Hisashi the Salamander.

 

The more Izuku heard about his father the more he wanted to meet him. He wanted to judge what kind of man he was. Everyone, even the most jaded of the elder Amagi members had an abundance of things to say about him, most of it good, some of it bad, but all of it was spoken with a fondness and a wishing that he was still here. Both for Izuku’s sake and the sake of the Amagi as a whole.

 

Hisashi was to be the next leader of the Amagi. He was their hope for the future. And while Hanabi had done her best and had earned every ounce of respect possible, there was a hushed tone that things would have been better if an entire generation hadn’t been wiped out. And none spoke louder on this than Hanabi herself. 

 

A sharp pain on his right arm brought him out of his thoughts with a hiss. He glanced towards Ori who was completely absorbed into the work of art she was tearing into his arm. And that’s what it really was. A tearing. Ori’s quirk functioned by slicing bits of flesh with a knife or a needle and then replacing it with the color she wanted and then burning it back into place. The pain was like getting a paper cut from a lemon and then cauterizing the wound with a fire poker. 

 

She had claimed his entire right arm for her next project on him. An entire sleeve made up of dozens of smaller tattoos to make some kind of a flowing piece of art, right now she was etching an orchid into his upper arm with beautiful crystalline water pouring out of it. Power-wise he had no idea how practical it would be. But Ori was passionate about it, and that would make it powerful in its own right. 

 

Probably.

 

The way their quirks intermingled with each other was beautiful, chaotic, and terrifying. 

 

Izuku took a breath and stared out into the koi pond that served as Ori’s and Tanaka’s yard, the large multi-colored fish swam peacefully in the dark pool of water with a few plants either floating or sticking out of the water. 

 

A creature dove into the ground creating a mound of animated dirt that looked like it came out of a painting and then moved along the ground, headed right towards them, the trail of dirt behind it quickly faded to its original undistributed form, the moving dirt was completely unphased by the wooden bridge that crossed the pond. With a pop like the crackling of a fireplace, a blackened figure leaped from the animated dirt and then back into the ground.

 

The ground bubbled in front of them for a moment before out crawled his newest tattoo. Far smaller than Raijin, and even smaller than Izuku himself, with six stubby legs and a burnt black body that was highlighted by red that oozed heat the Salamander looked at him with a wide derpy smile with its orange flame tongue flopped out of its mouth dripping sizzling orange lava onto the ground. Its thick heavy tail slapped the ground with enough force to make the rocks around it jump. 

 

“I know what you want to call him,” Ori said in a soft voice, not once tearing her eyes off of his arm, her needle still ripping apart his arm piece by piece. “He was made with a name after all. You just need to give it to him.”

 

“I know. But. Should I? Won’t that be weird? I mean.” He was dead, wasn’t he? Wouldn’t that be strange?

 

“Nope.”

 

“But.”

 

“Not weird.”

 

Izuku sighed and then smiled at the Salamander, who tilted its large flat head at him and panted like an overly excited dog. “You want to be called Hisashi don’t you?”

 

The tail slapping on the ground doubled in speed and Hisashi crawled forward, climbing up onto Izuku before he merged with his arm and moved his way up towards his left shoulder where he took his resting position and turned into an inanimate tattoo. The choice to get a Salamander was one born of sentiment and desire. He wanted something to remember the man he knew nothing about. 

 

He wanted that connection between this place that his mother had been hellbent on erasing. 

 

He still needed to call her. It had been over a day since those cops had come looking for him. The rage he felt at her actions had nearly driven him up a wall. What kind of logic was it that she kicks him out and then calls that he was kidnapped. What was her goal? To get him back? To punish his grandmother? He didn’t understand. 

 

“Can we take a break?” Izuku asked, he looked towards his shirt and the cellphone that rested on top of him. The phone was new, just like the laptop and clothes his grandmother had purchased for him during a shopping trip. Apparently, even if his grandma ran the Yakuza the idea of him going to Tokyo U. filled her with the kind of pride that just made her want to spoil him. 

 

“One sec…” Ori continued to etch a tattoo into his arm with a wide frantic smile on her face. There was a good chance that she would continue to aimlessly add bits to his arm until one or both of them fell asleep. The concentrated look on her face and the way her hair fluttered in the wind reminded him that she was probably the prettiest girl he ever talked to. And also the craziest. 

 

“Ori…” He half whined. “I need to call my mom.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, just one more little… and done!” She jumped up and tapped on the first addition to his right arm. “There! It’s so awesome watching the water flow like that! Seriously why is your quirk so cool! I just wanna doodle on you all day!” She jumped and spun out onto the pathway her black sweater was long enough that it completely covered her short shorts making it look like she was running around without pants. “But, I should probably get things ready for class! See ya!”

 

“Yeah,” Izuku watched her sprint back inside her house before he stood and glanced at his phone again. 

 

When was the last time he had to hand dial his mother’s number? Ever since he had gotten his first phone she had simply been Mom in his phone, his first contact. 

 

With a sigh, he dialed her number and walked along the wooden walkway as he let the sounds of the compound overtake him. The first ring brought with it a calmness that he welcomed with open arms. This was just a check-in. That’s all it was. He was old enough that he had no real power over him. Any attempt to force him back with her would be bogged down in courts long enough for him to be an adult. 

 

“Hello?” Her voice sounded so frail. 

 

And the calmness inside of him vanished as a flash of anger rushed through him. 

 

He grit his teeth and forced that anger back. “Hi, Mom. It’s me. Izuku.”

