My Hero Academia: EMTs

Momo Yaoyorozu:

Finally, Uraraka comes in. Honestly, I feel we’re waiting on her a lot- it’s not good. I’ll have to talk to her about it later. A little girl runs in ahead of her, yelling for her daddy.

“Ochaco, you’re almost late,” I scold. I watch the little girl run across the room. “Who is that? A cousin or something?”

“Um… not exactly…” Uraraka says, nervously scratching the back of her head.

“Get to your seats- now,” The Professor says, as usual, not in the mood to negotiate or wait. Ochaco and I both take our seats. The little girl is still in the room. She’s at the front of the room. I would get up to grab her and spare the Professor’s wrath, but I dare not disobey… she’ll be fine. The Professor wouldn’t hurt a child… right?

The child pauses and looks at us all. Professor Aizawa walks up behind her, and I cringe… here it comes… poor kid. He puts a hand on her shoulder.

“Greetings, everyone. This is my daughter,” he says without any sense of affection—in fact, as always, he sounds bored.

The room goes silent.

He… he has a child? I look at her face… nothing about this little girl says, “daughter of the hardest teacher in UA”. She’s just a freckle-faced cute little girl, holding up her fists to hide her face.

"Her name is Hotaru, and I expect you all to treat her with the same consideration as any child her age. She's dual enrolled in UA because her life is in grave danger if she doesn't have good security protecting her. Think of her program as something like witness protection. She will take her lessons and not be allowed in formal hero training, nor will she receive any perks that help her become a hero. She will not be receiving special treatment. Are there any questions?"

"So- daddy's little girl gets in here based on... what?" Katsuki Bakugo, our loud blonde jerk of a classmate, interjects. "We did practical application tests, grueling academic tests, or had to have recommendations. She gets in cause she was, like... adopted by you at some point? That's it?"

The Professor closes his eyes and sighs. "All she'll do is complete sixth-grade schoolwork in a corner somewhere. Maybe I'll have her cheer you guys on during hero practice sessions. Still, nothing she does will help her qualify to be a pro hero or help her qualify to be a hero trainee when she's fourteen like you. If she wants to be a trainee like you, she will have to pass the same tests you did." Bakugo's expression doesn't seem to falter. The professor then cocks his head at Katsuki. "There are ways to question these kinds of things young man- all you're doing is making a scene. But hey, if you want that to be how you spend your time here, I can change your curriculum immediately, Mr. Bakugo... no practice, no resume assistance, no credits, no access to employers... would you like me to go to the principal with that lesson plan for you right now?"

Katsuki looks down at his desk and grumbles. “No, sir.”

The Professor smirks, “You sure? Putting you on academics only would certainly make things easier for me. I am a father. I could use the time off.”

“I’m sure, sir,” Bakugo says, defeated, on this issue at least. He looks furious, but that’s his default mode.

The Professor nods. “Let’s clarify: if any of you want to make allegations of favoritism, make them with proof and send them to the proper channels. Anyone bothering Hotaru with misplaced envy, I will gladly put on their own academics-only program.” The Professor stared at the room for a minute, challenging anyone else to make the same allegation.

I honestly couldn’t care less if some preteen does schoolwork in a corner, so I’m not risking all that to make a point about it, and it looks like I’m not alone there, as no one backs up Bakugo’s point.

“Um, Daddy… the principal gave me a note to read to the class,” Hotaru says, tugging her father’s hand. I’m still processing that the cute little girl at the front of my class somehow belongs to the man who loves to put us through a near boot camp every week… okay, that’s an exaggeration, but still.

Professor Aizawa folds his arms and leans against the board. “Well, then read it.”

“I’m… I’m kinda nervous, Daddy…” she says. Oh dear lord, she’s so cute!

The Professor is not affected by cuteness. “Read. The. Note.” He demands.

Hotaru turns back to the class and gulps. I can sense that my class is not an excellent audience for someone with stage fright. I want to hold her little hand and reassure her but now is not the time.

The girl takes a note out of her pocket and clears her throat. She tries to talk, but only a squeak of fear comes out. Her father rolls his eyes… oh you poor little dear, what must it be like with him for a father?

Hotaru tries again. Her voice is shaky, but she pushes through narrating the letter this time. "I am Hot-a-ru Aizawa. Think of me as a little sister. I was a victim of human ex-per-i-men-tation, and now bad people are hunting me, so I can’t go to a regular school. I need pro-tect-ion, and your principal is sure you will watch over me. I am not allowed to participate in your fast-paced training exercises, and nothing guar-an-tees my entry into the hero course when I’m older. I’m not cheating my way into the school in my dad’s name, so don’t think that. In two years, I will have to earn my way in like the rest of you did. Your principal trusts you all to act like the heroes you want to be around me... thankyou.”

