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

Issue 62 - Here Comes the Twist

The Daily Bugle logo slammed onto the screen in harsh red and white, the kind of graphic that didn't mean "news" so much as it meant sirens.

J. Jonah Jameson leaned forward at his desk like he wanted to bite the camera.

"This is not a joke," he barked. "If you're just tuning in, no, this is not one of those 'wait for the full story' situations. This is live, this is breaking, and it is real."

Harry sat on the edge of his bed with his phone held too close to his face, the blue glow turning his room into an aquarium. His sheets were tangled, his backpack half-open on the floor, tomorrow's schedule already dead on arrival.

On-screen, Jameson was still talking, words coming fast and sharp.

Harry's thumb hovered over the volume button like if he turned it down, the truth would get quieter too.

He swallowed.

"...you've got to be kidding me," he whispered, voice thin like paper.

The hospital lights washed everything the color of sleep deprivation.

Chui lay on a moving bed, being wheeled through a corridor that smelled like antiseptic and bad timing. Her body hurt in places she didn't want to think about yet, and her head felt stuffed with cotton and rage.

But her eyes locked onto a TV mounted high in the corner of the hallway like it was the only thing holding the building up.

Jameson's face filled the screen again.

"Details are still coming in," he snapped, "but we can confirm dozens injured, property damage on an unbelievable scale, and a response that can only be described as—"

He paused, like he couldn't decide whether he wanted to be angry or satisfied.

"—the biggest failure in hero society in recent memory."

Chui's mouth opened. No sound came out at first.

Then, barely audible:

"...this has to be some kind of joke."

A villain's body hit the pavement with a heavy thud.

All Might stood over them, cape shifting, chest rising, the familiar rhythm of saving the day almost automatic. A crowd had gathered at a safe distance, phones up, eyes wide, the usual mix of fear and relief.

Above the street, a giant outdoor screen changed programming mid-loop.

The commercial died halfway through a smiling mascot.

The Daily Bugle logo replaced it.

Jameson again. Louder. Meaner.

"If they can't protect heroes-in-training," Jameson said, voice cutting through the city air, "if they can't protect children, then tell me this: who will protect us? Those kids trusted the system, and that trust is gone!"

All Might's head lifted slowly.

His eyes narrowed.

Something in him snapped into place with a quiet, terrible click.

He didn't even notice his hand loosening until the villain he'd been holding slid the rest of the way to the ground.

His jaw tightened so hard it looked painful.

"...those bastards," he breathed.

May sat on the sofa with her hands clasped so tightly her knuckles looked pale.