A Precise Note Chapter 24 - Loudness

I fucked up.

Katsuki was a person who was willing to own up to his mistakes. As someone aiming for the title of Number 1 Pro Hero, it was a trait that was demanded by necessity. Thus, the moment Izuku turned his accidental outburst into a whole fucking show with smoke and mirrors, Katsuki immediately understood, I fucked up.

He let his stupid, momentary feeling of annoyance — not jealousy, he wasn’t fucking jealous — blind him to an obvious fact, and a clear cry for help.

Izuku was drowning in pussy.

And not in the good fucking way.

Watching Izuku grab a girl on each arm and say something as brain-dead retarded as being unable to be satisfied with more than one girl, that was the moment that Katsuki looked at him and felt:

What the fuck have you gotten yourself into, Izuku?

That, not anything that came before, not his constant nerd talk, not the way he talked about heroics, not even his odd eating habits, or anything that came before. It was that moment. 

The reason was because the Izuku he knew cared only about two dumb things: helping people and saving people.

The Izuku he knew was selfless to a fault.

The mere action of stating he couldn’t be satisfied with one girl was selfish to a fault.

It was the antithesis of Izuku. Thus, Katsuki instantly knew Izuku was bullshitting him. It was a lie, a trick, a con, a deception, meant not to just bullshit him but bullshit everyone around him.

And everyone would eat it up—

Except him.

Because he was the one who knew Izuku best.

Because Izuku never lied.

Not once. He told him about drawing porn, about fucking a classmate, about going on dates, about the tons of dumb shit that went through his mind at all days and all times, and sure, maybe he withheld the truth once or twice, but a deliberate, blatant, outright bullshit lie like this one?

It was the first time.

That was all Katsuki needed to know that shit was hitting the fan.

Izuku was doing something genuinely fucked up or planning on doing something extremely fucked up, so he needed this to hide attention from the fact that he was doing or planning on doing something genuinely fucked up.

Katsuki was certain that whatever he was doing was uber-super fucked, which demanded the need for such a large smoke-and-mirror. Katsuki was also certain that the real reason Izuku made that stupid, unbelievable claim was because he had gotten into some deep, stupid shit with or concerning both girls, and he couldn’t leave one or the other hanging because of his broken ‘I must save everyone’ mindset.

The damned goody-two-shoes probably didn’t even think there was something wrong with that mindset. He probably didn’t even register it as a massive, glaring flaw and giant red flag. Wanting to save everyone was fucked and stupid. It meant he was being pulled at the seams by the whims of others, and his stupid, fucked up mentality of ‘saving everyone’ and ‘believing in everyone’ would have him doing dumb shit, and dumber shit, and justifying himself by saying he was doing it all for the sake of others.

Just like how he let his classmates at Aldera pile him with their books, just like how that perv creep Matsuda got him to draw porn, Izuku would always try to ‘save’ people, to ‘help’ people by however means possible, even if it meant sacrificing his time, energy, body, sweat, conscience and morals to do so.

For Invisi-Girl, Katsuki could already see the writing on the wall, and he could tell for a fact that being perma-invisible would suck ass. No doubt she whimpered some sob story into Izuku’s ears, and being the self-proclaimed defender of the downtrodden, he decided to help her. For Thorn-girl, she was clearly some religious nutjob. Izuku took one look at her and said, ‘Oh, no, you’re being abused! I’ll save you!’ and decided to do what Izuku did best: charge head first like a white-fucking-knight on a white-fucking-horse.

Izuku always did that. He always fucking did it, and Katsuki hated it.

Izuku would always charge headfirst without thinking.

His feet moved first, then his mind followed after.

If it wasn’t his feet doing the moving, it was his ‘heart’ doing the moving. Rushing to ‘save’ people without stopping to consider how, or why, or if he should, or if it’s a bad move, or if it’ll get him killed.

Can’t resist girls at all? The kind of scum who can’t be satisfied with one girl? Who the fuck do you think you’re fooling with that bullshit?

At his core, at the core of Midoriya Izuku was a single desire:

‘Be a Hero.’

The problem was, Izuku’s definition of ‘heroism’ meant being a fucking thankless slave.

You’re going to be drowning in girls, trying to fix all their issues… and everyone is going to think you’re having the time of your life, when all you’re doing is trying to stop a thousand fucking leaks from sprouting on a sinking ship… 

You’ll be drowning, and everyone will high-five your raised hand, too fucking far up their asses to realize you’re reaching for air…

Katsuki didn’t say anything. There was no point in calling out Izuku’s bluff here and now or in pointing out how fucked the boy’s mindset was. The boy would never admit to anything, and Katsuki would only just get more pissed at him for doing so. 

