Mind Games - Chapter 51

“-so, anyway, Hot Ice promised me that, if I feel too overwhelmed by things, I can have her younger sister, Shoko, substitute for me throughout the week at various times,” I explained to my father.

Niko remained staring at me in a slight daze.

I snorted and raised an eyebrow at him. “You okay there, Dad?”

He jerked, the faint hum of charge in the air replaced by the crash of a large wave against my senses as he came back to himself. “S-sorry, Hi-hitoshi. I, um... I'm just a little surprised that you're going to be... babysitting for All Might.”

“No one's more surprised by this outcome than I am,” I replied, my tone returning to a bland drone... tinged with irritation.

Had I planned this, subconsciously?

I mean, it was easy to point the finger at me. I was a scheming manipulative bastard, after all, but did I deserve the rap this time? Or did I have the wrong asshole fingered for a crime I didn't commit? Hmm...

Looking at things objectively, the issue was that I hadn't predicted All Might coming to UA a year early. Giving him Eri to raise had been a calculated ploy to realign his worldview without Midoriya Izuku becoming his adopted son in all but name. But had it been enough to trigger a moment of intense self-reflection in the man to the point where he decided to step back from heroism and get a more traditional job that gave him more regular hours?

After all, if Toshi was part-timing it at UA, he'd only need to put in four-ish hours day-to-day. That gave him another four hours out of his day to run around saving people and punching bad guys before he needed to be home making a snack for his daughter.

And at that point, he'd need to stay home until Eri was put to bed. After which, if he could beg David Shield for a future-tech nanny-cam, he might be able to sneak in an hour or two of emergency response until turning in for the night.

That all made sense.

But... not to be too mean about it, I just didn't think All Might had his life together enough to come up with that kind of neat and tidy solution. He was stubborn enough to work himself literally to the brink of death by overtaxing his body for half a decade. The man might wear the red, white, and blue as well as any American, but if that wasn't 'death by overwork,' then I don't know what is.

I think I'll blame Nezu.

“Nezu?” My father asked and, in a rare slip, I realized I'd spoken aloud.

“The principal at my school. I'm pretty sure he's one of the heads of some kind of vast, over-arching conspiracy trying to stabilize Japan's place in the current international order,” I explained, voicing my suspicions.

My father stared at me, canting his head to the side oddly. “I-ah... is that one of your jokes or...”

“Not really,” I shook my head with a sigh. “Certain things... don't quite line up without a more intelligent actor pulling the strings from behind the scene. I don't think it was necessarily his idea, but I'm pretty sure he at least endorsed it.”

“Huh,” Niko murmured, confusion still blowing about the room on an insubstantial breeze. “I guess that's part of your other job, then?”

I shrugged, then resumed eating. “A bit. It's nice that someone competent is in charge, at least.”

“Not the prime minister, then?” Dad asked, chuckling at his own joke.

I waved him off. “Not really. He seems... well, the best thing I can say about him is that he's a veteran politician, which means he knows his limits. How far he can push and when to keep his opinions to himself. He doesn't act decisively without a popular mandate. All of that means he's a cautious man, which is something I prefer over more adventurous politicians.”

“Hmm,” Niko nodded slowly, taking a drink from his glass. “Not that I'm a person all that knowledgeable about politics in the first place, but... he's been a steady hand at the wheel, from what I can remember.”

“Which is about the best thing you can hope for with a democratic system,” I sighed, moving my food around. “We elect politicians based mainly on short-term desires and dissatisfaction with our current circumstances, not with any larger plan or goal in mind – domestically or in foreign policy. An executive who was so inclined might be able to destroy quite a bit, but building something different? Something more? That takes coalitions, compromise, a willingness to take electoral hits that diminish partisan power.”

It was a flaw in these 'modern' systems of governance that ran against the grain of my sidereal-self. But it also provided opportunities, if one was in a position to suitably incentivize certain politicians and bureaucrats.

Niko chewed on his food slowly, across from me. There was something... melancholic about the phantasmal sensation of rain and warm sunshine.

“Sorry, I'm rambling,” I sighed, tucking those considerations away. They were long-term plans, anyway. Bigger and bolder initiatives that would only be possible years from now, after I'd amassed enough influence.

“No, no... it's interesting,” Niko assured me, smiling softly. “Just... remembering that you're growing up. You didn't use to talk about things like this.”

I snorted, letting my cheeks flush slightly as I leaned forward to shovel more food in my mouth. “So, anyway, that's why I might be bringing Eri home. I'll try to give you plenty of warning, and All Might's promised to pick her up at the Endeavor Agency, but if he gets tied up in Osaka or Okinawa or something and she needs dinner...”

