Chapter Text

STUDENT PROFILE: KURIKO TAIYO

Name: Kuriko Taiyo
Age: 16
Height: 165 cm
Nationality: Japanese
Course: Support Course

Hair: Orangish-red, darkened from heat exposure. Unruly, always messy.

Eyes: Red from years of staring into forge fire. Permanent bloodshot appearance.

Build: Stocky, muscular. Broad shoulders, thick forearms. Built from physical labor, not bodybuilding.

Personality: Cranky, hot-headed, blunt. Irritable before coffee. Slightly less irritable after coffee. Loud when frustrated. Does not initiate conversation. Not hostile — just doesn't see the point of small talk. Not secretly kind or soft. Exactly what he appears to be.

What he wants: To prove that a support student can stand in the arena and belong there. Not for glory. For respect.

What he fears: Being useless. Being left behind. Becoming someone who makes things for heroes instead of being one — even if he'd never admit the last part out loud.

How he loves: Poorly, contractually, and with more intensity than his grumpy exterior lets on. Shows up. Remembers small things. Calls you "dumbass" affectionately. Would die for you without saying "I love you" first.

⚔️ QUIRK: ARTIFACT FORGER

Type: Emitter / Creation
Classification: Item Crafting, Statistical Enhancement, Support Specialization

📦 CORE MECHANIC

The user can transform ordinary crafted items into magical artifacts that grant statistical boosts and special effects to the wearer.

The process requires:

1. Physical crafting — The user must manually forge the item like a blacksmith or artisan.
2. Quirk activation — Upon completion, the quirk infuses the item with magical properties.
3. Random outcomes — Final stats and buffs are determined by material quality and cumulative luck.

🔨 FORGING PROCESS

STEP 1: MATERIAL GATHERING

The user collects realistic, mundane materials:

• Wood, stone, iron, copper, steel
• Gold, silver, platinum (rare but realistic)
• Fabric, leather, glass, rubber
• Modern alloys, carbon fiber, ceramics

No fantasy materials. No dragon bone. No monster drops. This is MHA.
Note: The user can combine materials to make a better composition. Do take note that a combined mountain lower materials is less efficient than a large sum of better materials

STEP 2: CRAFTING

The user physically creates the item using appropriate techniques:

• Smelting, molding, hammering
• Chiseling, carving, shaping
• Cooling, tempering, polishing
• Sewing, weaving, assembling

Crafting Time by Item Type:

Category:
Simple: Rings, bracelets, necklaces, capes ->1–2 hours
Moderate: Helmets, pants, breastplates, swords, basic weapons ->2–3 hours
Complex: Guns, modern weaponry, intricate machinery ->3–5 hours

Stamina Cost:
The quirk itself is not tiring. The forging is. Physical labor, concentration, and fine manipulation drain the user normally. A full day of forging is exhausting like any craft work.

STEP 3: QUIRK INFUSION

Upon completion, the quirk activates automatically. The mundane item becomes magical. Stats and buffs are rolled based on:

• Material quality — Base power ceiling
• Cumulative luck — Chance for higher tiers

📊 MATERIAL SYSTEM

Materials do not determine specific buffs. They determine:

• Base stat range (how strong the item can be)
• Luck value (chance to achieve higher tiers)

| Material | Base Buff Range | Luck per Unit |

|----------|-----------------|---------------|

| Wood | 1–3% | 3% |

| Stone | 2–4% | 3% |

| Iron | 3–5% | 5% |

| Steel | 5–8% | 6% |

| Copper | 4–7% | 7% |

| Silver | 8–12% | 10% |

| Gold | 12–18% | 15% |

| Platinum | 18–25% | 20% |

| Carbon Fiber | 15–22% | 12% |

| Titanium | 20–30% | 18% |
| Meteorite Iron | 40–60% | 31% |

Multiple Materials:
Using multiple units of the same material stacks luck, not base stats.

• Example: 10 Iron units = 50% luck (10 × 5%)
• Higher luck increases the chance of Rare, Epic, or Legendary outcomes.

🎲 BUFF TIERS & RANDOMIZATION

When an item is forged, the quirk rolls for:

1. Tier (based on cumulative luck)
2. Physical buff percentage (based on material + tier)
3. Extra buffs (based on tier)

### 📈 TIER TABLE

| Tier | Luck Threshold | Physical Buff | Extra Buffs | Notes |

|------|----------------|---------------|-------------|-------|

| Common | 0–25% | 1–20% | 0 | No additional effects |

| Uncommon | 25–45% | 20–50% | 1 | Basic stat boosts (speed, stamina, etc.) |

| Rare | 45–65% | 50–100% | 2 | Stronger buffs appear |

| Epic | 65–85% | 100–150% | 3 | Stronger versions of previous buffs |

| Legendary | 85–100% | 150–300% | 4 | Powerful but **not reality-warping** |

✨ Extra buff Chart:

Better Quirk Power: 1/1 chance
Better Quirk Efficiency: 1/1 chance
Extra Endurance: 1/5 chance
Extra Stamina: 1/6 chance
Extra Strength: 1/7 chance
Extra running speed: 1/9 chance
Minor Regeneration: 1/14 chance
Better swimming speed: 1/17
Better Sleep: 1/21 chance
Better Clarity/Vision: 1/30 chance
Heat Resistance: 1/31 chance
Cold Resistance: 1/31 chance
Better Flight: 1/47 chance
Better Analyzation: 1/50 chance
Better Thinking Speed: 1/56 chance
Mid-Regeneration: 1/62 chance
Better Fighting Instinct: 1/65
Berserker(Grows stronger as Damage grows): 1/100 chance
High Vision/Clarity: 1/112 chance
Higher Quirk Power: 1/128 chance
Higher Quirk Efficiency: 1/128 chance
Higher Endurance: 1/130 chance
Higher Stamina: 1/131 chance
Higher Strength: 1/132 chance
Illusion Resistance: 1/136 chance
Minor Night Vision: 1/147 chance
Minor Damage Reflection: 1/156 chance
Faster Recovery(After being stunned or knocked down): 1/162 chance
Mind-control Resistance: 1/170 chance
Vague Danger Sense: 1/185 chance
Kinetic Absorption(transfer into Stamina): 1/195 chance
Absolute Focus(Unable to be distracted): 1/256 chance
Last Stand: 1/385 chance

♾️ EQUIPMENT LIMITS

No hard cap.
A person can wear as many artifacts as they have body space:

• Fingers: up to 10 rings
• Wrists: 2 bracelets
• Neck: 1–2 necklaces
• Head: 1 helmet/headpiece
• Torso: 1 chest armor
• Legs: 1 pants/leg armor
• Feet: 1 pair of boots
• Back: 1 cape/cloak
• Weapons: as many as they can carry

A quirkless person wearing a full set of high-tier artifacts could match or exceed Mid-tier quirk users in raw stats.
Stacking: Multiple items stack additively. A person with 200% physical buff is twice as strong, fast, and durable as normal. This is strong, but not unbeatable.

⚠️ WEAKNESSES & LIMITS

1. Time Investment

2. Physical Exhaustion

3. Material Dependence

4. Randomness

5. No Combat Application During Forging

6. Items Can Be Broken
7. Emotions are useless, so is intent; nothing enhances the crafting other than skill and materials.

Chapter Text

The fluorescent lights hum overhead, the frequency settling into his bones. "Ugh... Wh-Where the hell?" Kuriko Taiyo's cheek peels off a half-finished schematic, ink smudges pressed into his skin.

"OH right... I forgot to go home, crap." His hand scrapes through his hair, dislodging a pencil that clatters to concrete. He cracks his back—three pops, loud in the empty space.

The workshop's metal gate groans as he heaves it open, a custom job that rolls sideways instead of up. Unlike the rest of the support course with their uniform garage doors, his entrance looks like something salvaged from a warehouse vault.

He turns on the coffee machine sitting on a reinforced steel counter—personally made by yours truly, Epic tier, made of actual titanium. The machine hisses to life, steam fogging the cabinet above it.

The workshop door groaned open with a satisfying hydraulic hiss—definitely not standard issue. "Taiyo!" Mei Hatsume's goggles were already on her forehead, pink hair wild, a half-dismantled camera clutched in one hand. "Perfect timing! I need you to forge me something!" She was already halfway inside, stepping on a loose screw without noticing. "Your luck stat is better than mine—I ran the numbers! Seventy-three percent higher Epic tier on precious metals!"

Taiyo blinked at her from his desk, still half-draped over it. What time even is it. "Hatsume. It's five-thirty."

"I know! That's why you haven't wasted any luck yet today!" She slammed the camera onto his workbench, right next to the coffee machine that hadn't finished brewing. "Epic lens mount. Silver or gold—I have materials!" A handful of ingots clattered across the metal surface. "My new baby's gonna revolutionize rescue missions, but the stock mount keeps cracking! Three percent failure rate on steel! UNACCEPTABLE!"

He stared at the ingots, then at her, then at the coffee machine. "You want a lens... with stats."

"Duh! More capability for cheaper cost!"

"Ah. A true capitalist." His smirk was tired but genuine. "Give me an hour. Haven't had coffee. Will kill you in the next twenty." His gaze drifted to the Epic iron sword mounted nearby. Not a threat. A promise.

"An HOUR?!" Her eye twitched. "Sports Festival! Two weeks! Fourteen prototypes!" She grabbed his shoulders and shook. "This lens mount is the KEY to three of them, Taiyo! Four-hundred-meter tracking!"

She's going to break my collarbone. "You'll break my collarbone."

She released him and started pacing, kicking a pile of scrap. "If I wait an hour, that's fifty-three minutes of testing lost! That's—" she squinted "—math! That's math minutes!"

Taiyo grabbed a hammer and bonked her on the head. Not hard enough to hurt. Hard enough to stop the noise. "Shut. Annoying."

"You BONKED me!" She rubbed her head with theatrical betrayal.

"Three types of coffee. Not just black." He was already moving toward the workbench, grabbing glass stock. "Make them. I'll start now."

Mei's expression flipped instantly to manic glee. "THREE! On it!" She scrambled toward the coffee station.

He tuned out the clatter of cabinets and the brief, concerning hiss of his freezer gun misfiring. The glass softened under his torch, folded into the round mold. Clearer optics. That's what she actually needs. Not metal. Glass. He triggered the cooling process—quicker than natural, riskier—and the lens shimmered green as his quirk settled into the material. Uncommon tier.

"There." Twenty minutes. A new record. "More durable than factory. One buff—clarity up five percent. Take it or leave it." He gestured vaguely toward the finished piece without looking.

Mei spun from the coffee station, three mismatched cups wobbling in her grip. "Already DONE?!" She thrust them toward him—espresso, something burnt, a purple abomination—and snatched the lens. "Five percent clarity means less distortion at max zoom!" She held it to the light, eye wide. "That's another fifty meters of focal length! TAIYO YOU GRUMPY GENIUS!"

He intercepted her incoming hug with one hand planted firmly on her face. "Coffee."

"Rude! SO rude!" She shoved the cups at his chest, barely avoiding disaster. "Here! Espresso, burnt stuff, mystery berry coffee!" Her attention was already back on the lens, notebook materializing from nowhere, pencil smoking. "If clarity's up five percent then I can reduce internal correction by... three percent? Four? Which changes the housing design! The torque tolerance! The—" She froze, head snapping toward him. "You did this in twenty minutes. With glass. REGULAR glass."

"It'll crack if you ask me to rush optical-grade crystal."

"But it's POSSIBLE?!"

Taiyo took a slow sip of the espresso. Survivable. "With more time. Better setup. Probably." Second sip. Burnt. Acceptable. "Come back during daylight hours. After coffee. With breakfast."

"I KNEW you didn't eat breakfast!" She was already backing toward the door, lens cradled like treasure. "Donuts! Next time! THANK YOU, TAIYO! BEST GRUMPY BLACKSMITH! BYEEEE—" She crashed into the doorframe, rebounded without losing momentum, and vanished down the hall.

The purple coffee sat untouched on the bench. He poured it into the nearest scrap bin.

She's going to come back at six AM anyway.

The workshop door groaned shut behind Mei, leaving blessed silence. Taiyo blinked at the empty doorway. "What a damn mess of a woman." He turned back to the room, gaze drifting to the sword rack. "Festival's coming up. Should prepare." His hand found his chin. "Sword's too dangerous. Need something that hits hard without killing. Bat could work. Need materials. Need practice swings."

Heavy footsteps echoed from the hall—measured, deliberate. Not Mei's chaos.

"You're up early." Snipe leaned against the doorframe, cowboy hat low, ancient coffee thermos in hand. "Saw your light from faculty dorm. Dedicated or insane. Same thing here." He nodded toward the rack. "That iron piece got weight? Or just decoration?"

"Broadsword, Sensei Snipe." Taiyo didn't turn around. "What's the issue? Need support gear? Want to try it?" He finally looked back, gesturing vaguely. "Lots of people want to wield swords. Not that anyone here actually uses one."

Snipe pushed off the frame and approached the rack, running a gloved hand along the blade. "Balance is good." He tipped his hat up. "No issue. Just rounds. You're Support, right? Taiyo?" He pulled his hand back. "Hatsume called you a 'grumpy genius with hammer hands.' Pretty sure that's a compliment."

"Probably."

Snipe chuckled dryly. "You train with that thing? Or just make 'em?"

"Both." Taiyo's hands slid into his pockets. "Combat ability. Logical. Can't stay behind a desk forever. Bullies exist." A shrug. "Also decoration. Looks nice. Thought about a dragon-head hilt, but that'd take forever."

Snipe lifted the sword, testing its weight with a few slow swings. "Dragon head throws balance unless you counterweight the pommel. You account for that?" He spun it once—clean, professional—and set it back. "Combat training's smart. Most Support kids can't throw a punch. You got a style?"

"Swing till something breaks."

Snipe's goggles came down around his neck. "That's so?"

"I'm Support. Not a Hero, Sensei." Taiyo met his gaze, flat. "Most villains won't target me. I intend to keep it that way."

Snipe reached into his vest and pulled out a small metal coin, flipping it across his knuckles. "You know my Quirk?" He didn't wait. "Homing. Curves bullets. Ricochets, corners, targets behind cover." He flicked the coin—light, harmless—and it bounced off Taiyo's chest. "But someone gets in my face? Grabs my wrist? Quirk means nothing. I need movement. Distance. Three seconds to aim without dying." He gestured at the sword. "You made that 'cause it's logical. Good. Now learn what to do when someone's too close for a sword."

"Technically." Taiyo's voice was bone-dry. "Your quirk curves bullets. You could curve a hand-thrown bullet."

Snipe stared. Then laughed—rough, surprised, genuine. "Hand-thrown bullet." He shook his head. "Worst possible application. I respect that."

He plucked a loose screw from the workbench and closed the distance fast. Inside arm's reach. His hand came up—not grabbing, but there. "Show me. Distance is gone. Quirk's useless unless I throw something." His presence loomed. "What now?"

"You're violating personal space, sir."

Snipe's visible eyebrow rose.

"This is kind of gay." Taiyo's face remained neutral. "And illegal."

"...Illegal." Snipe stepped back slowly, arms crossing. "Kid. Self-defense. Literally my job. Nothing illegal." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "And 'gay'? Really? It's morning. I haven't had enough coffee." Goggles back up. Head shake. "Fine. Forget hands-on. Real answer—villain in your face. No jokes. What's your move?"

"Punch the guts." Taiyo's expression didn't shift. "If hands are held, kick the groin. Male or female. Same target, different anatomy."

Snipe opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "...Huh."

Taiyo shrugged, hands still pocketed. "I'll fight dirty. Honest truth."

Snipe took a long, slow sip from his thermos, clearly buying time. "That's—" He set it down, knocking over screws. "You know what? Fair. That's fair." A gloved finger rose. "But what if they're armored down there? Quirk protection? What's plan C?"

"You assume they're hard down there?" Taiyo's face twisted with genuine disgust. "Weirdo." He turned away, walking toward his desk. "Look. Observe if you want. I have work." A lazy wave. "Goodbye."

Snipe stood motionless. Five seconds. "...Did I just get ratioed by a Support Course student?"

He headed for the door, then paused. "Taiyo." The joking edge faded. "Festival's coming. Support kids don't usually compete. But if you're serious about fighting—" His voice dropped. "Villains don't care what course you're in."

He tipped his hat.

"Keep that sword close. Work on your people skills. 'Gay and illegal'? Zero out of ten. Absolutely terrible." He said, throwing his hands up in exasperation

Boots echoed away down the hall. Silence returned to the forge.

Chapter Text

7:00 AM. The workshop glowed orange from the forge's embers. Taiyo yanked open drawer after drawer, metal screeching against metal. "Where the hell is it?" Another empty bin. His jaw tightened. "Am I seriously out of tungsten?"

Knock knock knock.

"Taiyoooo~! You in there~?"

The door slid open before he could answer. Power Loader—helmet off, revealing tired eyes and deeper bags—poked his head in, clipboard covered in sticky notes clutched to his chest. "Mornin'. Saw your light at 4 AM again. Do you sleep at all?"

"Define sleep." Taiyo didn't look up from the drawer he was still glaring into.

Power Loader snorted and stepped inside. "Listen. Hero Course needs last-minute support before the festival. Cementoss wants reinforced training dummies that won't shatter when Bakugo hits them." He squinted at the messy workspace. "Your quirk's perfect. Do you have time? Or are you deep in something?"

"Both." Taiyo opened the main gates fully, letting cooler air circulate. His brow furrowed, genuine confusion flickering across his face. "Sensei, I forge items. I can't exactly forge a dummy. It doesn't work that way." He shrugs

Power Loader waved dismissively. "Nah, not the whole thing. Just the basics, reinforcement plates, and metal panels that bolt onto the existing frame."

Taiyo's expression remained blank, but his eyes tracked to the blueprint as it emerged. Explain faster.

"Cementoss built the core." Power Loader spread the crumpled paper across a pile of failed prototypes. "Even his cement cracks under sustained firepower. See? Chest piece. Limb covers. Head guard. Basic shapes. Flat panels, curved joints." He tapped the paper. "Nothing fancy. Just durable metal with good impact resistance."

Taiyo stared at the blueprint for a long moment. Then his eyes lit up—subtle, but there. That's doable. "Materials?"

Power Loader patted his pockets absently. "Steel in the main supply room. Or requisition forms are... somewhere." He checked another pocket. "...I think."

"Get me tungsten." Taiyo's voice sharpened, decisive.

Power Loader blinked at the immediate demand. "Tungsten? For training dummy plates? That's—"

"The tungsten is for me." Taiyo was already dragging iron clumps from his storage, muscles flexing under the weight. "The dummy armor gets iron."

Power Loader's eyebrows rose. "You're gonna make Bakugo's training gear out of iron while you stockpile tungsten for yourself."

"Yes." No hesitation.

Silence. Then Power Loader snorted—a real laugh, tired but genuine. "There it is. Knew you had an ego in there." He scribbled on his clipboard and tore off the sheet. "Requisition slip. Tungsten's in the secured cabinet. Code's on the bottom. Take what you need, log it."

Taiyo took the slip without looking, dumping iron into the forge. The flames caught, orange and hungry. Finally.

Power Loader watched the iron begin to heat, the glow reflecting in his tired eyes. "Most Support kids wanna be the next Hatsume. Flashy inventions. Big attention." He leaned against the doorframe. "You're the first one happy just... making things better."

"I'm not an inventor." Taiyo adjusted the forge temperature, flames licking higher. Then he turned—and there it was. The smirk. Confident. Sharp. Earned. "I'm the best motherfucking forger in this damn school."

Power Loader's lips twitched upward. "Confidence. I like it." He glanced toward the forge, then back at him. "Iron's smart for this. Cheap. Replaceable. Decent heat resistance. Bakugo cracks it, we melt it down, start over." A beat. "But his explosions hit hard AND hot. We got trace carbon fiber composites in storage. Sure, iron's enough?"

Taiyo's smirk vanished, replaced by a flat, unimpressed stare. "Iron is what he gets." He watched the metal slowly melt, twenty minutes of waiting compressed into the orange glow. "I'm not wasting good materials on a brat who can't calm down." The words came out low, genuine irritation bleeding through.

Power Loader pulled out his phone, checked the time, and sighed. "Kid blew up three dummies before lunch last week. Three. Before lunch." He pocketed the device. "Can't blame the opinion."

"He sounds exhausting."

"He's talented." Power Loader moved closer, examining the forge setup. "Intense is the polite word. Loud is the accurate one."

Sounds like someone I'd kick in the groin. Taiyo's lips pressed into a thin line, the thought staying locked behind his teeth.

"How long for a full set?" Power Loader tapped his clipboard. "Festival's in two weeks, but Cementoss wants them installed by the weekend. Hero Course needs actual training time."

Taiyo tilted his head, eyes narrowing in calculation. "Two sets." A pause. "Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"I'm preparing for the Festival too." His voice flattened, shoulders lifting in a small shrug. "I don't have a fixed number yet. Two seems reasonable." His gaze cut sideways, pointed. "As long as the tungsten arrives."

Power Loader raised both hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. I know when I'm not wanted." He headed for the door, then paused, one hand on the frame. "Tungsten on your bench by the end of the day. And Taiyo?"

Taiyo didn't turn around. His hand was already reaching for the hammer.

"Try to actually go to your dorm tonight. Your attendance record looks like you live here."

The door slid shut. Silence. Just the glow of molten iron, the distant clang of other workshops waking up, and the faint scent of ozone from the forge.

7:05 AM. Iron glowed orange-white. Taiyo tipped the crucible. "Helmet plate." Metal flowed into the mold. Steam hissed. "Even spread. No bubbles."

7:47 AM. He lifted the cooled plate with tongs. "No cracks." Hammer struck. Sparks scattered. Strike. Turn. Strike. "Doesn't need to be pretty. Just needs to not break."

8:23 AM. Helmet done. He grabbed the second crucible. "Chest plate. Bigger mold." Pour. Sweat beaded at his temples. "Thicker. Heavier. But not too heavy."

9:15 AM. Chest plate cooled. He stretched, joints popping. "Two down. Limbs next." Four pieces. Smaller. Faster. Hammer rang out in a steady rhythm.

10:42 AM. Six pieces lined up on the bench—helmet, chest, four limbs. Dull silver. Still warm. "One set." His arms ached. His eyes stung. "One more to go."

11:34 AM. Second set taking shape faster. Hammer fell. Strike. Turn. Strike. "Same pattern." His back protested. "Ignore it."

12:00 PM. Twelve pieces total. Two full sets. Taiyo braced against the bench, arms trembling. "Fuck..." He panted. "That's a lot in five hours." His stomach growled. "Fine. Lunch."

He opened the gate. The hallway swallowed him.

Chaos. Hero Course students flooded past. Midoriya nearly hit his doorframe, muttering. Uraraka and Ashido are laughing. Iida power-walking, arm chopping.