He would wait till later, and then properly ask Izuku about what the hell he’d gotten himself into. Izuku wouldn’t lie. If he did lie, then Katsuki would only be certain it was something completely FUBAR.

At that point, he would march up to the Midoriya home himself and tattle to Inko.

Fuck not being a snitch, he would rather be a snitch than let Izuku dig himself deeper and deeper into whatever hole he was digging. He would rather be a snitch than have to speak to Izuku through a telephone on one side of a glass wall, or worse, speak to a tombstone littered with wilting flowers.

He said nothing, only watching as the fucking farce of a show continued, and as Sparkplug asked to spar later, Izuku suddenly switched gears and said he wanted to spar in the classroom.

The fuck is going on in his head?

Katsuki grabbed a pen and moved forward.

Fuck it.

“Alright… at the toss of a pen…" 

…

…

The sound of a pen clattered to the ground.

What… the… fuck?

Sparkplug had managed to force Izuku into a corner.

Sparkplug, the goofy ass guy with the electricity puns and moonwalking, managed to force Izuku into a corner.

Katsuki was giddy. Katsuki was pissed. Katsuki was happy. Katsuki was furious. A torrent of conflicting emotions swept over him at the same time, and his brain went completely blank.

What the fuck?

He had never managed to touch Izuku, not once, in spars. Not once, not ever. Yet the guy in Sixth Place just managed to do what he couldn’t?

He had followed the entire fight from start to finish, with some difficulty, and the answer he saw was simply that Izuku couldn’t react quickly enough to his speed.

No, it’s not just that, it’s the confined area…

That’s… it? You’re telling me all I fucking needed to do to beat him was overload him with attacks in a confined area?

Katsuki had never fought Izuku in an enclosed space. His quirk was not designed for fighting in enclosed spaces. Objects would either catch aflame, burn, ricochet in unpredictable, dangerous ways from the explosion, or create a host of complications that were too dangerous to attempt even in a friendly spar.

He had theorized it was possible, but at the same time, he didn’t have the toolset needed to make it possible without potentially making a friendly spar into a lethal fight. 

Fucking hell…

He was overcome with fucking glee at finally seeing Izuku be touched in a fight and also pissed that it wasn’t him who was responsible for it, but the guy in SIXTH FUCKING PLACE!

…The guy who managed to get Sixth Place despite getting a big fat zero on the Written Exam.

That part managed to snap him back to reality.

If Sparkplug had taken the Exam seriously instead of dicking around—

It was possible, entirely possible… that he would be in Second Place—

If not First.

That snapped him to reality.

He turned to the other people in the classroom. Thus far, minus Invisi-girl, who he had no clue how the hell she passed, Fifth Place, who was broody and silent, and thorn-girl over there whose hair was useful…

Sparkplug was a true, blue, genuine contender for top student, if not No. 1 Hero.

At least there’s someone here who can fucking give Izuku a run for his money—

Katsuki frowned.

Wait, why the fuck did this come back to being about Izuku? Fuck! Damn it!

In his eyes, Izuku had always been ‘the guy to beat.’ If the ‘guy to beat’ could be beaten, and if they were beaten by someone who wasn’t him, what good did that fucking do him?

Katsuki mumbled words under his breath about ‘stupid’, but his frown deepened as he saw the boy start scratching at his hand. The same hand he used to catch the punch at the end of that fight.

What the hell is up with that…?

Katsuki had never seen Izuku scratch his hand like that before.

However, he had never seen Izuku lose a fight before.

Technically, it was a draw, but the fact that he was forced into a situation where he couldn’t dodge counted as a loss in Katsuki’s eyes, and it no doubt would count as one in Izuku’s eyes.

Don’t fucking tell me it’s something ridiculous like he’s allergic to losing or something…? 

Or… allergic to being touched?

Izuku was already anal enough with the way he ate, and his habits all being neat and orderly and ‘precise,’ but Katsuki chalked it up to the standard OCD package that came from his Quirk. It didn’t harm anything, really, or hurt anyone, but Izuku himself once prattled on about how OCD was more than just being anal about germs. It was fucking called obsessive and compulsive for a reason, because there were obsessions and compulsions.

All Quirks had downsides, and all of them had physiological effects. His mother’s quirk was one example due to how it affected her skin. Katsuki had always wondered what downside Izuku’s Quirk had, considering the fuckload of upsides it gave him.

Seeing him scratch his hand like that after losing—

“Oi, Izuku…”

“Hm? Kacchan? What’s wrong?”  