 

“Izuku I—”

 

“Crossed a line.” He hissed, he heard her gasp and then silence. “You kicked me out mom. You denied me a part of myself, in more ways than I knew. You never let me get a tattoo for my quirk, and you never told me about dad. I’m sure you have your reasons. But I have my reasons too.”

 

He tried to keep his voice calm. 

 

He had no idea if he was successful. 

 

“I got a new tattoo. One to remember the dad you never told me about. I’m still going to Tokyo U. But, I won’t be coming home. I’m going to stay here. With grandma.”

 

The dial tone began to play in his ear. Did she hang up? Did the call drop?

 

He stared and looked up at the cloudy sky for a moment. 

 

“I love you.”

 

XXXX

 

“What’d she say?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

Izuku sat in the same room that he and his grandmother had their talk before, the sound of the rain amplified the atmosphere of the traditional style room and made that freshly brewed tea his grandmother seemed to love smell all the better. They weren’t alone this time, as that dark-skinned man with grey hair like a lion’s mane Wakan was joining them, a scowl on his face and his arms crossed. 

 

The look Wakan gave Izuku made him feel like he was being graded on every choice he ever made, and he had made nothing but mistakes. 

 

“That’s frustrating.” Hanabi lowered her head and frowned. “Hopefully some time apart will give her a chance to clear her head. She knows where you are, so have her put in the effort. The gate will be open for her.”

 

Izuku could only nod. It was weird, half the time when he thought about her he was angry, the other half he was calm. He both missed her and never wanted to see her again. The only thing that he was certain of was that bumping into Tanaka that day had been one of the best things that happened to him.

 

“But, today, I’d like to talk to you about your future Izuku,” Hanabi gave a small calm smile. “You see, I’ve been thinking about what you’ve said to me. About what you don’t know what you want to do, and your question about being a hero.” The smile she gave him removed a lot of the pressure that those ideas held. Her calmness showed that she really wanted to help him and could as opposed to his own mother’s normally nervous jittering at the idea. “I’m aware that the school has counselors to help you make this choice, but they’re probably going to push you down some soulless path that doesn’t interest you and you’ll end up dropping it and turning into a bitter old woman.”

 

Hanabi blinked and then pointed a bony finger towards herself. “I’m talking about myself by the way.”

 

“I figured,” Izuku shrugged. “And thanks. It’s been bugging me for a while now. I’m not sure what I want to do at Tokyo U. Law would be interesting I guess, but I don’t think people would trust a lawyer with tattoos.”

 

“Bunch of tasteless fools to steeped in tradition if you ask me,” Hanabi growled, slapping the table twice. “They just don’t respect good Art and Ori’s doing an amazing job with you.” she let out a hum and scratched her head. “Though, just being able to tell those old hags at the saloon that my grandson is a lawyer would shut them up something good.”

 

“But that doesn’t answer what he wants,” Wakan said in his low voice that was like walking on gravel. 

 

“I know that!” Hanabi spat and slapped the table again. “Let an old woman daydream a little!”

 

“I’ve always wanted to be a hero,” he spoke softly, almost not sure of the words himself. He did want to be a hero, but it felt stranger than ever to announce that. 

 

“But?” Hanabi asked, pressing her fingers down into the table next to him, her eyes snapping onto him with a cold hard determination. When he didn’t answer she sighed. “There are many reasons why people want to become a hero. Most will say they simply want to help people, All Might is the only one I can think of that truly wishes that. Some do it for their egos, their own ambition, and so others will recognize them. That’s why most people are heroes I’m afraid. Some just enjoy the power. They like to fight, to prove that they are stronger.” 

“And then, there are some that simply wish to fly. They desire the freedom to use their quirks and express themselves with it, oftentimes, those with this desire that fail to become a hero, instead become a villain.” Hanabi crossed her arms and looked up at the ceiling. “It’s not so black and white. Some have bits of each, and they all claim to the first one. But, they all have their own reasons for becoming a hero.”

 

“So,” Hanabi’s gaze felt like the entire world was focused on him. “Why do you want to be a hero.”

 

His mother had asked that exact same question. But it was different. 

 

“Why do you even want to be a hero!”

 

That memory still felt fresh. Back then he had a reason. He wanted to be like All Might. 

 

But. 

 

Now?

 

“You don’t have to answer right now Izuku.” Hanabi placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently. “The answer might not even be that important. In the meantime, because I have a troublesome grandson that’s eager to go to my fight club Wakan has offered to train you.”

 

“I’d hardly call it an offer.” Wakan huffed and glared at Izuku, his lip curling in a snarl and his broad shoulders seemed to shake. “You’re making me do it, and I’m making him.”

 

“Semantics. Point being Izuku, Wakan, has agreed to give you some combat training if you’re interested. Despite how he looks he’s actually a capable fighter, and because of his quirk he’s better than most.”

 

“Quirk?” Izuku asked looking towards the gruff man that was likely going to be the second greatest source of physical pain soon.

 

“I can copy and share memories,” Wakan held up a finger to his temple and pulled out a small cloudlike wisp that seemed to be fading rapidly before it vanished. “It’s hardly free, everything in that memory gets transferred. The emotions, the pain, everything. It’s no substitute for actual training but, it’ll get the job done.”

 

“Right, and I’ll send Ita to get Red-Line, he’s a hero that was friends with your father.”

 

“I…” Izuku looked between his grandmother and Wakan. “Thank you.”

 

For giving him a chance. 

 

A chance huh?

 

Was that why?