12: A "Normal" Day Of The Eldest Brother - 1

I'm occasionally chilling in JaxWolf4's (Author of Nah, I'd Adapt) Discord Server. It's a chaotic lobotomy mess. Not for the faint of heart.

Here's the link:

Disc: t2KKdZse

(HERE, I FIXED IT! DAMN YOU JAX!)

(Special Credit to Splingosplongo for the Beta Reading Labor!)

-Story Start-

March 26th, 2234.

1:00 AM.

It was a chilly night over Musutafu, the moon in a waxing crescent phase looming over the bustling city.

Indeed, even in the dead of night, the populated city never slept.

In some places, more than others...

Within the putrid streets in the premises of the unofficially named Musutafu Ghetto.

A set of cautious steps reverberated amid the quiet street, stepping on puddles of water in the unkept road.

A tall, broad-shouldered man with a thick dark coat and hat that obscured his face strode, his eyes searching the street.

His eyes roamed and fixed upon each poor individual asleep on the cold floor, doing their best either with their natural Quirks or what they could find to fight the chilly weather.

Failing to find his client, he roamed still.

Eventually, within the corner beside a small opening of a barricaded shop that had been closed for years, he saw a man leaning carefully on the closed entrance.

With a careful approach, he noted the oddly familiar hygienic almost disturbing mask of the man.

Arching an eyebrow, he inquired as he approached the masked man, "Shie Hassaikai? You've stooped low to be buying Trigger from me." A hint of mirth crossed his hidden features.

The masked man raised his head to meet the gaze of the shady individual, not voicing a single response.

Grunting in approval, the shady man opened his trench coat, "No talk, straight to business. My kind of customer."

Taking out two syringes with an odd red liquid in them, he gestured with his hat and a confident tone, "No funny business, pay up and they're yours."

...

"Where can I source these?" An almost aloof, tired tone came out from the masked individual, in his first sentence.

The trenchcoated man snorted in response as he pocketed the Trigger Syringes in his coat, "If I told you that, I'd be out of a job... But I'm guessing the mask is a coincidence th-" His words were cut short by a sudden, agonizing pain in his face.

All of a sudden, his body flew across the street, skidding to a stop as he rolled to catch himself a second pair of arms of his 'Quadrolimbs Quirk' catching him from the coarser backlash of the punch that had hit him.

With a snarl and a bloodied expression, he rose back up from the ground spitting out a tooth as he narrowed a frenzied glare on his 'Customer' across the street.

The sounds of hurried footsteps from the homeless and otherwise escaping from the scene were muffled in his head.

It was a usual occurrence here, a brawl, a murder... No one batted an eye.

It was for this reason that only someone with a proper Quirk could go forward with these kinds of shady dealings.

Taking a calming breath, he slowly approached his fallen top hat, having dropped it due to an unprompted sucker punch.

Raising it and patting it off any dirt and sighing in slight relief it hadn't dropped into one of the many puddles, he put it back on.

Slowly, he calmly eyed the 'Customer' who had a strange set of tiny blood orbs floating around him.

Then, he patted his coat to check on the merchandise, "You're lucky it ain't damaged. Look, I'd rather not dirty my hands, I've got a reputation to maintain, you see... And unless you're the newly instated 'King Of The Ghetto'. I see no reason for you to hinder my operations... What is it you are really after?" 

All things considered, the man was exercising great control after being suddenly assaulted.

Regardless, his real worry was:

'He's strong. I didn't survive as long as I did in this business without knowing when to pick my fights.' The trenchcoated man thought with a great degree of wariness.

"Answer my question." The masked aggressor demanded with a cold gaze.

Huffing the dealer used his extra limbs to adjust his jaw as he spoke, "That depends on your question. What quality are you looking for exactly? The one I brought here today?"

"The one usually sold in these streets." The masked man quickly clarified.

'I guess I'll sell out the others... Wilt out the competition. This guy's one question away from killing me.' He gulped, as his muscles subconsciously tensed.

"An off-shore pharmaceutical company. Most dealers get it from there, specifically the remnants of the Yakuza and the majority of the supply of illegal Trigger."

