The Last Week of School
The week before internships moved fast.
Classes continued as normal hero studies, academic subjects, quirk training but there was an undercurrent of excitement running through everything. Students compared agency choices in the hallways, debated which heroes would teach them the most, speculated about what they'd actually be doing.
Class 1-A was no exception.
"You chose MIRKO?!" Kaminari's jaw had dropped when Tsubaki mentioned his choice. "The solo hero? The one who literally doesn't work with anyone?"
"That's the one," Tsubaki confirmed.
"How did you even get an offer from her?" Sero asked, genuinely baffled.
"She sent it herself apparently."
That caused a ripple of surprised murmuring through the class.
Midoriya had immediately started muttering under his breath, his eyes going distant in the way they did when he was accessing some internal encyclopedia.
"Mirko—the Rabbit Hero—ranked sixth in the current hero rankings, known for extraordinary physical ability and combat instincts, has never taken a sidekick or intern in her entire pro career, prefers solo operations, her quirk gives her enhanced leg strength, speed and hearing comparable to—"
"Midoriya."
"Right! Sorry!"
Midoriya straightened, flushing.
"She's incredible though, Todoroki-san. Really incredible. But she's known for working completely alone, so how did—"
"He said she sent the offer herself," Yaoyorozu interjected thoughtfully. "Which is genuinely unprecedented. I've read interviews where she explicitly said she had no interest in mentoring students."
She paused.
"Whatever she saw in your Sports Festival performance must have been significant."
"Obviously," Bakugo cut in, arms crossed. "Meanwhile some of us chose an actually high-ranked hero. Best Jeanist. Number four."
"Good for you," Tsubaki said flatly.
"I'm just saying—"
"We heard you, Bakugo," Jiro deadpanned.
The class moved on.
But Tsubaki's gaze drifted toward Shoto.
His brother sat quietly in his seat while conversations carried on around him. He wasn't sulking. If anything, he looked thoughtful.
Subdued.
Like someone carrying a decision they still hadn't fully sorted through.
Tsubaki already knew who Shoto had chosen.
Endeavor's agency.
He didn't ask why.
After the Sports Festival...
After Shoto had finally used both sides of his quirk...
After he'd apparently gone to visit their mother for the first time in years...
Something had shifted.
Whatever complicated reasoning had led Shoto back toward their father wasn't Tsubaki's business to untangle.
That was Shoto's path.
He had his own to walk.
Monday – Early Morning – Tokyo Subway
Tsubaki stepped off the train and onto the nearly empty platform.
Tokyo wasn't awake yet.
A handful of exhausted salarymen waited for the next train home. Maintenance workers moved through stations with practiced efficiency. The fluorescent lights overhead cast everything in muted shades of white and gray.
The city sat suspended between night and dawn.
Mirko's message had been simple.
5:00 AM.
Don't wear the damn school uniform.
Bring your costume.
That's it.
Tsubaki adjusted his grip on the black U.A. briefcase in his hand.
Instead of the usual uniform, he'd dressed casually.
Dark jeans. White sneakers. A charcoal hoodie layered beneath a black jacket light enough for movement. Nothing flashy.
His hero costume was neatly packed inside the U.A. case.
He followed the directions on his phone through streets still cloaked in predawn shadows.
Convenience stores glowed softly.
Traffic lights cycled pointlessly through empty intersections.
Eventually, the cityscape shifted.
Warehouses. Industrial buildings lined the streets. The sounds of Tokyo faded.
He found the location without difficulty.
An old warehouse.
The large metal doors sat slightly open.
Tsubaki glanced at the time.
4:53 AM.
He stepped inside.
The warehouse was massive.
Concrete floors stretched across an open space littered with scattered training equipment shoved against the walls.
Support beams climbed toward skylights overhead, where faint traces of gray morning filtered through.
Silent.
Empty. Tsubaki stood still. Listening. Nothing. No footsteps. Then—
His instincts screamed. He moved without hesitation. Ice exploded beneath his feet as he launched sideways. A deafening impact shook the warehouse.
BOOM!!
Concrete shattered where he'd been standing. Fragments scattered outward.
Tsubaki skidded across the floor and immediately turned. A figure crouched within the crater. Powerful legs bent low.
One hand pressed casually against broken concrete.
Long white rabbit ears twitched. Red eyes locked onto him. Mirko slowly rose to her full height. Up close, she was even more imposing.
Her white hero costume hugged an athlete's physique built through relentless training rather than aesthetics. Thick thighs packed with explosive strength. Defined muscles visible beneath dark sleeves and exposed skin alike. The sleeveless bodysuit emphasized practicality over appearance.
Everything about it was designed for movement. Even standing still, she radiated power. Like a predator coiled tight. Ready to spring. Then she grinned.
"Not bad."
Tsubaki remained alert.
"...That was the test?"
"What?" Mirko snorted. "You wanted a handshake?"
