MHA: Tattoo First, Save the World Later

[A/N: Word Count: 1680 words

This is the first chapter of the first Arc: Shattered.

There will be references to songs throughout the story; I recommend listening to them while you read to increase immersion. Hope you enjoy - ALT]

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February 26th: 6:00 a.m.

Air Bate

If he was honest, private aviation didn't really get old. He was well-traveled, but something about flying on a private plane just did something for his soul. 

He was born in Texas to a mother who created the most prominent fashion label in the world. She was the antithesis of what anyone would think a fashion designer slash business owner would be like: a cinnamon-brunet, whip-smart independent woman (who don't need no man) with high heels, an unapologetically blunt undertone, and a single parent to a fifteen-year-old biracial son.

So, it was still surreal that Oliver was cruising somewhere over the Pacific, snacking on grapes in a high-backed leather chair with his feet up, without his mom anywhere in sight. Sohvi, his mother's favorite bodyguard, a former U.S Hero Enforcement and Safety Agency (U.S.H.E.S.A. for short) agent who was rumored around Texas to have killed several men, sat across the aisle. She had a bulletproof titanium case of yarn and knitting needles on her lap and was serenely knitting what was shaping up to be a cute sweater. Oliver had seen her stab someone in the eye with a very similar knitting needle.

Nigel—his mother's right hand and his godfather—sat beside Sohvi, perusing through the stack of magazines and newspapers he had brought on board. And last but not least, Brandon, the hulking bodyguard who also used to work for the U.S.H.E.S.A. alongside Sohvi, was bent over, playing a game on his phone.

"—ver Dean Bate, don't fuck with me," a stern voice all but growled over Oliver's speaker phone, enunciating every letter of his name.

"I was just kidding. I promise I won't, Mom. Bible," Oliver said, hand over heart.

"Repeat it before I snatch you through this phone," she said.

Oliver shot a frown at Nigel, who was chuckling at his expense. "I promise I won't accidentally cause a war between Japan and the United States. Happy?"

"No, not really—Nigel, Sohvi, Brandon, please keep an eye on him. I don't want the Commissioner down my neck anytime soon. I have enough problems to deal with as is."

"Will do, ma'am," Sohvi and Brandon echoed simultaneously—giving very much Siamese.

"You know I will, Sophia—Hey!" Nigel said, trying and failing to dodge a grape Oliver threw at him. One thing to note about Nigel is that he's highly allergic to grapes.

"Good. Now take me off speaker."

Oliver clicked her off speaker and brought the phone to his ear. "I know you said you'll be okay, but I'm just a fourteen-hour flight away, okay, Ollie?"

Her sarcasm brought a smile to Oliver's face. His mom might have been a bit prickly around the edges, but once you cracked her tough, dense, iron-coated core and got to her heart, she would shower you with unconditional love. "I know, Mom. But everything will be great, and… D-dad is here, so you don't have to worry."

There was a long pause. "That is exactly what worries me, Ollie. You know how I feel about him. I don't even know why you still want a relationship with that fucker after all he's done. After all he did to you." She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Oliver did, too. "I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that. I just…" 

"I know mom…but it's been five years. Something might have—he might have changed, you never know, right…?"

He knew she didn't believe that. No one did, except him. 

"… You're old enough to make your own decisions, Ollie. All I ask is for you to use your brain and a little bit of common sense. Your aunt and I will try to make some time to see you soon, but in the meantime, keep being my favorite son."

"… I'm your only son."

"Sharp as ever. Love you, later."

"Love you later, Mom."

There was a click, and the phone call ended. Oliver set his phone aside and opened up his laptop. Sparing a noncommittal glance at Nigel over his frames, he said, "I'm glad you found that entertaining, Nigel. I'm sure Mom will love to hear about that tryst you had with the Dolce & Gabbana Head of Design yesterday. What did you call it again? A meet and greet?"

Nigel denied Oliver's accusation with a casual flick of the page of February's Vogue issue. "I have no idea what you are talking about. Don't try to deflect from your verbal spanking." He said, drawing out the word. 

"No idea, huh…" Oliver finished typing on his laptop and turned the screen towards Nigel. He pressed the space bar, and Nigel watched himself push D&G's Head of Design, Élise Moreau, onto a couch and crab-walk up to him.

