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Chapter 24: Purifying Fire and Socialization Protocols
🕑 Added 2025-09-23 05:27:23 +0000 UTCChapter 24: Purifying Fire and Socialization Protocols
Yu's apartment had been transformed into a makeshift command center. Izuku's laptop, connected by an HDMI cable to the huge living room television, projected the front page of the applicant database. The U.A. logo shone above a welcome text that, given its formal tone, looked more like a legal warning than an invitation.
What appeared on the screen was overwhelming. A torrent of information. Hundreds of young faces, hundreds of names; each one a file, a summary of a life filled with dreams, hopes, and problems. Izuku scrolled through the list with methodical slowness, his face, illuminated by the screen's glow, reflecting absolute concentration. He read every Quirk analysis, every psychological evaluation, every footnote, absorbing the data with a seriousness that created a dense atmosphere in the room.
Yu, sitting on the floor next to him with her legs crossed on a cushion, was trying to stay sane. They had been submerged in silence for almost an hour, broken only by the soft click of the mouse and the hum of the refrigerator.
"Hey, Izuku," she finally said, her voice cutting through the stillness. She pointed to a profile on the screen. "Look at this one. His Quirk is 'Enhanced Elasticity.' Simple, direct. You could increase his stretching range, his tensile strength… He's a safe, predictable candidate. Not too many variables."
Izuku didn't look away from the screen. His eyes moved from left to right, reading at an inhuman speed. "Hmm," was his only reply, a low, thoughtful sound. He clicked and moved on to the next one.
"Alright, how about this one?" Yu insisted, pointing to a girl with short hair and a defiant look. "'Cat Claws.' Increases hardness, length… You could turn her into a miniature Wolverine. Easy to measure, easy to control. Less risk."
"Hmm."
"This one here," Yu tried one last time, beginning to feel a pang of frustration, "can sweat lubricating oil. You could… I don't know, make him incredibly slippery?" She wrinkled her nose. "Okay, maybe that's not the best example. But you get what I mean, right? Let's start with something simple. Something that's easy to work with for your first time."
Izuku stopped scrolling for a moment. He turned to look at her, and the intensity in his eyes surprised her. "I'm not looking for what's easy, Yu," he answered, his voice low, almost a whisper. "I'm looking for what's right."
He turned back to the screen and continued scrolling, leaving Yu with the distinct feeling that they were searching for a single, specific needle in an immense digital haystack. She sighed and leaned back on the couch. It was going to be a very, very long night.
Just as they had agreed, help, or rather, organized chaos, was not long in coming. With a couple of clicks, Izuku accepted the incoming video call. The television screen split into three, displaying the faces of Mirko and Nemuri in two of the boxes. The "Chaos Selection Committee," as Yu had mentally dubbed it, was officially in session.
"Does this piece of crap work?" Mirko grunted as a greeting. Her image was a bit shaky, as if she were holding her phone while walking. "I hate video calls. Give me a good fistfight any day. At least then you know where to punch."
"Oh, Rumi, don't be so archaic," Nemuri replied from her box, perfectly framed and with soft lighting. She was smiling mischievously. "It's the only way for the three of us to be together without causing an incident. Besides, hello, Yu-chan. I like how you've rearranged the furniture. The overturned couch gave it a certain… post apocalyptic touch."
Yu shot her a death glare. "Very funny, Nemuri."
"Alright, brat, let's get to it," Mirko interrupted, clearly impatient. "What do we have? Have you found any future champions yet or are you just wasting time looking at pictures of teenagers?"
"We are in the initial deliberation phase, Rumi," Nemuri intervened, her tone syrupy sweet, but her eyes sparkled with amusement. "Izuku-kun's process is methodical. You have to let him analyze all the variables. It's what makes him so good. Let him breathe."
The debate quickly ignited, exactly as Yu had predicted. Mirko, true to her nature, advocated for brute force and mass destruction.
"That one!" she suddenly yelled, making Yu jump. A finger appeared on the screen, pointing to a sturdily built boy with a square jaw whose Quirk was "Rock Skin." "There you go! Power that up! Turn him into someone who can run through buildings! Strength, speed, destruction! That's what wins battles and scares villains!"
"A rather… one dimensional strategy, don't you think, Rumi?" Nemuri replied with an elegant shrug. She gestured as if she were scrolling on her own screen. "I, on the other hand, would lean toward someone like… this girl. Here. Her Quirk is 'Sonic Persuasion.' She can modulate her voice to subtly influence the emotions of those who hear her. Imagine if Izuku-kun could amplify the range and power of that ability. She could stop an army of thugs without throwing a single punch. Subtlety is a much sharper and more elegant weapon than brute force, my dear."
