Little Miss Aizawa | Dadzawa [BOOK 2]

Chapter 15 - Before Lightning Strikes

WARNINGS: blood

"This is wholly unnecessary." Neito flexed the bionic arm again, raising his eyebrows when not a single squeak could be heard from within the joints' mechanisms. Just like last time. Surprise, surprise.

"It's just routine." Hanta muttered around the torch poking between his lips, the light glaring into the nooks and crannies between the wires and bolts holding Neito's arm together. "Can never be too careful."

"Uh huh." Neito flicked his hair out his eyes as he stared at the rather plain wall of Hanta's bedroom. There were a handful photos dotted about, clipped to a single string of fairy lights pinned from the wardrobe to the top of his desk. "Y'know, you could really decorate more."

Hanta shrugged, dropping the torch and grabbing a screwdriver. "There used to be more pics. They had Bakugo in."

"Ah." 

Hanta continued to prod at the internal wiring, tightening the occasional screw and ensuring the power core was functioning to full capacity. It was only when he struck a particular sensor in the elbow joint and the forearm shot upwards, making Neito recoil away from it in shock, that he finally relented.

"Sorry." Hanta murmured, placing the tools down before someone lost an eye. Neito rolled his shoulder and shook out the metal limb, getting a feel for it again now that the stickers connecting it to his brain had finally been applied properly and were communicating smoothly. He was surprised to find the response time was even better than before, every joint moving as if it were his own arm of flesh and bone. There was no doubt it would take some time getting used to, but there was a tiny spark of hope knowing at least something would be going back to the way it was before their lives got turned upside down.

Hanta rose to his feet and nudged the left over parts to the side with his foot, making for the open closet door and rummaging inside. It had finally clicked with the rest of them that this was where Hanta was running his little vigilante scheme from, and the brothers had rightly demanded to see what else was knocking around within the three walls and door of Hanta's closet. 

Late one evening after Eri had been tucked into bed and Hizashi had retired to his room, the four of them had sifted through box after box of prototypes and gadgets Hanta had stashed away like some technology-obsessed squirrel hoarding them for a rainy day - or the apocalypse. Either works...

"What's this?"

Hanta had lost count of the amount of times he'd heard that question in the last half hour. All the same, he withheld a sigh and looked up.

"A tracker." 

Midoriya turned the coin-sized chip over and over again in the palm of his hand, the smooth surface and crisp edge glinting in the light of the bedside lamp. "A tracker." He echoed, holding it closer to his eye. "Fascinating." His awe faded into mutterings as he rummaged through the small stack of identical trackers right beside him, studying every single one like it wasn't the same as the last. 

"And you built all this?" Hitoshi sat propped against the bed, Hanta's ringed mask resting in his lap. A finger traced around the rim of the visor, carefully avoiding touching the screen itself. 

"More or less." He shrugged. He reached across the floor and grabbed the stack of papers Neito had tossed aside earlier. "I nabbed a few designs from the Support Course's tech department. Made a few alterations where needed, but they were mostly just cosmetics."

"Circles, though?" Hitoshi lifted the mask, holding it so all four of them could see the infamous white lights staring right back. 

"Rings." He corrected. "They symbolise eternity." He took the mask from Hitoshi and gazed into the rings, captivated by the eyes he shared so often. "It's a promise, to Musutafu. That there'll always be someone there to protect them," he pulled the mask down over his head, "even if the Pros are lacking."