Blue Butterfly | Amajiki Tamaki

| 36 |

3rd POV

"FAECES! WHAT CAN FAECES LIKE YOU DO!?"

Gang Orca was ruthless.

The first two days of the Group Internship Programme were tiring per se, not in the way [Name] expected.

The AC whipped a swirl of cold air breathing down her neck, blowing a few [h/c] strands away from her high ponytail; she tugged the school's uniform collar higher to subdue the crispiness nipping at her skin, easing blue folders to the far left of the large desk.

[Name] let out a small huff, a dull ache throbbing in her shoulders from the rather uneventful and tedious work that yanked a yawn out of her mouth.

She had decided to prioritise her heroic studies than ponder on the revelation Aunt Hana provided her with, confining the melancholy and the shock that gripped her within the wide cavity in her chest and allowing her heart to flutter with enthusiasm toward the internship despite not training or patrolling like the big shots.

"It's just paper after paper," Nejire whined comically. "I like that we ended up in the same group, but this is way too boring! I wanna kick butt! I desire action!"

"Gang Orca would kill you if he heard you... " [Name] deadpanned.

"Well that'll be his problem!"

The warm welcome to his quarters on the first day was all the more endearing and inviting, his sidekicks scampering around with piles of paperwork and mountainous stacks of sheets, quiet shuffles in and out of the Pro Hero's agency in airy scuffles. In spite of his menacing look and unnerving red pupils slitting every now and then in perusal, Gang Orca was friendly, and skimmed over the basic filing details, leaving a spacious office room for the group to work in.

Then, he had started with calling them faeces as belittlement, hoping it would spur more thrilled motivation into becoming a hero—Tamaki had instinctively slunk his head against the wall in response, murmuring about how fitting a name that was to him.

Nonetheless, it was an opportunity they couldn't waste.

It had been nothing but easy, yet taxing administration for the time being, sorting out crucial records and civilian requests strewn across the tables.

Being one of the top ten Pro Heroes in the ranks was incredulously arduous; the phone line had been buzzing endlessly with strings of calls and much to [Name]'s delight, today there were less demanding citizens seeking assistance from Gang Orca's sidekicks—it created a business-like atmosphere, her fingers gliding over the last heap of papers. She was almost done.

Gang Orca had upped and left for a meeting that morning, his assistant, Jiyoung—a polite and gentle-spoken woman in her early twenties—giving a helping hand with scanning, stamping and explaining how important it was to keep track of everything within the agency. She had grown exceptionally fond of Mirio's antics, especially his silly jokes that were nonsensical majority of the time; the laughs and smiles seemed to brightened the solemn, clerical atmosphere.

Donning a small, accomplished smile, [Name] slid her pile over the litter of paperclips, staples and pencil shavings to the blue-haired teen seated beside her. "That's the last one."

"Good, 'cause I'm bushed!"

Humming to the tune blaring in her earphones, Nejire neatly assembled the papers together and attached them with the stapler, wordlessly passing it over to Kou.

Begrudgingly, he stalked to the corner of the room where Mirio was continuously phasing through the walls in his hero costume, making it quicker to deliver the bundle of notes and information to the different sections of the building.