Nigel screamed and lunged at the computer screen, trying to snatch the evidence away, but it suddenly vanished from Oliver's lap into the palm of his left hand. "Is that enough proof for you?"

Nigel slumped back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. "What do you want?"

Oliver smirked, and the computer reappeared from his right hand on his lap. "I'm just messin' with you. You should be glad I (hacked into Élise security system) got my hands on this footage. He was going to use it to blackmail you. And we know how much you care about your image." 

Nigel gasped. "That good-for-nothing, devilishly-handsome, six-foot-five, chiseled-chested, crab-kink psycho!"

Oliver was honestly impressed with such an accurate description. "Don't worry, an anonymous tip to T.M.Z. went out last night about Élise's… fascination with crabs. We should see D&G's stock prices drop by midnight at the latest, a couple of hours at the earliest." Oliver said, as he went back to watching a replay of a green-haired kid run into danger to save some blond boy being suffocated by a… sludge.

"I forgot how scary you were. Sohvi, please remind me not to fuck with him," Brandon said, munching on pomegranate seeds.

"Don't fuck with him," Sohvi reminded him, still knitting away.

"I just deleted the footage, so you're good," Oliver told Nigel. "By the way, what's our E.T.A.?"

Sohvi pressed an intercom button to the cockpit. "E.T.A. to Musutafu is a couple more hours. Don't you want to sleep a bit before the Entrance Exam? You've been up since yesterday morning. I know you don't like to sleep, but… You know. Important test and all." 

"Yeah, I guess that's a good idea," Oliver replied as All Might stepped in to save the kids from the sludge freak. The video was almost a year old, but Oliver only came across it recently while researching the current state of Japan's hero society. 

Seeing what had to have been a kid around his age risk his safety when the other heroes didn't showed courage and heart. He hoped he would see the kid in today's exam. He had a feeling he just might. 

Oliver closed the laptop, and it vanished back into his left hand.

"I don't know why you're wasting your time with this little exam," Nigel said, his face now buried in the issue of People he had inexplicably brought with him. "They should be groveling on their knees for seven moons and seven nights for you to attend their school. The President was willing to pay an arm and a leg for you to stay in America. The President. Do you know how many favors I—we—you could have gotten—from, let me repeat it, the President?"

Oliver was more than aware of how much the President wanted him to stay in the States and attend one of their hero schools or even bypass that and go straight to government work. But that never appealed to him. What appealed to him was being around the best so he could, without a shadow of a doubt, prove that he was the very best like no one ever was.

"I know he would have. But I don't want to get in by association," Oliver said. "I want to make a name for myself through my efforts and hard work."

Nigel, Sohvi, and Brandon shared a glance, and Nigel spoke for them all. "Well, knowing you, whether through hell or high water, you will be the best hero this world has ever seen. Just don't… push yourself too hard. We know how you like to do."

Oliver chuckled. "I'll try not to." A diamond necklace materialized in his right hand, and he tossed it to Nigel.

"What's this for?" Nigel asked skeptically as he caught the necklace, his eyes gleaming at the diamonds.

"You can't speak Japanese, right?"

"You only gave me five months to learn the language. Sorry, I don't have an eidetic memory like some of us." Nigel furrowed his brows.

 Oliver smirked. "Put it on, and you will."

"…Uh-huh. So this is another one another one of your inventions?" Nigel fondled the necklace and rubbed his fingers against the two words inscribed inside [JAPANESE FLUENCY]. "What about Brandon and Sohvi?"

"We're polyglots," the Siamese said in unison.

"Of course you are," Nigel muttered.

Oliver leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. "Wake me up thirty minutes before we land, please." Despite his calm demeanor, he was excited to step out and show the world who he was.

Excited to start his journey to becoming the best hero the world had ever seen. 

But first, he had to pass the test that would be the catalyst for all of that.

Outside, the plane soared steadily over the Pacific toward Musutafu, carrying with it the hopes and dreams of a fifteen-year-old boy ready to shake the world.

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[A/N: I hope you enjoyed the chapter. If you did, please consider leaving a review.]