?

>Nothing!!

>Its just…

>I dont think I got in

Uh oh.

>Why do you think that?

>I

>I didnt score any points on the practical exam

Shit. I guess he wouldn’t know about the rescue points.

>Are you sure?

>Pretty sure…

>I guess I just got my hopes up pretty high that I would be able to do this even though... 

>Well, you know.

>And then when I got there I panicked haha

>I managed to do one thing that I know for sure wasnt worth any points

>And it felt good to do! I needed to do it

>But

>Then the exam was over

>And once again I was worth nothing

>Hey. You’re not worth nothing.

>Idk anymore

>UA was my only plan

>I guess that was kind of short sighted of me huh

>Considering the odds

>And like

>Now I dont know what to do?

>There’s always gonna be something, even if it’s not what you thought it was going to be.

>I’ll tell you what.

>Just wait til you get your letter. If you really don’t get in, then we’ll figure something out.

>But give it a chance, ok?

>Don’t give up so fast.

>I mean, I really doubt I got in

>Just wait a bit, ok?

>...

>ok.

And then, a week later…

[One Image Attached]

>TAYLOR!!!!!

>I GOT IN!!!!!!!

It’s the first day of UA’s new term, and the first time I’ll actually be assisting Aizawa. I’m not gonna lie, I was kind of nervous since I don’t, y’know, have a ton of experience with kids, but then I thought, No matter what, I’ll be less traumatizing than Aizawa , and that helped. I’m sure he’s a great teacher, but if his personality with the students is like his attitude towards his coworkers… yeah.

“No matter what- Hebert, no,Hebert- look at me, this is very important.”

I’m not sure how he could tell that I had glanced away, since my goggles are mirrored, but I made sure to give him my full attention.

“No matter what, you do not undermine me . I’m going to do and say things that you very likely won’t agree with, up to and potentially including expelling at least one student. Yes, on the first day. It’s absolutely vital that you do not question me, do not argue with me, do not do anything that will break the authority that I have over the students. Not during class. For today, you are an extension of my will. Any opinions that you have can wait until after school.”

I nod, because what can a person possibly say to something like that.

“Now,” he continues, “What are we not going to do?”

“Argue?”

“Or?”

“Break up your power trip?”

“Correct. My methods require the illusion of absolute power. Any cracks at this stage will mean my students will not respect me, and this is unacceptable. Got it?”

“Yes sir.”

We stop walking, ending up at a running track in the middle of a grassy field. There’s a large screen on a pole at the near end.

“Wait out here. I’ll bring the class back in a few moments, and we’ll see what they’ve got. If anyone lacks potential, we’ll know.”

He leaves, sleeping bag under one arm. He’s probably going to put it away on his way to the classroom.

I kind of just stand here. It’s a nice spring day, at least. Eventually, I feel twenty-one pairs of shoes trampling the bugs in a mass that’s heading my direction. Oh, someone just stepped on an ant-hill. Unfortunate, but the disturbed ants will help me get a better sense of where the students are.

I look up. Yep, there they all are. Aizawa stops in front of me, and turns to address the students, explaining the tests. Midoriya is right up front. He looks nervous, and I want to wave or something, just to let him know I’m here, but it’s probably better not to attract any attention to the fact that I know him, especially on the first day. I don’t want anyone to think there’s any favoritism going on. Plus, he’s never seen me in costume, and with my goggles covering my  face and the prosthetic on my arm, he probably doesn’t even recognize me. I’ll see him later.

“This is Tamamushi, my teaching assistant. She’s going to be helping me out throughout the year. Today she’s helping me set up the tests.”

Looking out over the crowd of students, it’s amazing how different everyone is. Even besides the unnatural hair colors, there’s a student with pink skin, one that’s incredibly tall with multiple arms, and even one that has a bird head. Quirks really are amazing.

I tune back in as Aizawa tosses a ball to a blonde kid who steps into a circle on the ground. He launches the ball with a fucking explosion and tells it to… die? I must have understood wrong.

No, the other students look confused, he definitely told the ball to die. We’ve got an edgelord here.

Aizawa turns his little tablet thing to the students. Apparently, the ball traveled over 700 meters. Okay, keeping in mind that a meter is a little bit more than a yard, that’s like… really fucking far, holy shit?

