The Class That Cried Werewolf

2 - What It Takes to Be a Hero

-Tatsuya's POV-

"Just great," I grumbled, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "We meet the Number One Hero, and the next thing I know, my brother clings onto his leg like a cat as they fly through the buildings!"

Each step I took reverberated with a sense of urgency as I darted in the direction they had disappeared. Coming to a sudden halt, I scanned the skyline, mentally calculating All Might's potential landing spot. "Okay, let's see," I muttered to myself, my mind racing through a series of calculations. "Taking into account the direction they flew off to, the air resistance, All Might's strength parameters, and the combined weight of him and Izuku, along with the architecture of the zone, they should be right... there!"

I picked up the pace to get to the potential landing spot. My mind whirled with a mixture of concern and irritation. Would I find them engaged in a heartfelt conversation, or would I have to intervene to prevent Izuku from going full fanboy on All Might? Perhaps I'd have to give him a well-deserved smack upside the head for making me worry unnecessarily. As I hurried through the streets and alleyways, a faint scream pierced the air, prompting me to break into a sprint, my limbs propelling me forward with a newfound sense of urgency.

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As I dashed down the final stretch of the street, the faint scent of Izuku lingered in the air, guiding me towards a nearby rooftop. With a swift motion, I unsheathed my claws, their sharp tips catching the sunlight as I scaled the building with agile precision. Upon reaching the rooftop, I caught sight of Izuku, standing alongside a thin, old-looking man whose appearance was somewhat disheveled.

Observing the man closely, I couldn't help but notice the striking resemblance between him and All Might. His attire, though similar to the iconic costume of the Number One Hero, appeared slightly unkempt. His hair, styled in a manner reminiscent of All Might's trademark look, added to the uncanny resemblance.

As I approached, the familiar sound of a deep voice resonated through the air. "Pro heroes are always having to risk their lives," the man spoke solemnly, his words carrying the weight of experience. "Some villains just can't be beaten without powers. So, can you be a hero? Not without a Quirk."

My presence went unnoticed for a moment, allowing me to observe the interaction between Izuku and the mysterious man. However, as I drew closer, their attention shifted towards me, prompting them to acknowledge my approach.

"Izuku, are you okay?" I asked, my voice laced with concern as I gently rested my hand on his shoulder, a gesture meant to convey my worry. Yet, despite my attempt to reach out to him, he remained unresponsive, lost in his own thoughts. His distant expression troubled me deeply, leaving me to wonder what turmoil was brewing within him.

Turning towards the man standing at the railing, I addressed him cautiously, my curiosity mingling with a hint of wariness. "All Might, I presume?" I ventured, seeking confirmation of his identity.

"Most people would take me as an imposter. How did you know?" The response came swiftly, tinged with a hint of surprise, as if the man hadn't anticipated my keen observation. Perhaps he was afraid that I would ruin his reputation or something.

"I lacked conclusive evidence, but it wasn't so hard. From your unmistakable hairstyle to the distinctive blue eyes with black sclera, coupled with the familiar attire you donned then and now, it was evident," I explained, my words measured and precise.

"And, not to be weird, but your scent is the same as it was a moment ago. My Quirk enhanced my sense of smell," I added, gesturing to my nose.

"You're quite perceptive," All Might acknowledged, his response laced with a hint of admiration before turning toward Izuku. "Anyways, if you wanna help people, there are plenty of ways to do it. You could become a police officer. They get crap because the heroes capture most of the villains, but it's a fine profession," he suggested, his words carrying the weight of experience as he walked towards the stairs.