She straightened fully.
"If you'd stood there gawking while I caved your head in, I'd have kicked your ass right back to U.A."
Her grin widened.
"Heroes don't get warnings."
She pointed toward the crater.
"People panic. Villains don't fight fair. Shit happens."
Her red eyes narrowed.
"You moved."
Tsubaki exhaled slowly.
"You weren't actually going to hit me."
Mirko barked out a laugh.
"Sure. Keep telling yourself that."
Without warning, she disappeared.
Tsubaki's eyes widened. Above. He dropped.
A kick sliced through the space his head had occupied.
The shockwave alone sent loose debris flying. Mirko landed lightly.
"...You reacted again."
"I thought the test was over."
"I never said that."
"You could've mentioned that."
"And ruin the point?" She folded her arms.
"Guess what? Villains attack when your not ready it's only over when you beat them."
Tsubaki stared.
Then sighed.
"...Fair enough."
"Heh."
Mirko looked pleased.
"Okay. Now the test's over."
She paused.
"For real this time."
"..."
"...Probably."
Tsubaki said nothing.
Mirko burst out laughing.
"Relax, Ice Prince. If I wanted to flatten you, you'd already be on the floor."
She looked him over.
"So. You had offers from bigger agencies. Why me?"
"You're strong."
Mirko blinked. Then grinned
"...Damn right."
"You work alone," Tsubaki continued. "No sidekicks. No support network. No massive agency."
"You make it sound depressing."
"You consistently outperform heroes who have all of those things."
He met her gaze.
"I wanted to understand why."
Mirko studied him for a moment.
Then smirked.
"That's a better answer than 'you're cool.'"
She walked toward the center of the warehouse.
"I watched the Sports Festival."
Tsubaki remained silent.
"You were the strongest kid there."
She was blunt and straightforward.
"But there was something different."
Her ears twitched.
"Most of those brats looked like they were trying to prove something. To their parents. The crowd. The Hero's. Themselves.You had something different."
She pointed at him.
"You fought like you'd already made up your mind."
Tsubaki frowned slightly.
Mirko shrugged.
"It's as if the possibility of lose never occurred to you. You looked like you already knew want you wanted there was no uncertainty."
Her grin sharpened.
"And every time I looked at your face..."
She jabbed a thumb toward him.
"...you had this look. Like you'd already won."
Silence hung between them.
"I couldn't tell if it was confidence..."
Her eyes narrowed.
"...or arrogance."
Then she grinned.
"So I figured I'd find out myself."
Tsubaki considered that.
"...And?"
Mirko shrugged. "Still deciding." Then she snorted.
"At the very least, you've got guts and some skill."
She pointed toward him again.
"Most first years would've pissed themselves after that entrance. You asked what I get out of this?"
Tsubaki nodded.
Mirko rolled her eyes.
"Nezu."
"...The principal??"
"That rat's been nagging me for years. 'You should mentor students, Mirko. You have a responsibility to the next generation, Mirko. Think of the future, Mirko.' "
She mimicked the principal's tone badly.
"I kept telling him no."
"Kids are annoying."
"They slow you down."
"They want their hands held."
"They want praise for showing up."
Her expression twisted.
"Not interested."
Then she pointed at him.
"But then I watched your fights. You didn't look like someone chasing an autograph. You looked like someone who wanted something." Her grin returned. "And I got curious."
Tsubaki looked at her. "So this is an experiment."
"Pretty much. If you're a waste of time, I'm blaming Nezu."
"And if I'm not?"
Mirko's grin widened.
"Then maybe that rat was onto something."
She stretched. Joints popped.
"Don't get me wrong. I'm not your teacher. I'm not gonna sit you down and explain every little thing. If you want advice? Ask. If you want to learn? Watch. If you screw up? Deal with it."
She lowered her arms.
"I fight how I fight."
"I don't slow down."
"I don't babysit."
"I don't care if you're a student."
Her gaze sharpened.
"If you can't keep up, I leave you behind. Simple. I won't adjust my pace for you. You adjust to mine."
The warehouse fell quiet.
Tsubaki stared at her. No hand-holding.
No safety net. Either rise or get left behind.
Something settled in his chest. Recognition because this wasn't new. No one had ever slowed down for him. No one had adjusted their expectations. No one had waited.
He'd always had to keep moving.
Keep improving.
Keep up.
Or be forgotten.
Tsubaki met her eyes then smirked. "...What do we do first?"
Mirko stared at him. Then her grin stretched wider than before.
"I knew my gut wasn't screwing with me."
She jerked her thumb toward the U.A. briefcase he'd left near the entrance.
"Put on that costume of yours."
Tsubaki glanced toward it.
"Patrol starts now."
Outside, the first rays of dawn began creeping over Tokyo's skyline.
Mirko's red eyes gleamed.
"Keep up..."
Her grin widened.
"...or get left behind."
To Be Continued...