The students are really excited now. Too excited. Any second, Aizawa’s going to burst their bubbles.

“‘Awesome,’ you say?”

And there it is.

“Being a hero isn’t about fun and games. It takes real, hard work and skill. That’s why the student with the lowest combined score from all of these tests will be judged to have no heroic potential, and will be expelled.”

The students are silent, and then most of them start protesting.

“Not fair? Are villains fair? Natural disasters? Life’s not fair. It’s a hero’s job to deal with that. Plus Ultra. If I find anyone not giving their full strength to this, they’re out.”

I’m glad Aizawa warned me he was doing this ahead of time, otherwise I might’ve fought him about it on first instinct. Really though, he has a point. This life isn’t exactly kind. I was extremely lucky, especially as a villain. If these kids are expecting to coast by on their powers with no other substance to back them up, be that brains or skill, they’re not going to make it far. I’m not sure I’d go as far as expelling people, but I can see the benefit of adding real consequences this early on.

Almost everyone is using their quirk creatively. Like, there’s this one tallish girl who seems to have the ability to create any object, and she’s just crushing every test because she can always have something to make it easier. For example, an actual literal motorcycle. And there’s another kid who used his light beam quirk to push himself really far for the long jump. It isn’t perfect or graceful, but he put a lot of thought and energy into it.

Midoriya, though, isn’t doing so great. He hasn’t used his new quirk once in any of the tests. I guess considering the damage it did last time, I’m not surprised. Aizawa keeps glancing between him and his tablet, and I’m starting to get worried. If Midoriya doesn’t impress him soon…

Come on, you can do it!

We’ve reached the ball throw. Holy shit, I don’t even know how you can throw something for infinity meters. Did the sensor just give up or something?

It’s Midoriya’s turn now. If he were going to use his quirk, now would be the time.

His arm starts to glow as he rears back, and-

He launches it a decent distance, but it’s not enough. It can’t possibly be enough.

Fuck.

“I erased that ridiculous quirk of yours,” says Aizawa.

Fuck .

“That entrance exam needs to be revamped, if it lets people like you in.” His voice is full of contempt. “Lazy, entitled brats who plan to let their flashy quirks do the work for them.”

What? No, he’s wrong, he’s so wrong, Midoriya works so hard-

“What, were you planning on incapacitating yourself and letting everyone else pick up your slack? What kind of hero is that?”

He lets Midoriya go, finally, and blinks to release his quirk. He tosses him another ball.

“I’m giving you one more chance. If you incapacitate yourself, you’re expelled.”

But he’s expelled if he gets the lowest score too. It’s a trap, Aizawa’s already made up his mind. Midoriya’s out either way, unless he can do something completely unexpected. It looks like he knows it, too. He stands there, mumbling, trying to find the solution.

He winds his arm back for another throw, a determined look on his face.

Then he fucking launches it.

It’s not the best throw in the class, even disregarding the one score of infinity, but hopefully it’s enough.

He turns to Aizawa with steel and tears in his eyes, holding up his right hand. His index finger is purple, shattered, but he has a smile on his face.

“I can still move, Sensei.”

Aizawa’s face breaks out in a grin, and I’m sure mine mirrors him. There we are, three grinning idiots because Midoriya Izuku has just done the impossible and impressed Aizawa.

And then the moment is ruined when the Edgelord kid launches himself at Midoriya.

“What the hell, Deku ?!” He shouts. Aizawa snares him before he has a chance to get further, and his explosions get erased.

“Stop using your quirk,” Aizawa says. “My eyes are already dry. Enough wasting time. Tamamushi, set up the next event.

Was that it? One student just tried to attack another one and we’re just continuing on like normal?

Aizawa stares at me until I start setting things up. Right, no arguing until after class. Fine, but I’m not going to just drop it.

Eventually, the tests are over. The students mostly look nervous, which makes sense, considering one of them was about to be expelled. Midoriya looks like he’s about to cry, which could also just be from his broken finger.

“By the way,” Aizawa says, “I was lying about the expulsion.”

What?

“It was a logical ruse to get you all to perform at your best,” he says with one of his wide grins.

“Oh, was it not obvious? I’m so sorry, I should’ve said something!” says the tall girl with the object creation quirk.