"The name?"

"Mightceuticals."

...

A perplexed expression formed on the masked aggressor's face, "Is that not the prominent pharmaceutical company in Japan?"

The dealer shook his head, waving his limbs around in dismissal, "A play of words. You're confusing it with AllCeuticals."

"...I see."

...

A tense silence enveloped them once more, as the dealer was ready to accept his losses with but a busted lip and a lost tooth, "If that will be all, I'm off."

He hadn't given the aggressor the chance to retort as he turned around and briskly walked off.

His hurried steps echoed loudly as the street was already empty with their little scuffle... Only for him to stop as he suddenly felt an even more excruciating pain.

It was nigh-instantaneous, and he had only a moment to gaze upon his reflection in the puddle below to see a palm-sized hole in between his eyes as if something fast and sharp pierced through his head.

Just like that, with his Trigger held tightly in the clutches of his thick coat, he dropped unceremoniously and roughly on the ground, bleeding from his head and dying a rather painless death.

-------------------------------

It was a rather heartbreaking reality in many places in the current Quirk Society.

Among them - the Musutafu Ghetto.

As morbid as it is to admit it, it wasn't odd to find a corpse every so often.

Drug overdose.

Hunger.

Gang violence.

Or any other Quirk-related violence or discrimination that is easy to occur.

With natural weapons that can, either intentionally or unintentionally, effortlessly kill someone - Many incidents transpire.

Police and Heroes rarely find themselves here, and when they do...

They usually ignore the filth of society or so they are called...

General incidents of violence or otherwise have calmed down since the arrival of the Brothers in the Ghetto - Specifically Aoi's acts.

However...

They are still much too small or busy to actually deal with the overarching issue; the Ghetto is much too large.

Villains and criminals aren't idiotic.

When an obstacle arises, they get creative or find other methods of torment and profit.

It was a bleak, sad reality that Choso relied upon in his very act of 'removing' the Drug Dealer.

With his leather gloves gifted by Yuji, he took out the syringes of Trigger from the trenchcoat of the Drug Dealer he eliminated with Piercing Blood.

Cleaning the scene from any hint of his blood with expert usage of Blood Manipulation, Choso quickly took out a small piece of paper from his pocket and placed it on top of the man's corpse.

It was a business paper that the Drug Dealer had used to advertise his 'Products'.

...

To all who witness the corpse, it wouldn't take much to piece together what message this 'Elimination' was supposed to send:

A Warning.

It's something neither Yuji nor Aoi would ever do...

But, after all...

It is the role of Big Brother to do the dirty work for the sake of his Little Brothers.

Right?

...

He might just have to rely on his Curse Half for this particular job.

Nodding to himself, Choso remained vigilant and resolved, 'I will have to research 'Mightceuticals'... My little brothers will roam clean streets.'

The path of Heroism like Aoi's or especially Yuji's was never in Choso's mind.

There are some things...

A Hero could never do.

-------------------------------

March 26th, 2234.

Early Morning.

One of the major advantages of being a half-cursed spirit is the fact you need no sleep.

And to be honest...

Choso had 'technically' gotten over a century of sleep in his Cursed Womb state, so he'll pass on that most of the time.

Having partially finished his night-time business for the day, Choso returned with a clean set of clothes minus the grime from the mud on his boots from the unkept road to their apartment.

However... Choso had not returned empty-handed as he sneakily entered the apartment, his steps gentle so as to not awaken his dear brothers.

In his hands were...

Two bags of groceries.

Indeed, Choso's intentions were clear as he stepped into the... Makeshift clustered kitchen of their decaying apartment.

A single stove and a book beneath his eyebags.

"Cook Like A Pro Hero-Chef! - By Lunch Rush." He read it in a hushed and resolute tone, his gaze stern and sharp like a hawk.

His finger traced the pages, gently browsing the cookbook searching for the famous pancake recipe.

Choso usually doesn't have the pleasure or time to cook for his dear little brothers.

However, he had decided to call late for today's barber apprenticeship due to it being quite a special day.