Sheesh. The pieces are falling into place. Maybe the Professor rescued and felt sorry for her, so he took her in. Regardless, she’s old enough for the sixth grade, but she’s having to sound out words like someone lucky to be in the fourth grade.

I must do something when she finishes since the poor girl looks ready to shake with fear, so I quietly clap. Everyone else follows my

example for the short applause. Everyone except Bakugo and her own father, of course. The girl gives us all a slight grin, but her father shakes his head.

“Well, that says it all. You should go sit in the back,” her father says.

I turn and see a lone desk in the back.

I raised my hand. “Yes, Ms. Yaoyorozu?” The Professor says.

“Professor, if your daughter is in danger, perhaps it’s not best for her to sit alone. If you would allow, I’ll move my desk beside hers.”

“I want to make sure everyone understands she’s not part of the class- not entirely,” he says. She’s just kind of a tag-along. I get the basic idea, but I still have to object.

“But she could learn anywhere. I imagine she’s here, in a school, to socialize. She can’t do that if she’s isolated.” I point out.

Professor Aizawa doesn’t like being argued with, but this time, he pauses and looks at his daughter, then at the seat in the back, and then at me. He sighs. “You promise to be an asset to her education, not a distraction? Do you promise she won’t distract from yours? You’re not here to babysit.” I don’t want the poor girl sitting alone for a year or longer, considering she’s only twelve. It sounds like he might concede the point… has he ever conceded a point to a student before?

“Yes, sir,” I confirm. I might want to help her, but I absolutely plan on graduating. Cute or not, some kid isn’t getting in the way of that. Still, a seating change shouldn’t hurt.

“I suppose that would be better then,” he says. “Very well… but keep your desks where they are.” he points at Tenya. “Tenya, switch seats with Mineta.”

“Excuse me, sir?” Tenya asks, getting up immediately anyway.

“If Mineta so much as looks at my girl wrong, expulsion will be the least of his problems. We’re going to have Hotaru sit between the two class leaders.” Mineta, a short boy whose quirk has turned him purple somehow, has a reputation as a bit of a lecher…. Of course, I doubt even he’s dumb enough to try anything with a girl two or three years his junior, especially if said girl is the daughter of his homeroom teacher. Still, better safe than sorry.

Thus, Hotaru joins the class, moving her small desk between me, the vice president, and the class president, Tenya Ida. The poor thing looks ridiculously intimidated, and I guess I can understand. She’s being allowed quite the honor of even being in this class, but I doubt she’s appreciating that now.

Hawks:

My red wings hitched up on my back as the wind whipped the popped collar of my brown coat. The breeze flowing over the buildings felt good as I watched the city from my perch. You’d be surprised how many crimes you see from thirty feet up… generally not many. It means I’ve been doing my job well—a nice, boring night.

I casually keep my eyes open but sit back and pull out a giant sub sandwich. Haa… roast beef, you’re a true friend. I dangle my feet over the ledge. When I was a kid, I was told not to sit like this, but why not? After all, if I fall, I have multiple ways of flying. And hey, it looks daring if anyone is watching, and I have to keep up my appearances.

I munch away at my cold sandwich and watch the flow of traffic and people beneath when suddenly- something unfortunately interesting happens. Something purple just sort of appears on top of a black sedan below. I flip out a pair of binoculars and, sure enough, it’s that dumb Purple Bandit kid.

I’m reluctant to leave my meal… I mean, it’s not like Bandit is a killer, right? Just a little rascal having fun, right? Yeah… yeah there’s a message to send to brats everywhere. “Bored? Try riding on top of a car!” But he’ll be fine… the occupants might not be… and he’s a thief, so…

My wings are already spreading on instinct as I wrap up my meal and deposit it under the ledge. I launch myself off the building top.

As I swoop down, I see the car slam into a street lamp. It’s not at top speed, so no lives are in danger yet, but someone will ding me on that—I could have launched faster, after all. Yeesh, it looks like the crash even cut into the engine. I don’t envy the owner’s repair bill.

I land on the sidewalk’s concrete as the cars around the accident turn to avoid it. Bandit’s body disappeared from the top of the vehicle when it crashed, but I sense the boy is still here.

The back left door pops open, and a young girl gets out. She is dressed in a red shirt and blue jeans, with a brown purse tucked under her right arm. The driver’s door opens, and a man gets out, trying to grab the girl- as Bandit appears on his back and forces the man to overbalance, almost faceplanting into the pavement.