“Your Quirk, it—” 

“SU-BA-RA-SHI!”

The door swung open, and some tall-ass fucker with a voice that could deafen the world marched in, grinning like crazy, with wind flapping wildly around him.

“SU-BA-RA-SHI!”

For fuck’s sakes somebody mute this guy.

XXXXX - A Precise Note - XXXXX

Hitoshi did not believe he was capable of deep dislike for a person he had just met until he encountered Midoriya Izuku. 

A ‘Winner’ in all forms and all senses, and all means, one who flaunted his victory, blatantly and bluntly, to the eyes of everyone who cared to see it. He thought him humble, but he was mistaken. Nothing more than a glorified pretty-boy with lustful tendencies, who had fooled everyone around him, probably by relying on nothing more than his appearance and looks.

That perspective was changed the moment the spar with the other boy commenced, the more upbeat blond that differed from the delinquent, and it was a spar he could not follow, let alone spectate. Not even as those two-dimensional extra characters in his Saturday morning anime that served no other function but to provide exposition to a fight, not even as that, for he could not discern a single thing that had happened from start to finish.

They were beyond his speed and beyond his capabilities. They existed on a different level of superhuman, one which made any pride in his abilities turn into a laughable joke.

He could brainwash people, yes. He could solve problems, fights, and dilemmas without ever needing to lift a finger, merely by uttering one or two phrases and words, but in a situation where his opponent could slice his jugular faster than he could utter a word, what use was the power to end conflict with words?

Words were loud, but power was louder.

This was a Hero Academy in the end, and as his goal was heroics, to save people, it meant inevitable conflict with villains, who sought to hurt people. In such situations, he was hilariously, hopelessly, laughably outgunned if his foes were hearing impaired, mute, or simply not talkative.

What was his recourse then? What would he do?

Hitoshi did not know.

That was what he was here to learn. That was what he was here to find out. That others would be starting on a grander ground did not dissuade him, nor did it make him balk and question himself. Winners and Losers, in the end, there was no question in his mind that the latter could become the former and the former could become the latter. There were no eternal Winners, and an eternal Loser would, by virtue of being the greatest Loser, paradoxically become a Winner.

There would certainly be physicals to come, there would be practical portions to come, and Hitoshi was already anticipating them. He did not see any world wherein he managed to score better than most, but he did not believe he was the only one who would face such struggles.

However, he shot a glance to the Invisible Girl at the back of the class, Toru, and there was a brief sense of solace that filled him from top to bottom. It was wrong to feel solace, perhaps, but knowing there were others here who would face the same trials and tribulations he possessed reassured him that ways would be found to overcome them.

Invisibility was a net demerit as a Pro-Hero focusing on rescuing others, and as one focusing on combat, it granted no real recourse against enemies beyond ‘they can’t see you, so they can’t hurt you.’ Enemies that didn’t rely on sight would render her just as ineffective as deaf or mute enemies rendered his powers worthless, but the only difference, he wagered, was that she would be a much more elusive target.

Those of us with Quirks that do not vastly enhance our physical capabilities or give us superhuman abilities will likely gather together…

The shared weakness in this regard would necessitate joining forces.

Winners and Losers.

In the end, it came down to Winners and Losers.

By clinging on to a Winner, it was possible to ascend to become a Winner. Losers were often crabs in a bucket, each one eagerly hoping to drag the other one down with them, and the only way to prevent being dragged down by a Loser was to cling on to a Winner.

It was why he understood how one would be willing to share a person like Midoriya Izuku.

“SU-BA-RA-SHI!”

Another Winner stepped upon the stage.

A person with a wind-based quirk, gleaming eyes, a well-defined figure, a sharp jaw, and an incredibly obnoxiously loud voice that made Hitoshi grimace.

“YOARASHI INASA AT YOUR SERVICE! PLEASED TO MEET YOU!”

“My bloody ears say otherwise! Damn it! Fu—dge!”

“I couldn't resist waiting outside once I heard a friendly spar was going to take place! I would love to join in but…" Inasa cleared his throat. “My quirk, Whirlwind, isn't well suited for indoor fights. I'd end up wrecking the entire classroom."

“Niiice!" Denki, Lightning Winner, clapped. “So, we've got Electric," Denki pointed to himself. “Flying," he pointed to Inasa. “Ghost," he pointed over to Invisible Girl. “Grass—"

“Excuse me?" Shiozaki blinked.

“And… yo, Shinso-san, what’s your quirk anyway?”

Several sets of eyes landed on him at the same time. He was suddenly the center of attention. It occurred to most that everyone present knew each other’s Quirks, but no one knew his, and this was by design, because he had not said it.

