https://youtu.be/-t5--PiJsWo▶ After the UA sports festival came to an end, the end of the first semester at the hero school was also marked. However, the young aspirants have no time to rest, crime in the streets is increasing, criminal gangs growing more and more concerned due to the decrease in their numbers caused by certain groups of villains. Our young heroes will go out into the streets for their internship periods with real professional heroes, and get a real taste of what this world is like, and see if they are prepared to face it.
Several days had passed since the festival, since you were transferred to the Hero Course and Class A, and also since that incident with Sarah and Abel.
Just as you’d imagined, you hadn’t received any offers from any hero agencies; if it weren’t for LockPick, you would have been stuck, or you would have had to rely on the UA itself to take pity on you and find you an agency. When the time came, you picked up the phone and accepted the offer; the day was already set.
This was the opportunity you needed, and you weren’t going to waste it. At dawn, you took the train to leave Shizuoka Prefecture, where the UA was located, and head to neighboring Aichi. Your destination was the capital, Nagoya. The day before, you’d picked up your hero suit at the UA—this was the perfect chance to break it in.
The trip went smoothly, though once you got off and started walking toward the location, you realized something: this didn’t seem like a very safe part of the city. The further you walked, the worse it got—there was more trash, the buildings were starting to look run-down, and there were suspicious-looking people hanging around. At least the day was nice, with a blue sky and few clouds… though they said it would get cloudy later.
After a while, you arrived at the place: a small three-story office building, sandwiched between two other large buildings. The place looked neglected; however, it had a sign with the address marked on it, next to a sun-faded LockPick poster stuck to the door, and next to that was another poster that read “nail salon.” Now that you remembered, the address specified “2nd floor.” Next to the door was a panel with buttons to call different floors.
Waiting by the door, you see that there’s also a girl there. She had two-toned hair—black and white—and was wearing the uniform of a school you didn’t recognize: a gray shirt and a brown skirt. In addition to a backpack, she was also carrying a purse. She was tapping her foot impatiently while checking the time on her... pocket watch? It was quite old-fashioned, it must be said.
https://youtu.be/k8PjJ7UuxEk▶ "Huh?" She notices you as you approach—inevitably, you weren’t going to just stand there waiting in the middle of the street. "Hi... Heroic Internships?"
Were you that easy to read? Was it because of the uniform?implying, or because of the limited number of reasons someone would come to this place at this hour? Maybe it was because you were more covered up than an Islamic woman, and she recognized you from TV after putting two and two together. (https://youtu.be/85blxTtLmU0▶ ) A buzzing sound is heard; the door’s magnetic mechanism gives way and lets them through.
"Finally! I’ve been waiting two minutes and 32 seconds," she mutters to herself, and they can enter.
The door opened onto a short hallway; at the end of it was an elevator, and to one side were double doors with large windows—the aforementioned "nail salon." But the elevator, which was just what you needed, was a bit small—just enough so that you and the girl were uncomfortably close to each other, yet without invading each other’s personal space.
They press the button for the second floor; the elevator creaks, but despite moving at a good pace, you can tell it’s straining and that its gears are about to give out. The elevator stops and opens onto a small lobby; to the right was the janitor’s closet, and straight ahead was the famed “Heroic Agency: LockPick.” You can hear an argument going on inside.
The girl looks at you hesitantly before taking a step forward and ringing the bell.
“Come in, it’s open!” It was Lock Pick’s voice.
You step inside and there you see the hero arguing with a petite woman in glasses and office attire.
“Oh no, Ganosuke, you’re not going to dodge this conversation!” the woman complains. “We’re falling apart, we have no one, we need fresh blood.”
The hero runs his hand over his face, annoyed by her attitude.
“UA or no UA, bringing in a girl who got beaten up in the first round isn’t the marketing move that’s going to get us out of this mess.”
Ganosuke sighs. “Are you done?”
“Huh?” The woman finally notices your presence and that of the other girl. “Oh.”
“Are we interrupting something?” the girl asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Nothing, we’re done.”
"..." The woman falls silent, looking embarrassed.
Ganosuke points at you and then at the girl. "Tanaka Hanan, this is Amelia Owens." Now he points at the girl and then at you. "Amelia Owens, this is Tanaka Hanan."
“That explains the conservative outfit—I saw you on TV,” Amelia remarks. “Nice to meet you. I’m from Ketsubutsu Academy; it’s over in Fukushima.”
Ganosuke: "You’ve already met my assistant; she’s Ena."
"‘Classmate,’" Ena corrects him. "And… um, sorry for what I said earlier, kid," she apologizes to you.
...
"For lack of a better introduction, welcome to our humble agency," says Ganosuke with a sarcastic tone.
The room looked like a break room; there was an armchair, a table with plastic chairs, a breakfast bar next to a cupboard, an oven, a microwave, a refrigerator, etc.
"The bathrooms are on the left, the dressing rooms are in the back, and the office is on the right," he points out and explains. "If you have any questions, save them for now. First, go change, then I’ll explain how things will work."
It had been several days since the sports festival ended, and boy did you notice it—winning first place had its perks. You’d received hundreds, hundreds of offers! from multiple agencies that wanted you on their team; everyone wanted your image and was looking to capitalize on your potential.
With so many options, it was a bit difficult to decide; fortunately, your trusted teachers were there to help you and filter out the bad options from the good ones.
In the end, they had opted for something that, in Cornelia’s own words, “is a friend of mine; it will suit your style.”