"Subtlety is for people who can't throw a good punch!" Mirko snapped, visibly offended. "While your lullaby singer is trying to calm everyone down, my rock guy has already brought down the building and buried the bad guys under the rubble! Problem solved!"
"And what about the hostages who were inside the building, genius?" Nemuri countered.
"Collateral damage!"
"You can't just say 'collateral damage' as if it's a valid strategy!"
While the two pro heroes argued about battle tactics and hero ethics, Izuku continued to scroll down the list, oblivious to the verbal conflict unfolding around him. He was in his own world of data and potential. Suddenly, he stopped.
On the screen, frozen, was the profile of Katsuki Bakugo.
The photo was exactly as he remembered from the halls of Aldera. The same arrogant sneer, the same defiant red eyes, the same confidence that overflowed into pure hostility. The name of his Quirk, simple and descriptive: "Explosion."
An almost imperceptible shadow crossed Izuku's face. It was a minuscule change, a tightening of his jaw, a slow and deliberate blink. But Yu, who in recent weeks had become an expert at deciphering his micro expressions, noticed it instantly.
She leaned toward him, lowering her voice so the other two couldn't hear her over the microphone. "Izuku? Is something wrong? Do you know him?"
Izuku didn't look away from the screen. His eyes were fixed on Bakugo's photo. When he answered, his voice was completely flat, devoid of emotion.
"We went to the same middle school."
The silence between them was heavy with everything left unsaid. Yu opened her mouth to ask something else, but Izuku's expression stopped her. It was a wall. Without another word, he clicked and moved on to the next profile. The moment was brief, but the mood in the room turned tense. Yu looked at him, a dozen questions swirling in her mind, but her gut told her that this was a minefield she shouldn't step into. Not yet.
A few profiles down, comedy returned to reclaim its throne and break the tension. The face of a remarkably short boy appeared on the screen, with a strange hairstyle that looked like purple grapes piled on his head. Minoru Mineta. The photo was a failed attempt to look cool, with a thumbs up and a smile that was meant to be charming but only managed to be a little slimy.
The committee reacted instantly.
"Quirk: 'Pop Off.' He can pull the spheres from his head, which are super adhesive," Mirko read aloud, her tone full of skepticism. "Meh. Sounds more like an annoyance than a power. What do you do with that? Stick bad guys to the walls?"
"Let's see his motivations," Nemuri said, narrowing her eyes to read the text at the bottom of the profile. Her expression changed from curious to disappointed in a fraction of a second. She sighed. "Stated reason for becoming a hero: 'To be incredibly popular with all the cute girls.'"
Mirko snorted with a disdain that almost shook the microphone. "Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. Next."
Nemuri rolled her eyes with a theatrical sigh. "A classic every year. There's always one. Next, please."
Yu, however, said nothing. Her face, which had been animated and engaged, went completely blank. It was a terrifying calm, the same one that had preceded the couch flipping weeks ago. She stood up slowly, each movement so deliberate and precise that it silenced the other two heroines mid call.
"Izuku," she said, and her voice was dead serious.
"Yeah?" he responded, pulled from his analysis by his partner's sudden change in mood.
"Print that file. Just the first page."
Izuku blinked, confused. "Mineta's? But Nemuri and Mirko say he's a weak candidate and his motivation is…"
"Print it," she repeated.
Confused but obedient, Izuku navigated the system menu and sent the file to the printer in the corner. The machine whirred to life and spat out a single sheet of paper. Yu picked it up from the tray. She walked to the kitchen, her face an impassive mask. She opened a drawer, the typical junk drawer every house has, and took out a small silver lighter. Then, she walked over to the metal trash can next to the fridge.
Before the astonished eyes of Izuku and the cameras of the other two, she dropped Minoru Mineta's file into the trash can, flicked the lighter with a metallic click, and, without the slightest hesitation, set the corner of the paper on fire.
The small orange flames sprang to life, eagerly climbing up the sheet, consuming Mineta's smiling face in a trail of black, acrid smoke.
As the last piece of paper turned to fragile gray ash, Yu turned to look first at the television screen and then at Izuku. Her voice was calm, cold, and absolutely final.
"I already have enough to deal with one functional pervert on my team," she declared, nodding her head toward Izuku. "I don't need to add a hopeless amateur to the mix. Next candidate."
Nemuri covered her mouth with her hand, but her shoulders were shaking uncontrollably with suppressed laughter. Mirko, however, had no such self control. She threw her head back and let out a thundering laugh, a howl of pure, absolute delight that echoed throughout the apartment. "HA! THAT'S HOW YOU DO IT, MOUNT LADY! YOU FIGHT BUREAUCRACY WITH FIRE! LITERALLY!"