Aizawa posts the scores on the screen. I think first place went to the tall girl, which makes sense. Last place was… Midoriya. Damn. If he hadn’t pulled off an almost literal miracle, he’d’ve been expelled. Of course I would’ve fought Aizawa on it, but I’m not sure how much I would’ve been able to do.

“Syllabi and schedules are back in the classroom. Tamamushi,” Aizawa says, “Escort Midoriya to Recovery Girl’s office. Class dismissed.”

I lead Midoriya through the halls. He seems really relieved, but soon that turns back into nervousness once it’s just him and me. He starts rambling.

“So. Tamamushi-sensei? Senpai? I’m not really sure, I haven’t had a class with a teacher’s assistant before, so I don’t know what to use. Anyway, I hadn’t heard of you before, and I know a lot of heroes, but I guess it makes sense if you work with Eraserhead, you’re probably Underground. Your costume is really cool, by the way, I love how shiny it is! Tamamushis are actually my favorite insect, y’know? They’re just so cool and- and shiny and-”

“Midoriya- relax. It’s me,” I say, taking off my goggles. I get to watch his brain short-circuit.

“Tay- I- Wh- Taylor?! What are you- you’re a hero? You’ve been a hero this whole time? You work at UA?! Oh god, this whole time I’ve been babbling about getting in and you already work here- no wonder you were so confident about me getting in, you probably already knew- wait, you didn’t have anything to do with me getting in, right? This isn’t some sort of weird friend-nepotism?”

“My job during the entrance exam was just to sit there. Trust me, getting into UA was all you. And technically I’m not a hero, just a sidekick for now.”

“Wait, wait, wait, that grump you work with- that was Eraserhead ? Oh my god, I can’t believe that my teacher is Eraserhead, Eraserhead almost expelled me today-” he looks down at the signed hall pass in his hands “-I’m holding Eraserhead’s signature , oh my god, Taylor, do you know how hard that is to find- oh god ow.” He clutches his broken finger to his chest.

I laugh.

“Relax, you didn’t get expelled. You’ll have plenty more chances to get his autograph for real, after we get you to the nurse.”

“I don’t think you understand just how much I cannot do that. For one thing, he hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you. If he hated you, he would’ve expelled you.”

“But- he said that was a lie, he wouldn’t really expel someone on the first day, right?”

“Midoriya, this is my first time assisting him with a class, even though I’ve been here since before we met. He didn’t have a class last year, because he expelled them all.”

“Oh.”

We walk in silence for a bit, before he stops and turns to me.

“Y-you won’t tell him I was quirkless, right? I don’t want him to have any more reasons to get rid of me.”

“Midoriya-”

“I’m serious. It’s bad enough that I barely have any control over- over my quirk, but if he found out, I'd be out on my butt for sure.”

He looks at me with his big, sad eyes, and-

“I promise he won’t find out from me. Although if he does think about expelling you again, especially for such a bullshit reason like that, I’m absolutely going to fight him.”

“Wait, no, don’t do that! I don’t want you to lose your job!”

“I doubt I would, but y’know what? You’re worth fighting for. You’re a good kid, y’know that?”

He stammers, and we finally reach Recovery Girl’s office. He stumbles out a few minutes later with a handful of candy, and I start walking him back towards the entrance. One of his classmates intercepts us.

“Ah, Midoriya! And Tamamushi-sensei! I’m glad that I’ve caught up with you both!” He’s a tall kid with blue hair and glasses that I noticed standing with Midoriya earlier. I think he had pipes coming out of his calves.

I really need to start learning these kids’ names.

“I can walk Midoriya out, Tamamushi-sensei! I have his syllabus and schedule right here!”

I stare at him a bit. He seems like a good kid, if a bit of a stickler. Midoriya needs some friends his own age. I nod.

“See you tomorrow. Both of you, I mean.”

Tall kid nods and starts leading a vaguely confused Midoriya towards the front of the school.

I end up back in the teachers’ lounge, which is empty except for a big, yellow lump. I nudge it with my boot.

“Mph,” it says,

“Were you really gonna expel someone today?”

The lump groans. “If I say ‘no’ will you go away?”

“No.”