Niko nodded, waving a hand. “It's fine, Hitoshi. Babysitting puts me a lot more at ease than you going to testify at court. Or hear about you having to shut down your classmates' runaway quirks.”

I rolled my eyes. “You know I just told you that Eri has the same problem, right?”

Niko snorted, wry amusement swirling in the air. “Unless I'm dramatically misunderstanding things, Eri is a child. Your classmates are teenagers who should have developed better life skills by now. Besides, I went through some of what that poor girl did. Nowhere near what you've told me, and I'm not naive enough to think that's the whole story, but-”

Dad. Eri. Quirk.

A random neuron fired.

I'm a fucking moron.

I slammed my head down into my plate, heedless of the food still on it, with enough force to crack the damn thing. Not enough to shatter it and drive ceramic shards into my face, but there was still pain from the impact.

A nice cleansing pain to wash away the sincere stupidity.

“Hitoshi?!” My father asked in a panic as I sat back up, his jaw dropping and an earthquake of alarm rumbling through the room. “What's-”

I triggered my quirk, seizing his mind in my grasp.

Taking a careful breath, I opened my mouth, then closed it. No, not what I'd done with Eri. Not turn off. “Suppress your quirk.”

It was like feeling a glacier move.

The weight that I was so used to receded, inch by painstaking inch. I could feel the contest of quirks underneath the normal domestic scene. My ability was young, growing, but not fully actualized. Powerful, yet still being honed into a weapon. More than that, even, it had a latticework of growth and skill grafted onto it that had taught it new tricks, beyond what most quirks were capable of.

My father's was... colossal in a way I didn't have the right words to describe, at least not in a modern language. Old Realm did, but they translated poorly, if beautifully.

When the sky and heavens above behold you in your insignificance.

Challenge them or die.

It was a lumbering thing, though, having grown fat and apathetic. Unchallenged and clumsy in its attempts to push back against a sudden and powerful blow. Not just untrained, but completely wild, never even attempted to be tamed or controlled. Not in several decades, at least. So long that it had likely forgotten.

Sweat was beading on my forehead, and I reached for Ki-Essence to moderate my internal homeostasis, keep myself balanced and breathing steadily. There was the impulse to truly manifest the power, to strike with occult energies that would truly beat the quirk into submission, but I restrained myself. Going as slow as I was allowed me to ensure no harm would come to my father as I held a finger on the pulse of his fate and weaved around the possible dangers.

Finally, after a psychic duel that felt far longer than the five minutes it appeared to have taken, I sighed in relief.

Psychic Broadcast, my father's quirk, had been boxed up and bound.

I released Shinso Niko from my control.

The man blinked, groaning, reaching up to rub at his head. “Hitoshi? W-why do I feel like someone stuffed my head full of cotton?”

“Because I brainwashed you into suppressing your quirk,” I sighed tiredly, leaning back in my chair with my drink.

Niko blinked eyes a few shades darker than my own, stilling as what I'd just declared echoed through his mind. “Y-you... what!?”

The careful bindings snapped and his quirk exploded outwards in an immaterial rumble. I was grateful to be sitting down in that instant. Regardless of whether or not the force was real, it'd have definitely blown me off my feet.

“Uuuuuuugh,” Dad blinked slowly, making a face like he was about to sneeze. “What the hell...”

I smacked my lips, blinking in slight shock as well. “Well. That was... informative. For a first try.”

“First time?” Niko asked, his eyes seeming to finally focus as the air roiled with emotions like a storm-wracked sea. “Hitoshi... I really don't want to do anything like what just happened ever again, thank you very much.”

“So you want to be drugged out of your mind the next time we go visit Mom, I understand,” I stated, my tone casual and nonjudgmental.

Niko froze for a moment, insight crystallizing in the air. “...”

“Or maybe you want to attend my graduation by video-conference instead of being there to see me walk,” I sighed, nodding. “Or my wedding. I mean, Himiko will be upset, but I can probably-”

“Alright, alright...” Niko sighed, the sound remarkably less enthusiastic than my dismissal had been as he put the palms of both of his hands over his eyes. “I'm going to need to restock on pain killers.”

“It'll be fun,” I smirked. “A real father-son bonding activity.”

“That honestly terrifies me, Hitoshi. I've seen what you call 'light training' when you were doing your streams. I can only imagine what you're going to subject me to,” Dad shivered, his shoulders slumping further. “Now go clean your face, you've got dinner on your forehead.”

I let him have the little victory.

I'd have my revenge soon enough.

...at some point I should let him know that I'm trying to get Mom out of prison.