"COMING THROUGH! LUNCH RUSH WAITS FOR NO ONE!"

Bakugo stormed past, shoulders tight, palms crackling. Kirishima jogged beside him. "Bro, just chill—"

"SHUT UP, SHITTY HAIR!"

He shoulder-checked a support student. Screws scattered everywhere. Bakugo didn't look back.

Taiyo's jaw tightened. "Oi. Asshole." He bent down, scooping screws. "Apologize."

The support student—glasses, copper wiring, terrified—stammered. "Th-Thanks, Taiyo."

Taiyo pressed the screws into his hands. "Dodge next time. Some people are blind."

Bakugo stopped dead. Turned slowly. Palms popping.

"The fuck did you call me?"

The hallway went silent. Kirishima winced. Bakugo stalked back, eyes narrowed.

"Say it again. To my face. Support Course."

Taiyo looked him up and down. Taller, yeah. Narrower. "I said: apologize."

Bakugo's eye twitched. Pop. Pop. "You got guts." He stepped closer—chest almost bumping. "Make me."

Taiyo kicked him square in the groin.

"Apologize, fucker." Hands in pockets. "Hero Course doesn't mean shit."

Bakugo doubled over with a strangled gasp. "Ghh— YOU—"

Kirishima's jaw dropped. "BRO?!"

Midoriya's notebook hit the floor. Uraraka slapped both hands over her mouth. Iida chopped the air frantically.

"HIGHLY INAPPROPRIATE! SPORTS FESTIVAL RULES—"

Bakugo straightened slowly, face purple. "I'm gonna KILL YOU!"

Taiyo raised his middle finger and walked away.

Bakugo lunged. Kirishima grabbed him around the waist. "BRO STOP! YOU'RE COMPROMISED!"

"LET GO SHITTY HAIR—"

Midoriya grabbed his arm. "Kacchan, Recovery Girl—"

"I DON'T NEED THAT HAG—"

Taiyo rounded the corner. Cafeteria doors slid open. Aizawa sat at the faculty table, already staring.

Taiyo met his gaze. "Uh huh." Kept walking. Steak. Katsudon. Rice. He turned toward the Support table—

"Taiyo."

Quiet. Carrying. Aizawa hadn't moved. "Come sit."

Taiyo sighed and dropped onto the bench. "What's the problem?"

Aizawa sipped coffee. Set it down. Stared for five seconds. "You know the problem." Phone on the table. Frozen frame: Taiyo, Bakugo, the kick. "Hallway cameras. Why shouldn't I suspend you?"

Taiyo leaned back. "You'd lose a helpful individual with a powerful quirk." Counting fingers. "Also, you can't suspend me. That's Power Loader's job. Good luck convincing him."

Aizawa's eye twitched. "Guts." He pulled out a jelly pouch and bit the corner. "Power Loader sent me the footage. Message read: 'Deal with it before I have to.'" He sucked slowly. "You'll apologize to Bakugo. Not because he deserves it. Because you escalated."

He pointed to the pouch. "Then explain why a Support student provoked the most volatile kid in school."

Taiyo's eyes narrowed. "Will you explain to him that he should've apologized first?"

Aizawa's lips twitched. "You're not wrong." More jelly. "But Bakugo's never been told no. You just kicked him on camera." He set the pouch down. "Apologize publicly. He saves face. I'll make him apologize to that other student privately. Deal?"

Taiyo's glare hardened. "Fuck no." His voice rose. "I apologize publicly, but he gets private? You prioritizing Heroes over Supports?"

Aizawa's eyes opened fully. Dangerous. "Watch your tone." He leaned forward. "One: Bakugo's an ass. Two: You're right. Three: he won't apologize publicly. Ego won't allow it. Four: force him, he blows up—literally—and that kid gets caught next time." He stared. "I'm prioritizing the kid who can't defend himself. Private apology is all Bakugo can give without making it worse."

Taiyo's eyebrow twitched. "So he can't apologize publicly 'cause it's beneath him?" Jabbed his temple. "Fuck that! I'll explode too! Look at me—I'm losing my fucking mind!"

Aizawa pinched his nose. "You're stubborn with a point. He's explosive with no regulation." He sighed. Parent-of-a-toddler sigh. "Equal treatment." Typed on phone. Showed screen: Both apologize. Public. Taiyo first, then Bakugo. Refusal = disqualified from Festival. Phone away. "Happy?"

Taiyo smirked—sharp, satisfied. "Damn right, sensei." He stood, shallow bow. "Good day." Grabbed the tray, walked to the support table, and dropped beside Mei. "What? Eat your food, nagging pink-haired woman."

Mei's mouth was full of something mechanical. She chewed, swallowed, grinned. "You're my HERO!" Slammed the table. "I saw the kick! On BAKUGO!" Vibrating. "Fourteen babies he's broken! And nobody does anything 'cause he's 'talented'—" Grabbed his shoulders. "—then YOU! You magnificent grumpy bastard!"

Taiyo bonked her head. Soft flush on his neck. "SHUT UP! TOO LOUD!" Deep breath. "One more outdoor voice and collabs end."

Mei clamped her hands over her mouth. Nodded frantically. Lowered them, whispering loudly. "Okay, okay. Inside voice." Tiny bite. Lean in. "...That was awesome. Best friends now?"

Taiyo's hands flew up. "Barely friends!" Jabbed her forehead. "You snuck into my workshop week one! Didn't introduce yourself! Just tried to make me test for you!"

Mei rubbed her forehead. "IMPORTANT TEST! Data on quirk-alloy interaction! BASIC SCIENCE!" Stabbed fork into mystery meat. "We ARE friends! See daily! Annoy on purpose! No security at 3 AM!" Counted fingers. "Three things! Basically FAMILY!"

Taiyo's stare flattened. "Adopted sister, I never needed." Pause. "Step-sister that annoys me constantly." Stabbed steak. "Eat."

Mei gasped. "STEP-SISTER?! Nicest thing you've ever said!" Bouncing. "Power Loader is our DAD?! We have a DAD!" Shoveling food. "Stho Festival?! You competing?! You can fight! You kicked—mmf!"

Taiyo chopped her head. "Shut." Beat. "Yes. Competing." Voice heated. "Show support items. Win. Prove Support isn't weak."

Mei's eyes sparkled. "OOOOOH! I'll make you something! GIFT! For step-brother!" Notebook out. Scribbling. "What do you need? Mobility? Defense? Knuckle dusters! With SPIKES! RETRACTABLE—"

Taiyo sighed. "Can't forge complicated inventions, nor actual mechanical items." Quieter. "I'm not a real Support student like you and the others are, I just forge."

Mei stopped. Tilted head. "...So?" Poked his chest with a pencil. "You forge BETTER than anyone. I design nonsense. You make it REAL." Gesturing wildly. "Brains and brawn! Chaos and grump! Pro Hero team but SUPPORT!" Grabbed sleeve. "Let me design something. Please. For science. For family."

Taiyo stared. "Why are you Dom Toretto-ing me?"

Mei squinted. "Dom... Toretto?" Gasped. "FAST AND FURIOUS GUY?! Family guy?!" Grabbed his shoulders. "I'M DOM! You're the grumpy one! WE'RE FAST AND FURIOUS OF SUPPORT!"

Taiyo bonked her. "Yes—" Panic. "Wait, no. You will not infect me. EAT!" Shoved her down. "Eat or collabs end!"

Mei shoveled food. "Eating! See?!" Chewing aggressively. "Like FAMILY! DOM WOULD BE PROUD—" Froze. Swallowed. Whispered. "...Family voice. Whatever."

Taiyo muttered. "Stupid... Idiotic... Lovable motherfucker." Strained. He reached over and petted her hair—soft, awkward, trying. "Yes... Good job... Hatsume."

Mei froze. Statue. Processing. She leaned slightly into his hand. "...Weird. You were nice. Are you dying? Need to document final techniques—"

Taiyo raised his hand.

Mei's mouth snapped shut. Mime-zip-locked. Threw away the key. Thumbs up. Eyes screaming: See? Quiet! Are you proud of me, step-brother?!

Taiyo stabbed his steak. Chewed aggressively.

...Family things aren't wrong.

Mouth twitched. Just once. Buried under katsudon.

Chapter Text

The two weeks passed quickly.

"Holy shit, it's time already?" Taiyo shot up in bed, heart hammering. "Shit shit shit." 5 AM. The Festival. Today. "Coffee. Now." He slapped the machine on and started throwing gear into a suitcase—gauntlets, boots, headband. The coffee finished. He downed it scalding, didn't care. Checked his list. "Legendary Tungsten Knight Gauntlet... check. Epic Titanium Boots... check. Epic Silver Headband... check." He snapped the suitcase shut. "Alright. Gear's done."

The stats:
Legendary Tungsten Knight Gauntlet: Physical buff 208%, +13% Better Clarity/Vision, +20% Extra Stamina, +5% Better Analyzation, +5% Vague Danger Sense
Epic Titanium Boots: Physical buff 122%, +4% Higher Quirk Efficiency, +11% Heat Resistance, +8% Cold Resistance
Epic Silver Headband: Physical buff 105%, +12% Extra Endurance, +17% Extra running speed, +6% Mid-Regeneration

He looked at the pieces, then at the scrap pile in the corner—failed rolls, bad stats, waiting to be melted down. "Need a brand. And names for these." He tapped the gauntlet. "Can't just call it 'the gauntlet' when I'm promoting it."

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

"TAIYOOOO! TAIYO TAIYO TAIYO—"

Mei burst in. Pink tracksuit with baby blue accents. Goggles on forehead. Tool belt overflowing. "IT'S FESTIVAL DAY! IT'S HAPPENING! DO YOU HAVE YOUR BABIES READY?! I HAVE FOURTEEN! Well—twelve. Two exploded last night. But that's DATA—" She froze. Her eyes locked on the gear laid out. "...Taiyo." She circled closer, shark-like. "Those are... beautiful. What ARE they? What do they DO? Can I touch? I'm gonna touch." She reached.

Taiyo slammed the suitcase shut and locked it. "They buff me. Obviously." He held her at arm's length, palm against her forehead. "Hands off the merchandise, Hatsume. These are for investors and heroes, not for you to drool on."

Mei pressed her face against his arm-barrier, pouting. "But I need to TOUCH! For science! For INSPIRATION—" She stopped mid-whine. "...Wait." Her eyes went huge. "Did you just call me 'sis' earlier? At breakfast? VOLUNTARILY?" She lunged for a hug.

Taiyo grabbed her collar and held her back like a misbehaving puppy. "Noooooo." He started dragging her toward the door.

Mei's limbs flailed. "THIS IS AN OUTRAGE! I'M YOUR SISTER! YOUR COLLEAGUE! AND YOU'RE DRAGGING ME LIKE—" She twisted to look up at him. "—wait. Is this what having an older brother feels like?" She stopped struggling entirely, going limp. "I like it. I'm being protected from myself. This is great." She dangled. "So breakfast! High protein! Things that won't slow down my HANDS when I'm tinkering between events—"

Timeskip. The stadium ROARED.

*Present Mic's voice boomed across the arena as classes filed in. Class 1-A marched out—Bakugo scowling, Midoriya muttering, Todoroki blank. The crowd went wild. Class 1-B followed. General Studies. Business.*

"And NOW—" Mic's voice shifted, less explosive. "—let's hear it for the brains behind the brawn! The ones who make the gear that keeps our heroes alive! Give it up for the SUPPORT COURSE!"

Polite applause. Respectful, but noticeably quieter. Mei bounced ahead, waving at no one. Power Loader trudged behind, helmet on, tired thumbs-up. Taiyo walked somewhere in the middle, suitcase gripped tight.

The stadium quieted as Midnight strutted to the podium. Whip crack.

"ALRIGHT, BRATS! You know the rules! But first—a few words from our first-year representative! The boy with the boom and the grr—Katsuki Bakugo!"

Bakugo stomped to the mic. Glared at the crowd. Leaned in.

"...I'm gonna win."

He walked off. Three seconds of dead silence. Present Mic scrambled.

"UHHHH—THAT'S THE SPIRIT! FULL OF PASSION! ALRIGHT, LET'S MOVE ON TO THE FIRST EVENT—"

Mei leaned in, stage-whispering. "Wow. Truly inspiring. I'm a changed woman, Taiyo. Thank you, Bakugo, for those life-changing words."

Taiyo shook his head slowly. "Yeesh. Talk about an egomaniac." He elbowed her. "Either that kid's parents didn't love him enough, or they loved him way too much. No in-between. Hero Course, am I right?"

Mei snorted. "Right?! Imagine having THAT much explosion and THAT little personality. Tragic." She nudged him back, harder. "Good thing we're Support. We get to be weird AND useful. Best deal in the building." Her eyes dropped to his suitcase, gleaming. "Hey. First event's random. Could be anything. Obstacle course, battle royale, trivia night—"

"It's not gonna be trivia night."

"You don't KNOW that!" She leaned closer, voice dropping to something almost serious. "But for real. You ready to show off those shiny babies of yours? The ones you won't let me TOUCH?"

Taiyo blinked. Stared at her. "Holy shit." A genuine gasp. "That's the first time I've heard you use a serious voice." He bonked her head—light, reflexive. "Don't do that. It's weird. Uncanny. And way too competent for someone who ate a screw last week."

Mei rubbed her head, grinning hugely. "HA! You called me competent! That's basically a love letter from you! Someone mark the calendar—TAIYO GAVE A COMPLIMENT!" She bounced on her heels. "Okay, okay, serious mode OFF! Chaos mode ON! Whatever the first event is, I'm READY! Race? Got speed babies! Battle? Got boom babies! Trivia—"

"Still not trivia."

"—I KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT SUPPORT GEAR HISTORY, TAIYO. EVERYTHING."

Present Mic's voice cut through.

"ALRIGHT, FOLKS! THE MOMENT YOU'VE BEEN WAITING FOR! LET'S SEE WHAT THE FIRST EVENT IS—"

The giant screen spun. Slot machine style. Lights flashed. Music built.

"—AND IT'S—"

Chapter Text

The screen flashed: 4 KILOMETER OBSTACLE COURSE.

"Well, ain't this fantastic?" Taiyo grumbled. Gear's built for fighting, not racing. Speed buff's minor. Gonna have to rely on raw physical stats. He glanced down at his suitcase—still locked. The timer ticked down.

Mei grabbed his shoulders and shook. "TAIYO! YOUR GEAR! PUT IT ON, PUT IT ON—" Around them, students snapped on equipment. One minute left. "FORTY-FIVE SECONDS! MOVE YOUR GRUMPY BUTT!" She spun him around and yanked the suitcase open herself.

She grabs the artifacts for him and yelled, "Gauntlets first! Headband! Boots! GO GO GO—" Thirty seconds. Bakugo cracked his neck nearby, palms sparking.

"Oh shit." Taiyo snapped the gauntlets on—orange glow flared—then the purple boots and headband. "Thanks, sis. I appreciate it." He turned to Mei. "One more thing before I go. Stop calling me stepbrother. Just bro."

"It's more... More efficient..." He blushed a bit as he said it

Mei froze. Pink hair practically stood on end. "...Bro?" Ten seconds. "BRO?! Like, actual BRO?! Not step?! Not adopted?! Just—" Five seconds. "—BROTHER BRO?!" Zero. The buzzer blared. Gates slammed open. Mei shoved him forward, screaming: "GO GET 'EM, BROTHER! WIN FOR THE FAMILY! FOR SUPPORT COURSE—"

Her voice vanished under the tidal wave of students.

“For the love of God, Hatsume, STOP!” He yelled back, not knowing if she heard it, but he was glad.

First obstacle: Robo Inferno. 

The robots from the entrance exam fill the path, their arms swinging in arcs that could crush bone. They're bigger than he remembers, or maybe that's just the angle—the way they loom over the narrow corridor, the way their mechanical joints hiss steam with each swing. Students scatter around them, some blasting over, some freezing under, some simply stopping dead. 'Time to prove myself.'

Todoroki doesn't even slow down. Ice explodes from his right foot in a wave that freezes three bots solid, their arms suspended mid-swing. He skate-pasts on the glacier he created, white hair streaming behind him, face blank. 

Bakugo blasts through another path, explosions propelling him over the chaos, his palms firing like pistons. Midoriya runs below, no quirk, just pure athleticism—dodging, weaving, ducking under arms that could crush him, his fingers curled tight at his sides, unbroken. 

Taiyo charges. There's no strategy here, no technique. Just forward. He lowers his shoulder, brings his forearms up to guard his face, and runs straight into the first robot. The impact is catastrophic. An arm swung at his torso. He tanked it—metal crumpled against his gauntlet with a horrible grind. Sparks showered. 'Hold it! Hold yourself together!'

Some General Studies kid behind him yells, voice cracking with disbelief: "WHAT THE—THAT'S SUPPORT COURSE?!”

He's keeping pace. The buffs hum through him—strength in his arms, speed in his legs, clarity in his vision. The robots blur past, their arms swinging too slowly, their movements telegraphed. He ducks under one, shoulder-checks another, catches a third with the flat of his gauntlet, and sends it spinning into its neighbor. 

"Hahhaha!" The laugh tears out of him before he can stop it—wild, chaotic, nothing like the flat deadpan he wears like armor. His chest heaves. His blood is hot. For once, he isn't thinking. He's just moving.

Second obstacle: The Fall. A canyon spanned by tightropes. Todoroki ice-bridged. Bakugo blast-jumped. Midoriya hesitated at the edge, calculating.

Taiyo stared at the rope. "Steep fall." He groaned and stared down at the pit next "Well... Shit." He begins to cross the tightropes with care.

Five minutes later, he was only halfway across, inching forward. "Ugh. This sucks." He'd lost his lead. Then, to his utmost dismay, a girl with giant hands nearly collided with him. He dodged. "Oi!"

A massive hand grabbed the rope beside him. "SORRY! So sorry!" Orange hair. Determined face. "Didn't mean to almost take you out—this rope's wobblier than I expected!" 

She moved past him, surprisingly graceful. "Oh! You're that Support Course guy! The one who kicked Bakugo." She grinned, giving him a tired but excited thumbs-up. "Respect." She pulled ahead. "You're strong but slow on ropes. Tip: hand-over-hand faster. Don't just walk—pull. Those gauntlets look tough enough."

"Huh." Taiyo watched her go. "So your quirk's giant hands? That's niche." 'A bit weaker compared to Mount Lady.'

The girl laughed—not offended. "Niche! Yeah, that's one word! Whole family's got big hands. Great for construction, terrible for typing! She reached the far side and dropped. "Name's Itsuka Kendo! Class 1-B! If you make the next round, maybe we'll fight!" She waved and sprinted off. The rope swayed violently.

Taiyo smirked. "Heh. Time to get back to work." He switched to hand-over-hand, pulling faster. Muscles burned. He didn't stop.

Third obstacle: the minefield. The dirt is churned and scattered with red flags, each one marking a spot that will launch whoever steps on it backward. Students who hit the wrong patch find themselves airborne, tumbling through the air, their progress reset to zero. Some have given up entirely, picking their way through the field with painstaking slowness. Others have just stopped, waiting for someone else to find the safe path.

Taiyo lands hard at the edge of the field, his boots digging into the dirt. “Gah! Go- Gotta hurry.” The flags stretch ahead, a sea of red against brown. He can see Todoroki's ice path melting in the sun, Bakugo's blast craters marking his route. He can see Midoriya in the distance, still moving, still dodging, still refusing to use his quirk.

No time for care. No time for strategy. He pushes off, and the boots respond—titanium soles finding purchase, the speed buff kicking in. The first flag passes under his foot. The mine detonates a second later, an airblast that rips at his back, shoves him forward. He stumbles, recovers, and keeps running.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

The explosions chain behind him like firecrackers, each one launching dirt and smoke into the air, each one shoving him forward faster. The crowd is screaming—he can hear them now, sixty thousand voices rising. The gauntlets are up, protecting his face from debris. The headband keeps his vision sharp, his focus narrow. The boots absorb each impact and convert the force into forward momentum.

Students dive left and right, throwing themselves out of his path. A hero course kid with hardening skin flinches as he passes, dirt raining down on both of them.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" The kid's voice is lost behind him, swallowed by the next explosion. "THAT'S SUPPORT COURSE?!"

A mine detonates directly under his left foot. The blast lifts him—for a moment, he's airborne, weightless, the stadium spinning around him. His boots hit the ground again, the impact absorbing into his knees, his hips, his spine. He doesn't stop. Doesn't slow. 

Just keeps running.

On the jumbotron, his face fills the screen. Gauntlets gleaming. Dirt streaked across his cheek. Eyes focused on something only he can see.

Present Mic's voice hits a pitch that shouldn't be possible: "OOOOOHHHH?! WHO IS THIS GUY?! SUPPORT COURSE STUDENT JUST BLASTED THROUGH THE MINEFIELD LIKE IT WAS NOTHING! THAT'S—THAT'S KURIKO TAIYO, FOLKS! REMEMBER THAT NAME!"

The tunnel entrance looms ahead. Students who made it through are scattered around it, catching their breath, checking their gear. Todoroki is there, leaning against the wall, frost melting off his shoulder. Bakugo is pacing, his palms still smoking. Midoriya is bent over, hands on his knees, chest heaving.

Taiyo crosses the line and doesn't stop until he's through the tunnel, out of the sun, in the cool shadow of the waiting area. His lungs burn. His legs shake. He made it.

The waiting area is chaos. Students sprawl across benches, some celebrating, some cursing, some already trying to figure out the next round. The screens above them show the leaderboard—names and times scrolling past. Taiyo finds his name near the top fifteen, watches it hold, watches it settle.

"Where the hell is she?" Asked Taiyo, talking to himself

Mei is already there. She's sitting on a bench in the corner, covered head to toe in soot, her pink hair somehow even messier than before—which he didn't think was possible. Her face is streaked with dirt and grease, and she's holding something in her lap that used to be a gadget but is now just a collection of sparking wires and sad, melted plastic. She looks up when he approaches, and her grin splits her face in half.

"Taiyo! BROTHER!" Her voice is hoarse from screaming, but the energy is still there, burning behind her eyes. "I'm FANTASTIC! My babies got me through the first two obstacles, but the mines—" she holds up the sparking mess "—RIP Rocket Boots prototype #7. You served well. Your data will be remembered."

She tosses the remains aside without ceremony, the metal clattering against concrete, and immediately starts digging through her pockets as if nothing had happened. A wrench falls out. Then a screw. Then something that might be a battery.

"BUT! BUT BUT BUT!" She finds what she's looking for—a crumpled piece of paper covered in equations—and waves it at him.

 "I made it! Top twenty! And you—" she punches his arm, hard enough to bruise "—you looked like a CHARGING BULL out there! The crowd LOVED it! Present Mic said your NAME! Multiple times! That's EXPOSURE, Taiyo! That's INVESTORS!"