The young boy pulls off his shirt and wraps it around the head of his victim as I jump on top of the car.

“Two blocks north- RUN!” The boy yells to the girl.

The girl takes off running as I grab the boy around his stomach. Removing his shirt made it so I had to come in closer rather than just grabbing the back of his clothing.

With the child thief in my arms, several large feathers came from my enormous red wings. They zip out and wrap around the arms of the girl and drag her back to the scene of the accident.

Another fully clothed version of Bandit runs out of the vehicle, and behind me, the version of the boy in my arms disappears. “Let her go!” The boy screams, pulling a folding ax out of the belt on his side and flicking it open.

“Whoa! Bandit- this isn’t your style!” I quickly shout, hoping not to escalate things THAT far.

“You don’t let go of my sister I’ll make it my style- and don’t you dare reach for that earpiece Junki.” The boy turns suddenly to the man with us, who is apparently named Junki.

Midway to using a blue tooth, the man sighs and stops.

“You all know each other, huh?” I ask as the girl is lifted in the air by my feather and dropped unceremoniously in my arms. The girl squirms, but I hold her tight. “I wouldn’t dream of hurting you, kid, but I’m not letting go till this is sorted out, so just calm down,” I insist to the girl.

The feathers return to my wings, and I continue. “Now, what the hell is happening here?” I ask.

“Be nice if you don’t know if you didn’t get involved,” Bandit complains.

“You know you could just run Purple- but I notice you’re not doing that. This girl, she’s your sister, huh?” “Oh wow, you can remember things said five seconds ago. Are you able to remember I said to let her go?” The boy asks, getting angry with me. I only give him a smirk. Even if he did attack, I doubt he’d be a match for me, and given that he isn’t attacking, I’m probably right. I look to Junki. “Now, what’s happening here, sir? How do you know these two?”

The man shakes his head. “I’m technically a bodyguard working for their father. Look, give me the girl,” he says, holding out his arms.

Suddenly, the girl grabs my coat tightly, looking me in the eyes. Her eyes widen as she shakes her head, begging me not to hand her over.

“You hand him Tori, I swear you’ll meet your maker…” the boy almost growls.

I pause. Something is very off here. Bandit isn’t exemplary, but he’s a runner, not a fighter, or so everyone has told me. However, from his expression and that ax, this boy is not kidding around. “Kid, I can’t let you or her go…” I say.

“I was trying to run to the police two blocks away,” the little girl suddenly says. “If you’re arresting us- screw it, just take us there.”

I look to the right, past the cars starting to wiz by. It can’t be that simple. They want to go to the cops? “I mean, I have no objections to that.”

“Sir, these children belong to the Miles family. There’s no need to take them to prison. We won’t be pressing charges for the vehicle.”

“I’m afraid I must take little Bandit in any way, sir,” I say. “What he did back there was wreckless endangerment of you, his sister, and the public. Maybe you can have the girl-”

“NO!” Bandit shouts.

“Unless one of you has a reason I shouldn’t give her to him,” I say, looking at Bandit and his sister.

“He’ll hurt her,” Bandit says.

“Normally, I might have to believe you, Bandit, but your reputation precedes you- can you prove it?” I ask.

“We’re going to the police. What difference does it make?” Tori points out.

“All you really want to do is go to the station behind that building over there?” I ask the girl, nodding toward the police station behind an office building on my right.

“Escort us if you want. We don’t care, do we, Henry?” she asks the Purple Bandit.

“I suppose not…” Bandit says, apparently not pleased but not wanting to argue. I look back to the bodyguard. “Sir, can you think of a reason to object?

“I suppose not,” he says.

I look down at Bandit. “Long as I have her, you’re not going anywhere, are you?” I ask. He shakes his head. “I’m good with that, let’s go.”

“Do I have to go?” The bodyguard asks.

“That’s a strange question,” I note. “Shouldn’t you stay with them?”

“How strange of a request? I gotta go get the old girl fixed…” The man looked back at his car as he and I both cringed. “Talk with the boss, smooth things over, and see if he wants to bail Henry out again. But let me see Tori’s purse there; I think she grabbed something before she got out.”

“Reasonable enough…” I say and start to reach for the little girl’s purse. She pulls it tightly to her side. “Little miss, I’m afraid you’ll have to hand that over.”

“Don’t…” Bandit says.

“Kid, this happens when you make a nuisance of yourself. You’re not on equal footing with everyone else,” I tell Bandit.

“Do. Not. Give. Him. The. Purse.” Henry says, doing his best to sound threatening.

