Wingbound .:Tododeku:.

2 - Clients

Midoriya couldn't remember the last time he had rushed for something. Being a PMA had a strange leisurely pace to workflow - after all, each job handed to him practically had all the time in the world. So long as they weren't dead before he could finish helping, they counted towards his RS. This was simultaneously a relief, and also made him feel slightly odd. The thought irked him - that people could wait indefinitely. That there was hardly any urgency.

When he had waved his goodbyes to his previous client for the last time, wishing her all the best over iced tea, the guilty pang was burning at its edges and crumbling away when he received his letter.

A small, white envelope with no return address. It was simply handed to him on the street, the carrier looking like anyone else. But Midoriya's eyes were trained for spotting the WhiteWings dog tag that wasn't quite tucked under their vest. Midoriya had waited a whole month for anything - even just a sign that the board knew what he wanted - no needed to do.

So when he leant against a wall, peeled it open and found the top of the letter beginning with the title RS request inquiry he almost dropped then and there at the surging wave of victory crashing through him. Finally - finally they were giving him a shot.

It had been so long since his thirteenth client. Midoriya had been working smoothly. He was in the swing of it, helping this elderly man with his shopping who had a tongue sharp as knives. With tolerance and perseverance, the man had gotten to know Midoriya quite well, and had this to say when they sat across a small park in the city centre:

"You know - it's curious that a young man such as yourself gives a rats ass about some old coot like me."
Midoriya had laughed idly about it, opening a bag of hi-chew. "I don't think it's so hard to believe Mr. Torino." He had started to chew when Torino had started searching the plastic bag.
"You're only saying that because you're used to yourself," Mr. Torino scoffed. "Makes me wonder who you met."

That was where it started. For the first time in a good while, Midoriya thought back to where he came from. Back when he was only ten.

It had been pouring with rain. It collided with great watery sparks against the asphalt, some of which Midoriya had been picking out of grazes on his knee. It hurt. All of it - the grazes, the bruises, the burning tears streaming down from his eyes, and the look in his friend's eyes as he dug his fist into Midoriya's cheek.

It hurt because he didn't understand it at all. Not wanting to go home yet again with enough injuries to call him an organic punching bag - he had opted to sit for a bit on the street until his tears dried at least. He leant against a picket fence stained dark with the rain, the ground couldn't possibly soak his shorts any further as he sat. He remembered how his red shoes rippled the puddle in front of him, and at that moment two trainers splashed and disturbed the already fizzing water, planting themselves opposite him. The rain finally stopped hitting his head.

"Hey," someone said.
Midoriya looked up through blurry eyes, and there was a young boy around his age looking down at him. Held over his head was an All Might umbrella.

"Are you lost?"

Midoriya wasn't sure if he could talk, but he tried. Fighting back the fire in his throat he forced out a few tight words from a grin,
"n.. no, 'm just - enjoying the rain."

The boy came to sit next to him, holding the umbrella aloft over themselves. "I like it too."
"Uhuh?" Midoriya's voice was hoarse.
"Yeah. It lets me use this," he shimmied the umbrella briefly in his hand.
"I.. I like your umbrella," Midoriya choked out. The boy looked over at him gently.
"You like All Might too?"
"I do!! He's my," Midoriya sniffled and wiped his nose on his arm. "He's my favourite hero, e-ever! I'm going to be just like him when I'm grown up."
The boy hummed. It was so quiet, but it was so painfully gentle how he sat and listened. The prickly pattering of rain on the nylon above even seemed to melt away in his ears. Here he was, beginning to think that friends were supposed to hurt. That it was just part of it - this boy didn't feel like that at all.