She bounces on her heels, her energy somehow undiminished by the obstacle course, the explosions, the fact that she just watched her invention die in a minefield. Her hands grab his shoulders again, and he's too tired to stop her.

“Hatsume- Shakes Stop- Shakes -Please,” He said in a monotone voice, uncomfortable with the shaking nonetheless.
Hatsume stops. "So what's the next round?!" Her eyes are wide, manic. "Battle? Tournament? Please be tournament, please be tournament—I need to show off my babies in ONE ON ONE combat!"

"It'll be cavalry." His voice comes out rougher than he intended, scraped raw from breathing dust and smoke. "You should have the data already; the chances are quite high."

Mei's face falls for exactly half a second. Then she rebounds, the manic energy redoubling. "CAVALRY?! That's—that's TEAMWORK! That's COLLABORATION! That's—"

“That’s annoyance… I’m bad at teamwork.” Taiyo adds, hoping and praying that it won’t be the challenge that he expects it to be.

She grabs his shoulders again, her fingers digging into the soot-stained fabric of his hoodie. "TAIYO. TAIYO. We have to be on the SAME TEAM. Brother-sister CAVALRY TEAM. Think about it! You're the HORSE—strong, grumpy, carries everything! I'm the RIDER—chaotic, genius, spots opportunities! WE'D BE UNSTOPPABLE!"

She's already dragging him toward the center of the waiting area, where students are starting to gather, where the second event announcement is going to happen. Her grip is like iron.

"Your headband gives you regeneration, right?! So you can recover from exhaustion! My babies give me mobility and vision enhancement! TOGETHER WE—"

She stops mid-sentence. Her eyes lock onto something behind him, and the manic energy drains from her face, replaced by something sharper, more focused.

"Oh no."
“Oh no, what?” Taiyo didn’t know what she was panicking about until he saw him

Bakugo is staring at them from across the waiting area. He's leaning against a pillar, arms crossed, his chest still heaving from the run. His expression is complicated—some mix of anger and calculation, like he's trying to figure out if he should be furious or impressed. He hasn't looked away since they entered. His eyes track Taiyo's movements with an intensity that borders on obsession.

In a moment of pure spite and insanity, Taiyo mimics a kicking motion. His leg swings up, just slightly, just enough to be seen. His face stays blank, but his eyes are on Bakugo's. "Yeah, back off, bastard. If we fight, it'll be respectfully in the arenas."

Bakugo's eye twitches VIOLENTLY. His palms pop with small explosions, the sound sharp in the crowded space. His shoulders bunch. His jaw tightens. For a moment, it looks like he's going to move, going to cross the distance between them.

Kirishima materializes behind him like a concerned babysitter, his red hair a beacon of calm in the storm of Bakugo's rage. His hand hovers near Bakugo's shoulder, not quite touching.

"BRO. BRO, chill." Kirishima's voice is low, placating. "He's just messing with you. It's—it's pre-game stuff, right? Psychological warfare? You do that ALL the time!"

Bakugo shoves Kirishima off, the motion sharp, explosive. The redhead stumbles back a step, hands raised. "I KNOW WHAT HE'S DOING, SHITTY HAIR! I'M NOT—"

He stops. His chest rises and falls. 

His teeth grind together so hard the muscle in his jaw jumps. He takes a breath—slow, deliberate, controlled—and when he speaks again, his voice is quieter, rougher.

"...Whatever. Save it for the arena." He turns sharply, his shoulders a rigid line, and stomps away. "Support Course."

Kirishima gives Taiyo a double thumbs-up, his grin wide and genuine, before jogging after Bakugo. His voice carries back across the waiting area. "Hey, man, that was a good run though! You were killing it out there! Hey—Bakugo—wait up—"

Mei leans into his space, her voice dropping to a whisper that somehow still carries her excitement. "That was BALLSY. I love it. You're literally the only person who treats him like a normal jerk instead of an untouchable monster. It's BEAUTIFUL."

Before he can respond, the stadium speakers crackle to life. The crowd noise outside fades, anticipation building. Midnight's voice purrs through, honeyed and dangerous.

"ALRIGHT, BRATS! Settle down! Time to announce the SECOND ROUND!"

Chapter Text

The waiting area buzzed. Students clustered into teams—friends grabbing friends, strategizing, negotiating. Mei was already deep in conversation with two other Support Course students, gesturing wildly about some gadget.

Taiyo watched her for a moment. She was in her element. Didn't need him hovering.

'She should shine on her own. Not tied to my grumpy ass.'

He turned and walked. The crowd swallowed him—hero students, general studies, business course kids all scrambling for teammates. No one looked at him twice. Support Course. Not worth recruiting. Fine. He kept walking.

Then a familiar voice cut through.

"Hey! Forge guy!"

Kendo waved at him from a small cluster of students. Orange hair bouncing. Giant hands gesturing him over. "You looking for a team? We need a fourth!"

Taiyo approached, hands in pockets. "Forge guy?"

"You forge things. You kicked Bakugo. I don't know your actual name yet." She grinned, unapologetic. "So. Forge guy. Want in?"

He looked at the group. A silver-haired guy with sharp teeth and metal skin—Tetsutetsu, probably, he'd heard the name. And a tired-looking purple-haired kid with eyebags that rivaled Aizawa's. Shinso. General Studies. Both of them watched him with neutral curiosity. No judgment. No immediate doubt.

"Kuriko Taiyo." He met Kendo's eyes. "And yeah. Sure. I don't know anyone else here anyway."

Tetsutetsu grinned, all teeth. "MANLY. Support Course, right? Heard you tanked those robots like a BEAST. Respect." He clapped Taiyo's shoulder hard enough to stagger a normal person. Taiyo didn't move.

Shinso just nodded once. "You good at following a plan?"

"I can listen."

"Then we'll be fine." Shinso's voice was flat, but something in his eyes flickered—relief, maybe. "Our score's not high. We're not targets. That's an advantage."

Kendo pulled them into a quick huddle. "Okay. Here's the play. Shinso's our rider—his quirk's best for head-on confrontations. Tetsutetsu and I are front support. Taiyo, you take the rear. Your job is stability and defense. Someone comes at our back, you hold the line." She looked at him. "You good with that?"

"Rear guard. Got it." Taiyo flexed his gauntlets. "I can take hits."

"Perfect." Kendo's grin sharpened. "Let's hunt."

The cavalry battle erupted into chaos. Forty-two students were reduced to twelve teams. Headbands everywhere. Quirks firing. Midoriya's team shot into the air. Bakugo's squad blasted after them. Todoroki iced half the field.

Team Kendo moved differently. Low. Quiet. Calculating.

"Left." Shinso's voice was calm, almost bored. "Team with the yellow headbands. Three o'clock. They're tired. Easy pickings."

Kendo steered them through the chaos. Tetsutetsu's metal skin deflected a stray attack. Taiyo braced the rear, gauntlets absorbing impacts that would've sent lesser teammates stumbling. They closed in.

"Now." Shinso leaned forward. "Hey. Yellow team. Your form's sloppy."

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?!" The rider snapped back—and froze. Eyes went blank. Shinso's quirk is locked in.

Kendo's giant hand plucked their headband clean. The team collapsed a second later, dazed and confused.

"One down." Shinso tucked the headband away. "Next."

They moved like that for minutes—picking off weaker teams, avoiding the powerhouses. Tetsutetsu laughed every time they scored. "This is WORKING! We're actually DOING IT!"

"Don't get cocky." Kendo swerved them around a skirmish. "We just need to survive. Points don't have to be high. Just enough to qualify."

Taiyo grunted, absorbing another stray blast against his gauntlet. 'Smart. Safe. Boring, but smart.' He thought

 "How many more?"

"Two minutes left." Shinso scanned the field. "We've got enough. Just hold position."

The seconds crawled. Bakugo's team roared past, explosions shaking the ground. Midoriya's team soared overhead, barely holding together. Todoroki's ice spread like a glacier. Team Kendo stayed in the margins—watching, waiting, surviving.

The buzzer screamed.

"TIME'S UP! CAVALRY BATTLE IS OVER!"

Kendo exhaled, shoulders dropping. "We made it."

Tetsutetsu whooped. "HELL YEAH WE DID! FOURTH PLACE, BABY! THAT'S MANLY AS HELL!"

Shinso's lips twitched—almost a smile. "Not bad for a bunch of misfits."

Taiyo rolled his shoulders, gauntlets creaking. "Solid plan. Good call on avoiding the big fights."

Kendo turned to him, eyes bright. "You held the rear like a wall. Seriously. We felt every hit you took for us." She offered her hand—normal-sized now. "Good working with you, Kuriko."

Taiyo stared at her hand for a beat. Then took it. "Taiyo. Just Taiyo's fine."

Her grin widened. "Taiyo, then. If we end up fighting next round..." Her eyes glinted. "Don't hold back."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Tetsutetsu slung an arm around both of them. "Alright, new friends! Let's go see who we're fighting next! THIS IS GONNA BE MANLY!"

Shinso trailed behind, quiet, but something in his posture had relaxed. Like maybe—just maybe—he'd found people worth trusting.

Taiyo glanced back at the Support Course section. Mei was bouncing, waving some gadget, clearly having the time of her life. She caught his eye and gave him two thumbs up.

'Good. She's fine. We're both fine.'

He turned back to his team—his temporary, weird, misfit team—and followed them toward the next announcement.

Chapter Text

Taiyo walked through the tunnel toward the waiting area. The crowd noise faded to a dull roar. His legs screamed. His shoulders ached. But he was through. Third place. Against the hero course students. With a team that actually listened to him.

Ahead, Mei spotted him and CAME CHARGING. "TAIYOOOOO! BROTHER!"

She crashed into him, hugging him tight despite the sweat and exhaustion. "DID YOU SEE?! I'm through! Fourth place! With Midoriya!" She pulled back, grinning widely. "Exposure! Cameras! Investors!"

Taiyo steadied himself, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Yeah. Saw you up there. Not bad."

"AND YOU! Third place! With Kendo!" Mei grabbed his arm. "You're basically a hero course fighter now, bro! Kind of! Sort of!" She bounced on her heels. "So? Check the bracket yet? Who'd you get?"

"Nope. Looking now." Taiyo glanced up at the Jumbotron, scanning the names. "Where is it... Ah. There."

The brackets:

Izuku Midoriya vs. Hitoshi Shinso
Shoto Todoroki vs. Hanta Sero
Itsuka Kendo vs. Denki Kaminari
Tenya Iida vs. Mei Hatsume
Mina Ashido vs. Kuriko Taiyo
Fumikage Tokoyami vs. Momo Yaoyorozu
Eijiro Kirishima vs. Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu
Katsuki Bakugo vs. Ochaco Uraraka

Taiyo narrowed his eyes at his match. "Mina Ashido." He turned to Mei. "Who the hell is Mina Ashido?"

Mei gasped dramatically and grabbed his arm. "You don't know her?!" She waved her hands vaguely. "She's PINK! Like me! But different pink!"

Taiyo raised an eyebrow. "That tells me nothing."

"She's got ACID, Taiyo! She shoots acid! Melts things!" Mei pulled up her phone, shoving a blurry photo in his face—a pink-skinned girl with horns mid-laugh. "See?! Class 1-A! Super friendly! Super energetic! SUPER DANGEROUS!"

Taiyo studied the photo. "Horns. Pink. Acid." He looked at Mei. "So, a friendly version of you that melts stuff instead of building it."

"Exactly! Wait—" Mei squinted. "Was that an insult?"

"Observation."

Mei's eyes went wide with a mix of excitement and concern. "Okay, but listen—her quirk lets her melt through almost anything. Adjustable acidity. Mild irritation to BURN THROUGH STEEL." She poked his chest. "Your gear's tough, bro. But can it handle acid?"

Taiyo shrugged, voice dry. "Probably not. But she's not gonna try to kill me in front of thousands of people." He flexed his gauntlets. "Metal's hard to dissolve unless she cranks the acidity way up. And she doesn't look like the type who fights dirty."

"You're gonna fight dirty against the friendly pink girl?" Mei squinted at him, then grinned. "That's cold, bro." She punched his arm lightly. "I respect it. Win however you can."

"Damn right." Taiyo cracked his neck. "I'm here to show off my gear and win. Her feelings aren't my problem."

Mei bounced on her heels. "Meanwhile, I gotta fight Iida! The engine guy! His legs are literally engines!" She clenched her fists dramatically. "He's gonna kick me into next week! But that's fine—I have babies! And exposure! Even if I lose, everyone sees my gear!"

Taiyo watched her spiral, then spoke flatly. "You'll be fine. Your gadgets are annoying enough to give anyone trouble."

Mei gasped. "Was that... a COMPLIMENT?!"

"Statement of fact."

She grabbed his shoulders, suddenly serious. "Okay, okay—strategy time. For you. Mina's got acid and agility. She's expecting a normal fight. You gotta close distance fast and not give her time to melt your stuff." She poked his gauntlets. "Tungsten's acid-resistant, but not immune. If she focuses on them, they're done."

Taiyo nodded slowly. "Makes sense. What about the headband?"

"Silver's WORSE!" Mei poked his forehead. "Acid eats silver like candy. Keep her away from your head. If she gets a clean shot there, you're toast."

Taiyo grunted. "So protect the head. Close distance. Don't let her breathe." He looked at Mei. "Got it."

Mei stepped back, nodding firmly. "Free advice. From your favorite sister. Use it wisely."

"Fine." Taiyo's voice dropped, almost reluctant. "Uh... Good luck. With Iida."

Mei's entire body locked up. Her eyes went WIDE.

'Oh shit' Taiyo's brain caught up with his mouth. 'Did I just wish her luck? Fuck.'

He clamped his hand over her mouth before she could explode. "Another word, and I'm abandoning you."

Mei vibrated against his palm. Her eyes were screaming. She nodded frantically. He slowly removed his hand. She took a deep breath. Opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. She physically forced herself to stay quiet—but her entire face was screaming: HE WISHED ME LUCK! HE CARES! MY BROTHER LOVES ME!

She grabbed his hand and squeezed tightly for exactly three seconds. Then released. She mimed zipping her lips, throwing away the key, and gave him two enthusiastic thumbs up. Her eyes were definitely wet. Just a little.

Behind her, the bracket screen updated. His fight against Ashido was in the third round. He had maybe an hour.

Taiyo takes a break—actually, no, he doesn't take a break. He goes into his workshop immediately, the metal door groaning open on its track, the familiar smell of oil and hot metal washing over him. The lights flicker on, illuminating the organized chaos of his workspace. Blueprints hang from the walls. Tools sit in neat rows on the bench. And there, on the far shelf, next to the failed prototypes, is the helmet.

"Ah hah!" He smirks, grabbing it, the titanium cool against his palms. "There we go... I just need to finish this in an hour..." He turns it over in his hands, checking the seams, the edges, the places where he stopped yesterday. 

"My Titanium helmet..." He carries it to the workbench, setting it down next to the grinder. "Should take up at least 30 minutes to do this... then I get 30 minutes to rest."

CLANG CLANG CLANG 

He swings his hammer hard, the sound echoing off the walls, each strike precise and measured. The metal bends, shapes, takes form under his hands. Sparks fly, orange against the gray of the workshop.

He picks up a grinder, the blade screaming against the titanium, throwing a shower of white-hot sparks across his gloves. The helmet spins on its mount, the edges smoothing, the surface polishing to a dull gleam.

VVVRRRRRR 

Thirty minutes later, he wiped sweat from his cheeks. "Finally."

Titanium Helmet - Epic Tier
Physical Buff: 94%
+2% Kinetic Absorption
+10% Better Analysis
+7% Extra Endurance

He read the stats and shrugged. "Eh. Good enough."

Total physical stats now: 529% of base. The helmet was Roman-style—clean lines, sturdy brow, impact foam inside. He'd started it yesterday but ran out of time. Now it was done.

KNOCK KNOCK—

The door slid open before he could respond. Power Loader stood there, helmet off, caught between exhaustion and concern. "Taiyo. Twenty minutes until your match." He stopped, noticing the helmet. "...You made armor. In an hour. Before your first real fight."

Taiyo set the helmet down. "Started it yesterday. Just finished it now."

Power Loader walked closer, examining the piece with experienced eyes. "This is solid. Weld lines are clean. Fit's adjusted properly." He tapped the brow ridge. "You even added impact foam inside. Smart." He straightened, crossing his arms. "Look. I know you're not a 'traditional' support course. You don't invent. You forge. And honestly? That's fine. Better than fine."

Taiyo met his eyes but said nothing.

"But fighting in the tournament?" Power Loader sighed. "Against hero course kids with combat training? You sure about this? You can withdraw. No shame in it. Support kids rarely compete this far."

"Nah." Taiyo put the helmet on and clashed his gauntlets together, metal ringing. "Fuck 'em." A real smirk spread across his face—confident, sharp. "I'm here to prove that we inventors, we makers, we Edisons and Teslas can stand side by side with heroes." He said, making a slightly wrong reference.

Power Loader stared at him for a long moment. Then a tired grin spread across his face. "...Edisons and Teslas. Hah." He shook his head, chuckling. "You know Edison was a hack who stole credit, right? But I get the point."

He clapped a hand on Taiyo's shoulder—firm, proud. "Alright. Go out there and make the Support Course proud. Show them what a real craftsman can do." He pulled out his phone. "I'm texting Hatsume. She'd kill me if she missed your entrance. Literally kill me. With prototypes."

The stadium announcer echoed faintly through the walls. "NEXT MATCH COMING UP SOON! MINA ASHIDO VERSUS KURIKO TAIYO! BOTH FIGHTERS REPORT TO THE ARENA!"

Taiyo pointed a finger at his own chest, smirk still in place. "Don't need luck. Just need the world to see me." He met Power Loader's eyes. "This forger."

Five minutes later, he walked up to the stadium.

The stadium ROARED as Taiyo stepped into the light. Thousands of faces blurred into a wall of color and noise. The arena floor was hard-packed dirt. Present Mic's voice boomed.

"AND NOW, FROM THE SUPPORT COURSE—THE STUDENT WHO TANKED ROBOTS, RAN THROUGH MINES, AND HELPED SECURE THIRD PLACE IN THE CAVALRY BATTLE! GIVE IT UP FOR KURIKO TAIYO!"

Polite applause. Confused murmurs. Some genuine cheering from the support section.

Across the arena, Mina Ashido bounced onto the field. Pink skin gleamed under stadium lights. She waved to the crowd, blew a kiss, and struck a pose. The crowd ate it up.

"AND HER OPPONENT—FROM CLASS 1-A—THE ACIDIC ASSASSIN HERSELF! THE GIRL WHO CAN MELT THROUGH ANYTHING! IT'S MINA ASHIDO!"

Thunderous applause. Chants of "MINA! MINA! MINA!"

Mina grinned at him across the arena, tilting her head. "Hey! You're that support guy who kicked Bakugo!" She laughed, completely at ease. "That was HILARIOUS. I promise I won't melt your face off too much, okay? Just a little bit!"

Midnight strutted to the center, whip cracking. "ALRIGHT! You know the rules! No killing! No leaving the arena! First one out of bounds, unable to continue, or surrenders loses! READY?!"

Mina dropped into a loose, dancer-like stance. Her hands glowed faintly pink with acid.

"Ready! Start the match, sensei!" Taiyo roared, coiled like a bull.

The whip cracked. He shot forward. Gauntlets up, legs pumping, closing the distance in seconds.

"WHOA—!" Mina barely had time to react. His shoulder slammed into her midsection, driving her backward across the dirt. She slid but stayed on her feet—acrobatic, flexible. "OKAY! Fast approach! Got it!"

She leaped backward, hands sweeping forward. A light pink mist arced toward him. It landed on his gauntlets.

SIZZLE. Smoke rose. The tungsten held—for now—but faint discoloration spread across the metal.

Mina grinned, already circling. "Tungsten, right? Good choice!" She flicked both wrists, sending two streams this time. "But how's your helmet? Your boots? Your EVERYTHING ELSE?!"

Taiyo swatted the acid away with his gauntlets, protecting his other gear. "Tch. Annoying, pink, alien-looking, noisy, prancing bastard." He skidded to a stop and shifted directions, charging again—faster. Cracks spidered where his feet landed.

"Here I come, Ashido!"

Mina's eyes went wide. Then she LAUGHED. "Alien-looking?! Prancing bastard?!" She dove sideways as he barreled past. Dirt exploded. The crowd roared. "That's the BEST insult I've ever gotten!"

She rolled, popped up, and sent another spray—low, at his boots. "Gotta protect the merchandise, right? Can't show investors damaged goods!"

The acid splashed against his boots. They held—titanium was resistant—but heat seeped through. Uncomfortable.

Mina kept dancing out of reach. "You're SO strong! But strength doesn't matter if you can't CATCH me!" She blew a playful kiss. "Come on, big guy! Show me what else you got!"

"Oh? I can't catch you?" Taiyo ripped off his helmet. His stats dropped, but he was still strong enough. "Alright then."

He aimed. He threw. The titanium helmet spun through the air like a discus—fast, precise, heavy.

CLANK.

Mina's eyes went impossibly wide. The helmet clipped her shoulder. She spun and hit the ground hard, sliding across the dirt in a cloud of dust.

The stadium went DEAD SILENT.

"DID HE JUST—HE THREW HIS HELMET! LIKE A WEAPON!" Present Mic screamed. "THAT'S NOT REGULATION, BUT IT'S NOT AGAINST THE RULES! TAIYO SCORED A DIRECT HIT!"

Mina groaned, pushing herself up slowly. Her right arm hung limp—not broken, but stunned. She grinned through the pain. "Okay... okay, that was... actually really smart."

She shook out her arm, testing it. "Didn't think you'd throw your own gear." She stood fully, rolling her shoulder. The grin sharpened. "But now you don't have a helmet. And I've got plenty of acid left."

She lunged forward—both hands glowing bright pink.

Taiyo closed the gap while she was still reeling. "You excrete acid from your hands and feet." He grabbed her wrist—her ACID wrist—gauntlet sizzling. "Only two points. Which, in my professional opinion, is kind of limited in its execution."

Mina's eyes went wide.

"Not to mention, the velocity's too slow." He twisted her wrist and yanked her up. "Visit a support student. Not me. I don't exactly know how to support your style of quirk."

He suplexed her.

WHAM. Her back hit the dirt. Air exploded from her lungs in a choked gasp. Acid sputtered uselessly from her palms.

Taiyo pressed one gauntleted hand against her shoulder, pinning her down.

"HE JUST—THAT WAS A SUPLEX! A FULL SUPLEX!" Present Mic lost it. "FROM A SUPPORT COURSE STUDENT! ASHIDO IS DOWN!"

Mina coughed, gasping. Her body wasn't responding.