…

2CUTE-PRINCESS: Hey!

JACKEDIN: ...

2CUTE-PRINCESS: Aww! Don't be mean! Wanna date w/ Hitoshi?

JACKEDIN: Why'd I give you this contact?

2CUTE-PRINCESS: Cuz u lik him! An ur cute!

JACKEDIN: ugh If it weren't 4 your taste in music, I'd wonder if you were really that braindead.

2CUTE-PRINCESS: Hehe! Toshi-kun says, 'still waters run deep.' ;)

JACKEDIN: If I send you a pin for a club I like, will you cut this shit out?

2CUTE-PRINCESS: Nah! Cuz that means it's working!

JACKEDIN: Goddammit.

…

The bar/dance pit/cafe was small, tucked away in a back alley, and with music loud enough that you could feel it in your chest rather than just listening to it with your ears. The neat part, though, was that they had soundproof booths you could rent out with a private speaker system playing music of your choice. After walking through the dimly lit space filled with glowing neon of various kinds and swaying bodies gyrating to a beat I'd heard on the radio a few times...

I casually tripped someone and pulled the canister from his pocket, causing him to spill the drink he'd just dropped a pair of pills into.

I was gone before he could pick himself up off the floor, shifting out of his eyesight and removing the hat I'd been wearing.

Later, I'd pull his picture up from the CCTV system and his name from the payment processor this place had hooked into its digital footprint.

The door shut and the sound cut off.

“You look happy with yourself,” Kyoka observed, leaning up against the far side of the small room, the fold-out table already set up between us.

I tossed her the container I'd just pick-pocketed. “Just stopped a date-rape, so I'm entitled to a little self-satisfaction.”

Jiro, startled as she juggled the bottle briefly before catching it firmly, stared at the container, then at me as I made myself comfortable and picked up a menu. One thing I was still getting used to was ordering shit by app while you sat in the building. I was more than comfortable with delivery and carry out apps, but... well, call me old school, but I came to a restaurant for human interaction, not to paw at a touchscreen.

“Most people... I wouldn't believe that kind of crap,” Jiro hummed, her voice thoughtful as she dropped the bottle in the trash. “But if even half the stories Toga's told me are true...”

I hummed, giving her a nod and making my selection. “She's told you the tamer stories, I'm sure. That one about our first meeting when we got kidnapped by a gang of quirk-traffickers?”

I watched her throat shift as she swallowed. “Y-yeah... I, um... she let me listen to that private stream you made to call out to the heroes.”

Leaning back, I looked her over. Really looked her over, with more than just my eyes. The way she sat, the way her arms were positioned, the movements of her ear-jacks and the tilt of her head. My nose wasn't as good as Himiko's but I could get by in a confined space with only one other human being.

Then I took what I knew of her and put that together with what I was seeing, here and now.

Jiro, rather oddly, had the most characterization of anyone in Class 1-A outside of Bakugo and Midoriya. Considering that less than half the class had visible parents, that wasn't saying all that much, but it was still interesting. Arguably, Jiro even had her own character arc, something that virtually no one could boast of outside of Small Might and Lord Explosion Murder. I guess Icy Hot counted, too, even if I had... issues with his characterization and development.

I'd done enough cursory research into her at this point to ensure what I knew of her was correct.

Two parents. Good relationship despite the age disparity. Loving household. And – actually loving – not the funhouse approximation the Toga family had created. Likes music. Shy about her special interest. An introvert-extrovert switch with a biting sense of personal justice that could flip her from being a part of the scenery to the leading voice in any argument.

Exceptional dislike of perverts.

There were in fact, a pair of disciplinary notes concerning an 'altercation' after a boy had been caught using his quirk to spy on the girl's changing rooms at her school.

“Why me?” She asked, her gaze narrowed intently, then blushed at her sudden outburst. “I-I mean... I want to know. Before I agree on anything. Himiko... she said this was a date, but... it's not a real date until I say so, okay?

“Okay,” I nodded, easily accepting her terms. “Why not you?”

“What's that supposed to mean?” She frowned, her hackles up.

Good, I preferred irritation over that sludge-like mix of melancholy, regret, and unhappiness. “You seem to think there's something wrong with yourself; that there's a reason why I shouldn't or wouldn't pick you. I'm curious what that reason is.”

Jiro frowned, leaning back and cooling her irritation.

“I... I mean, why would you?” She asked, looking off to the side. “I'm not pretty. I start shit over stupid radio pop idols that are just goddamn lip syncing and not actual musicians! I'm gloomy and look like a punk instead of some top-heavy, preppy piece of ass-”

“You're not conventionally pretty, it's true,” I interjected, watching her ire turn on me. “But I think that the flower that blooms in adversity is the rarest and most beautiful of all.”