Izuku just blinked, trying to process the fact that his partner had just committed an act of Human Resources arson in the middle of their first official selection meeting. He looked at the smoking trash can, then at Yu, and back at the trash can.
"That," he muttered to himself, "is not a standard U.A. document disposal protocol."
After the purifying fire incident, the meeting's momentum was completely lost. The atmosphere, which had been tense and then comical, was now simply exhausted. Izuku continued to go through profiles, but the gesture was mechanical. His face showed the strain of an indecision that was solidifying into a real mental block.
Finally, after another twenty minutes of heavy silence, he ran a hand through his hair in a gesture of pure frustration. He looked away from the screen, his shoulders slumped, overwhelmed by the task.
"I don't know," he admitted, his voice a tired thread, full of a genuine anguish that silenced even Mirko. "There are so many… so many Quirks, so much potential… but none of them feel right." He looked at Yu, his eyes pleading for understanding. "It's not just an exam, you know? It's someone's future. I can't just make a decision like this lightly. Every change I make will have unforeseen consequences. What if I boost someone with a strength Quirk and their bones can't handle the new strain? Or someone with a speed Quirk and their reaction time doesn't improve at the same rate? I'm not playing around. I'm altering a person's physiology. The margin for error is…" He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
"Stop," Yu said, her tone firm but kind. "This isn't working. We're burned out. Staring at a screen for hours isn't going to give us an epiphany." She stood up and stretched her back. "We're stuck in analysis paralysis."
She looked at Nemuri through the screen, a desperate but brilliant idea forming in her mind.
"Nemuri, I think you and I deserve a break from all this heroic testosterone and existential deliberation. We need a detox."
Nemuri, who had been watching Izuku with a sympathetic expression, smiled instantly, getting the hint.
"A girls' night out," she said, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "I haven't had one in a while. An excellent idea, Yu-chan. We need to recharge our batteries… and maybe complain about our jobs."
In the other box, Mirko groaned with exaggerated drama.
"A 'girls' night out'? What the hell is that? Sounds like torture. I'd rather fight."
There was a pregnant pause. Yu and Nemuri waited, knowing exactly what was coming next. A malicious, slow, predatory smile spread across Mirko's face.
"Alright, I'll go," she declared, her tone shifting from whining to devilish. "But on one condition. If I have to suffer through this social torture, the brat suffers with me. He's coming too."
Mirko's proposal left the room in silence.
Izuku was the first to react, his expression one of pure and utter confusion. "Me? On a… girls' night out?"
"No!" Yu exclaimed, jumping to her feet and gesturing frantically at the screen. "Absolutely not! Rumi, are you crazy!? It's supposed to be for de-stressing, not for adding a social disaster who asks inappropriate questions!"
"Of course he's coming! It's training!" Mirko argued, with a logic so twisted it almost sounded flawless. "It will teach him how to handle unpredictable, high stress social situations! He'll get to see pro heroines in their natural environment! It's a fundamental part of his development as a support analyst! We'll call it… field observation!"
Nemuri, who loved chaos more than almost anything else in the world, clapped softly, delighted by the turn of events.
"Rumi's logic is surprisingly solid," she said with feigned seriousness. "An opportunity for interdisciplinary learning and soft skill development. I approve!"
Yu looked from one screen to the other, her mouth agape, feeling betrayed and outnumbered. The motion had been presented, seconded, and approved by the chaos committee. She had no way out.
Izuku, seeing that the decision was made and likely relieved to have an excuse to postpone the choice, turned to the screen, his tone becoming more professional again.
"Alright, Nemuri-san. I'll take a few days to think carefully about the candidates. As Mirko-san pointed out, the distraction might help me clear my head and approach the problem from a new perspective. When I have a final decision, you'll be the first to know."
The video call ended. Mirko's and Nemuri's faces disappeared, and the screen went black again, plunging the room into a sudden, ominous silence.
Yu dropped to the floor, burying her face in her hands and muttering in a voice full of deep, sincere despair.
"My life is a complete chaos."
Izuku, beside her, looked at her with genuine, serious curiosity, completely oblivious to her existential crisis. He leaned toward her, his face showing total concentration. He even took out a small pocket notebook and a pen, ready to take notes.
"So," he began, the tip of the pen hovering over the paper, "what exactly does one do on a 'girls' night out'? Is there a specific protocol I should study? A dress code? Do I need to prepare conversation topics beforehand to optimize the social interaction?"