Midnight leaned in, whip ready. "Ashido! Can you continue?! Count of ten!"

Mina's hand twitched. She wheezed. Nothing came out.

The crowd chanted with Midnight. "TEN! NINE! EIGHT!"

Taiyo tightened his hold, voice dry and bored. "Give up, hero."

Mina struggled weakly. Acid fizzled against his gauntlet—barely a whisper. "...g-give..." She tapped the ground twice.

Midnight's whip cracked. "ASHIDO TAPS OUT! THE WINNER IS—KURIKO TAIYO!"

The stadium ERUPTED—confused, excited, uncertain how to process a Support Course student dominating a Hero Course fighter.

Taiyo released Mina immediately. She collapsed onto her back, chest heaving.

Then she started laughing—weak, breathless, genuine. "Hah... hahaha... holy shit." She lifted a shaky thumbs-up. "You're... actually terrifying. Good fight... support guy."

Medical bots rolled onto the field and scooped her up. She waved at him as they carried her off, still grinning.

On the jumbotron, his name flashed: KURIKO TAIYO ADVANCES TO ROUND 2

Taiyo pumped his fist and checked his gear. Then he looked up at the pro hero box.

Best Jeanist sat rigid, expression unreadable. Mt. Lady applauded enthusiastically, taking up two seats. Gang Orca leaned forward, dark eyes flickering with interest. Edgeshot remained perfectly still. Snipe tipped his hat—a small nod of approval. Several agency reps were already scribbling notes. Pointing at his gear. Murmuring. A sharp-dressed woman with sleek black hair stood abruptly and headed for the exit. Toward the competitor area.

Taiyo smirked. 'Gotcha, Investors'

He walked back to the waiting halls. Mei stood there, practically vibrating. "Good luck in your battle." He dapped her up before she could process it. "Sis." He walked away.

Mei FROZE. Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. No sound came out. She watched him leave, hand still raised from the dap.

Then she EXPLODED.

"HE—HE WISHED ME LUCK! AGAIN! VOLUNTARILY! AND DAPPED ME UP! AND CALLED ME SIS!" She spun to the nearest person—a very confused Iida, mid-stretch. "DID YOU SEE THAT?! DID YOU WITNESS?! MY BROTHER JUST—"

Iida blinked, chopping the air reflexively. "I am uncertain what I witnessed, Hatsume-san, but I wish you luck in our match as well—"

Mei was already gone, bouncing toward the arena. "BABIES! TIME TO SHOW BABIES! FOR THE FAMILY! FOR TAIYO! FOR—" Her voice faded into the tunnel.

Chapter Text

The next roster displayed on the Jumbotron:

Izuku Midoriya vs. Shoto Todoroki
Itsuka Kendo vs. Tenya Iida
Kuriko Taiyo vs. Fumikage Tokoyami
Eijiro Kirishima vs. Katsuki Bakugo

Taiyo sipped his second coffee, chilling beside Mei after her successful advertising match. "Hm. I'm up against Tokoyami." He turned to her. "Who the hell is that? Any ideas?"

Mei was still vibrating from her match—she lost, obviously, Iida's engines were too fast, but she got three solid minutes of screen time showing off her babies. Her grin hadn't faded. "Tokoyami! Ooh, scary one! Class 1-A, bird head, edgy personality!"

She grabbed her phone, pulling up a blurry photo of a student with a literal bird skull for a head, cloak billowing dramatically. "Quirk's called Dark Shadow! Living shadow monster that lives INSIDE him!" She gestured wildly. "Comes out when it's dark! Gets stronger in darkness! Weaker in light! Two fighters in one!"

Taiyo squinted at the photo. "Bird head. Shadow pet. Got it."

"Here's the thing—Dark Shadow's got PERSONALITY." Mei poked his chest. "It talks. It thinks. It protects Tokoyami. If you fight them, you're fighting both. And if it's dark enough, Dark Shadow goes BERSERK. Super strong. Hard to control."

She leaned back, crossing her arms. "Your gear gives you physical buffs, but can you punch a SHADOW?"

Taiyo took a long, calm sip. "SSSSSSSSIIIIIIPPPP."

He lowered the cup. "Unless they got a ghost quirk, I'm pretty sure I can punch the bird guy. And his shadow bird guy."

Mei stared at him mid-sip, then burst out laughing. "SSSSSIIIIIPPP! You actually—" She wheezed, clutching her stomach. "Taiyo, you're the most confident person I've ever met, and you have ZERO reason to be!"

She wiped a tear from her eye. "Okay, okay, serious now. Dark Shadow is PHYSICAL when it wants to be. It can grab, hit, and throw. So yeah, you CAN punch it." She pulled up more notes. "Question is—can you punch it HARD ENOUGH before it punches YOU?"

Taiyo shrugged. "Guess I'll find out."

"Tokoyami's strategy is usually to keep distance, let Dark Shadow fight, and conserve energy." Mei held up a finger. "If you close the distance fast—like you did with Ashido—you might catch him before Dark Shadow fully manifests. BUT—" She leaned in. "In an arena setting, it's BRIGHT. That weakens Dark Shadow. Tokoyami might try to CREATE darkness. Any darkness-creating gear in that workshop?"

"No. Nope." Taiyo shook his head. "Haven't had much luck with additional stats. Luckiest I ever got was 'Increase 50% damage when below 50% health,' but the gear broke. Two years ago. Before UA."

Mei's eyes went WIDE. "Wait, wait—FIFTY PERCENT DAMAGE BOOST AT HALF HEALTH?! That's INSANE! That's a last stand ability! That's—"

Taiyo clamped her mouth shut. "Yeah, no. Not relevant."

Mei mumbled against his hand. "Mmh mmh mmh mmh!"

He removed his hand. She took a breath, visibly restraining herself. "Okay. Okay, okay, okay. No reroll button. Got it. Your gear's stats are permanent once forged." She tapped her chin. "So for Tokoyami... you need light-based buffs. Which you don't have."

Taiyo finished his coffee. "So I punch him until he falls over."

"Basically!" Mei grinned. "You're strong. You're fast with your 529% physical stats. Dark Shadow's strong, but it's not four times strong. Not in bright light." She poked his chest. "You got this, bro. Just don't let him spook you."

The stadium ROARED as Taiyo stepped onto the arena floor for the second time. The dirt had been smoothed since his last fight—no sign of Mina's acid burns. Present Mic's voice boomed.

"AND NOW, FOLKS—FROM THE SUPPORT COURSE, THE UNDERDOG WHO TOOK DOWN ASHIDO! THE STUDENT WHO PROVED BRAINS CAN BEAT BRAWN! IT'S KURIKO TAIYO!"

The crowd's reaction was different this time. Less confused. More curious. Some genuine cheers.

"AND HIS OPPONENT—FROM CLASS 1-A! THE EDGE OF DARKNESS ITSELF! THE BIRD-HEADED BEASTMASTER! GIVE IT UP FOR FUMIKAGE TOKOYAMI!"

Tokoyami walked onto the field, cloak billowing dramatically despite absolutely no wind. His bird-skull head turned slowly, taking in the arena. At his side, Dark Shadow writhed—barely contained, eager.

He stopped across from Taiyo, expression unreadable behind the beak. "...Support Course." His voice was low, gravelly. "You defeated Ashido. Impressive. But darkness does not yield to mere physicality."

Dark Shadow's head emerged from his cloak, glowing eyes fixed on Taiyo. "YEAH! LET'S FIGHT! LET'S DESTROY! LET'S—"

Tokoyami placed a hand on it, calming it slightly. "Patience."

Midnight strutted to the center, whip cracking. "ALRIGHT! You know the rules! READY?!"

Tokoyami nodded slowly. Taiyo did the same.

CRACK.

Taiyo charged forward immediately, legs pumping, launching like a missile. "Too slow, idiot."

He cocked his fist back and swung.

Tokoyami's eyes widened—he didn't expect this speed. But Dark Shadow reacted instantly. "GOTCHA!"

A massive clawed hand MATERIALIZED from Tokoyami's cloak, intercepting the punch mid-swing. The impact created a SHOCKWAVE. Dirt exploded outward. The crowd GASPED.

Dark Shadow grinned, inches from Taiyo's face. "Oooh, STRONG one, aren't you?! FUN!"

It PUSHED. Taiyo skidded backward across the dirt, boots leaving furrows.

Tokoyami hadn't moved. He stood calmly behind his quirk, observing. "Impressive speed. But you cannot reach me through Dark Shadow."

Dark Shadow lunged forward, both claws aiming to grab him.

Taiyo spun sideways, dodging the first swipe, then kicked the shadow's claws while they were still embedded in the ground. 'Testing. Does the shadow feel pain? How long until it retreats?'

Dark Shadow's claw SPLIT—not broken, but definitely REACTED. The shadow creature let out a surprised shriek and retracted. "OW! HE KICKED ME! That HURT, Fumikage!"

Tokoyami's eyes narrowed. "Interesting. Physical damage transfers."

Dark Shadow regrouped, circling more warily now. "Okay, okay. Play smart. Got it."

Tokoyami stepped forward—first movement since the match started. "Dark Shadow. Full extension. Don't let him close the distance."

Dark Shadow GREW. Arms lengthening. Form expanding—not stronger, but REACHING. It started swinging from range, massive claws sweeping toward him from different angles, keeping him at bay.

Tokoyami watched, calculating. "You're fast. But you need to close distance to deal damage. Dark Shadow doesn't. How long can you dodge?"

Taiyo ducked one swipe. Sidestepped another. A third clipped his shoulder—he grunted, absorbing the hit. 'He's right. I can't keep this up forever.'

Dark Shadow pressed harder, claws coming faster now, more aggressive. Taiyo blocked one, then another, but the third caught his ribs and sent him stumbling.

Tokoyami's eyes gleamed. "You're slowing. Dark Shadow—"

"Revelry in the dark."

Tokoyami FROZE. His entire body locked up mid-command. "...What?"

Taiyo straightened, cracking his neck. "What? Isn't that your thing? Edgy bird guy? Revelry in the dark?" He gestured vaguely. "Figured you'd appreciate it."

Tokoyami stared at him. Just... stared. Dark Shadow paused too, confused. "Fumikage? Fumikage, why'd you stop? Fumikage?"

Tokoyami's beak opened. Closed. He looked genuinely thrown. "I... that's not... I don't just SAY that randomly. It's—it's a state of being. A philosophy. Not a catchphrase."

Taiyo shrugged. "Could've fooled me."

Tokoyami's eye twitched. "You're mocking me."

"Little bit."

Dark Shadow glanced between them. "Uh... Fumikage? Should I... keep attacking? He's just standing there."

Tokoyami took a breath, recentering. "...Yes. Continue. Full assault. Don't let him—"

Taiyo was already moving. The momentary distraction—Tokoyami's theatrical pause, his genuine offense at being mischaracterized—was all he needed. He closed the gap in two seconds flat.

Dark Shadow reacted, but slower now—still recalibrating. "HEY—!"

Taiyo ducked under a wild swipe and drove his fist into Dark Shadow's torso. The shadow creature buckled, letting out a pained screech.

Tokoyami's eyes went wide. "Dark Shadow—!"

Taiyo didn't stop. He pressed forward, throwing hooks into the shadow's form, each punch driving it back toward its master. Keep pressure. Don't let him think.

Dark Shadow swung wildly, but it was on the defensive now—claws scraping against his gauntlets, his helmet, anything it could reach. One swipe caught his shoulder and spun him, but he planted his feet and came back harder.

Tokoyami retreated, trying to create space. "Dark Shadow, FORM UP! Stop him!"

Dark Shadow solidified, both claws coming together in a massive double-handed slam. Taiyo raised his gauntlets—

BOOM.

The impact drove him to one knee. Dirt cratered around him. His arms screamed.

But he was still up.

Tokoyami's breath came faster now. "You're... remarkably durable."

Taiyo pushed back to his feet, shaking out his arms. "Yeah. I know."

He rushed forward again. Dark Shadow met him head-on—claws raking, swiping, trying to overwhelm him with sheer aggression. Taiyo took hits. Gave them back. The exchange was brutal, neither side giving ground.

But Tokoyami was tiring. Dark Shadow's movements grew sloppier. The bright arena lights were doing their work—the shadow creature wasn't operating at full power.

Taiyo saw his opening. He feinted left, then drove right—past Dark Shadow's guard, straight toward Tokoyami.

Tokoyami's eyes went WIDE. "—!"

Taiyo's fist connected with his stomach. Once. Twice. Solid hooks that folded the bird-headed boy forward.

Dark Shadow SCREAMED. "NOBODY TOUCHES FUMIKAGE!"

A massive form EXPLODED from Tokoyami's body—larger, darker, eyes blazing RED. It swiped with both claws, no holding back, pure protective instinct.

The blow caught Taiyo square in the chest and sent him FLYING. He hit the dirt hard, skidding, dust clouding around him.

Tokoyami doubled over, gasping, one hand on his stomach. Dark Shadow towered over him, form flickering between solid and chaotic. "Fumikage! Are you OKAY?! I'll DESTROY him!"

Tokoyami raised a hand weakly. "...Wait. Wait, Dark Shadow. I'm fine."

But Dark Shadow wasn't listening. It was AGITATED. Unstable. The arena lights kept it somewhat controlled, but its eyes burned with barely contained rage.

Taiyo pushed himself up slowly, ribs aching. 'Shit. That one actually hurt.'

Tokoyami straightened, locking eyes with him. "...You're stronger than you look, Support Course."

Taiyo rolled his shoulder, testing it. "Well, thanks for the compliment. I take some lessons in boxing."

He cracked his neck. "But you let your minion do all the work. What happens when someone gets past it?" He smirked. "You fold. Like paper."

Tokoyami's eyes narrowed. "Then I won't let you past."

Dark Shadow lunged again—faster this time, more focused. Taiyo dodged, but barely. The claws grazed his helmet, scratching the titanium. 'He's adapting. and learning my patterns.'

Taiyo ducked another swipe, then another, but Dark Shadow was pressing harder now, giving him no room to counter. Tokoyami had recovered his composure—his commands were sharper, more precise.

"Dark Shadow. Low sweep. Force him to jump."

The shadow creature swept low. Taiyo leaped—

"Now. Overhead."

Dark Shadow's other claw came DOWN. Taiyo caught it on his gauntlets, but the force drove him into the dirt. He rolled, barely avoiding the follow-up. 'He's good. Really good.'

Taiyo scrambled back to his feet, breathing harder now. Tokoyami watched him calmly from behind Dark Shadow.

"You're impressive. But you cannot win a war of attrition against us." Tokoyami's voice was steady. "Dark Shadow recovers faster than you do. And you've already taken significant damage."

Taiyo didn't answer. He just moved.

He charged—not at Tokoyami, but at an angle, forcing Dark Shadow to pivot. The shadow creature swung, but he was already changing direction, boots digging into the dirt, launching himself the other way.

Dark Shadow overextended. Just slightly.

Taiyo burst past it, straight toward Tokoyami.

Tokoyami's eyes widened. "Dark Shadow—!"

But the shadow was still recovering, still turning—

Taiyo's fist connected with Tokoyami's guard. The bird-headed boy blocked, but the force still rattled him. Taiyo followed with a hook to the body, then an uppercut- Dark Shadow reformed BETWEEN them, taking the uppercut directly. "ENOUGH!"

It swiped—Taiyo blocked, but the impact sent him skidding back again.

Tokoyami was breathing harder now. His cloak was disheveled. Dark Shadow hovered protectively, but its form was flickering—weaker than before.

Taiyo grinned despite the pain in his ribs. "You're slowing down, bird boy."

Tokoyami's eyes narrowed. "As are you."

He wasn't wrong. Taiyo's arms felt heavy. His legs burned. The accumulated damage from Dark Shadow's hits was adding up.

But he had one advantage left.

Tokoyami couldn't help himself.

"Dark Shadow. Prepare for—"

"Let me guess. Revelry in the dark?"

Tokoyami's eye TWITCHED. "I told you. It's NOT a catchphrase. It's a—"

Taiyo moved. Not fast—he didn't have fast left in him. But he didn't need fast. He just needed Tokoyami distracted.

Dark Shadow reacted, but sloppily—its master's irritation bleeding through their link. The claw swipe went wide. Taiyo ducked under it and closed the final distance.

He grabbed Dark Shadow's head with both gauntlets and started punching.

One. Two. Three. Hooks and straights, relentless, driving the shadow creature back into its master.

Dark Shadow SCREAMED. "F-FUMIKAGE! He's—too—"

Tokoyami struggled to rise, one hand extended, but his body wouldn't respond. The earlier body shots. The accumulated damage. It was all catching up.

The fifth punch connected with Dark Shadow's core. The shadow creature DISPERSED completely, retreating into Tokoyami's body.

Tokoyami collapsed forward, face down in the dirt. Not unconscious. But done.

Silence.

Then—

ROAR

"HE DID IT! HE ACTUALLY DID IT!" Present Mic lost his mind. "TAIYO JUST PUNCHED DARK SHADOW INTO SUBMISSION! A SUPPORT COURSE STUDENT JUST TOOK DOWN TOKOYAMI! THIS IS UNPRECEDENTED!"

Midnight hurried over, checking Tokoyami. He stirred, tried to move, failed. She raised her whip.

"Tokoyami cannot continue! THE WINNER IS—KURIKO TAIYO!"

The stadium EXPLODED. Confetti. Cheers. Confusion. Elation.

On the jumbotron, his face filled the screen—sweaty, breathing hard, gauntlets gleaming.

ROUND 3: SEMIFINALS.

Taiyo stood over Tokoyami, catching his breath. "Good fight." He offered his hand. "But you need more synergy with your creature. You don't support it enough. You just command."

Tokoyami stared up at him from the dirt, chest heaving, beak slightly askew.

"I recommend a long-range weapon." Taiyo kept his hand extended. "That way, both of you can attack at the same time. Shadow goes in close. You pick shots from range."

He let out a breath. "I'm not saying this out of kindness. It's business. Visit the support course."

Tokoyami stared at him for a long moment. Then, slowly, he laughed—rough, pained. "...Business. Of course."

He accepted Taiyo's hand and let himself be pulled up. He stumbled, caught himself, and nodded once. "Your advice is sound. Dark Shadow and I have grown complacent. Relying on raw power."

He touched his chest where Dark Shadow rested. "You've given me much to consider, Support Course."

He pulled his cloak straight, regaining what dignity he could. "I will visit. For business." A pause. "...And perhaps to learn how a forger fights like a brawler."

He turned, limping toward the exit, then stopped. "...Taiyo. That's your name?"

Taiyo nodded.

"I won't forget it." Tokoyami's voice was quiet but certain. "Neither will the pros watching."

He disappeared into the tunnel. The crowd was still buzzing. On the jumbotron, the next match was already setting up—Kirishima vs. Bakugo.

Taiyo returned to the waiting area. Mei was practically levitating.

"So." He clamped her mouth shut and forced her to sit. "Order. Please, Hatsume. I beg of you. With your enthusiasm."

Mei's entire body VIBRATED under his hand. Her eyes were WILD—tears, excitement, pride, all of it. She made muffled sounds that might be words or might be pure emotion.

He slowly released her.

She took a GIGANTIC breath. "...Okay. Okay okay okay. INSIDE VOICE. INSIDE VOICE. FAMILY VOICE."

She gripped her own knees, physically restraining herself. "You. Just. Punched. A SHADOW. Into. SUBMISSION."

Each word was a struggle, her volume barely contained. "You gave TOKOYAMI fighting advice. You—bro, you're a LEGEND now."

She was shaking. Literally shaking. "The PROS are TALKING about you. I heard them in the hallway. 'That support student' this and 'incredible durability' that."

She grabbed his shoulders. "You did it. You actually did it. You're getting OFFERS after this. I KNOW it."

She released him, leaning back with the biggest grin he'd ever seen. "So. Semifinals. Who's next?

Chapter Text

Taiyo shrugged, glancing at the jumbotron. "Judging from the earlier matches, we'll just have to wait for Bakugo's fight to finish." He pointed at his gear—gauntlets scratched, helmet dented, boots scuffed. "While you rest, I gotta go repair these."

Mei's eyes locked onto the damaged gear with predatory interest. "REPAIR! Yes! Let me HELP!" She leaned forward, practically vibrating. "I can document the damage! For SCIENCE! For DATA! For—"

She caught herself and took a breath. "...For family. I'll just observe quietly. Like a normal person." She mimed zipping her lips, but her eyes were screaming. "A normal, supportive sister who TOTALLY won't bother you."

Taiyo gave her a flat look. "You'll talk the whole time."

"I will NOT!"

"You will."

"...I'll try not to."

On the stadium screens, Kirishima and Bakugo's match was starting. The crowd's energy shifted—this was the one everyone had been waiting for. Taiyo had maybe twenty minutes before his semifinal opponent was decided.

He pulled on his welding mask and got to work. Sparks flew. Metal hissed under his tools.

Knock knock.

"Come in." He didn't turn around, focused on the gauntlet in his hands.

The door slid open quietly. A figure stepped in—short, stocky, familiar. Power Loader, helmet off for once. He walked closer, watching Taiyo work in silence for a moment. Sparks scattered. Metal glowed.

"...Taiyo." Power Loader leaned against the workbench, arms crossed. "Just came to say I was wrong."

Taiyo kept welding.

"When you said you'd show them what a craftsman can do, I believed you. Sure." Power Loader gestured vaguely toward the stadium. "But I didn't think... this. Two hero course students. Back to back. You made Ashido tap. You made Tokoyami eat dirt."

He sighed, rubbing his neck. "That's not just 'showing them.' That's domination. You're proving something bigger than I realized." He met Taiyo's eyes through the welding mask. "The line between 'support' and 'hero' is kind of bullshit. Semifinals. You ready?"

Taiyo flipped the welding mask up, revealing an excited grin. "Damn right, teach." His eyes were bright, almost hungry. "It's been a long time since I've had stress relief like this. It's euphoric."

Power Loader blinked at his expression, then let out a surprised laugh. "Stress relief. Right. Most people do yoga. You punch bird-headed teenagers and shadow monsters."

He shook his head, grinning. "You're absolutely insane, you know that? I mean it as a compliment. The good kind of insane. The kind that makes pros nervous and investors interested."

He pushed off the workbench, heading for the door. "Quarterfinals start in twenty. Your opponent is either Kirishima or Bakugo. Both heavy hitters. Both are dangerous."

He paused at the door. "You got a plan for whichever shows up?"

"Nope." Taiyo adjusted his gauntlets with a screwdriver, voice calm. "Fuck no. I have no plans for them. Their quirks counter me hard."

He tested the gauntlet's grip, clenching and unclenching. "Kirishima's more durable than me. He'll outlast me in endurance. As for bakugo? I only won our first fight because of surprise. This time, he'll beat me for sure. He's Faster and more experienced."