'U.A. Entrance Exam. I have no doubt they will succeed, but I must do something for them. At least this.' Choso nodded resolutely.

This was a task of utmost importance.

It was most annoying prospect - Choso had wanted to take the day off to await his brothers for hours at the gates of U.A.

However, as if capable of reading his mind, Aoi quickly dismissed that gesture, emphasizing that his financial support and work were much more important.

To not waste his time with an event so... Trivial.

They'd succeed and they all knew it well.

...Except Yuji who doubted his academic capabilities.

HE CAN COUNT! STOP DOUBTING!

Ahem!

Thus, Choso turned on the stove and began cooking a fine breakfast for his brothers.

-------------------------------

"The recipe is faulty, I will demand a refund." Choso's features darkened as he balled his fists in pure, unadulterated rage.

His brothers woke up due to the smell of something burning and were met with burnt pancakes nestled on top of one-time-use plastic plates.

The absurd amount of maple syrup did little to obscure the... Charcoal coloring of it, nor the smell.

With hardened expressions, Yuji and Aoi met each other's gazes.

They firmly nodded, as an unspoken conversation seemed to have passed between them.

Something along the lines of... Reverse Cursed Technique Digestive System?

Anyway... They smiled and happily chowed down on the charcoal-colored pancakes.

"Tastes like chocolate!" Yuji gave a cracked smile and a thumbs-up.

"It is... An acquired taste, well done big brother." Aoi nodded as well.

...

Choso hadn't recalled there being any chocolate in the recipe but he was glad his brothers enjoyed it.

A small genuine smile formed on his face, "I'm glad you enjoyed it... I'll try cooking more often-"

"We couldn't ask that much from you! Choso!" Yuji immediately interrupted and rose up with an almost pleading expression.

Weird.

-------------------------------

March 26th, 2234.

Noon.

The chill of midnight had long passed thanks to the sun looming high over the sky.

Within one of the primary branches of the MightCut Barbery, it was a rather slow day.

The reason?

U.A. Entrance Exams - Of course.

Given this was a branch in Musutafu City, most sections of the city, especially the ones closest to the prestigious Hero Academy were closed for the day.

With the exception of heightened public transport, so the examinees don't somehow find themselves late on such a fateful day, no one but bakeries and necessary businesses worked their day.

Although not illegal, it is ill-advised to open for business on such a day in Musutafu.

However, it is practically fine if you do not bother or clog the streets with your car or shipments of materials/ingredients for whatever business you hold.

Nevertheless...

Working alone on a dummy with real hair, Choso practiced many hair-cuts:

Lower taper fade.

Bowl cut.

Blunt cut.

French crop.

Shag cut.

Layered cut.

Skin fade.

High fade.

Pompadour.

Asymmetrical cut.

The works...

And even special cuts for people with Quirks that change their facial and head hair.

Today was a special day for Choso as well.

Not only were his dear brothers taking the U.A. Entrance Exam.

Today he will be having...

His first official customer.

Unlike Sota - Choso's first barbery teacher back in Kinzagawa where they first arrived so suddenly.

Sota's older brother and current mentor - Rentaro is a bit of a... Paranoid man.

He would not let Choso touch a HAIR on anyone's head or face until Choso had 'mastered' the craft.

Yet, Choso couldn't really blame him, given there's a difference between being a local barber of some remote town and owning a big branch Barbery in the middle of Musutafu.

'Still, excessive. It's only hair.' Choso had found it strange how much his 'fellow' humans fixated on their hair.

He could understand the need to keep up a well-groomed appearance.

Hell, the most well-groomed person he knows is his little brother, Aoi.

He has like 10 different shampoos, and they were dirt poor.

If they weren't it'd probably increase to 20.

Regardless... He's seen some customers here value their hair like they value their lives... Maybe more.

It's kind of odd.

The door creaked open to reveal a man in a business suit.

Choso's eyes turned to the man, noting that for all intents and purposes, the man looked Quirkless.

Rentaro called out to Choso as he still held the scissors in his hands, "Choso, you're up. That's your customer of the day." He pointed a thumb at the businessman.