Jiro's face turned flaming red as she choked on her rant.

“I'm also more fond of lithe body-types,” I admitted casually, pointedly looking her up and down. “I enjoy a woman who has interests and pursues them, but isn't obsessed or consumed by them. You strike a good balance between having an opinion, expressing it, and not necessarily shoving it down someone's throat unless they try to do the same to you.”

Instinctively, her hands clutched at her chest and she looked away, face still aflame.

Because she didn't hate perverts. Not really. Paradoxically, she hated being dismissed by them as not being worth of attention because she didn't have tits or an ass worth oogling.

Someone staring at her that way – or close to it – appreciating her body? The way she bit at her lower lip and her jacks swirled in agitation told me it wasn't unpleasant.

But there was more to her.

A knock at the door made her jump, and as I opened it, a waiter passed us our order, the noise of the room beyond surging into our space before being abruptly cut off as it closed behind them.

I set about unpacking my utensils and the warm towelette. Japanese service really was on an entirely different level. Jiro stared at the cake she'd ordered, not moving.

“D-did you mean all that?” Jiro asked, finally.

“I wouldn't have said it if I didn't,” I replied bluntly, taking a spoonful of the soup I'd ordered into my mouth.

“Lots of guys would have,” she muttered, her leg bouncing anxiously. “The guys who don't care what you look like, they just want in your pants. They're the worst of all.”

Hmm... she's a little ball of anxiety, self-loathing, and low esteem, isn't she?

She wasn't Himiko, though. She wasn't someone about to accidentally burn their entire life down around them because of decisions forced upon her. She wasn't someone I needed to 'save' from a disastrous spiral that would help destabilize society at large.

I made my decision.

“I bet those guys would give you a rose, if they were trying to be romantic and impress you,” I said, pulling up the sleeve on my right wrist a bit and showing off my hand. “You see anything? Any way to hide something? A fake covering on my finger or clever bit of makeup?”

Jiro frowned, leaning forward and inspecting my hand, moving her head this way and that before looking back up, into my eyes. “No, I guess not.”

“Cool,” I nodded, showing her the palm and waggling my fingers. “Watch closely, alright?”

The punk girl nodded, her eyes locked on my hand as it closed, then opened-

-and a rich, deep purple-pink flower emerged.

Jiro blinked, looking between me and the flower, then slowly taking it from my hand as I offered it. Giving it a small sniff, she smiled as she blushed, turning towards me as I fixed my sleeve. “Okay, I'll bite. How'd you do that? And this isn't a rose, is it?”

“No, it's not,” I replied, taking a sip of my tea. “It's a flower called oleander. In the west, it has a complicated meaning. Beauty, caution, and deep, even dangerous, love.”

Jiro's blush deepened as she held it close, nibbling at her lip again.

“Here in Japan, though, it's a symbol of rebirth, hope, and resilience. They were the first flowers to bloom in Hiroshima after the bomb dropped,” I continued to explain.

Jiro's tongue traced her lips as she stared at me. “Which meaning...”

“Both,” I informed her, making her snort slightly and grin. “As to how I did it? I pulled it from a pocket dimension I have welded onto my soul.”

Jiro snorted again, actually laughing at that as the tension flowed out of her. “Okay, so really...”

“Really,” I nodded at her, preoccupying myself with eating my soup. “While I'm publicly employed by the Endeavor Agency, I'm actually an agent for the Celestial Bureaucracy. In order to accomplish my various missions, they gave me a number of... enhancements. Powers and abilities that would each count as a quirk on their own, but I have in multitudes.”

The girl across from me cocked her head, narrowing her gaze at me. “Is this... some kind of joke?”

I huffed a laugh and held out my hand again, summoning my phone and making her jump a little. A flower was one thing, but a full smartphone? Setting it on the table, I next produced the bento I kept for emergencies. Then a pair of thick books. And finally a large can of pepper spray I carried for when someone gave me a good enough excuse.

“You tell me,” I offered her, swallowing my soup and going for my tea with one hand before making the entire stack disappear with my other, making her jump again. “You should try your cake, it looks delicious.”

Her jaw worked silently at that. “Y-you want me to eat cake after you show me something like that!? You have a brainwashing quirk, so I know it can't be that! H-how... a-are you serious? About all that shit with working for some floaty angel dipshits up in the clouds?”

I snorted and shook my head, wearing a wry grin. “They're nothing like that, believe me. But, yes, I expect you to eat your cake. It'd be a shame for it to go to waste, after all.”