He spoke without fear. Without worry. Just stating facts.

Power Loader stared at him for a long moment. "...You're not scared."

It wasn't a question.

"Most students—hell, most PROS—would be panicking right now." Power Loader stepped back into the room, genuinely curious. "Running scenarios. Trying to find any angle. But you're just sitting there. Tuning your gear. Talking about losing like it's the weather."

He tilted his head. "If you know you're outmatched, why aren't you stressed?"

The stadium roar spiked suddenly—a massive explosion, then silence, then a CHEER. The match had ended. His opponent was decided.

Taiyo smirked and pulled his gauntlets on, flexing the tungsten fingers. "Because whether I lose or win, I get to sock those motherfucking heroes to the ground." He met Power Loader's eyes. "And make them realize how much they need us Supports. I'm ready to put some sense into their brains."

Power Loader stared. Then he LAUGHED—genuine, surprised, admiring. "You're not here to win the trophy. You're here to win RESPECT."

He shook his head, still chuckling. "Kid, you've got more guts than half my hero course students. And a better head on your shoulders than most pros."

He clapped a hand on Taiyo's shoulder—firm, proud. "Whoever walks through that door next, you make them REMEMBER this fight. Make them remember the support student who didn't back down."

He headed out, then paused. "Oh, and Taiyo? Win or lose, you've already got investors asking about you. Just so you know."

He disappeared into the hall.

Chapter Text

On the stadium speakers, Present Mic's voice booms through the walls, barely intelligible through the concrete. "AND THE WINNER IS—KAAAAAAAAAATSUKI BAKUGOOOOO!"

A dramatic pause. The crowd holds its breath.

"SETTING UP A QUARTERFINALS MATCH BETWEEN BAKUGO AND—OUR SUPPORT COURSE SENSATION! KURIKO TAIYO!"

The crowd ERUPTS. Sound crashes against the walls, rattling the tools on Taiyo's workbench.

The workshop door slides open and slams against the stop. Mei bursts in, pink hair wild, eyes WIDE. "TAIYO! TAIYO YOU'RE FIGHTING BAKUGO! THE BAKUGO! THE GUY YOU KICKED IN THE—"

She stops herself mid-word, hands flying to her mouth. Her face cycles through seventeen expressions in two seconds. She forces her voice down.

"...You're fighting Bakugo. In the quarterfinals. In front of EVERYONE."

"Yeah, so what?" Taiyo picks up his helmet, checking the straps, voice flat. He doesn't look at her.

Mei's eye twitches. Her composure cracks. "'So what'?! TAIYO!"

Her voice climbs despite herself, hands gesturing wildly. "This is—this is PERFECT! You kick him in the hallway, now you fight him OFFICIALLY in the ARENA!"

She grabs his shoulders, fingers digging into his hoodie, pulling him down to her level. "The STORYLINE! The DRAMA! The EXPOSURE! Everyone's gonna watch this! EVERYONE!"

She releases him and steps back, voice dropping to a fierce whisper. "If you win—you're a LEGEND. If you lose but fight well, you're STILL a legend. You CAN'T lose here, Taiyo. Not in the way that matters."

She crosses her arms, forcing herself to be calm. "So. Strategy. You got one? Besides 'punch until someone falls'?"

"The latter." Taiyo shrugs and settles his helmet onto his head, tightening the straps. 'Not here to win. Here to send a message.'

He picks up his gauntlets and slides them on. Tungsten settles against his forearms. He smirks—hidden behind the helmet, but there in his voice.

"I'm not here to truly win. I'm here to put a message." He walks toward the door, boots heavy on concrete. "So just watch me, alright?"

Mei watches him go, mouth opening and closing. Words fail her. She settles for screaming after him, voice echoing down the tunnel.

"THAT'S MY BROTHER! GO GET HIM! MAKE THE FAMILY PROUD! FOR SUPPORT COURSE! FOR THE FORGE! FOR—"

Her voice fades as he enters the arena, swallowed by the roar of sixty thousand voices.

The arena is BRIGHT. Hot. Loud. Floodlights beat down from above, turning the dirt floor into gold and shadow. Taiyo's boots sink into the dirt. His shadow stretches long behind him.

Across the field, Bakugo stands waiting. Arms crossed. Shoulders squared. His expression isn't the explosive rage from the hallway—it's colder. Controlled. His palms pop with small, measured explosions.

He's watching Taiyo like a fighter watches an opponent he respects.

Present Mic's voice BOOMS. "AAAAAND NOW, FOLKS—THE MOMENT YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR! FROM CLASS 1-A—THE EXPLOSIVE POWERHOUSE HIMSELF! KAAATSUKI BAKUGOOOOO!"

The crowd ROARS. Chants rise from the 1-A section, spreading through the stands like wildfire. Bakugo doesn't react. His eyes never leave Taiyo.

"AND HIS OPPONENT—THE SUPPORT COURSE SENSATION! THE UNDERDOG WHO TOOK DOWN ASHIDO AND TOKOYAMI BACK TO BACK! GIVE IT UP FOR KURIKO TAIYO!"

The reaction is different now. Not polite applause. Not confused murmurs. Real cheers. The support section is on its feet—Power Loader's tired voice carrying above the rest, Mei's pink hair bouncing as she screams.

People believe.

Midnight struts to the center, heels leaving divots in the dirt. "ALRIGHT! You know the rules! No killing! No leaving the arena! First one down for the count loses! READY?!"

Bakugo's eyes lock onto Taiyo's. Nothing there—no anger, no taunting. Just focus. Cold and absolute.

"...Support Course." His hands drop to his sides, explosions building. "I'm gonna blow you to pieces. No hard feelings."

Midnight's whip raises. The crowd holds its breath.

CRACK.

"Yeah, but unlike you, I do have some hard feelings." Taiyo cracks his neck and fists. He puts up his guard.

Bakugo EXPLODES toward him. Not reckless—controlled. A straight blast-propelled charge.

Taiyo crosses his arms in a guard formation and tanks the explosion. Heat singes his forearms, but the fire resistance holds. He grits his teeth and pushes outward, shoving Bakugo back for a fraction of a second.

Then he gut-checks him. Hard.

Bakugo's eyes WIDEN. Fist connects with stomach—not full power, but enough. He GRUNTS and skids backward across the dirt.

He recovers almost instantly, flipping back onto his feet. He stares at Taiyo for half a second. Then he GRINS.

"HA! You actually TANKED that! Nobody tanks my explosions!"

He blasts forward again—but different. Not straight. He's MOVING. Circling. Explosions propel him in erratic patterns—left, right, up, diagonal. Hard to track.

He fires from the side. The blast catches Taiyo's shoulder and spins him.

"Let's see how long that fire resistance holds, SUPPORT COURSE!"

He's already somewhere else. Another explosion builds in his palm.

"Shi—" Taiyo winces, shoulder stinging. 'Should've built a shoulder guard. Stupid.'

He looks up, predicting Bakugo's next position. And there he is—airborne, diving down.

"Gotcha—" Taiyo smirks.

Then his eyes widen. "Shit."

He side-steps. Bakugo's fist CRATERS the ground where he was standing. Dirt and smoke explode outward. The crowd GASPS.

Bakugo straightens, scanning through the smoke. "Tch. Fast. But not fast enough."

He BLASTS toward Taiyo again—low this time, zigzag pattern. Hard to predict. Harder to dodge. He feints left, then RIGHT, palm extended.

BOOM.

A direct blast aimed at Taiyo's torso.

"F—" Taiyo sees it coming in slow motion. The clarity buff kicks in. He can't dodge. But he can retaliate.

"Fuck yo—"

He unleashes another gut punch.

BBOOMM.

The explosion sends him tumbling backward across the dirt. He skids to a stop, smoke rising from his armor. His ears ring. His ribs ache.

"Ugh... Fricking—" He gets up on one knee, breathing hard.

Bakugo stumbles back from the gut punch. Definitely felt that one. He catches himself, one hand on the dirt, breathing hard for just a moment.

Then he's up again, eyes blazing. "YOU—"

He laughs. Genuinely laughs.

"—You actually hit me. Again. WHILE I WAS BLASTING YOU."

He rolls his shoulder, testing it. "OKAY! OKAY, SUPPORT COURSE! You wanna trade?! LET'S TRADE!"

He charges—different this time. No fancy movement. No zigzag. Just STRAIGHT AT HIM. Both palms glowing. Explosions building. Full double blast. Point blank.

The crowd ROARS.

Taiyo waits. His body screams. His ribs ache. But he waits.

Bakugo closes—five feet, three feet, point blank—

"NOW!"

Taiyo yanks Bakugo's wrists and forces them left.

BOOM BOOM.

The blasts fire into empty air. Dirt erupts harmlessly to the side.

Taiyo slams his helmeted head forward.

CLANG.

The headbutt connects HARD. Bakugo's eyes go CROSSED. His nose CRACKS. Blood sprays.

"GHA—!"

He staggers backward, hands flying to his face. The explosions die. For one precious moment, he's completely vulnerable.

The stadium is DEAD SILENT.

Then—

ROAR.

"HE HEADBUTTED HIM!" Present Mic SCREAMS. "TAIYO JUST HEADBUTTED BAKUGO! BAKUGO IS BLEEDING! BAKUGO IS ACTUALLY BLEEDING!"

Bakugo lowers his hands slowly. Blood streams from his nose, down his chin, dripping onto his costume. His expression is blank. Shocked.

Then his eyes FOCUS. And they aren't angry.

They're absolutely FURIOUS.

"Ah... shit." Taiyo watches him tense. 'He's charging something. I've got nothing left to block it.'

Bakugo BLASTS upward, gaining altitude fast. Twenty feet. Thirty. He hovers, both arms pulled back, palms glowing BRIGHT. Too bright.

The air crackles with nitroglycerin. The smell is sharp and overwhelming. The crowd holds its breath.

"DIE."

He SLAMS his hands forward. A MASSIVE explosion ERUPTS—not at Taiyo directly, but at the GROUND between them. The shockwave sends him skidding backward. Dirt and debris pelt his armor.

But that's not the attack.

Bakugo DROPS like a meteor, both fists extended, riding the explosion blast straight toward him—

"HOWITZER IMPACT!"

The world becomes LIGHT and FORCE and PAIN.

BBBBOOOMMM.

Taiyo flies backward, carving a trench through the dirt. He crashes near the arena wall in a heap of smoke and dust. Everything hurts.

His gauntlets are smoking. Tungsten discolored. His headband is gone—lost somewhere in the blast. His helmet is cracked, barely hanging on. One boot is split at the sole.

The stadium is DEATHLY silent.

Bakugo lands heavily, breathing hard, palms smoking. He isn't celebrating. He's staring at Taiyo's prone form. Waiting.

Midnight hurries over, whip forgotten, genuine concern on her face. "Taiyo! Taiyo, can you continue?! Count of ten or—"

Taiyo stirs. Pushes himself up on one arm. Then the other. He's on his knees. Chest heaving. Vision swimming.

But he's not out.

Bakugo's eye twitches. "...You're still standing."

The crowd MURMURS—shock, awe, confusion.

Taiyo forces himself to one foot. Then both. His legs shake. His arms hang heavy. His helmet is cracked, visor shattered, revealing one bloodshot eye and a mess of orangish-red hair.

But he's UP.

Bakugo stares at him for a long moment. Then, slowly, he GRINS—bloody, furious, and something else. Something like respect.

"...Alright, Support Course." He raises his palms again, explosions crackling. "Alright."

'This is it. Nothing left. Helmet's done. Headband's gone. Boot's cracked. Only the gauntlets.'

Taiyo clenches his fists. The tungsten gleams under the floodlights—scorched, dented, but intact. His last piece of gear. His last shred of boosted strength.

'I'm not here to win. I'm here to send a message.'

He grins—wild, bloody, unhinged.

"Fine... I must say, you are stronger than I thought." His voice carries across the silent arena. "But I'm not here to win. I'M HERE TO SEND A GODDAMN MESSAGE TO ALL YOU FUCKING HEROES!"

He CHARGES.

Bakugo's eyes widen. "You—"

Explosions fly. Taiyo doesn't dodge. He tanks them—shoulder, chest, leg. Each blast rattles his bones. Each impact screams through his muscles. But he keeps moving. Keeps charging.

His helmet CRACKS further. A piece breaks off, skittering across the dirt. His hair spills free—wild, fiery orange-red, darkened from years of forge heat.

His boot gives out completely. The sole separates. He's running on barefoot now, dirt cutting into his skin.

But he's still coming.

Bakugo's face shifts—fury, confusion, something almost like alarm. "STAY DOWN, DAMMIT!"

He fires another blast. Point blank. Taiyo's gauntlets catch it. The tungsten SCREAMS.

Hairline fractures spread across the metal. The orange glow of his quirk flickers. Fades.

'The gauntlets. They're breaking.'

Taiyo doesn't stop. One more step. Two. He's in range now. Bakugo's eyes are wide—not afraid, but stunned. Disbelieving.

Taiyo cocks his fist back. The tungsten groans. Fractures spider-webbing. His quirk's light sputters like a dying flame.

"FORGE FIST, MOTHER FUCKERRRRRRRRRR!"

He swings.

The moment his gauntlet touches Bakugo's cheek—

CRACK.

The tungsten SHATTERS. Pieces fly in all directions—shards of metal catching the floodlights like falling stars. The orange glow dies completely.

All the boosted stats are GONE.

What's left is just Taiyo. Quirkless. Human. Running on fumes and spite. His bare, broken fist connects with Bakugo's face. No enhanced strength behind it. No magical buff. Just the raw, unassisted force of a sixteen-year-old blacksmith who refused to fall.

Bakugo's head turns. Just slightly. A trickle of blood from his already-broken nose. That's it. No knockout. No dramatic collapse.

Bakugo's eyes refocus. His expression shifts—not anger. Something else. Something almost like understanding.

Then his palm presses against Taiyo's chest.

BOOM.

The explosion isn't massive. Controlled. Just enough force.

Taiyo's feet leave the ground. He flies backward—weightless, broken, done. He crashes outside the arena boundary and skids across the dirt. The white line of the ring is behind him now.

He doesn't get up.

The stadium is SILENT.

Bakugo stands in the center of the arena, breathing hard, arm still extended. Blood drips from his nose. He stares at Taiyo's crumpled form outside the ring.

Midnight rushes to Taiyo. Checks him. Her expression tightens.

"He's unconscious." She raises her whip. "Taiyo is out of bounds and unable to continue! THE WINNER IS—KATSUKI BAKUGO!"

The stadium ERUPTS. But it's not the usual victory roar. It's messy. Confused. Some cheers. Some murmurs. Some people on their feet, clapping—not for the winner, but for the fight. For the support student who almost did the impossible.

Present Mic's voice is hoarse. "HE... HE ALMOST... LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THAT WAS THE CLOSEST MATCH WE'VE SEEN ALL FESTIVAL! TAIYO GAVE EVERYTHING! EVERYTHING! AND BAKUGO—BAKUGO EARNS HIS PLACE IN THE FINALS!"

Medical bots swarm the arena. One team hovers near Bakugo, who waves them off with a snarl. Another rushes toward Taiyo's still form.

Bakugo walks to the edge of the ring. He stares down at Taiyo—unconscious, broken gauntlets scattered around him, helmet shattered, boot in pieces.

For a long moment, he says nothing. Then he crouches down, voice low enough that only the medical bots might hear.

"...You almost had me, Support Course."

He stands. Turns. Walks toward the tunnel without looking back. But his jaw is tight. His fists are clenched.

On the jumbotron, the results flash: SEMIFINALS RESULT: BAKUGO ADVANCES TO FINALS

And below that: FINALS OPPONENT: SHOTO TODOROKI

The last thing Taiyo sees before consciousness fades is the stadium lights—blurry and too bright—and a flash of pink hair bouncing through the crowd. Mei's voice, screaming his name, chasing him down into the dark.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

After the Festival. Taiyo was taking a rest, alone, in his Workshop/Garage/Support Course room. It was 1 PM. The students got a day off after the festival ended. He expected nothing. No one.

KNOCK KNOCK.

Not Mei's frantic pounding. Not Power Loader's steady rap. Something else—polite, measured, almost hesitant. The door slid open slowly.

Itsuka Kendo stood there, arm in a sling—her match against Iida left her with a separated shoulder, but she was grinning anyway.

"Hey." She stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, looking around his workshop with open curiosity. "They said you'd be here. Hope I'm not interrupting beauty sleep or whatever."

Her eyes swept the space. "Nice setup. Messy. Functional. Very you."

She turned back, expression softening. "Came to say thanks. For the cavalry battle. And to check on you." She gestured at his bandaged hand. "Heard you went full idiot against Bakugo. Respect."

She pulled out a small box from somewhere—convenience store quality, clearly rushed. "Brought you taiyaki. The red bean kind. Didn't know if you liked sweets." She shrugged with her good shoulder. "But you looked like you needed something."

Taiyo stared at the box with a confused gaze. "Uh... Thanks. But you shouldn't have."

He tilted his head. "I like sweets, but ain't taiyaki supposed to be... I don't know. What's with the gift?" His brow furrowed. "And what is that supposed to mean? I don't look depressed, do I?"

He leaned back in his chair. "So, Ms. Kendo. What's with the sudden visit, other than to check up on me? Are you ordering something?"

Kendo laughed—genuine, warm, slightly embarrassed. "Straight to business, huh? Okay, fair enough."

She set the taiyaki on his workbench, nudging it toward him. "Eat it anyway. Consider it payment for saving my team's ass in the cavalry battle."

She leaned against a clear spot on the bench, mindful of her sling. "Look, I'm not here to order anything. Well—" she paused "—not TODAY. I'm sure my whole class will be knocking down your door once word spreads."

She met his eyes directly. "But right now? I'm here because you're interesting. You're in the support course, yet you fight like a demon. You took down two hero course students AND went toe-to-toe with Bakugo before your body gave out."

Her voice softened. "And you're just... sitting here. Alone. Eating taiyaki you didn't even want."

She tilted her head. "Most people would be celebrating. Or crying. Or both. You're just... existing. I wanted to know why."

"Ah. That." Taiyo pointed at her, then put a hand to his forehead and rubbed it. "SO. I'm a very realistic person."

He snapped his finger and leaned further into the chair. "I'm resting because I am tired. I don't want to yell or celebrate because that could potentially break my already broken body even more."

He shrugged with his good shoulder. "Furthermore, I'm already content. I don't need to go around yelling to let people know that I am content. Simple as that."

Kendo blinked. Then she laughed—not mocking, just genuinely delighted.

"That's... honestly the most straightforward answer I've ever heard." She shook her head, still smiling. "You're not putting on a show. You're not performing. You're just... being."

Her expression warmed. "In a world full of people desperate for attention, that's refreshing."

She pushed off the bench, wincing slightly as her sling shifted. "Well, I'll leave you to your very realistic resting. But—" she paused at the door.

"—if you ever want company from someone who won't make you yell or celebrate? Class 1-B's always open." She grinned. "We've got a couch. And Tetsutetsu makes terrible tea but means well."

She slid the door open. "See you around, Taiyo. Try not to break the other hand before I get my custom gear order in."

The door slid shut behind her. Taiyo was alone again. Cooling taiyaki on the bench. The faint echo of genuine warmth in the air.

He stared at the box. "Huh."

A soft flush crept up his neck. He shook his head hard. "Well. That's a potentially returning customer. Yep. Definitely what that was."

He took the box and opened it. "Fuck it. I'll try it, I guess."

He took a bite. Chewed. Swallowed.

"Eh. Not too bad."

He set the open box on the table and pulled out Tetsutetsu's designs. Rough sketches. Heavy knuckles. Reinforced joints. Something that could take a punch AND deliver one. The taiyaki slowly disappeared—one bite at a time, almost unconsciously.

Ten minutes passed. Maybe twenty.

KNOCK KNOCK.

Different this time. Two raps. Precise. Almost clinical. The door slid open before he could respond.

A woman stood there—sharp black suit, sleek black hair, calculating eyes. The same woman from the pro box. The one who left mid-match. She stepped inside like she owned the space, scanning his workshop with a quick, professional assessment.

"Kuriko Taiyo." Her voice was smooth, controlled. "My name is Yoroi Musha. I represent a collective of support gear investors."

She set a card on his workbench—simple, white, embossed with a single symbol. "You have five minutes. Impress me."

Taiyo stared at her. Then at the card. Then back at her.

"Didn't you already see the damn Sports Festival?" His voice was flat. "Are you blind or something, lady?"

Yoroi Musha's eye twitched. Just slightly.

"Charming." She folded her hands behind her back, unfazed. "I saw the festival. I saw you punch shadows and headbutt explosions. That tells me you're a fighter."

She gestured at his workshop. "It tells me nothing about your business acumen, your production capacity, or your ability to deliver quality gear on schedule."

Her eyes swept the room. "This space is chaos. Talented chaos, perhaps, but chaos nonetheless. Investors don't fund chaos. They fund reliability."

She pulled out a small notebook—leather-bound, professional. "Tell me three things. Your maximum output per week. Your material sourcing method."

Her eyes sharpened. "And whether you're interested in exclusivity contracts or open market sales."

She waited, pen poised.

Taiyo focused. His posture shifted—slightly straighter, slightly sharper. 'This is serious. Alright. This is my chance. Let's hope she's not bluffing.'

"My output is generally five items per week." His voice was steady now. Businesslike. "I have to take breaks for maximum efficiency. Five is low, yes, but that's because my support items are created directly through my quirk. There is no other source for my power."

He leaned forward slightly. "As for materials—I source through trading, legal purchase, and asking my senseis. It's worked so far."

He met her eyes. "And I want contracts. Non-exclusive. My quirk doesn't work well for open market sales anyway. Each piece is custom."

Yoroi Musha's pen moved steadily, recording every word. Her expression didn't change—no approval, no disappointment. Just a professional observation.

"Five per week. Low, as you noted." She glanced at his cracked gauntlets on the workbench. "But quality over quantity has its own market. Those survived Bakugo's Howitzer. That's advertising money can't buy."

She flipped a page. "Material sourcing through trade and faculty is acceptable for a student. Post-graduation, you'll need supplier contracts. I can facilitate that."

She looked up, meeting his eyes directly. "Non-exclusive contracts. Smart. Very smart."

For the first time, her lips twitched—the barest hint of a smile. "I'll draw up preliminary contracts for three agencies that have already expressed interest. You'll review them, negotiate terms, and make your own decisions. I simply facilitate."

She pulled a second card from her pocket—different from the first. Gold embossing. Contact information. "My personal line. When you're ready to discuss business—truly discuss it—you call me. Not before."

She headed for the door, then paused. "One more thing, Taiyo."

Her voice was measured, almost kind. "That bluntness of yours? It'll lose you, clients. But it'll also keep you from signing bad deals. Learn when to use it."