He sighs and sits up. “The honest answer is, maybe. I honestly wasn’t impressed with your little friend at first. That kid should have had years of working with his quirk by now, especially with it being that strong, and he can’t minimize the damage. Not something I need to deal with. Then suddenly he figures something out with minimal prompting, and then he’s not so hopeless. Plus, his scores while he was in what must’ve been horrible pain weren’t too bad. Not exceptional, but he was willing to work through the pain, which showed potential. And everyone else showed a decent amount of creativity, so no expulsions there either. Yet.”

I could tell him that Midoriya only got his quirk recently, and that's why he had so little control over it. For all I know, he’ll be surprised but understanding, and he’ll arrange extra training sessions to fix it. But at the same time, I already promised Midoriya that I wouldn’t say anything. I know that might not be the most logical decision when it comes to his safety, but I also don’t want to risk the kid’s trust. And what if Aizawa really does expel him? I obviously don’t want that to happen, and while I would absolutely fight for him, wouldn’t it be better not to risk it in the first place? I’d like to think Aizawa’s not like that, but it’s not the first time a hero’s turned out to be shitty...

“What about the kid that attacked Midoriya?”

“Bakugou? What about him?”

“... He attacked Midoriya.”

“So the kid’s a hothead. I’ve seen them before. But he’s strong, too. I’ll keep an eye on him, see if I can mellow him out. That much passion’s not a bad thing for a hero to have, we’ve just gotta focus it in the right direction.”

“...Right.” I’d definitely be keeping an eye on this Bakugou too. “It seemed like there was some history between him and Midoriya?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I think they went to the same middle school. Probably rivals or something.

Rivals, sure. Midoriya didn’t tell me much about his middle school, but if it played out anything like my school days, I don’t think “rivals” really covered it. I’d need more evidence, though.

“One more thing,” Aizawa said. “The students’ first Foundational Heroics class is tomorrow. Seeing as I do not at all trust the new teacher for that class, I want you to attend.”

Foundational Heroics, huh? How bad could it be?

Chapter Text

My dear readers,

First of all, I wanted to say happy anniversary! I can’t believe it’s been a whole year since I began posting! We’ve known each other, now, for 11 chapters, and I’d like to thank you for all of the wonderful comments you’ve left on each chapter. This is one of my most popular works by far, and I couldn’t have done it without you! 💕

However,

There are some comments that are… less than wonderful. I’m glad that you all like this story, and I know you just want it to be the best it can possibly be. I appreciate it, I really do! But the way you’ve gone about it, some of you, is not the atmosphere I want surrounding this story.

This fic is a product of love, first and foremost, for two pieces of media that I thought would mesh well together. It’s been a year since I published the first chapter, but trust me when I saw it’s been in the works for long before that. I love this story, and I hope you do too.

That’s why, when you leave critiques in the comments, it hurts. A lot. I feel sad, and angry, and I want to stop writing. I dread receiving comments instead of feeling excited by them, because it feels like for every compliment I read, there are 3 more complaints.

I did not write this fic to be the most accurate in terms of character, source material, or logical events. I’m not here to bash any characters either. I promise that a lot of thought goes into every choice I make in this fic, even if it may not seem like it.

Some of you have asked if this is a “serious” work. Well, yes and no. Yes, in the way that I’m very serious about it, it occupies a large portion of my mind at all times. And also no, in that this fic doesn’t always take itself seriously. I write it primarily to entertain, primarily for myself, and then I share it with others. So again, it’s not going to be the most “accurate” or “logical” at times, and I ask you, my readers, to please accept that.

Please, no more critiques of my characters or my events. I’m doing the best that I can. If you don’t like the choices I’ve made or where the story seems to be going, well, I’m not forcing you to stay. There’s a little “x” at the top of the tab, right up there.

Starting from now, I will not be responding to critiques, including critiques of this choice. We all must curate the environment in which we want to live, and I’m cutting the negativity out of mine, even if it comes from a place of love. In fact, should the negativity continue, I will begin moderating the comments and not allowing the critiques to even be posted at all. This is not up for debate. All comments questioning this decision will be ignored or even deleted.

Please continue to interact with this story, as long as it is in a positive, respectful manner. I love hearing from you all, I do! These are simply the choices I must make for my own mental health and the continuation of Chrysochroa .

Thank you in advance for your understanding, and happy holidays! 💕

With love,

SaccharineSalt.