The Turbo Hero:- Midoribolt

[26] INTERNSHIPS

The air inside Endeavor's agency was thick with heat and discipline. Mahoro stood at the edge of the training floor, her observation badge clipped neatly to her uniform, her hands tucked behind her back.

She wasn't here to fight. Just to watch.

But that didn't make it easier.

Shoto Todoroki stood a few meters away, his expression unreadable as he executed a flawless combination of ice and flame. The sidekicks moved like clockwork around him, responding to Endeavor's booming commands.

Mahoro kept her posture straight, but her fingers twitched at her side — not from nerves, but from the faint pulse of energy humming in her morpher.

Blazia, she thought silently, you still with me?

A soft warmth pulsed against her wrist, hidden beneath her sleeve. Blazia, her bonded Wisp, was dormant but aware — tucked safely inside the morpher Izuku had helped her calibrate. The fire she wielded wasn't her Quirk. It was Blazia's power, shared through their bond. A secret she had to guard with everything she had.

She watched Todoroki closely, studying his control. His fire was raw, but refined. Powerful, but precise. She wondered what he'd think if he knew she could summon flames of her own — flames that weren't hers by birth, but by choice.

But she couldn't tell him. Couldn't tell anyone.

Not about Blazia. Not about her training with Izuku. Not about the vigilante path she was walking in the shadows.

Later, during a break, Todoroki approached her with a bottle of water.

"You've been quiet," he said, offering it to her.

Mahoro took it with a polite nod. "Just observing. Like I'm supposed to."

He studied her for a moment. "You've got a sharp eye. That's good. Observation is the first step to understanding power."

She smiled faintly. "I'll remember that."

As he walked away, she glanced down at her morpher, hidden beneath her sleeve.

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Tamashiro stood in front of the full-length mirror at the Genius Office, admiring his new haircut — a sharp, tapered fade with a streak of lightning-blond running through the side. He tilted his head, smirking.

"Yeah... this is hero material."

Beside him, Katsuki Bakugo scowled at his own reflection, tugging at the stiff collar of his new uniform. His hair had been trimmed too — reluctantly — and he looked like he'd just walked out of a fashion magazine shoot. He hated it.

"This is bull," Bakugo muttered. "I'm not here to look pretty."

Tamashiro snorted. "Speak for yourself. I look awesome."

Bakugo shot him a glare. "Tch. You're lucky we're not allowed to spar."

Tamashiro just grinned wider. "You'd lose anyway."

Their banter was cut short by Best Jeanist's voice echoing through the corridor. "Gentlemen, image is part of the hero's arsenal. Presentation reflects discipline."

Tamashiro rolled his eyes but didn't argue. He wasn't here to fight — just to observe. Still, it grated on him. He had power. Speed. A Quirk that could leave most villains in the dust. And yet, here he was, watching from the sidelines while Bakugo got all the action.

If only they knew what I could really do... he thought, fingers brushing the hidden morpher beneath his sleeve. Inside, his Wisp — Volt — remained silent, concealed. Their training with Izuku had taught him how to keep it that way.