She slid the door shut behind her. Two cards on the bench. Cooling taiyaki. The distinct sense that his life just got more complicated.

Taiyo stared at the door for a long moment. "Well. Shit."

He stretched, cracking his back and shoulders. "Time to do some work then."

He looked at Tetsutetsu's request again. "Guess I should do his first."

He grabbed iron from his storage and began laying out the materials. "This should take... five hours at least. Six hours at most."

The workshop filled with the familiar rhythm of creation—hammer strikes, the hiss of cooling metal, the grumble of a craftsman focused on his work. Hours passed. The taiyaki box emptied. Sketches became molds. Molds became forms. Forms became knuckles. Heavy. Reinforced. Beautiful.

He was mid-polish when the door slid open—no knock this time.

"BRO!"

Tetsutetsu stood there, metal skin gleaming, eyes WIDE. "I HEARD—I HEARD YOU WERE—"

He stopped. Spotted the knuckles in Taiyo's hands. His voice dropped to something almost reverent.

"...Is that... are those... for ME?!"

He was already crossing the room, almost shaking. "BRO. BRO. Those are—they're BEAUTIFUL. Can I—can I TOUCH?!"

Behind him, Kendo appeared in the doorway, arm still in a sling, grinning. "Told you he'd start without waiting for permission."

Taiyo grabbed a pair of pliers and slammed them down hard on the bench.

"NO." His voice was pure grumpiness. "They are not ready for your filthy, destructive, utterly wasteful heroic hands. They are cooling. I haven't even enchanted them yet, for fuck's sake."

Tetsutetsu FROZE mid-reach, hands hovering inches from the knuckles like they were radioactive. "S-SORRY! SO SORRY! I DIDN'T—I DIDN'T MEAN TO—"

He backed away slowly, hands raised. "THEY'RE JUST SO—SO BEAUTIFUL! I LOST CONTROL!"

Kendo burst out laughing from the doorway. "OH my GOD. Tetsutetsu, you're literally TREMBLING. It's just knuckles!"

Tetsutetsu whirled on her, metal face somehow conveying both offense and desperation. "JUST KNUCKLES?! Kendo, LOOK at them! The weight distribution! The reinforced joints! The—the—"

He turned back to Taiyo. "BRO, when you say 'enchant'... do you mean... like... QUIRK enchant? Like STATS?! They're gonna have STATS?!"

He looked like he might actually cry.

Kendo wandered in, nudging Tetsutetsu aside with her good shoulder. "Ignore him. He's been vibrating all day."

She held up a bag of takeout with her free hand. "How long until they're done? We brought food as tribute."

Taiyo set the pliers down and crossed his arms. "Yes. They're gonna have stats."

He gestured vaguely at himself. "That's why I'm not a normal support course student. Instead of inventing machines that help others, I can directly boost their quirks and stats through items. Simpler items, but more direct."

He picked up the first knuckle duster, examining it. "Necklaces. Arm braces. Knee braces. Mostly any type of brace you can fit on your body. If I forge it, I can buff it."

Tetsutetsu's jaw dropped. Literally dropped—his metal chin actually hit his chest with a soft clink.

"STATS. BOOSTS. TO MY QUIRK. THROUGH. KNUCKLES."

He grabbed Kendo's shoulders—gently, for once. "KENDO. KENDO, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?! I'M GONNA BE EVEN MORE MANLY! WITH STATS! OFFICIAL STATS!"

Kendo shrugged him off, still holding the takeout bag. "I understood the first time, Tetsu. We all heard."

She turned to Taiyo. "So how does it work? The 'enchanting' part? Is it random, or can you control it?"

"It's random." Taiyo plucked the first knuckle duster out and set it on the anvil. He hammered it a few more times—precise, practiced—then ground it down to refine the shape.

He stopped and pulled off his gloves. Grabbed a measuring tape. Yanked Tetsutetsu's hand out flat.

"Stay still." He measured quickly, efficiently. "Pretty big."

He released Tetsutetsu's hand and threw the first knuckle duster into a cooling bath. Steam hissed.

Tetsutetsu stood RIGID as a statue, not daring to move. His metal skin actually STEAMED slightly from the effort of holding still.

Kendo watched from the bench, already digging into the takeout. "You know, most people would be nervous about the randomness. But Tetsu here?" She gestured with chopsticks. "He's excited. 'Every pair will be unique,' he kept saying. 'Like snowflakes. But MANLIER.'"

Tetsutetsu nodded vigorously, still not moving. "UNIQUE! EVERY PAIR TELLS A STORY! MY STORY! WITH STATS!"

The knuckle duster hissed in the cooling bath. Steam rose. The metal shifted—visibly, physically—as his quirk activated. Green shimmer. Then gold.

The water STOPPED bubbling. The metal glowed faintly, even through the cooling liquid.

Tetsutetsu WHIPPED toward it. "IS IT—IS IT DONE?! DID IT—WHAT DID IT GET?!"

Taiyo pulled the knuckle duster from the bath and examined it. Only he could see the stats.

"I used iron. So it's Rare." He turned it over in his hands. "You get two additional stats on top of the base physical buff."

He read the invisible numbers. "Rare Single Iron Knuckle Duster. Base physical buff: fifty-seven percent. Pretty low. But I'm not redoing it."

He looked up. "Your extra stats are plus five percent quirk power, plus four percent quirk efficiency. Means you get tired out less when you wear it. You'll have better handling of your hardening."

He set it on the rack and pointed at the second knuckle duster. "Give me thirty more minutes for the other one."

Tetsutetsu's entire body TREMBLED. His metal skin flickered—losing cohesion for just a moment because he was so overwhelmed.

"FINER... QUIRK... CONTROL?!"

He grabbed his own head. "I—I—BRO, DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS?! I can HARDLY control my hardening when I'm emotional! I go FULL METAL and can't turn back sometimes! This—this could CHANGE—"

Kendo cut him off gently. "Tetsu. Breathe. You're gonna pop a vein."

He didn't breathe. He just stared at the completed knuckle duster like it was a holy relic.

"...Can I... can I try it on? Just one? Just to FEEL it?"

Kendo looked at Taiyo, raising an eyebrow—his call.

Taiyo glared at him. "Your death."

He shrugged and returned to the second knuckle duster. "Still hot."

Tetsutetsu deflated instantly, shoulders slumping. "R-right. Right. Hot metal. Bad. Very bad. I'll wait."

He shoved his hands in his pockets and PACED—short, agitated laps around the workshop, careful not to touch anything. His metal skin kept flickering, excitement bleeding through.

Kendo watched him with fond exasperation, munching on whatever she grabbed from the takeout bag. "You've created a monster, Taiyo. He's gonna wear those things to sleep."

Tetsutetsu spun mid-pace. "I AM NOT!"

A pause.

"...Maybe just for one night. For testing. For SCIENCE."

Thirty minutes passed. The second knuckle duster cooled. Taiyo pulled it from the bath and read the stats.

"Rare Single Iron Knuckle Duster." His eyebrows rose slightly. "Base physical buff: sixty-two percent. Extra stats: plus seven percent extra endurance, plus five percent berserker buff."

He paused, genuinely surprised. "Huh. That's rare. A berserk buff... I haven't gotten one of those in a long time."

Tetsutetsu FROZE mid-pace. His eyes went WIDE—comically, impossibly wide.

"...Damage buff... below fifty percent health?"

He looked at Kendo. Looked at Taiyo. Looked at the knuckle duster. "KENDO. KENDO, DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS?!"

Kendo sighed, already smiling. "You're gonna explain whether I want you to or not."

"IT MEANS—" Tetsutetsu grabbed his own chest dramatically. "—I GET STRONGER WHEN I'M HURT! I'M ALREADY TOUGH! I TANK HITS! AND NOW—NOW GETTING HIT MAKES ME HIT HARDER?!"

He spun to Taiyo, eyes shining. "BRO. BRO. These are—they're PERFECT. They're ME. The first one helps me CONTROL myself, and the second one helps me FIGHT when I CAN'T control myself! It's like—like you MADE them for me specifically!"

Kendo raised an eyebrow. "Pretty good luck for random stats, huh?"

Tetsutetsu was already reaching for the second knuckle duster—then stopped, remembering the heat. "...They're cool now, right? Like, TEMPERATURE cool?"

"The first one should be okay to touch now." Taiyo gestured at Kendo with his chin. "Hold him back for me."

He placed the second knuckle duster on a nearby rack to finish cooling.

Kendo's good hand shot out, grabbing Tetsutetsu by the back of his costume. "Whoa there, metal boy. Patience."

Tetsutetsu strained against her grip like an eager puppy. "BUT KENDO—THEY'RE RIGHT THERE—I CAN—"

"You can WAIT until Taiyo says they're ready." She held firm, surprisingly strong even with one arm. "He's the expert."

Tetsutetsu whined—actually WHINED—but stopped struggling.

Taiyo picked up the first knuckle duster. Cool to the touch now. Solid. Ready. He held it out.

Tetsutetsu took it like it was made of glass—reverent, trembling. He slipped it onto his right hand slowly, carefully. It fit PERFECTLY.

He clenched his fist. The metal shifted—not much, just a subtle adjustment. Then his eyes went WIDE.

"I... I feel it." His voice was hushed, awed. "I actually FEEL it. The control—it's like... like my quirk's LISTENING better."

He looked at Taiyo, genuine awe in his voice. "Bro. This is—this is the greatest day of my life."

Taiyo smirked. "Yeah. What did you expect?"

Tetsutetsu stared at him for a long moment. Then, without warning, he lunged—not to attack, but to WRAP HIM IN A BEAR HUG.

"THANK YOU! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! YOU'RE THE BEST BRO A MAN COULD ASK FOR! I'M GONNA—I'M GONNA WEAR THESE FOREVER! I'M GONNA—"

Kendo sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Tetsu. His ribs. Remember? The cracked ones?"

Tetsutetsu FROZE, then released him instantly, backing away with hands raised. "OH NO! OH NO, I'M SO SORRY! ARE YOU OKAY?! DID I—I DIDN'T MEAN TO—"

He was panicking, metal skin flickering wildly.

Kendo stood and grabbed the second knuckle duster from the rack—carefully, mindful of heat—and held it out to him. "Here. Before he explodes. Literally."

Taiyo quickly intercepted with a pair of pliers before she could hand it over. "Ah ah. Payment."

Kendo blinked. Then she LAUGHED—genuine, surprised, delighted. "PAYMENT! Right! Business!"

She shook her head, still grinning. "Tetsu, you hear that? No freebies."

Tetsutetsu nodded frantically, still hovering anxiously after the hug incident. "YES! YES! PAYMENT! HOW MUCH?! I HAVE—"

He patted his pockets frantically. "—I HAVE LIKE... three thousand yen? And some protein bars? And—" He pulled out a crumpled train pass. "—this?"

Kendo sighed dramatically and reached into her own pocket. "Let me handle this, you disaster."

She pulled out a small envelope and held it out to him. "Class 1-B pooled together. Consider it a down payment for Tetsu's knuckles and... my future order. Whatever that ends up being."

The envelope was thick. Respectable. "Count it if you want. We're not here to shortchange you."

Taiyo took the envelope but didn't open it. "You do know that a single class has like twenty people. I usually charge based on what tier you get."

He gestured at the knuckles. "He got two Rare tier pieces. That's sixty thousand yen. Thirty thousand each."

His voice was matter-of-fact. "It's expensive because I literally boost your physical body along with your fucking quirk. No other support item does that. The others mostly provide new ways for you to USE or ASSIST your quirk. They don't directly boost them."

He let that sink in. "You understand the difference?"

Kendo's eyes widened slightly. She did quick mental math—then nodded, slow and respectful.

"Sixty thousand for two items that boost physical stats AND quirk performance." She let out a breath. "That's... actually reasonable. Especially considering you can't mass-produce them."

Tetsutetsu's jaw dropped. "SIXTY—"

He stopped. Processed. Then grinned. "WORTH IT. EVERY YEN. I'LL SELL MY PROTEIN COLLECTION IF I HAVE TO!"

Kendo pulled out her phone, tapping quickly. "I'll let the class know. We'll set up payment plans if needed—some of us are broke from hero gear already."

She glanced up. "You take installments?"

Behind her, the door slid open again.

Shinsou shuffled in, purple hair somehow messier than usual, tired eyes fixed on Taiyo. "...Heard you're taking orders."

He held up a small pouch of coins. "I've got savings. Need something for my voice. Make it louder. Or... something."

Taiyo shook his head. "Uh, I can't do electricity, buddy. The best I can do is gunpowder or basic machinery."

He reached under his bench and pulled out a conical tube—an ancient acoustic microphone from back in the day. Small. Light brass. Designed to fit over the mouth.

"But lucky for you, I do have this." He held it up. "It boosts physicality by around twenty-five percent when worn. Uncommon tier, so it only has one extra buff."

He tapped the tube. "That buff is Louder Voice. Plus fifteen percent. The louder voice will let you speak further, reach more people. And the base physical boost affects everything—running, hitting, tanking hits, even shouting louder."

He set it on the bench. "I can charge you twenty-five thousand yen for it."

Shinsou stared at the conical tube. Then at Taiyo. Then back at the tube.

"...That's a megaphone." His voice was flat. "An ancient, dorky, brass megaphone."

He took it carefully, turning it over in his hands. His tired eyes actually showed something—interest. Maybe hope.

"Twenty-five thousand. For a twenty-five percent physical boost AND louder voice." He looked up. "That's... cheap. For what it does."

Kendo raised an eyebrow. "Shinsou, are you... considering this?"

Shinsou didn't answer immediately. He held the tube up to his mouth, testing the weight, the fit.

"...My quirk needs verbal responses." His voice was quiet, thoughtful. "If I can project my voice further, reach more people in a fight..."

He trailed off, then nodded—a rare, genuine nod. "I'll take it."

He held out the pouch of coins. "Ten thousand now. I'll bring the rest next week. Deal?"

Taiyo leaned back in his chair. "Sixteen thousand and a monthly coffee supply. Then you won't have to pay the rest."

His voice was dead serious. "Instant coffee is fine. Mostly black. Milk coffee if you're feeling generous."

Shinsou's eye twitched—the closest he got to visible surprise. "...Coffee. You want coffee."

Kendo burst out laughing behind him. "OH MY GOD. TAIYO. You're NEGOTIATING for COFFEE. Like a—like a—this is the most SUPPORT COURSE thing I've ever seen!"

Tetsutetsu nodded sagely, still wearing one knuckle duster. "BRO NEEDS HIS FUEL. RESPECT."

Shinsou stared at Taiyo for a long moment, processing. Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth twitched—almost a smile.

"...Deal." He held out his hand. "Sixteen thousand now. Coffee monthly. Black. Sometimes milk if I'm feeling generous."

He glanced at the tube in his other hand. "This thing has a name? Or do I just call it 'ancient dorky megaphone'?"

"Eh." Taiyo shrugged and picked at his ear. "You can name it yourself. I don't really give a damn."

He lowered his hand and met Shinsou's eyes. "Are we done with the money? Or do you want to actually pay twenty-five thousand yen?"

Shinsou pocketed the tube immediately, protectively. "Sixteen thousand and coffee. We're done."

He set the pouch on the workbench and counted out the coins carefully—professional, despite his exhaustion. "Ten now. I'll bring the other six tomorrow. Coffee starts next week."

He stepped back, shoving his hands in his pockets, already looking more comfortable with the deal sealed.

Kendo grinned. "Look at you, Shinsou. Making friends AND business deals. Proud of you."

Shinsou glared at her—no heat, just habit.

Tetsutetsu was still staring at his knuckles, flexing his hand over and over, metal skin shifting with each movement. "BRO. BRO, I CAN'T STOP LOOKING AT THESE. THEY'RE SO—SO—"

Kendo grabbed his arm. "Okay, metal boy, we're leaving. Taiyo needs rest. And probably more coffee."

She dragged him toward the door, glancing back. "Thanks, Taiyo. Seriously. You're good people. Grumpy, but good."

Shinsou followed, pausing at the door. "...The coffee. You want it delivered or should I leave it outside?"

Chapter Text

In class. Workshop class. Power Loader stood at the front, helmet off for once, exhaustion permanently etched into his features. A projector screen behind him displayed a simple slide: SUPPORT COURSE INTERNSHIPS: OPTIONS & EXPECTATIONS.

"Alright, listen up." He leaned against his desk. "I know the Hero Course gets all the hype about their internships—fancy agencies, famous pros, all that."

He clicked to the next slide—a map of Japan dotted with logos. "Ours is different. Better, honestly. More practical. You've got three paths: Hero Agency Support Departments, Independent Support Studios, or Manufacturing R&D. Each has pros and cons."

He pointed at Mei, who was bouncing in her seat. "Hatsume, you already know what you want. Stop vibrating."

Mei froze mid-bounce.

Power Loader turned to Taiyo. "Taiyo. Your situation's unique. Your quirk doesn't fit standard support internships—most agencies want inventors, not forgers."

He pulled out a folder. "But I've got three agencies specifically requesting YOU by name after the festival."

He tossed the folder onto Taiyo's desk. "Take a look. Decide by Friday."

"Uh... alright?" Taiyo opened the folder.

Three files:
1st: Gang Orca
2nd: Fatgum
3rd: Mr. Kuriko, you may build your own brand if you are able to do it. Note: Everything will fall on your shoulders should you agree.

His eyes locked onto the third option. He stared at it.

Power Loader noticed immediately. A tired smile crossed his face. "Yeah. That one's... unusual. The commission doesn't normally offer independent internships to first-years."

He crossed his arms. "But after your festival run? The way you promoted yourself? They reached out. Said, and I quote: 'Kid's got business sense. Let him cook.'"

He nodded at the folders. "Gang Orca's offering standard agency support work—maintaining gear, quick fixes, learning how pros operate in the field. Fatgum's similar, but his agency is smaller. More personal. Direct mentorship."

He tapped the third file. "This one? No mentor. No structure. Just funding and a deadline. You stay here, use the workshop, produce X number of items by end of internship. The commission connects you with buyers. You build your reputation entirely on your own work."

Mei WHIPPED around in her seat. "TAIYO. TAIYO, THE THIRD ONE."

Power Loader held up a hand. "Let him think, Hatsume."

Mei grabbed his desk. "The third one means you can make babies full time! For MONEY! For EXPOSURE! For—"

Taiyo bonked her head.

She rubbed the spot but didn't stop grinning.

"I'll build my own brand." Taiyo smirked. "But I'll take commissions from these two as well. They reached out to me. That's business."

He looked at Hatsume. "What are you choosing? Who did you get?"

Mei's grin WIDENED. He ASKED. Voluntarily. About HER.

"OKAY OKAY OKAY!" She pulled out a STACK of papers from her bag—at least fifteen different offers. "So I got EVERYONE! Well, almost everyone! Support studios LOVE my babies!"

She fanned them out dramatically. "I've got offers from Detroit! From Osaka! From—"

She held up one letter with trembling hands. "—DAVID SHIELD'S AMERICAN OFFICE!"

Taiyo raised an eyebrow. "The David Shield?"

"THE David Shield!" Mei was practically floating. "He saw my babies at the festival and requested me PERSONALLY! I'm going to AMERICA, Taiyo! For my internship! I'm gonna learn from the BEST support inventor in the WORLD!"

Power Loader cleared his throat. "Pending parental approval and paperwork, yes. But it's basically confirmed."

Mei grabbed Taiyo's shoulders. "BRO. BRO, I'M GONNA BE GONE FOR A MONTH. A WHOLE MONTH."

She shook him gently. "Who's gonna annoy you?! Who's gonna bring you coffee?!"

"Oh no." Taiyo's voice was bone-dry. "How sad."

Mei's face fell for exactly half a second. Then she GRINNED.

"YOU JERK!" She poked his chest repeatedly. "You're gonna MISS me and you KNOW it! Who's gonna break into your workshop at 3 AM? Who's gonna steal your coffee? Who's gonna call you BRO in front of important people?!"

Power Loader sighed deeply. "Hatsume. Personal space. Taiyo's ribs are still healing."

Mei stepped back immediately, but her energy didn't drop. "Fine FINE. But seriously—"

She softened, just a little. "—you better text me. Updates. On your babies. On your commissions. On EVERYTHING."

She pulled out her phone, shoving it toward him. "Give me your contact info. RIGHT NOW. We're doing BROTHER-SISTER long distance support."

Taiyo stared at the phone. Then at her.

He chuckled. "Fine, fine, you goddamn idiot."

He took the phone and typed in his number. "You better not get in trouble over there. Or I will find you through Nezu's network."

His voice softened. "Just be careful, alright? I don't want some cold, serious bastard crawling back. I want my sis."

Mei FROZE. Her eyes went WIDE. Her mouth opened—then closed—then opened again.

For the first time in her entire existence, Mei Hatsume was completely speechless.

Tears welled up. She didn't even try to hide them.

"...Bro." Her voice cracked. "That's—that's the NICEST thing you've ever—"

She launched forward, hugging him carefully—mindful of his ribs, but FIRM. Genuine.

"I'm gonna be SO careful." She squeezed tighter. "SO careful. I'll take notes. I'll learn EVERYTHING. I'll come back and show you ALL the American techniques and we'll make the BEST babies together and—"

Power Loader watched with a rare, genuine smile.

Mei pulled back, wiping her eyes furiously. "...Okay. OKAY. EMOTIONS OVER. BACK TO BUSINESS."

She grabbed her phone back. "CONTACT INFO. SAVED. BEFORE I CRY AGAIN."

"I'm gonna kill you later," Taiyo groaned.

Twenty minutes later. He was alone in his workshop again.

"What now?" He rested on his couch, head on the cushion, staring at the ceiling. "Everyone is preparing to leave. I'm literally the only single support student left for the next two or three weeks."

KNOCK KNOCK.

Different knock. Familiar.

The door slid open. Snipe stood there, goggles pushed up, thermos in hand.

"Heard you're holding down the fort alone." He stepped inside, glancing around the quiet workshop. "Hatsume's America-bound, huh? Gonna be quiet without her screaming about 'babies' every five minutes."

He settled onto the edge of the workbench, not waiting for an invitation. "Came to check on you."

He pulled a small wrapped package from his pocket. "And bring you this. Internship gift. From the faculty."

He tossed it lightly onto Taiyo's chest. "Open it. Or don't. I'm not your mom."

Taiyo caught it and tore the wrapping open.

Inside: a simple black patch—the kind heroes sew onto their costumes. Embroidered on it in silver thread: "FORGE" Below it, smaller: "Support Course • U.A. High"

Snipe took a slow sip from his thermos, watching. "Faculty talked. After the festival. Decided you earned something official."

He gestured at the patch with his chin. "That's yours now. Wear it or frame it or whatever. But it means you're not 'just support course' anymore. You're a name."

He stood, heading for the door. "Oh, and Taiyo? The independent internship? Good choice. Smart."

