Ultra Responsibility (My Hero Academia X Spider-Man Reader)

Issue 41 - The People v. Spider-Man Part 5

They called my name like it was just another number on a clipboard.

"Parker. Visiting."

I'd learned prison has its own weather system. Fluorescent storms. Concrete humidity. The kind of silence that isn't peace, it's just... waiting. Waiting for something to snap.

My body was mostly fixed, technically. Recovery Girl and hospital pros did their thing before they dumped me here, like patching a sinking boat and then pushing it back into the ocean with a polite wave. But every step still felt like a bruise arguing with gravity. My ribs complained. My shoulder sulked. My pride... wasn't speaking to me at all.

Visiting.

I half expected May, eyes red, smile brave. Or Peni, already furious at the air molecules. Maybe Ashido, pretending she wasn't scared, acting like she'd punch the world in the throat if it looked at me funny.

A stupid part of me even wished for Harry. Just to hear someone talk about something normal. Football. Film trailers. The latest game. Anything that wasn't court, charges, vigilante, menace.

The guard led me down the corridor anyway. Doors. Locks. Echoes. The world reduced to clicks and keys.

Then the visiting room.

Plastic chairs bolted to the floor. Glass dividing the living from the living that had made mistakes. Phones hanging on coiled cords like cheap lifelines.

I sat down.

Waited.

The door on the other side opened.

And my wish came true in the worst possible way.

A man stepped in like the room belonged to him. Not loud, not dramatic. Just... heavy. He didn't rush. He didn't glance around like he was unsure. He carried the space with him.

He sat.

And the air felt smaller.

Broad shoulders, tailored suit, calm eyes that didn't blink too often. He wasn't a pro hero. He wasn't a detective. He wasn't staff. He looked like the kind of person who could buy the building I was sitting inside and call it a "renovation opportunity".

My stomach dropped.

I stared through the glass, confused, then reached for the phone because that's what you do when the universe hands you a mystery and says good luck, kid.

He picked up his phone at the exact same time. Like he'd rehearsed it.

I cleared my throat, voice rough. "Um... I think you've got the wrong person."

His voice came through the receiver smooth as polished stone. "You and I have a lot in common."

"I... don't think so," I whispered, because what else do you say to a man who talks like the final boss of a business meeting.

"That's what you'll tell yourself."

Something about the way he said it made my skin itch. Not spider-sense itch. Not danger. Worse.

certainty.

I leaned forward, lowering my voice like the glass could eavesdrop. "Look, if you're here for, I don't know, some confession or whatever... I can't help you."

I started to lower the phone.

Then he spoke again, casual as a weather report.

"How are your lawyers treating you?"