A little bit later, the chatter of students slipped away as everyone went home. In the teachers lounge, Aizawa was sitting at a desk, thumbing through a neat stack of paperwork. It was the students' internship selections. Beside him, snipe lounged back in a chair, boots kicked up, hat titled low over his eyes.
Aizawa barely blinked as he worked, scanning through each form with a bored expression.
"Kirishima… fourth Kind. huh," he muttered, flicking the paper aside.
"Momo… Uwabimi… interesting."
"Tokoyami… Hawks… Interesting."
He moved methodically, noting each choice, nodding occasionally. But then, Dante's power caught his eye. His brow creased slightly.
Student Name : Dante Graves.
Pro Hero Internship Selection : Mirko.
Aizawa stared at it for a second, stratching the side of his face.
"…Mirko?" He said flatly.
Snipe peered over. "What's that?"
Aizawa held up the sheet without saying anything. Snipe leaned over, squinting at the name, and immediately burst into laughter, slapping his thigh.
"You're kiddin' me!She sent him an offer?" Snipe wheezed, tipping his hat back to laugh harder. "Ohoho man, that's rich—"
Aizawa blinked slowly, completely unamused.
"…You knew about this?"
"Didn't think she'd actually go through with it," Snipe snickered, "Y'know how she is, always on the lookout for something wild. She probably saw how he went feral and thought, 'that's my kinda style.'"
Aizawa set the paper down carefully. His face was completely blank, but inside he was absolutely perplexed.
Mirko was NOT the type to take interns. And if she did, they were usually very specific types of people, the kind that fought dirty, fast and didn't waste any time.
"Dante's very strong," Aizawa muttered under his breath.
"He seemed pretty strong to me," Snipe chuckled. "Fits right in with her. I mean hell, you saw how he was in the festival, right?"
Aizawa's mind wandered for a moment, he thought back to Dante bursting into flames in the stadium, roaring like a feral animal.
"…He'll do just fine," Aizawa said finally, gathering the papers into a stack.
As he rose from his chair, Aizawa paused, glancing one more time at Dante's file.
For some reason, he had a strange feeling that Dante was going to change dramatically very soon.
…
…
Dante tugged his jacket tighter around himself as he slowly approached the gym, training bag sling lazily over his shoulder. It was nearly dark out, the sun still setting. He was ready to hit the weights, to burn off all the lingering nervous energy buzzing under his skin about the upcoming internship.
But right as he reached for the door handle, a sound stopped him in his tracks.
A sharp, broken breath, muffled but raw.
Dante frowned and leaned in, his curiousity getting the better of him.
There was a small gap in the door, just enough for him to peek through. He hesitated for a moment before he steeled himself. He titled his head slightly, peering into the gym's empty interior.
Kaijin was there, crumpled on the mat like a pupped with its strings cut.
The sight froze Dante in place.
Kaijin, the man who had thrown him around with ease, the man who always had his guard up, was… crying.
His massive hands were clenched tight, knuckles pale, his forehead pressed to the floor. The sound of quiet, broken muttering filled the air.
"I'm so sorry," Kaijin whispered, voice hoarse. "I'm so so sorry… I should've trained you better… my son."
Dante stumbled back like he'd been punched.
He never knew that Kaijin had a son. Kaijin never spoke about his family… Hell, he never even talked about himself at all. And now, hearing that raw, shattering grief spill out, Dante couldn't help but feel like he was intruding on something sacred.
For a second, he thought about going in to comfort him. To say something.
But what could even say?
In the end, he just turned away, fists stuffed deep into his pockets as he slipped away from the gym, heart heavy.
He needed some air.
He wanted to think for a bit.
The beach wasn't too far. It was a great place to go when your mind gets loud. The feeling of sand crushing beneath your shoes brings calm, though not much. The ocean was a wide, black smear against the dark sky, the waves rolling in with a constant, patient rhythm.
He kicked his shoes off and dropped down into the sand, resting his arms on his knees. The wind strung against his cheeks, cold and sharp, but he didn't mind too much. It made him feel awake.
Little Dante sat down beside him quietly, mimicking his posture.
For once, the younger version of himself wasn't spouting nonsense. There wasn't any teasing, no evil requests, no berating. Just quiet company.
Dante stared out into the endless water, mind still spinning from what he'd seen.
Strength wasn't about muscles or strong quirks or even winning fights.
Sometimes, strength was about standing back up after something tries to break you.
Kaijin's grief seemed to cling to him like smoke, heavy and impossible to shake off.
Dante hugged his arms around his knees, sighing deeply.
He didn't know anything about Kaijin's past.
But hopefully one day, he would.
The thought of tomorrow lingered in the back of his mind. His first steps into the real world of hero work. Mirko was waiting, probably expecting him to easily keep up. To fight, to learn, to survive. She fought alone, just like Dante.
But even as he sat there in the cold, trying to ready himself for it, he just couldn't shake that image of Kaijin crumpled on the gym floor.
That's when he heard footsteps slowly approaching from behind.
Dante didn't have to turn around to know who it was.
Kendo always had a steady, grounded way of moving. Also, she usually comes to this beach.
"You don't wanna catch a cold before the internships start…" she said lightly.
Dante glanced over his shoulder. Kendo stood there in a fluffy coat, the wind tugging stands of her hair from her loose ponytail. She smiled at him.
Dante gave a small shrug and turned his gaze back to the water. "It's not that bad."
Kendo didn't argue. Instead, she dropped down into the sand beside him, sitting cross legged.
"Thinking about internships?" She asked, glancing sideways at him.
Dante gave a small nod, "Yeah."
"Who'd you go for? I'm sure you got loads of offers." She nudged his arm lightly with her elbow.
He let out a dry breath that was almost a laugh. "Apparently, fighting like a pissed off animal impresses people."
Kendo smiled at that but didn't push. She waited, giving him the space to say it himself if he wanted.
"I've chosen Mirko." He said finally, turning to look at Kendo. "She works alone. She doesn't take any shit from anyone."
"I thought you'd go for someone like that," Kendo said, nudging him again. "She's not the type for internships though, right?"
He smirked a little and nodded.
"I think it's a pretty good fit," she added after a moment. "I'm excited to see what happens, Dante. I'm sure you'll figure out what kind of hero you'll be."
He didn't answer right away.
That word, hero. It felt heavy.
Kaijin's broken voice echoed somewhere in the back of his minds Dante wasn't sure if being a Hero was enough.
Kendo must've picked up on the small shift in his mood because she bumped his shoulder again, a little firmer this time. "Hey. Don't overthink it. I'm certain you'll do great out there."
He glanced sideways at her, catching the easy, confident smile she flashed him, and for a moment, the heavy feeling in his chest loosened just a bit.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "I guess we'll see."
Kendo stood up, brushing the sand off her. "Come on. It's getting late."
Dante hesitated, then pushed himself up onto his feet. The ocean whispered behind them as they walked away from the beach.
They reached the street where they'd usually split off, one leading to Kendo's mother's hair studio, the other toward Dante's apartment complex. She paused, hands in her pockets, the orange glow of a street lamp painting her hair like fire.
"Good luck, Dante." She said, her voice was light but no less genuine.
"Thank you, same to you." He replied, nodding with a faint smile.
With a wave, she turned and headed off into the night.
Dante watched her go for a moment then stuffed his hands into his pockets and headed in the opposite direction.
Tomorrow, his internship with Mirko would begin