He paused. "But don't forget to actually sleep. And eat. And maybe talk to humans occasionally."

He tipped his hat. "Coffee's on me next time. Real coffee. Not whatever Hatsume brews."

The door slid shut.

Taiyo looked at the patch. Turned it over in his hands.

He shrugged and tossed it onto the nearby desk. "Nezu's making me his wage slave."

A yawn. "Nah."

He closed his eyes.

An hour later.

Knock Knock Knock.

"U-Ugh..." Taiyo grumbled awake. "For fuck's sake. Who's coming here at 2 PM?"

He got up and opened the door.

Kendo stood there.

"OH." He blinked, staring at her. The stare turned into a glare.

Kendo raised an eyebrow, completely unfazed. "Wow. Hostile. And here I brought you lunch."

She held up a convenience store bag—not homemade, but thoughtful nonetheless.

"Heard everyone's clearing out for internships." She pushed past him into the workshop. "Figured you'd be alone. And probably not eating."

She settled onto his couch like she owned it. "Class 1-B's shipping out tomorrow. Tetsu's already packed his knuckles in his carry-on. Refuses to let them out of his sight."

She pulled out two bento boxes and set them on his workbench. "Eat. You look like crap. No offense."

Taiyo stared at the bento boxes. Then at her.

"H-How did you know I hadn't had lunch?" His voice was confused, not angry. "What's with the bento box?"

He shook his head. "Right. I know people are going to their chosen agencies. I assume you are too?" He opened his bento box and sat down on an actual nearby stool instead of his couch.

"Don't sit on the couch." His voice was a low grumble. "You'll dirty it. Sit next to the desk with me."

Kendo laughed—genuine, warm—and obediently moved from the couch to a stool beside him.

"Yes, I'm going." She opened her own bento, chopsticks already moving. "Uwamabi Agency. Big and reputable. But... I don't think I'm gonna get any training done..."

She took a bite, continuing "And I knew you hadn't eaten because you never eat unless someone reminds you. Tetsu mentioned it. Said you 'run on coffee and spite.'"

Taiyo snorted. "Hah... Hah"

She glanced at him. "Also, you look thinner. Not in a bad way. More like you've been forgetting meals while working." Her eyes drifted to the patch still sitting on his desk. "Saw the faculty gave you a name. 'Forge.' That's cool. Suits you."

"Kinda." Taiyo followed her gaze to the patch. "But that also means they want to keep me here."

He looked back at his food. "I dunno. It's terrifying in a way."

Kendo's chopsticks paused. "Terrifying?"

"Not actually terrifying." He waved his hand vaguely. "But I'm not ready for an actual job. I may take commissions with the expression of a pissed-off bastard, but I'm not sure about full-time creation yet. It's... a big responsibility and I'm not sure if I'm truly ready."

Kendo nodded slowly and set her bento down.

"That's actually really self-aware of you." She gave him her full attention. "Most people would see that patch and think 'YES, FAME, FORTUNE, RESPECT.' You see it and go 'wait, this means actual responsibility.'"

She leaned back on her stool. "Honestly? That's smart. Scary, but smart. Knowing your limits before you commit? Half the hero course could learn from that." She picked her bento back up. 

"So what's the plan? Independent internship means you're here, making stuff, building a name. But after that? Have you thought about post-graduation yet?"

Taiyo put a hand to his head. "Huh. Right. Post-graduation. Ah, crap."

He chuckled nervously. "Usually, I leave that for the third year. I never decide that early. I don't want to worry myself too soon, ya know?"

He quickly changed the subject. "Anyway, what about you? Who did you choose?"

Kendo raised an eyebrow at his obvious deflection. But she played along

"Me? I got scouted by Uwabami." She said the name flatly. No enthusiasm. "Wait, didn't you ask this already?"

Taiyo tilted his head. "The Snake Hero?" He ignored her question with a blank expression.

"She's fine. Popular. Good for networking, I guess." Kendo picked at her food. "Honestly? I was hoping for something more hands-on. Combat training. Rescue practice. Actual hero work."

She sighed. "But Uwabami's more interested in commercials. Photo shoots. 'Building my brand,' she calls it."

Taiyo snorted. "Ah, building your brand too, eh?"

He elbowed her gently and smirked. "I appreciate the bentos. Taste delicious."

A slight blush crept up his neck. "But is this a bribe?" He pointed his chopsticks at her, still smirking.

Kendo's face flushed—just enough to notice.

"A BRIBE?!" She waved her chopsticks dramatically. "For WHAT?! You think I'm trying to butter you up for a discount?!"

She took a breath. "I just—you looked like you needed—" She stopped and stabbed her food aggressively. 

"It's called being NICE, Taiyo. Maybe you've heard of it?"

The flush hadn't completely faded. "Some people do things without expecting payment, you know."

Taiyo stared at her. Then he laughed dryly.

"HAH... Funny." He looked down at his food, picking at it, her words echoing. 'Some people do things without expecting payment.'

He looked back at her. "That's a lot of kindness for a guy who made your friend pay sixty thousand yen for damn knuckle dusters."

Kendo snorted, nearly choking. "Tetsu PAID you because he WANTED to. He'd have paid double. Triple."

She set her chopsticks down and met his eyes. "He sleeps with those knuckles now, by the way. Refuses to take them off. It's getting weird."

Taiyo's lip twitched. 'Really now?'

She gestured between them. "Look. The payment thing? That's business. You provide a service, and people pay for it. That's FAIR. Nobody's mad about that."

Her voice softened. "This? Lunch? That's not business. That's just two people eating together because being alone all the time is depressing. Even for grumpy forge hermits."

She picked her chopsticks back up, pointedly not looking at him. "...You don't have to read into it."

Taiyo paused.

"It's better to read into it." His voice was quiet. "I'd rather not get scammed again."

Kendo froze mid-chew. She set her chopsticks down slowly.

"...Again?" Her voice was softer now. Not pitying. Just present. "Someone scammed you before?"

The workshop felt suddenly quieter.

Taiyo chuckled darkly. "Hah. Maybe? When you have a quirk like this?"

He shook his head. "You wouldn't imagine the number of people who wanted to use me to 'empower' themselves."

Kendo's jaw tightened.

"Bastards." The word came out sharp. "All of them. Every single person who looked at you and saw a tool instead of a person."

She set her food aside completely. "That's why you're so guarded? Why do you treat everything like a transaction?"

Her voice wasn't accusing. Just asking.

"Because people kept taking without giving back?"

Taiyo didn't answer. 'Yeah...' He thought of the answer instead. Keeping silent was easier.

She leaned forward slightly. "For what it's worth? I'm not here to use you, Taiyo. Neither is Tetsu, or Shinsou, or anyone from 1-B who's gonna come knocking."

A small, fierce smile. "We're here because you're good at what you do AND you're interesting. Separately. Together. Whatever."

She picked her chopsticks back up. "...Just figured you should know."

Taiyo stared at her for a long moment. His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

He let out a sigh of relief.

"What do you want to order?" His voice was quiet. "Yours for free."

Kendo's eyes went wide. She dropped her chopsticks.

"FREE?!" She stared at him. "Taiyo, that's—that's—"

She paused.

"Wait. You're serious. You're actually serious."

She looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "You don't do 'free.' You don't do 'favors.' You literally made Tetsu pay sixty thousand yen, and Shinsou commit to MONTHLY COFFEE."

She leaned forward. "And now you're offering ME free gear?"

Her voice softened. "Why? What changed?"

Taiyo shrugged, smirking. "Okay, no free stuff then."

Kendo's face fell.

"Nah, I'm kidding." His smirk softened. "For you? It's free."

"It's kindness. With no strings attached."

Kendo stared at him.

Her face cycled through about five different emotions—surprise, confusion, disbelief, warmth, and something softer she quickly tried to hide.

"...Kindness." She said the word like it was foreign. "With no strings attached."

A genuine smile broke through—not her confident leader smile. Something smaller. Realer.

"You're a piece of work, Taiyo. You know that?"

She looked down at her bento. "...I'll think about what I want. Something practical. For my fists, probably."

She paused. "Or maybe something just for me. Not for fighting. Just... something." She took a bite, hiding her expression. "...Thanks."

Taiyo tilted his head. "Want a pair of gloves that stretch out?" It was obvious to him what she needed.

Kendo choked on her food.

"A—a what?!" She wiped her mouth. "Stretching gloves?! Like for my quirk?!"

She held up her hands, flexing them. "My Big Fist enlarges my hands—dramatically. Normal gloves rip instantly."

Her voice picked up speed. "I've been through DOZENS of prototypes from the support course, and they all pop. Every time."

She leaned forward. "You can actually make gloves that stretch WITH my quirk? Like they enlarge when I do?!"

Taiyo nodded, slightly weirded out by her Mei-like energy. "Yes? Why not?"

He took a bite of food. "Is it hard to do?" His voice measured, testing, and seeing if other supports have done it.

Kendo SLAMMED her hands on the workbench—not angry. Excited.

"Hard?!" Her voice was high. "Taiyo, do you know how many support kids have TRIED?!"

She gestured wildly. "The fabric has to be flexible enough to expand with my quirk but durable enough to protect my hands during combat! It has to breathe! It can't slip! It has to—"

She stopped. Took a breath.

"...Sorry. Got carried away." She looked at him with genuine hope. "But YES. It's hard. Really hard. Most support students can't figure out the material science."

Her voice softened. "You think you can do it?"

"Fuck no." Taiyo's voice was flat with realism. "Hell, it sounds impossible to me that fabric can stretch that much."

Kendo's face fell.

"But I can try." He put another piece of food in his mouth. "If I fail, I'll build you some armor instead. Deal?" He pointed his chopsticks at her

Kendo blinked. Then she LAUGHED—genuine, surprised, delighted.

"Honesty! I appreciate that!" She shook her head, grinning. "'Fuck no' is way better than 'sure I can' followed by failure. Though you need better usage of language, Taiyo. Not everything has to be a swear."

After a moment of joy, she extended her hand across the workbench. "Alright. Deal. You try the impossible gloves. If they fail, you make me something else. Armor, knuckles, whatever."

Her voice softened. "Partners?"

Her eyes were warm. Waiting. No pressure.

Taiyo looked at her hand. He chuckled.

Instead of shaking it, he lifted it and pressed a light kiss to her knuckles.

"Partners." A blush crept up his neck.

He released her hand quickly. "That's a knightly gesture. I'm Japanese, but my dad was European. I study a lot about medieval times."

Kendo's face went PINK—actual pink, clashing with her orange hair.

"I—uh—that's—" She cleared her throat. "—very European. Of you. Very knightly. Definitely."

She pulled her hand back slowly, tucking it under the table. "Medieval studies. Right. That's cool. Makes sense. You forge stuff. Knights used swords. A lot of crossover."

She was rambling. She grabbed her bento aggressively and shoved food in her mouth.

Taiyo laughed softly. "Don't choke."

Kendo glared at him, cheeks still pink.

"Oh wait, right." He set his chopsticks down. "Gloves. I need some measurements. Both normal and quirked up."

He tilted his head. "If that's the correct term."

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Next day.

"So." Taiyo turned on his computer. "Gang Orca. Let's see what they ordered."

The screen flickered to life, revealing an official agency email with the Killer Whale Hero's logo—a stylized orca silhouette against deep blue.

Subject: Commission Request - Gang Orca Agency
To: Kuriko Taiyo (Support Course - U.A. High)

Mr. Taiyo,

'Following your impressive performance at the U.A. Sports Festival, our agency would like to commission several pieces for our sidekicks and support staff. We were particularly impressed by your ability to enhance physical stats AND provide quirk-related buffs simultaneously.'

'Our current needs:

1. Water-Resistant Combat Boots (3 pairs)

• For sidekicks operating in coastal/naval environments

• Priority: Durability, traction, minor speed enhancement

2. Communication Amplifiers (2 units)

• For underwater coordination

• Priority: Voice projection through water, compact design

3. (Optional) Reinforced Gauntlets (1 pair)

• For myself - testing purposes

• Priority: Impact absorption, cold resistance (for deep water)

'We understand your quirk involves random stat generation. We are prepared to accept variance and will pay based on the final tier results as discussed with your faculty. Please provide an estimated timeline and material preferences. Funding is available for premium materials if justified.'

'Respectfully,'
'Sakura Haruno'
'Agency Coordinator - Gang Orca Hero Agency'

'P.S. - The entire agency was watching your match against Bakugo. Well done.'

Taiyo leaned back in his chair. A slow smirk spread across his face.

"Three pairs of boots. Two amplifiers. One pair of gauntlets." He stretched his arms overhead. "Top ten Pro. Gotta make a good first impression."

He stood and walked to his new forge setup—upgraded smelter, super-large cutter, the works. Everything gleamed under the workshop lights.

"Alright." He cracked his knuckles. "Time to get to work. This is going to be long..."

He stared at the materials list. "Boots first. Three pairs. Tungsten's good—heavy, but the physical buffs make up for it."

He did the math in his head. "Three cauldrons. Ten pounds of titanium each."

His eye twitched. "Grade five. Thirty-five dollars per pound."

He pulled out his calculator. Stared at the number.

"...This is fine."

He paused mid-reach for the titanium stock.

"Crap." His hand dropped. "I forgot to ask for measurements."

He sat back down at his computer and typed quickly.

'To: Gang Orca Agency'

'Attached: progress outline. Need foot measurements for all three recipients before completing shaping and quirk activation.'

'Important limitation: My quirk enhances physical stats and provides random buffs to the WEARER. It cannot create independent technology. Communication amplifiers are beyond my ability. That's Hatsume's territory. Suggest contacting her for audio devices (she's in America but takes remote commissions).'

'For the gauntlets: cold resistance is possible as an extra stat if RNG favors it. As for impact absorption, it's actually Kinetic Absorption. It's rare, but I'll try to see if I can guarantee as a base property of the design. Will that work?'

'Estimated timeline:'
'- Boots: 3-5 days after measurements received'
'- Gauntlets: 2-3 days after boots complete'

'Material costs so far: 30 lbs grade 5 titanium ($1,050). Will bill upon completion based on final tiers.'

'- Taiyo "Forge"'

He hit send. The workshop hummed with the sound of cooling metal and glowing equipment. Twenty minutes passed. Coffee consumed. Prototypes organized.

DING.

Taiyo raised an eyebrow. 'Reply already? Fast.'

From: Gang Orca Agency

'Mr. Taiyo,'

'Thank you for the prompt update and transparency regarding your capabilities. We appreciate you saving us time by clarifying the communication amplifier limitation—we will contact Hatsume's agency as suggested.'

'Foot measurements attached for all three sidekicks (Matsuda, Ito, Yamada). Please confirm receipt.'

'Regarding the gauntlets: impact absorption as a base property plus potential cold resistance via RNG is perfectly acceptable. We understand the nature of your quirk and have adjusted expectations accordingly. Proceed when ready.'

'Your material cost transparency is appreciated. We will cover all expenses plus standard commission upon delivery.'

'One additional request: if possible, please document the crafting process for each item (photos/video). The agency would like to use this for promotional material and future client references. No pressure if this interferes with your workflow.'

'Respectfully,'
'Sakura Haruno'

'P.S. - Sidekick Matsuda is particularly excited about'"custom Forge gear." You have a fan.'

Taiyo read the email twice. The smirk returned.

"Well. I'll be damned." He leaned back. "Why not? It'll spread the name."

He stood and headed for the door.

Power Loader's workshop. Wires everywhere. Half-finished projects littered on every surface.

"Hey." Taiyo leaned against the doorframe. "Pop. Got any high HD cameras I can use for recording?"

Power Loader looked up from his wiring project and blinked.

"...Pop?"

He stared at Taiyo for a long moment. Processing. Then, slowly, a tired grin spread across his face.

"You know what? I'll take it." He set down his tools. "Beats 'sensei' or 'sir.'"

He wiped grease on his already-greasy jumpsuit and stood. "A camera? Yeah, we've got a few in media storage. High-res. Stabilized. The works. Hero course uses them for combat analysis."

Taiyo smirked. "Good. Wouldn't make sense if we, the support course, somehow didn't even have a camera."

Power Loader groaned. "Hahah. Very funny, Taiyo. It happened once. Only once."

He gestured for Taiyo to follow. "Come on. I'll show you where they're kept. Just—" He glanced back. "—sign them out properly. Last time Hatsume 'borrowed' one, we found it three weeks later inside a prototype robot she'd launched into the forest."

Taiyo signed the log with a flourish. "Well, I ain't Hatsume. Don't worry."

He took the camera. "Thanks, pop, I won't damage it."

A pause.

"Probably."

He shrugged, hands in his pockets, and walked away.

Two-hour break. Lunch at noon. Now 1 PM.

"Alright." Taiyo stretched his back and arms. "Time to get back to work."

He set up the camera on a nearby desk, angling it toward his workstation. Then he grabbed his tools and pulled up the measurements.

"Size twenty-six. Twenty-six point five. Twenty-seven." He nodded. "Got it."

He looked at the half-finished boots. Then at his titanium supply. Then at the forge.

'Here we go.'

Friday, 4 PM.

Taiyo stood in the support course storage room, staring at the tungsten shelf.

Empty.

He checked the label. Checked again. Looked behind some boxes.

"..."

He grabbed the remaining tungsten—all of it. Every last ingot. The shelf was bare when he left.

He shrugged.

"Consequences are future Taiyo's problem."

He hauled the tungsten back to his workshop and dumped it on the bench. The camera caught everything—his grumpy face, the absurd amount of metal, the way he immediately started sorting without hesitation.

Friday. 6 PM.

Safety goggles on. Heavy gloves. Leather apron. The smelter ROARED to life, orange-white heat flooding the workshop.

Taiyo fed tungsten ingots into the flames. One by one. The metal softened. Glowed. Melted.

He pulled the crucible carefully—steady hands, years of practice—and poured the molten tungsten into the boot plate mold. Steam hissed. The metal settled.

He waited. Watched. The glow faded from orange to red to dull silver.

He lifted the cooled plate with tongs and set it on the anvil.

Hammer in hand. First strike.

CLANG.

Sparks scattered like fireflies.

Friday. 10 PM.

The first boot took shape. Taiyo bent the metal plate with careful pressure—not too fast, not too slow. The curve had to match the foot perfectly. He checked the measurements three times before committing.

Hammer. Grind. Smooth. Polish.

Hours blurred. The camera recorded everything—the sweat on his brow, the focus in his eyes, the way he talked to himself under his breath.

Finally, he held up the finished boot. It gleamed under the work lights. He activated his quirk—

Gold light. LEGENDARY.

He read the stats through his quirk-sight.

Legendary Titanium Combat Boots 1
Physical buff: 182%
Extra Buff: Better Quirk Power +5%, Better Thinking Speed +10%, Better Swimming Speed +15%, Extra Running Speed +7%

"Heh." A tired smirk. "Good."

He set the boot aside and looked at the remaining materials.

"But the extra stats..." He shrugged. "Meh. I need three pairs. Not overdoing it with perfection."

He grabbed more tungsten and fired up the smelter again.

Saturday, 2 AM.

Second pair. Same process. Different result.

Legendary Titanium Combat Boots 2
Physical buff: 206%
Extra Buff: Better Quirk Efficiency +8%, Better Clarity +6%, Extra Endurance +11%, Better Quirk Power +7%

Taiyo stared at the numbers. Two-oh-six percent. His highest physical buff yet.

"Damn." He wiped his forehead. "Okay. One more."

The camera's red light blinked steadily. Recording everything.

Saturday, 11 PM.

Taiyo's arms ached. His back screamed. Coffee wasn't helping anymore. But the third pair was almost done.

He poured the last of the tungsten. Shaped the final plate. Hammered. Ground. Polished. His movements were slower now, but no less precise.

Finally, he held up the third boot. Quirk activated.

Legendary Titanium Combat Boots 3
Physical buff: 173%
Extra Buff: Better Quirk Efficiency +10%, Extra Stamina +18%, Better Fighting Instinct +11%, Minor Regeneration +14%

He set it down next to the others. Three pairs. All legendary. All ready, just need some finer adjustments for each one.

Sunday. 2 AM. 

Taiyo rubbed his eyes tiredly and stared at the three pairs of combat boots lined up on his workbench.

"Motherfucker."

He yawned—deep, bone-tired. The camera had died a day ago. He'd been too focused to notice. He looked at the stats one last time. The numbers blurred slightly. He blinked them back into focus.

Legendary Titanium Combat Boots 1
Physical buff: 182%
Extras: Quirk Power +5%, Thinking Speed +10%, Swimming Speed +15%, Running Speed +7%

Legendary Titanium Combat Boots 2
Physical buff: 206%
Extras: Quirk Efficiency +8%, Clarity +6%, Endurance +11%, Quirk Power +7%

Legendary Titanium Combat Boots 3
Physical buff: 173%
Extras: Quirk Efficiency +10%, Stamina +18%, Fighting Instinct +11%, Minor Regeneration +14%

He nodded slowly.

"Yeah. That makes sense." His voice was rough with exhaustion. "Titanium has a luck of eighteen percent. Ten in each batch makes that a hundred eighty percent each, which guarantees a legendary

He leaned back in his chair. The boots gleamed under the work lights. Three pairs. Legendary. Done.

Suddenly, his phone rang.

International number. He answered groggily.

"TAIYOOOOO!"

Mei's voice BLASTED through the speaker.

"BROTHER! IT'S 2 AM THERE, WHICH MEANS YOU'RE AWAKE AND WORKING LIKE THE INSANE FORGE GREMLIN YOU ARE!"

Taiyo held the phone away from his ear.

"OKAY OKAY OKAY—I HAVE SO MUCH TO TELL YOU!" She barely paused for breath. "America is AMAZING! David Shield has SO MANY BABIES! I've already learned how to integrate micro-servos into—"

She kept talking. Words tumbling over each other. But underneath the chaos was genuine warmth. She missed him. She wouldn't say it, but she missed him.

Taiyo waited. Let her wind down. Then—

"Mei." His voice was calm. Utterly calm. "Mei."

She paused.

"Inside voice." He yawned. "I don't know what time it is over there, but here it's 2 AM. I need at least ten hours of sleep."

He rubbed his eyes. "Also... Ah- Good job, Mei. I did a lot of things too. Many tired things."

Another yawn. "Sis."

Silence on the other end. Actual silence. From Mei.

"...You called me sis." Her voice dropped to something almost normal. "Voluntarily. Twice. In one conversation."

Taiyo blinked slowly.

"Taiyo. Are you okay?" Genuine concern crept in. "Like, genuinely okay? You sound exhausted but also... softer? Did you hit your head?"

Rustling sounds. She was adjusting the phone. "I could be-" He was cut off by her

"Also wait—ten hours?!" Her voice pitched up. "You NEVER sleep ten hours! What did you DO over there?! Who's making you work this hard?! Give me names! I'll fly back and—"

"NO." Taiyo's voice was firm despite the exhaustion. "Stay there... idiot."