“Freaking boys!” Tori yells. “Look- you carry it.” she slaps her purse into my chest. “But we need it at the station… to prove that someone’s been hurting us. Now let’s go!”

“Kids, you have to give me a reason to work with you, or I won’t. I’ll take you to the cops ’cause I’m gonna have to anyway.” I start, but the girl subtly pushes my fingers into her chest. I didn’t realize what she was doing until I felt it. One of her ribs bends slightly to the touch. She winces slightly when she makes sure I feel it.

I’m unsure if the man saw what she did, but I’m starting to suspect I’ve stepped into something big and dangerous. Bandit might be a bad apple, but I get the feeling even he doesn’t deserve whatever is happening here. I clutch the purse and hold onto it. “On second thought, I’ll have the police sort this out,” I say. I look at the man. “You can come with us, sir, but something about this situation is getting too complicated for my liking.”

“What, just because they want to go to the cops?” the man asks.

“That is quite the complicating factor, actually,” I smirk. “I have no means of holding you, sir, so you can come with us or not.”

Now I’m in protector mode. I want these kids to be as far away from this man as possible. Honestly, I don’t even want to put the girl down. Who knows how much walking and running hurt her with an injury like that?

The man gives a defeated sigh and a shrug. He walks back to his car as I walk away with little Tori still in my arms, Bandit following me.

As we walk along, Bandit talks to me. “Maybe we should take to the air.”

“I don’t like that idea,” I say. “Let’s stay on the ground under the buildings. Do any of your enemies have guns?”

The boy tightens his fists as he looks around. “I don’t know,” he says. “If you didn’t step in-”

“No need to thank me. I-”

“MOVE!” Henry screams.

In a fluid motion, I jump into the air. We were walking across the street to the station when a car that had been stopped bolted forward. The vehicle runs Bandit over as the little girl screams for her brother. I close my eyes and spread my wings over her, my control over my feathers keeping me in the air regardless.

Poor Bandit… honestly, I never had much against you. You could have- totally cheesed that entire scene. In fact, you did…

I watch the boy in a copy of himself finishing his run to the police station. As several cops run out, he runs in. I land on the stairs of the police station, just behind the boy.

We emerge into the station, and several officers confront the young Bandit with their weapons drawn. He raises his hands and yells, “I surrender.” Weapons are lowered, and an officer grabs the boy’s arms and pins them behind him. The boy looks over at me as he’s put in handcuffs. “I wasn’t thanking you Hawks… If you had stayed out of it, I could have killed our guard and kept anyone from knowing about our escape. The only reason we were in danger was you.” He says as the officers shove him out of the room, probably taking him for questioning.

Tori starts to cry. “Henry… don’t take him… I’m scared to be alone… no… stop…” I gently put her on her feet but keep her from running after her brother. “Where are they taking him?” She starts to sound scared.

“They’re arresting him,” I say.

“No, no, it’s not supposed to work like this- give me my purse now!” She yells. “I was supposed to run to the police ahead of him and hand in the evidence- my purse!”

“Evidence?” I ask.

“My purse!” she almost screams.

“You’re the sister of the Purple Bandit, Henry Miles?” an officer behind her asks. She turns and nods, still holding her hand out for her purse. “I’m sorry, miss. We have witnesses placing you at several crime scenes. You’re under arrest, too,” the officer starts to take out his pair of cuffs.

“No- it’s not supposed to go like this- we need help!” she shouts, jumping back from the officer. “Stop!” she backs into me.

I hold up a hand. “Hold on, she’s got a pretty bad injury officer. You don’t need those for a little girl anyway.”

“We needed them for her brother,” says the young man. He tries to approach the girl again, but I step between them.

“Hawks, this is official business. I’m going to have to ask you to-”

“Enough- screw it!” Tori yells. “The purse isn’t the only way to prove it.” Then little Tori decides to do something I never saw coming. She pulls off her shirt, holding it over her chest … well, that got attention; several officers turn to look at her. I would call it perverted, but then I see that she’s covered in scars on her stomach and back, accompanying a considerable bruise over the side of her chest where her broken rib is. The girl covers the front of her chest with her arms and the shirt on her arm.

This isn’t a sexual display that I’m looking at. It’s a desperate plea. Tears flow down her cheeks, and a sob escapes her lips. “We came here for help… we need it badly…” She falls to her knees and cries in front of everyone. I can see in how she shakes; she’s terrified, lost… I see the stripes up and down her back and bruises on the sides of her stomach… some are fresh, some are old.

The officers around us stop and take in the scene. Their emotions boil over: sympathy, shock, pity. My emotions boil as well, and my fist tightens.

Whoever did this is going to pay.