You looked into the Red String agency, owned by the heroine of the same name, and were surprised—you didn’t think there was any hero with more attention-seeking tendencies and behavioral issues than Cornelia, but here was this peculiar individual, who was quite famous for getting beaten up time and time again by villains, and yet always emerged victorious despite ultimately being known as a complete nutcase, immature, and openly a danger to the public and society...Was Cornelia perhaps trying to tell you that you were autistic in some subtle way?
This little trip didn’t take you long; you took the train from UA City to the area near the coast. The sea breeze was strong and the weather was humid; there were several clouds in the sky, and it looked like it would get even grayer in the afternoon. With your hero suit packed and ready to be put on, you walk through the streets for a while until you reach the place. If it weren’t for the signs, banners, and other advertising, the building would pass for just any office building.
You entered the lobby, where a receptionist greeted you and announced your arrival. Five seconds later, you heard a very faint poof.
“Just in time, girl.” You turn around and see a guy? A redhead. Before you can say anything, he grabs your shoulder, and before you know it—
poof
You’re somewhere else. Teleportation? You’re left with a sour taste in your mouth.
"Welcome, Gaya-san," the redhead says. Now that you can see him clearly, he looks somewhat familiar... he had been commenting on the tournament alongside Shimosuke, and as far as you recall, he was a woman. "Make yourself at home."
https://youtu.be/VLTTNzkjWhs▶ You see absolute chaos; you see a few people at a row of desks talking heatedly on the phone.
"Your son will be fine, sir, just take him to therapy. / Well, maybe you shouldn’t have parked your car in a spot so easy to wreck! / No one got hurt—what’s a little 20 million in collateral damage? /If you have any complaints, please refer to our email complaint box/No, you’re the incompetent one, Steve!"
It looked like Wall Street stockbrokers in the ’80s, the way they talked so much and rushed from call to call.
"I'm Ayumi Ryushi, Particle to the villains. Follow me, I'll take you to the boss." She leads the way to the back of the room. "All of those are our interns; they handle all the boring paperwork."
The level of professionalism was surprising. They walk through a door into another room.
"Why did you drink my juice? It had my name on it!" one shouts.
"I was thirsty!" another replies.
You see two guys arguing, and they look like they’re about to come to blows; they butt heads like bulls.
“Calm down, it’s just some stupid juice!”
“Easy for you to say—it wasn’t your juice!” A third person tries to interrupt the fight.
This other room looked like a crossroads; there were two hallways on either side, and in front, a door with a plaque that read "Supreme Overlord Boss: Red String." Half the text was written in permanent marker on the glass of the door—it didn’t all fit on the plaque.
"Hey, hey, you two, go fight outside—you’re going to stain the carpet again!"
Ayumi scolds them. With a flick of her fingers, two small purple lights, like fireflies, appear next to the two of them, and when she touches them, they vanish. She shakes her hands, satisfied with her work
"Don’t worry, I just sent them up to the ceiling to sort out their problem. Over there on the right is our little gym and showers, and also a staircase to the upper floor where the dorms are; on the left we have the kitchen and the living room," she explains. "And here’s our destination."
She steps forward and opens the door. “Hey, boss, I brought your other intern!”
It was an ordinary office…except that it was a total mess, with piles and piles of papers stacked up to the ceiling, covered in dust, with bullet holes in the walls, knives stuck in the ceiling, and a dartboard with darts stuck all around the bullseye.
"Wiiii~~"
The woman was kneeling on the chair, spinning around like a little girl, then she stops and takes a leap, does three flips in the air, and lands in front of you. She had two long braids, blood-red eyes, glasses, and a tongue so long it hung out of her mouth. She looked quite young despite theoretically being in her 30s like Cornelia; she seemed more like she was in her early 20s.
"Welcome, champ! Come on, sit down. Cornelia already told me all about you, you little minx."
She pulls out a chair for you to sit in, while she places a hand on her desk and pushes herself up onto it, knocking over a pile of papers, a cup containing some strange liquid, and an acrylic figurine of Cornelia that looked like it had been glued back together hundreds of times before breaking again right at that moment.
"Red String at your service." She pointed at herself with her thumb like the owner of the internet café and rested her feet on the desk. "But you can call me Jacky, with a 'y.' We’re on a first-name basis here, you know? I’m here to show you the way and you’re here to learn, so we have to trust each other—trust me like you’d trust a one-eyed woman, okay?” She talked a lot; she didn’t let you t
>>1493 --> "You've already met Ayumi," Jacky continues. Ayumi is standing in the doorway and waves. "She's my second-in-command, my peanut butter to my jelly, my french fries to my Coke. Trust her as much as you trust me."
...
"You got here on time, but your partner here arrived two hours early. The weirdo—or weirdo, I’m not sure—was already waiting when we came to open up."
Who? Just by glancing to your side, you see there was someone else sitting there. Jacky was so eccentric that she stole all the attention.
“Hello.”
You couldn’t tell if it was a boy or a girl at first glance; they had waited for you to notice their presence before speaking. They had red eyes and white hair, a slender build, and you could see scar tissue on their throat and wrists. They were wearing a school uniform with a blue jacket and a beige skirt.
"I’m Motomu, Motomu Himura. I’m from Isamu School."
Isamu… you weren’t very familiar with the other hero schools, but you thought you’d heard something about Isamu from your senpais. If UA was the best school of all… Isamu was the worst. With no budget or proper equipment, rock-bottom grade averages, and a reputation as a dumping ground for troublemakers, it was full of delinquents and terrible students, producing so few heroes that people no longer considered it a hero school.
"I saw you on TV, I'm a fan of yours, I was on the edge of my seat watching the battles. I think you did great—the way you completely changed the script after barely qualifying to end up in first place, it was like something out of an anime, hehehe."
His voice was dry and raspy; he needed to drink some water.
—
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