He yawned again and drifted toward his couch. "I'm just challenging myself. Just trying to build my brand. No pain no gain, right?"

He collapsed onto the cushions. "Probably gonna sleep in the workshop again instead of going home."

Another yawn. His eyes closed. "Taiyo, you really gotta rest" She cuts in

"I—" His voice faded. "Goodbye, sis."

The phone slipped from his grip and landed on his chest.

"Taiyo? TAIYO!" Mei's voice came through the speaker, tinny and distant. "Don't you DARE fall asleep while I'm—"

His breathing evened out. Soft snores.

On the other end of the line, ten thousand miles away, Mei listened to the silence.

Then, quietly—so quiet he'd never hear it even if he was awake—

"...Goodnight, bro." Her voice was soft. Warm. "Dream about something nice for once."

Click.

The workshop hummed quietly. Three legendary boots gleamed under the work lights. And Taiyo slept, phone rising and falling with each breath, alone but not entirely.

Chapter Text

Tomorrow.

11 AM. Taiyo woke up.

"Ugh." He blinked at the ceiling. "O-Oh right. It's noon already."

He scrambled awake and dashed toward the UA men's bathroom.

The bathroom was empty. Echoey. Weirdly peaceful without the usual chaos of students rushing between classes. He splashed water on his face and stared at his reflection—dark circles, messy hair, but surprisingly not dead inside. Three legendary boots would do that to a person.

Footsteps echoed behind him. He glanced up in the mirror.

A third-year student stood at the sinks—tall, sharp features, support course uniform. He watched Taiyo with mild curiosity.

"Heard you're the first-year running solo all internship." He turned on a faucet, washing his hands casually. "Three legendary pieces in one night?"

He dried his hands. "That's actually impressive. Most support kids can't even get one."

He turned to leave. "Keep it up. We're all watching."

"Thanks... random guy?" Taiyo said, confused.

He left, hands in his pockets.

UA cafeteria. Mostly empty. Taiyo grabbed cereal and sat down alone.

He pulled out his phone. Scrolled. Landed on Kendo's contact.

'Sup. How's the internship going? For me? Oh, I'm doing big things. Tiring things.'

His phone buzzed almost immediately.

'TAIYO?! You TEXTED?! Voluntarily?! Are you dying?! Should I call an ambulance?!'

'Joking. Mostly.'

'Internship is... fine. Uwabami has us doing another commercial today. Some energy drink. Momo looks great in the outfit. I look like I'm being held hostage. Which I am.'

'What "big things"? Tell me you're sleeping. Actually sleeping. Not "passed out on workshop floor" sleeping.'

Taiyo munched his cereal nervously. 'Oh shit, how does she know?'

'...'

'No?'

'TAIYO.'

'TAIYO I SWEAR TO—'

'Calm down, It's nothing... Maybe' He texted back, hands leaving the cereal spoon.

'How many hours did you sleep. Real hours. Not "resting my eyes while holding a hammer" hours.'

'I'm in a GREEN ROOM right now. In MAKEUP. And I will STILL find a way to fly back there and personally drag you to a BED if you don't answer me.'

Taiyo chuckled softly and scooped another bite.

'Dumbass. We're literally two cities or one city away. You do not need to fly across Japan to find me, idiot.'

'But I'm fine. I did get enough... uh... payment sleep.'

'...Okay that's fair actually.'

'BUT YOU'RE DEFLECTING. What did you make. Spill. Now. I'm literally between takes and the suspense is the only thing keeping me awake.'

A pause.

'Momo wants to know too. She's reading over my shoulder. Send stats or she'll cry. (Her words, not mine.)'

Taiyo paused mid-bite. Spoon dropped.

"W-wait. Momo?" His eyes widened. "That Momo Yaoyorozu? The girl who can create materials?"

'MATERIAL SOURCING.'

He grabbed his phone.

'Momo. Since you're reading this... Uh... I'll give you 30% of my credit if you become my provider in the near future.'

'Also... Uh, my project is about making gear for Gang Orca. I need to make a forearm brace for Orca himself, and three combat boots for his troops.'

'And here's the damn stats because you won't stop nagging me, idiot.'

Legendary Titanium Combat Boot 1
Physical buff: 182%
*Extra Buff: Quirk control +5%, Faster Thinking +10%, Swim Faster in water +15%, Faster land speed +7%*

Legendary Titanium Combat Boot 2
Physical buff: 156%
*Extra Buff: Quirk control +8%, Clearer Eyesight +6%, Endurance +11%, Quirk power +7%*

Legendary Titanium Combat Boot 3
Physical buff: 173%
*Extra Buff: Quirk efficiency +10%, Stamina +18%, Reaction time +11%, Self-regeneration: +14%*

'...'

'...'

'TAIYO.'

'THESE ARE—MOMO JUST SCREAMED. ACTUALLY SCREAMED. THE SOUNDPROOF ROOM DID NOTHING.'

'She's grabbing the phone. Hold on.'

'Mr. Taiyo! Hello! This is Yaoyorozu! Those stats are INCREDIBLE! Three Legendary pieces in one night is unprecedented! The quirk control buffs alone could revolutionize—'

'Kendo says I'm rambling. Apologies.'

*'Regarding material sourcing—YES. Absolutely yes. 30% credit is MORE than fair. I have connections with several high-grade suppliers through my family. Titanium, carbon fiber, even some experimental alloys.'*

'When do you need materials? I can start making calls immediately.'

Taiyo laughed out loud. "Ahaha!"

He quickly shut up, glancing around the cafeteria.

'SO... Uh, for Momo, I don't need materials yet. But I will call soon. For later projects. Maybe even for your request.'

'For Kendo... Uh. How's the gloves?'

'The gloves are—'

A long pause. Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Reappeared.

'The gloves are perfect.'

'I've been wearing them every day. Tetsu caught me sleeping in them once. Don't tell anyone.'

'They stretch like they're alive. No tearing. No resistance. I used them in a training exercise yesterday and my quirk felt... smoother? Like the glove was helping me control the expansion? Is that possible?'

'Kendo I'm still here. Reading over your shoulder. You're being very honest.'

'MOMO.'

'Ignore her. But yes. The gloves are incredible. Thank you.'

Taiyo smirked at his phone.

'Wash them. That's kinda creepy.'

'OH MY GOD.'

'I WASH them. Obviously I wash them. I'm not a MONSTER.'

'Momo please stop laughing. I can hear you.'

'I'm not laughing. I'm "expressing amusement through controlled exhalations."'

'You're literally shaking the phone.'

'ANYWAY. Taiyo. Focus. Gang Orca's forearm brace. What materials are you thinking? He's big. His quirk involves sonics and deep-sea pressure resistance. Need any input from us while we're trapped in this green room?'

Taiyo leaned back, smirking at the screen.

'Oh right. Uh. I was thinking Meteorite material.'

'Yes, I have sources for this.'

'Yes, I'm also doing this so that he pays me more than he should, hahaha 𓁹‿𓁹'

'...METEORITE?!'

'Taiyo, that's—that's INSANE. In the best way. Do you know how RARE that is?! How EXPENSIVE?!'

'Grabbing phone again. Mr. Taiyo! Meteorite materials have unique properties—often enhanced durability and sometimes unexpected quirk interactions due to cosmic exposure! If you can secure a genuine meteorite, the potential buffs could be—'

'Snatching phone back. Momo's losing her mind. She's already calculating price points. I think she's in love.'

'But seriously. You're gonna make Gang Orca pay through the nose AND get legendary stats from space rock? That's the most "Taiyo" business move I've ever heard.'

'When do you need the meteorite? And... uh... do you need help lifting it? Because I have BIG HANDS now. Thanks to you.'

Taiyo stared at the message. Tilted his head.

'You don't have to come here. I'm more than strong enough. And I still have my own repaired gear, you know?'

'Why would you want to come back anyway? Shouldn't you focus on the damn internship?'

A long pause. The three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

'...I don't know. Forget I said anything.'

'Momo's calling me back for the next take. Good luck with the space rock, forger.'

'But seriously. If you need help. I'm here.'

The messages stopped. His phone screen dimmed.

The cafeteria hummed quietly around him—distant chatter, clinking trays, the normal sounds of school life continuing while everyone was away.

His cereal had gotten soggy.

He stared at the last message.

'If you need help. I'm here.'

'...Why?'

He didn't type it. Just thought it. Then he set his phone down and ate the soggy cereal anyway.

Chapter Text

"Ah shit. My cereal is soggy." Taiyo pouted at the bowl. "Curse women. Tch."

He stared at the sad, mushy cereal.

"Ah, fuck it."

He downed the bowl anyway. Grimaced. Swallowed.

"Never texting during breakfast again."

Timeskip. A clock spinning fast. Hours bleeding into hours.

Around 3 PM, Taiyo sat down at his workbench. The workshop was quiet. Too quiet without Mei's chaos.

"Alright." He rolled his shoulders. "This is for Gang Orca. I can't play around."

He slammed his fist into his palm. "I gotta make it work! I gotta make it fancy!"

His voice echoed. "MAKE HIM PAY EXTRA!"

Silence answered.

He coughed. "...Right. No one's here."

He pulled up the material specs on his computer. "Meteorite iron. Insanely durable. High luck. Way higher than titanium."

A chuckle escaped him. "I wonder if there's a tier past legendary. That'd be funny."

He clicked through supplier pages. "Probably not. But imagine. Mythic tier. Sounds fake."

KNOCK KNOCK.

The door slid open before he could respond. Power Loader stood there, helmet off, holding a massive insulated container.

"Brought you dinner." He set it down and pulled out a smaller box. "And something from the faculty mailroom."

Taiyo perked up. "Mailroom?"

"Arrived this morning. Priority shipping." Power Loader slid the box across the workbench. It was heavy. Dense. The kind of weight that made you curious.

Taiyo caught it with both hands. "Whoa."

The return address was a PO box he didn't recognize. The label read: "METEORITE SAMPLE - HANDLE WITH CARE."

Power Loader raised an eyebrow. "...You want to explain why space rocks are being delivered to my workshop, Taiyo?"

"It's not illegal if it's shipped like this." Taiyo hugged the box. "And don't worry. It passed through security fine."

"Through whose security?"

"Mine."

Power Loader stared at him. "That's not—you don't have security clearance—"

"Thanks for the dinner, Pop!" Taiyo shut the door.

'Thank you, Miss Momo.'

He locked it for good measure.

Alone now, he opened the box as if it contained treasure. Which it did.

Five ingots. INGOTS. Of meteorite iron. Dark, slightly iridescent, carrying the weight of actual space within their grain. He lifted one. It was heavier than it looked. Dense in a way terrestrial metals weren't.

"AHAH!" His fingers itched. "Yes!"

He set the ingots on his bench and stared at them like a dragon eyeing gold.

"Okay." He cracked his knuckles. "Gotta be precise."

He grabbed his sketchbook. "I need decorations. I need forging. I need cool factor to make him pay more."

He tapped his pencil against the page. "I also need a motherfucking name for this piece."

'Ocean something. Whale something. Predator something.'

He started sketching.

KKKHHHOOSS.

The meteorite iron gleamed under the workshop lights. He spent the first hour just STUDYING it. Heating small samples in the smelter and watching how they behaved. The metal softened slower than titanium. Held heat longer. When molten, it flowed like liquid night—dark silver with faint purple undertones.

"Interesting." He tilted the crucible. "The viscosity is different. Thicker."

He tested density. Mapped cooling rates. Pressed test plates and struck them with his hammer to feel the resistance. The sound was wrong. Ancient. Each strike rang with a deeper tone than terrestrial metals.

"Weird." He struck it again. "Sounds like... bells. Underwater bells."

Hour two: sketching. He filled pages with designs. Some practical—smooth curves following the forearm's natural shape. Some ridiculous—spikes and fins that would look cool but catch on everything.

"No." He scratched out a spiked design. "He's a pro. Needs function."

He started a new page. "Okay. Curved. Sleek. Wave patterns following the muscle."

He sketched faster. "Killer whale in the center. Maw open. Water rushing around it."

He held up the sketch. "Yeah. That's the one."

Gang Orca's forearm was massive. The brace needed to cover and protect without restricting movement. It needed to look like it belonged on a killer whale. It needed to be UNDENIABLY premium.

Hour three: he started forging. The first ingot went into the smelter. He watched it glow—orange, then white, then that strange purple-silver of molten meteorite.

"Beautiful." He adjusted the temperature. "Come on. Melt properly."

The metal resisted. Then yielded.

He poured it into the rough mold and waited. The metal cooled slower than he expected. He paced. Checked his phone. Paced again.

"Come on. Come on."

Nothing. Still cooling.

"Ugh." He dropped onto his stool. "Space rock has no respect for my schedule."

When it was finally set, he pulled it out with tongs and brought his hammer down.

CLANG.

The meteorite iron RESISTED. Not like titanium. Titanium fought back with hardness. Meteorite fought back with DENSITY. Each strike required more force. Each blow echoed deeper.

"Stubborn." He struck again. "Like me."

CLANG.

"Fine." CLANG. "We'll do this." CLANG. "Your way."

His arms burned after the first hour of shaping. But the metal began to yield. Slowly. Reluctantly. Like it was testing him.

Hour five: the basic curve emerged. He stopped to eat—Power Loader's dinner, cold now, but he didn't care. He chewed mechanically while studying the piece.

"Wave patterns next." He traced the curve with his finger. "Need to etch them deeper. Make them flow like real water."

He set down his chopsticks. "The killer whale goes in the center. Emerging from the waves. Commanding the sea."

He picked up his hammer again.

Hour seven: etching. He switched to finer tools. His hands cramped from the precision work. The wave patterns grew—line by line, curve by curve—following the natural contours of the brace.

"Steady." His hand trembled. "Steady."

He carved the killer whale last. Its body curved with the metal's grain. Its maw opened toward the wrist, as if swimming forward. Water spiraled around it. Every line had to be perfect.

"Almost." He wiped sweat from his brow. "Almost there."

Gang Orca would notice. Gang Orca would KNOW.

Hour ten: polishing. The brace was shaped. Etched. Now it needed to SHINE. He worked through grits—coarse to fine, fine to mirror. The meteorite iron took polish differently from terrestrial metals. It didn't just reflect light. It seemed to hold it.

"Whoa." He tilted it. "That's... that's actually beautiful."

The dark silver deepened. The purple undertones emerged. The wave patterns caught shadows and released them. The killer whale looked alive.

Hour twelve. Two days had blurred together. He'd slept in short bursts on the couch. Ate when his body demanded it. Showered once—maybe twice—he couldn't remember. But the brace was DONE.

Curved. Sleek. Reinforced at the strike points. Etched with notable wave patterns along with a killer whale symbol dead center—the whale opening its maw, water rushing beside it like Poseidon himself.

"Okay." He held it up. "Moment of truth."

He set it in the cooling bath. Steam hissed. The water shimmered. He pulled it out—

Gold. Orange-gold. LEGENDARY.

"AH HAH!" He held it up like a trophy. "Legendary! I knew it!"

He spun in his chair. "Now let's see the stats!"

Physical Buff: 300%
Extra Buffs (4):
+15% Higher Quirk Power
+12% Kinetic Absorption
+10% Cold Resistance
+8% Berserker

The brace GLOWED in his hands. The waves seemed to move in the light. The killer whale's maw looked ready to swallow whatever stood in its way.

"Ocean Predator." He nodded. "Yeah. That's the name."

He was still staring at it, admiring his own work, when—

KNOCK KNOCK.

Different knock. Heavy. Authoritative. The kind of knock that expected doors to open.

The door slid open anyway.

Gang Orca himself DUCKED through the frame—because he had to, he was massive—and straightened inside the workshop. Dark eyes scanning everything in a single professional sweep. He was in casual clothes. No costume. But his presence still filled the room. Made it feel smaller.

Behind him, Power Loader peeked in, looking stressed.

"He insisted." Power Loader's voice was tight. "Wouldn't wait for delivery. I tried to stop him."

Taiyo stared at the massive whale man standing in his workshop.

"That's rude." His voice came out dry. "Kinda."

A small drop of sweat ran down his forehead.

'WHAT THE FUCK IS HE DOING HERE?'

Gang Orca's gaze swept the workshop—the mess, the failed prototypes in the corner, the empty coffee cups—before settling on the brace in Taiyo's hands. His expression didn't change. Hard to read behind the orca features. But something shifted in those dark eyes.

"...That's mine."

His voice was deep. Resonant. The kind of voice that carried underwater. That probably scared villains shitless.

He stepped closer, movements deliberate, and held out one massive arm.

"May I?"

Taiyo swallowed. "Uh. Yeah. Sure."

He handed it over.

Gang Orca took the brace carefully—reverently, almost—and slid it onto his forearm. It fit PERFECTLY. The meteorite material adjusted to his size with a soft click. The wave patterns aligned with his natural musculature.

He flexed his hand. The brace moved with him.

No resistance. No restriction.

"...Hm." He turned his arm. "The weight is good."

He flexed again. His eyes widened. Just slightly.

"...I can feel it." His voice was quieter now. Almost awed. "The quirk enhancement. It's... singing."

He looked at Taiyo—really looked at him—with something new in his expression. Respect.

"You made this." He turned his arm, watching light play across the killer whale engraving. "From iron-meteorite."

"Yes, sir."

"In two days."

"Give or take."

Gang Orca's gaze returned to the brace. "The buffs aren't what I asked for. I wasn't sure that was possible with random generation."

He met Taiyo's eyes. "This isn't just gear. This is a statement."

He straightened to his full height—which was considerable. "Name your price, Forge."

Taiyo took a breath.

"7.5 million."

Power Loader choked in the hallway.

Taiyo didn't flinch. "The brace is more expensive than I thought. But that's literally the highest stats possible on a single piece. And my gears stack their buffs together."

He pointed at the brace. "Added to that, your forearm brace? That's my first named piece."

A pause.

"I called it the Ocean Predator. "

Gang Orca stared at him for a long, silent moment. The workshop felt very small with him in it. Power Loader looked like he wanted to intervene, but didn't dare.

Then—Gang Orca LAUGHED.

A deep, rumbling sound vibrated through the floor. Through Taiyo's chest. Through the walls.

"7.5 million." He shook his head slowly. "For a piece that buffs my quirk, my durability, AND my presence."

His red eyes locked onto Taiyo's. "Kid, that's not expensive. That's a bold move. A very bold move."

His voice dropped. The laughter faded.

"Who are you to ask such prices?"

The Whale was testing him. Taiyo knew it. His heart pounded. His palms were sweaty. He had no gear on him. No buffs. Nothing but his own quirkless body standing in front of a top-ten Pro.

'I don't have any gear on me. I can't fight him. He's right. I'm just some... Support student.'

Power Loader stepped between them. "Now now, Gang Orca." His voice was careful. Diplomatic. "No need to be so rough on him. He's still a first-year. Still learning how negotiations work—"

"Sensei."

Power Loader stopped. Looked at Taiyo.

Taiyo stepped forward. Hands in his pockets. Shoulders squared. He looked up at the massive whale man. Way up. Because Gang Orca was huge.

"I'm nobody." His voice was calm. Steady. "That is correct."

He met Gang Orca's red eyes and didn't look away.

"But I will be somebody. Someone you can't ignore."

His gaze hardened.

"So are you gonna pay or not?"

Silence.

Long. Heavy. Power Loader held his breath.

Gang Orca's expression shifted. Slowly. A grin—sharp, approving, genuinely impressed—spread across his orca features.

"Heh." The sound was warm now. "Tough kid."

He reached into his pocket with his free hand—careful not to jostle the brace—and pulled out a sleek black card.

"7.5 million." He held it out. "For the brace. And for naming it Ocean Predator. "

Taiyo's hand twitched.

"The first five million covers materials and labor." Gang Orca's voice was businesslike now. Respectful. "The rest buys exclusive rights to that design. I don't want anyone else wearing my name."

His eyes gleamed. "Deal?"

'Holy shit.'

Taiyo grabbed his hand and shook. Hard.

"DO I? Yes, sir!"

He laughed—a bellowed, genuine laugh. The tension shattered. "I'm taking more commissions from you for sure, Mr. Number Ten!"

Gang Orca's grin widened. "I'll hold you to that."

Taiyo turned to grab something else, then stopped.

"Oh yeah." He grabbed the three combat boots off the rack. "There's also the boots. I forgot to hand them to you. Or ship them."

He held them out. "But since you're here—take them."

Gang Orca accepted the boots one by one, examining each with professional attention. He turned the first pair over in his massive hands.

"Perfect size." He checked the second. "Perfect balance."

He checked the third. "The material quality alone is exceptional."

He looked at Taiyo with new respect. "And knowing these were made specifically for my team's needs..."

He nodded slowly. Deliberately. "You've got a gift, Taiyo. Not just your quirk."

He tapped the brace. "The craftsmanship behind it. The eye for detail. The willingness to push for legendary results."

He tucked the boots carefully under his arm, still wearing the brace. "The agency will wire the funds by the end of the day."

He turned to leave, then paused at the door.

"And Taiyo?"

He looked back.

"When you graduate—if you're interested—you have a permanent position with Gang Orca Agency. Whatever terms you want. Whatever projects you want to pursue."

His voice was serious. "People with your talent don't come around often. I'd be a fool not to secure it early."

He nodded once. Respect.

"Keep forging, Ocean Predator's creator."

He ducked through the door and was gone.

The workshop felt huge again. Empty.

Power Loader stared at Taiyo from the hallway. Jaw slightly open. Eyes wide.

"...7.5 million." His voice was hollow. "You asked Gang Orca for 7.5 million yen."

"Uh. Yeah?"

"And he PAID it."

"Looks like it."

Power Loader stepped into the workshop. Sat down heavily on a stool.

"And he offered you a permanent position. Whatever terms you want."

"Also, yes."

Power Loader stared at nothing.

"...Kid." He shook his head slowly. "You are going to be a blinding sun, aren't you?"

Taiyo looked at the black card in his hand. At the empty doorway. At the three pairs of boots now gone to their new owner.

"Hope so." His voice was quiet. "That's the plan, anyway."

Power Loader stood. Clapped him on the shoulder.

"Get some sleep, Taiyo. You've earned it."

He headed for the door, then paused.

"And maybe don't tell Hatsume about the 7.5 million. She'll want to know why HER babies aren't selling for that much."

Taiyo snorted. "She'd find a way to make them cost more."

"Exactly." Power Loader shuddered. "Exactly."

The door slid shut.

Taiyo stood alone in his workshop. Black card in hand. The meteorite brace has gone to its new owner. Three legendary boots marching off to save lives.

He looked at the card again.

'7.5 million yen.'

He laughed—quiet, disbelieving, genuine.

"Holy shit."