Nodding politely in Choso's direction, the man smiled professionally, "I take it your Rentaro-san's apprentice?"

Choso reciprocated the gesture as he grabbed the necessary tools, scissors, a hair dryer, and so on.

"Take a seat." Choso gestured at one of the many empty seats given the slow day.

Doing so, the man sat down, neatly adjusting his collar as Choso approached and wrapped a barber cape around the man as protocol and comfort dictated.

Internally grateful his first customer wasn't a heteromorph with a Quirk that changes his hair properties, Choso formed a practiced smile.

It was rather cracked and awkward, but he listened to advice and worked on it, "What will it be for you today?" He inquired.

...

And a bombshell was dropped on him.

The man replied with a swift, almost robotic, practiced request, "I need a classic, professional style that's easy to maintain but still looks sharp. Low taper fade on the sides and back, tight and blended with the top. Leave a bit of length up top - just a trim to keep it neat, but keep enough for texture and movement. Clean side part with subtle layers to add volume without the bulk. Shape up the hairline for a sharper look and keep the fringe natural."

...

'Is this a test?' Gears turned in Choso's mind.

This was much too heavy of a request, for a paranoid business-minded man like Rentaro to hand out such a difficult, seemingly high-profile customer to a technical first-timer like Choso seemed absurd...

But Choso decided to meet the challenge head-on.

"Alright." Choso nodded without further complaint, getting straight to work as he grabbed the electric shaver and turned it on.

-------------------------------

Although admittedly slow, Choso had managed to complete the relatively complex request in a clean hour.

With narrowed eyes and a squinted look, Choso appraised his work from all angles as he moved.

And he'd admit...

'Not bad.' He smiled lightly.

He even got to do some small talk!

"How's your wife?"

"I have no wife."

"I see..."

"How's work?"

"Fine."

"I see..."

...

It's a work in progress!

"All done." Choso loosened the barber's cloak from his first customer and allowed the man to stand up.

Approaching the large mirror, the businessman hummed as he appraised the cut.

Turning to the 'busy' Rentaro, he called out, "Not bad. An 8 out of 10."

A cheeky smile slowly formed on the businessman as Choso's eyes widened at the phenomenon before him:

The man's hair... It grew back to his prior state before getting the haircut.

Without a chance to respond, Choso was met with a business card in his face, the businessman pitching his career, "Kai's Haircut Practice... If you need an apprentice barber in the future to test out a tricky first customer with no backlash... Call this number."

Choso couldn't help but snort, a cheeky smirk on his face, "There's a job for every Quirk, is there?"

"Hah! Got that right!" The businessman chortled as he headed out the door, throwing a look over his shoulder at the amused Rentaro, "Make sure to send me the invoice!"

"Yeah, yeah." Rentaro waved him off, snorting as the door slammed to a close as 'Kai' left.

...

Choso could only sigh in exasperation.

He was correct, he was being tested.

And the result?

"You're an official worker here now. So give me better hours instead of that toxic waste joint you work at every day. This a proper, honorable career!"

...

A tiny smile formed on Choso's face, "I'll consider it."

To Be Continued!

-Author Note Start-

Hey hey!

Bet ya didn't expect this one to come out so soon!

Anyway!

As you can see, Choso hasn't been forgotten, and as you can probably infer...

He's got a role to play in this fic.

I'd like to point out that things will be taking a MAJOR TURN from Canon somewhere along the lines of between the end of Season 1 and Season 2 of MHA.

Not spoiling anything, but you can't expect this to hug canon for long.

If that's what you wanted then I'm sorry!

Also a fair warning...

Someone will be missing from the Class-A Roster.

Trust me, I know what I'm doing and that character won't be discarded.

I KNOW WHAT I'M DOING RAAAAH LEMME COOOK.

Hope you enjoyed the chappie!

Love ya! Cya! Bu Bye!

I'll also appreciate any and all constructive criticism and feedback regarding the characters that appear in this fic (Especially my representation of the Bruzzahs.)

If ya'll feeling frisky and rich you can donate to my P A T R E 0 N to show some nice and kind support.

Here's the link:

patre0n.com/BurgerNoTomatoes