Jiro rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she wiped her hands and attacked the dessert angrily with a fork. Her eyes widening as she tasted it, she took a sip of her coffee to wash it down with, before sighing. “Okay, so... what the fuck. Why tell me about this shit?”

“To intentionally scare you off and make you act in your own self-interest,” I explained succinctly.

“Huh?” She blinked.

“You seem to think this is about a relationship. About love, sex, dating... normal teenage things. Maybe a bit of tutoring since you want to get into UA next year?” I asked, and she grimaced with a bit of shame before nodding. “This isn't that. This is more like a job offer. One you can't walk away from, ever. This isn't a date, it's the first in a series of interviews where I gauge if you're a good fit for what I need.”

“...and what do you need?” Jiro asked, sliding her fork through a much smaller bite of her cake.

“I need someone level-headed,” I stated. “Someone reasonable, who's not prone to flights of fancy. Practical, but not boring. Someone who knows how to have fun, who doesn't have an incompatible moral compass, but is also flexible enough to understand that – sometimes – the ends do justify the means.”

Jiro took a deep breath, releasing it slowly as she toyed with her fork, tapping it on the saucer to a slow beat.

We sat like that for a while, silently contemplating the matter at hand.

Or, well, Jiro did. I just enjoyed my soup. Come what may, the die was cast.

“You said, 'scare me off,'” she frowned at me. “What's that mean?”

“It means that you should finish your cake, politely tell me to screw off, and never speak to either myself or Himiko again,” I told her in no uncertain terms, making her frown in incomprehension. “Are you familiar with the old adage, 'To whom much is given, much is required'?”

Jiro shook her head, “I can get the meaning, though.”

“Good,” I nodded. “The 'job benefits' are substantial. Immortality isn't all that difficult to acquire, for instance.”

Her eyes bulged.

“I can get you skills, abilities, a lot of things that would count as a separate quirk in their own right,” I continued. “But it's a dangerous life. Also one that imposes rules and restrictions on you. Like not being able to tell anyone where you're going or what you're doing. Lying to people, constantly. Especially those you love.”

Jiro twisted in her seat, working her throat as she swallowed. “And if we get halfway through these 'interviews' and I decide I don't want the job?”

“I wipe your memory,” I stated. “Which means we'll break up, you'll have had fun but realized the relationship wasn't for you and we'll have parted on good terms.”

“I thought you could just use your quirk to make people do things,” Jiro stated, picking up her coffee morosely. “Not... that.”

“I did say that you'd need to lie to everyone around you,” I reminded her. “That includes some of what you can do. Always keeping a few aces up your sleeve.”

Jiro made a noise of understanding, then met my gaze directly. “Okay, say I'm in. What happens next?”

I sighed, partially in relief and partially in disbelief. A flashdrive appeared in my fingers. “Take that home and plug it into your computer.”

Jiro picked up the device when I set it down between us. “What is it? Information about... that celestial office crap?”

“It's spyware,” I told her with a snort. “It will completely infect your computer and spread to your phone, completely compromising any form of privacy you have as far as I'm concerned. I'll be able to look through your browsing history, check your downloads, view homework assignments... anything and everything you've ever done on your computer.”

She inhaled deeply, her knuckles clenching around the small drive. She looked at me in disbelief. “You-”

“If you have a problem with that, you might as well just quit here and now,” I snorted. “This is the least invasive it gets.”

Jiro's leg was bouncing again, her look a focused concentration of frustration and temptation.

She slipped the drive into her pocket and met my gaze again. “Now what?”

“Now you pick the music and I ask how your school year is going so far,” I smiled, enjoying her look of surprise and disbelief. “One of the big rules is that you only try to handle so much heavy shit at the same time. The rest of this date is just us chatting and getting to know each other.”

Understanding flowed across her face. “Yeah... okay. I can get that. Enough heavy shit. So... I guess, I've got this station I've been listening to. It's digital, but they've got a lot of the Second New Age psychedelic rock playing. Not all of it's great, but we can talk through it and it won't get too loud.”

As she found the station on the built-in speakers, I smiled and listened to her talk about her classes while I explained what a day in the Endeavor Agency was like.

~~~

Ah, this one was fun. Two interesting conversations to be had. One with Hitoshi's dad, whom we haven't seen in a while and another with Jiro, who's finally starting in on her path.

Next chapter will be a quick stop by UA before Shinso has his first day in court. I'm sure I won't cry tears of blood in sheer frustration at having to write a courtroom drama.

Anyway, there's that and we'll soon meet the adorable Eri for more content there, as well.

Next update? Probably Butler Boy.

Reminder, though, that voting is still up.