However, sooner or later, they would learn it. Sooner or later, this conversation, and thus this revelation, had to be made.

“Brainwashing.”

Denki blinked. Several sets of eyes turned to him. The Delinquent’s brows went high. Shiozaki shot him an inscrutable glance. Midoriya's eyes were almost shining. That was not the reaction Hitoshi was accustomed to. A shudder ran down his spine. It felt like Midoriya’s interest in him had grown significantly upon obtaining that information.

“Ooooh! Psychic!” Denki clapped. “That’s sweet! We’ve got tons of different types here! Who do you think is gonna come through the door next? Water? Ground? Fairy?"

“Fire,” Inasa said. “And ice.”

“Huh?”

“A rather unpleasant individual I took the Recommended Exams with. He was ranked Second, and he was not passionate at all. That lack of passion…” Inasa clenched his fist.

“Wait a minute,” the Delinquent snarled. “The hell do you mean by ‘Recommended Exams?’” 

That’s… it?

Hitoshi did not understand what was happening. 

Did they not hear what I said my Quirk was? No, they had. They all had. Every single person present had heard him say his Quirk was Brainwashing, and beyond the light acknowledgement, they simply… moved on. Continued their conversation as though it were a topic of minor concern, as though it were a matter of little import, as though the revelation had changed absolutely nothing about him, and as though it did not affect them in the slightest.

The change in topic was not false, nor artificial, and barring Midoriya’s oddly piercing, curious glance, the matter had been raised and dismissed with all the casual impermanence of a conversation about the weather. There were none of the usual questions that came, none of the usual barrage of backhanded compliments, none of the not-so-subtle insinuations and judgement that dripped from their gazes, which all but bellowed like desperate whore: ‘That’s a villainous quirk!’

There was none of it. Absolutely no mention of it. None of the gazes that dripped with revulsion, none of the fear, none of the apprehension, none of the doubt and wariness. It was as if it were an afterthought, or as if his Quirk were… normal.

“Shinso-san—”

Midoriya slid into the seat in front of him, with eyes sparkling.

“How does your Quirk function? Via voice? Touch? Gaze? Does it have an estimated range? Can you activate it on more than one individual at a time?”

A barrage of questions came at him, firing one after the other with a level of exuberance that Hitoshi himself did not have for his own ability. Stunned into silence, he questioned whether he should answer those questions, as doing so would give away knowledge of his capabilities, his secrets. It was making it incredibly likely his power would never work on others, but, at the same time…

“It works with voice. The only range is my voice. It can be active on more than one person, but I can only use it on one person at a time—”

Hitoshi gave away the answers. He himself could not tell why. He disliked Midoriya, a self-proclaimed scum-like playboy, but, at the same time, there was something oddly… open about him. There was something refreshing in that earnest interest that Hitoshi rarely encountered.

“You’ll definitely make an excellent Hero with your Quirk, Shinso-san.”

Hitoshi’s breath hitched in his throat. He froze. He went stiff, ramrod, and immobile as if commanded by his own power.

“What?”

“You can stop people about to end their lives. You can take down criminals holding hostages just by speaking. No need for violence, no need for fighting, or fists or force. Just having you as a Hostage Negotiator means always having the guarantee that lives will be saved.”

Midoriya shook his head, sighing.

“You have a Quirk that’s perfectly suited for being a Hero.”

Blood was pounding in Hitoshi’s ears. His voice could not escape his throat. Hitoshi looked into Midoriya’s eyes and confirmed there was no backhanded compliment. He meant what he said. It was why he found it even harder to believe.

“You…”

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No, it’s nothing.”

People who feared his Quirk, and people who were worried about all the dangerous, villainous actions he could and would perform with them, were often projecting their own thoughts, their own sentiments, their own ideas as to what they would do with that power upon him. 

Hitoshi had long accepted that people saw in others the monster hidden within themselves.

Midoriya Izuku’s impression of his Quirk had nothing to do with girls, women, or seduction or the ‘possibilities’ as he had often been told by his former classmates. He had often been approached, offered bribes even, by boys who suggested he use his power in ways he found repulsive.

Midoriya’s only comment had to do with heroism. His only desire for his quirk was to use it to save others. His mentioned applications were to use it to aid others. His lamentations about lacking such a quirk were because he could not use it to save others.

Such earnestness was completely disparate from the boy who blatantly held a girl on each arm and called himself scum who couldn’t be satisfied with one girl. Hitoshi put the two images side by side in his head, and his lips couldn’t help but twitch.

What a terrible liar you are...

Hitoshi chuckled.

Midoriya Izuku.